The Baron Without Blame (THE PRESTONS #0.5) by Katherine Grant EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Katherine Grant
- Language: English
- Genre: Historical Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
London, 1788
On that marble balcony of Lord Leighster’s townhouse,
wreathed by an overly-ornate iron railing, it occurred to Martin
Preston that human sewage stank no matter in which city one
found oneself. It fouled the sights of Calcutta as easily as it did
Casablanca, sometimes stinking in town worse than seven weeks
at sea. Even at this most magnificent ball in the great imperial
center of London, Martin caught its unmistakable whiff above the
fragrant springtime garden blooms.
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It occurred to him, too, that the thought proved he was in no
mood to fraternize at Lady Leighster’s soiree. His head was too
muddled from his travels, when instead he should be discussing
the latest horse races or flirting with a pretty lady. He would do
better to go straight home to his dark room and nurse a glass of
Madeira. Except Madeira was out, since it arrived from the
subjugated Portuguese colonies; and so too was his other old
favorite, the smoking pipe, whose tobacco came from the slave
trade. He would have to rely on warm milk, then, with a splash of
honey.
Small comfort that would be.
Martin took another deep breath, trying to summon the proper
spirits to return to the ballroom, when he realized that on top of
the garden roses and the city stench, there was another scent. A
better scent.
A human scent.
Then came the sneeze. It was louder than any sneeze had a
right to be. Martin could practically hear the mucus propelling
out the nose.
He wasn’t sure which was worse: realizing he was not alone on
the balcony or overhearing such a viscerally personal experience.
He angled his shoulders away from the noise. Whoever was
suffering such a violent eruption surely wanted their privacy. “I
beg your pardon. I did not realize this balcony was occupied.”
The sneezer sniffled methodically into a handkerchief. “The
fault is mine. I did not make myself known.”
The voice was female. Light, clear, and a faint flatness to her
vowels that made Martin think of the far side of the ocean.
“I’m having an attack of allergies, I’m afraid. I blame Mr.
Montague’s cologne.”
Martin swallowed back any reply. He should not be on a dark
balcony alone with this voice.
“I thought you were my mother, which is why I didn’t say
anything,” the voice continued before he could move. “She bid me
wait here while she fetches more handkerchiefs from the retiring
room. Only I’ve been waiting for eons. Perhaps she is having a
nap.”
An unchaperoned female voice. Now Martin really did reach for
the door. “I shall fetch your mother for you. Whom may I inquire
after?”
Her reply was another sneeze. Now that he knew his
companion was female, he could revel in how unladylike the
sound was. No wonder her chaperone had shunted her onto a
dark balcony; no husband could be caught when one sneezed like
a blacksmith.
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