Read What Not to Bare: A Loveswept Historical Romance for Free Online

He didn’t think of her as the EB, or anything other than the reason he got to go to London once a year. Her brother loved her, when he could pull his nose away from his studies. Her mother loved her, but that love came with obligations.
    At least her family loved her.
    Depressing. Entirely depressing.
    Perhaps, she thought, desperately looking for a bright side, she could find something to write about for Emma’s column at the haberdashery.
    Besides the plethora of single—not married—bachelors.

What Not to Bare
    Dear Ladies:
    When you think about what color to choose for your gown, do you ponder how the color will set off your skin? Your hair? Your eyes?
    If you are a young unmarried lady, it is traditional for you to wear white, or the bolder choice, off-white. Some young unmarried ladies, knowing that they don’t look their best in either of those two colors, choose something more complementary. A soft blue, for example, to match their eyes, or a vibrant purple that makes their dark hair even more striking
.
    If they choose too boldly, however, they are castigated
.
    But in order to attract a mate—and therefore move themselves from the unmarried to the married column—they should look their best
.
    What should a young lady do when faced with this conundrum?
    The answer is simple: What will make you look your best to the one who will love you best?
    The Fashionable Foible

Chapter 4
    David had to admit, visiting a London haberdashery was an experience he had definitely missed. On the battlefield, he’d worn his uniform, of course, and then in India, Gotam had taken care of getting his clothes tailored. Even though he and Gotam had argued as to just how “native” David was allowed to go.
    Gotam usually won.
    Here, at least, the uniform David wore was what every other gentleman was also wearing. For once, he felt as though he blended in.
    And then immediately did not blend in, as every eye turned to him as he entered the shop. Of course. He’d been away for ten years, and he knew that rumors were swirling as to his precipitous return. Never mind that he’d been off serving his country for a decade, it was his status as a Prodigal Son that had them talking.
    Never mind that he and James remained happily and affectionately in touch; that he had been gone for so long in
a foreign land
would strike many people as odd.
    Which could make his courtship of the Abomination make them talk even more—the opposite of what he was supposed to be doing. This assignment was markedly harder than Lord Bradford knew.
    “Marchston!” David had no clue who had recognized him, and still no clue as the man advanced toward him, holding his hand out with a wide grin on his face.
    “Wonderful to see you! You’ve just gotten back, I’ve heard?”
    No. Still had no clue who this was. He was actually grateful when he spotted Lady Charlotte, so he could just nod and pass by the jovial gentleman to speak with her.
    She was wearing a gown of such a virulent shade of orange—or was it pink?—he felt his eyes widen involuntarily. And David did not like showing any kind of emotion—a diplomat was seldom useful if his every feeling was revealed on his face.
    Plus, if she could read his emotions, she would know he was not sincere in his attentions.
    “What in heaven’s name are you—oh. That is, it is lovely to see you, LadyCharlotte. Lady Jepstow.” He nodded to the lady’s mother, who was engrossed in a conversation with an older, stout gentleman. Lady Charlotte’s father, perhaps?
    Lady Charlotte tilted her head up to regard him, an unholy light of amusement in her eyes. “Were you going to ask what in heaven’s name I was wearing, Lord David?” She poked him—
poked him!
—in the arm and chuckled. “You should be careful. If you go about speaking to everyone in this frank manner, everyone will think you as blunt as I. That would not,” she said, leaning closer in a conspiratorial manner, “be a good thing.”
    He took a