Lord Libertine. Gail Ranstrom

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СКАЧАТЬ How could I love you when I barely know you? How could I swear fidelity when we will both be on to the next lover as soon as our affair palls? But if that is what you need, I shall give it to you, though be warned—I won’t mean a word of it, and I won’t have you crying ‘foul’ afterward.”

      He was honest, at least. Of the four similar proposals she’d garnered, not one of them had been honest enough to tell the truth. “N-nevertheless, Mr. Hunter. I am not for sale.”

      “If not money or marriage, name your terms.”

      Searching for words, she shrugged. “When…when I know them, sir, I shall tell you.”

      “Please do. When I want something, I am not a very patient man.”

      “Thank you for the warning.”

      He grinned, bowed and took his leave. When he was halfway across the ballroom, he turned to look at her again. She could feel his gaze sweep her from head to toe. His admiration was clear, but the open sexuality of his gaze unnerved her.

      She glanced at her domino on the console table. How would she ever hold him at bay? She had better find her quarry soon.

      Lady Lace. Ah, yes. This was going to be interesting. How long had it been since a woman had denied him? Well, that sort of woman, at any rate.

      Andrew took his hat and walking stick from the footman at the door and stepped into the darkened street. The distance to Whitcombe Cemetery was scarcely twenty minutes, and he waved a coach away, deciding the exercise would expend a measure of his restless energy.

      And banish the memory of the most remarkable kiss he’d ever indulged.

      To be kissed in so sudden and forward a manner, to be consumed by that kiss to the point of instant and painful arousal, was unprecedented for him.

      Lady Lace was definitely a witch. That kiss—how had she known the very thing that would set him back on his heels and make him lose his self-possession? And how had she managed to accomplish the very thing no woman ever had—meet him on his own terms, without demurring or pretense?

      How had he thought her drab at first sight? Lace definitely improved with proximity. At close hand, she was perfectly proportioned. Her breasts were soft and ample enough to burn their impression against his chest. And her hair was not dull at all, but alive with multicolored strands of chocolate, chestnut, caramel and copper. And her eyes—the most soulful greenish hazel he’d ever seen. But her mouth—dear Lord—that mouth! It was all his favorites wrapped into one. The hint of a saucy lilt in her voice and the soft, lush lips accented by a small mole above one corner beckoned him. Straight, even teeth and a sweet, almost shy, tongue replete with intoxicating brew completed the spell.

      Ah, but what could he do about her? Clearly, she had her own plan. Just as clearly, he was not a part of it. But that knowledge did not satisfy his lust for her or engender any soft romantic notions in him. He wanted her, and he fully intended to have her.

      He felt his blood rising again and quickened his pace. He hadn’t intended to go to the witches’ Sabbath tonight, but now he felt the need to slake an indefinable thirst for excitement and fulfillment. Aye, he’d go to meet Henley and the others and they’d find sin of some sort.

      Isabella closed the door of the rented town house on James Street and braced herself. As awful as the night had been, coming home to the guilt and pain was worse. She dropped her cloak where she stood, kicked her slippers off and tiptoed into the salon. A soft sigh from the sofa told her that Eugenia had waited up for her.

      Her sister sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Bella?”

      “Gina, I told you not to wait up. Go along to bed, dear. Mama will need you in the morning.” She went to the sideboard and poured herself a small glass of port to help her sleep.

      “She’s had a bad night, Bella. She’ll sleep late. But she may want to see you tomorrow.”

      Isabella gave her sister a sad smile. How dear of Gina to hold out that hope. In truth, their mother was the sort who needed to fix the blame for any disaster on anyone but herself. This time it was Bella’s turn to be the scapegoat.

      And the awful truth was that Bella blamed herself, too. If only she’d paid more attention to Cora’s absences. A short walk in the park, indeed! Her sister had been meeting a murderer. If only she’d gone with Cora. If only she’d raised an alarm sooner when Cora had been late coming home.

      “Mr. Franklin came by at suppertime,” Gina said. “He wants to know if we intend to honor the lease through September. I did not know what to tell him.”

      A lump formed in Isabella’s throat and she sighed. “If I am gone next time he comes, tell him yes. We cannot leave London until Mama is well enough to travel, but that may not be for a while. Nevertheless, we shall pay, even if we leave the place vacant. Mama signed the contract, and we shall honor it.’ Tisn’t as if we are destitute.”

      Gina nodded. “The sooner we leave, the better, say I. Not only has London killed Cora, but it is stealing you away, too.”

      “Hush, sweet,” Bella soothed. “London is not stealing me away. I am simply seeking Cora’s murderer. He shan’t get away with it. I promised.”

      “But, Bella, you have changed. You…you are drinking too much strong spirits, you are going out without a chaperone and staying out late. You will be ruined.”

      She gave a choked laugh. Will be? If Eugenia found out about the kisses… “Cora is dead. Dead. The scandal will ruin us all—you, Lilly and me. I only hope we can leave London before the news filters to the ton, which it is sure to do when Lord and Lady Vandecamp arrive in London. They will withdraw their sponsorship in quick order. When Mama is well enough, we will return to Belfast, likely never to return.” She sighed. “So, do you really think I care what a bunch of London popinjays think of me? We are already ruined.”

      “That isn’t fair. It wasn’t our fault. And, no matter what society will think, it was not Cora’s fault, either.”

      “That will not matter.’ Tis always the girl who is blamed. What fast behavior! Why was she unescorted? What was she doing there? Somehow it will be twisted to be Cora’s fault. Now go on to bed, dear. I am home safe now, and I shall come up presently. I just want to look in on Mama and Lilly.”

      Gina stood and gathered her robe around her. “Do not fall asleep on the sofa again. Cook will find you when she comes down to prepare breakfast. She’ll tell Nancy, and Nancy will tell Mama.”

      Bella nodded absently. Nothing was secret from the servants. When Gina was gone, she returned to the bottle on the sideboard. A sip? Just a tiny dram? Enough to let her sleep without dreaming? Or was Nancy reporting her drinking habits, too? Measuring the level of liquid in the bottles?

      What was wrong with her? She’d never even tasted anything stronger than watered wine before Cora died, and now she was using it liberally and undiluted. To forget the pain. To sleep without dreams. To wash away her self-loathing and the taste of too many kisses, too many strange men.

      She went back to the sofa, leaving the decanter untouched. She just needed a moment to close her eyes and make plans for tomorrow, and to rest.

      First, she’d rise early, with her sisters. With Mama unable to cope with even the slightest unpleasantness, Lilly and Gina needed СКАЧАТЬ