Dating the Duke (The Aristocrat Diaries #2) Read Online Emma Hart

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Aristocrat Diaries Series by Emma Hart

Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 101363 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)

Read Online Books/Novels:

Dating the Duke (The Aristocrat Diaries #2)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Emma Hart

Book Information:

A duke and a writer walk into a bar, and the barman says—never mind. They’re in the library, and they’re not wearing any clothes. Oops.

My name is Adelaide Astley, and if there was anything remotely exciting about me to tell you, I would.
Sure, my uncle is the Duke of Leicester, and my mother bucked family tradition to marry “below” her and open a hotel, but I’m nothing but an aspiring author with a Tudor era obsession.
Oh, and I’m spending the summer tutoring the daughter of the current Duke of Worcester—who happens to be a regular in my highly inappropriate midnight dreams.
Thirty-year-old Alexander Winthrop-Bentley is so not my type, but hours of chess games and arguments over Tudor dynasties mean we’re thrown together more often than we should be. And when he shares with me that he needs a date for a charitable event, my mouth betrays me by offering myself up for the evening.
How I find myself naked in the library is another matter entirely. Ahem.
When the society papers declare us an item, neither of us have the heart to tell our families the truth. Only my twin sister and best friend know the truth, but they both agree we need to keep up the charade, even if only for the summer.
But when the end of August comes and my return home beckons, I have to ask myself a question.

Is it only his daughter who’s stolen my heart, or has Alexander done the very same thing?
Books in Series:

The Aristocrat Diaries Series by Emma Hart

Books by Author:

Emma Hart


“Did you know they arrested that murderer? The one who killed the man who bled out over the tulips in Arrow Woods?”

I choked on my toast. A particularly sharp piece got lodged in my throat, and it made my eyes water as I erupted into a coughing fit and covered my mouth with my hand.

Elizabeth, Duchess of Worcester, looked at me with her eyes wide. “Adelaide, dear, are you quite all right?”

I managed to swallow most of the offending bite of toast before I reached for my glass of water and desperately glugged it down. Thankfully, it solved the problem, but my eyes still streamed.

“Goodness, have a tissue.” She plucked one out of a box and handed it to me, and I took it with a nod of my head.

She had those tissue boxes everywhere.

I wiped at my eyes, thankful I was still in my loungewear and not yet ready for the day. I could only imagine the state of me if I’d had mascara on.

“What’s going on in here?” Alexander, the Duke of Worcester and Elizabeth’s son, strolled into the kitchen looking like he was off to a business meeting with the Queen herself. “Adelaide, what’s the matter?”

“Death by toast,” Elizabeth replied before I could. “It’s why I prefer yoghurt. One doesn’t choke on yoghurt.”

We’d had this discussion daily for the last week since I’d arrived at Bentley Manor—never mind that this was the first time I’d choked, and it was solely down to the shock at her conversation starter.

“I’m fine,” I said, albeit a smidge scratchily. “I wasn’t prepared for your mother to bring up such a… macabre… subject over breakfast.”

“Oh, Mother,” Alexander said, pouring himself a cup of tea and sitting next to me at the table. “You haven’t been bringing up those conspiracy theories of yours again, have you?”

Elizabeth didn’t bat an eyelid as she slid him her empty teacup and saucer. “Only on days that end in Y, Alexander. No, I was asking if Adelaide had heard about the murderer that had been apprehended in Arrow Woods.”

“I’m assuming she had not, given the reaction.” He glanced at me.

“You assume correctly,” I said, pushing the remainder of my toast away from me.

I’d almost died once this morning. I’ll pass, thank you.

“Who did it?” I asked Elizabeth, turning my attention to the jug of orange juice and pouring myself some.

She adjusted her glasses and peered at the newspaper. “Edmund McMahon.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Eddie McMahon? Really? I went to school with him.”

“Mm. Battered the other man over the head, apparently.”

Alex put his mug down with a clatter. “Is this really breakfast conversation material, Ma? Poor Adelaide is turning green.”

Was I?

I probably was.

It was rather grim, wasn’t it?

“Oh, dear.” Elizabeth got up and fetched the biscuit tin. “Here. Have a biscuit.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” I replied slowly.

“There are gingernuts. They’ll help with your nausea. You aren’t pregnant, are you?”

“Mother!” Alexander took control of the biscuit tin and pulled it away. “That’s impolite.”

“She didn’t answer.”

“Because it’s none of your business.”

“I’m not pregnant.” The chance would be a fine thing. I hadn’t gotten any in months. “It’s just a little early for such graphic discussions about murder, that’s all.”

“Ah, you have a weak stomach.” Elizabeth nodded. “Good thing you aren’t here in the spring. Those sheep make a grand mess birthing their lambs.”

“Mother,” Alexander said, a tad firmer this time. “Do you not have anywhere to be? No doubt Adelaide would like to enjoy a peaceful cup of tea before Olympia wakes up and causes carnage.”

“Mm,” I replied. “We’re reading on the Kindle today.”

“The Kindle? What’s wrong with a real book?” Elizabeth sniffed as she stood up. “Everything is technologically driven and it’s a crying shame, if you asked me.”

I fought back a smile. “There’s a setting that changes the font to something easier to read for dyslexic children.”

She paused, her mouth forming a small ‘o.’

“I would like to have her reading a chapter book alone by the end of the summer, be that on paper or on the Kindle,” I continued. “She’s actually an extremely proficient reader, but she gets frustrated easily by the set up on paper books. I hope this setting will make it more enjoyable for her.”

Alexander hid a smile behind his mug.

“Well,” Elizabeth said, smoothing out her blouse. “That would make things easier, wouldn’t it?”

“I certainly hope so.”

“As do I.” She looked around uncertainly before she looked at Alex. “I’m going into the village. There’s a council meeting regarding the development of the skate park and I’d like to be a part of that.”

“You won’t convince them it’s a good idea,” Alex said blithely. “Despite what everyone wants, they won’t do it. They’d rather fetter the council tax away on vanity projects like getting the signs cleaned, ignoring that poor Gerald has done it for thirty years without pay. If they must pay someone, I’d rather they backdate his pay.”