Velvet Embrace by Nicole Jordan Page B

father, but the patronage of the duke would seal the future of Greenwood.
    She should have been delighted. Instead, she was a jumble of conflicting emotions.
    Her eyes clouded as she thought of her last encounter with Stanton. True, she had escaped his attentions without coming to any real harm. But she had nearly allowed him to seduce her. If she hadn't panicked, she would have lost her virtue to exactly the kind of man she had done her best to avoid in recent years.
    Hot shame flooded through her as she remembered the feel of Stanton's lips on her breasts. What in heaven's name had come over her? How could she have allowed him to kiss her like that, to run his hands so intimately over her body? She should have known better.
    That scene before the fireplace had been familiar. On the first night of her long ago elopement, she had almost given herself to her fiancé in front of a hearth. She had pulled back at the last moment, wanting to wait until the marriage vows had been exchanged, but then her betrothed had savagely attacked her, saying that he didn't intend to risk waiting any longer to secure her inheritance. He had nearly raped her before she had managed to hit him over the head with a fire iron and render him unconscious. Fortunately for Brie, her family had been able to hush up the scandal.
    But this time she had no excuse for her behavior. Stanton was obviously a master at seduction, but she never should have fallen for his practiced charm. How easily he had stirred her desire! Brie groaned, recalling just how wantonly she had responded to him.
    Knowing she had to find something else to occupy her thoughts, she seated herself at the breakfast table. There was no one to serve her, for she preferred breakfasting in solitude without an army of servants hovering over her shoulder. Yet it was evident that her household staff had been hard at work. A basket of warm flaky rolls, crocks of butter and jam, and a pot of steaming hot coffee had been left on the table. There was also a good fire burning in the grate, and next to her plate, neatly arranged, was a stack of papers, a small notebook, and a pen and standish .
    Sipping her coffee, Brie held up a report from her head trainer, John Sims, and tried to read. She found herself totally unable to concentrate. After several minutes of struggling, she gathered all the papers in her hand and with an uncustomary disrespect for her work, tossed the whole lot the length of the table. "Devil take it!" she muttered in frustration.
    "Gabrielle!"
    Brie looked up in surprise to see Katherine standing in the doorway. As usual, the elderly woman was severely dressed in a gown of drab gray merino, while her iron-gray hair was covered with a white cap. Her carriage was lacking its usual stiff elegance, however, for she was leaning heavily on a wooden cane. It was obviously a morning for disrupted routines, Brie reflected wryly; Katherine rarely rose before nine, for the pain in her joints was generally too severe.
    Katherine composed her lips in a tight line as she eyed the disordered papers on the table. "It is highly improper for a lady to swear," she admonished. "Particularly at this hour of the morning."
    Wisely Brie avoided a direct reply. She poured another cup of coffee as Katherine made her way slowly to the table with the aid of her cane.
    At one time Katherine Hewitt had been her governess, but for the past several years she had been acting as Brie's companion. There was genuine affection on both sides, but their relationship could more accurately be described as fond tolerance. Having little in common but a mutual need of each other, they had depended on one another since the death of Brie's parents, for Katherine had no home of her own and needed the income the position earned, while Brie's single state demanded the presence of an older lady to lend it respectability.
    Brie was in no mood to listen to a lecture on propriety this morning, though. "Couldn't you sleep?" she asked