A Wicked Liaison. Christine Merrill

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СКАЧАТЬ the vagaries of Freddy’s payments for many months to come. For the first time in ages, she felt the stirrings of hope for the future, and cautious optimism.

      And her salvation had come from a strange source, indeed. She offered a silent prayer of thanks for the timely intervention of the thief, whoever he might be, and hoped that the loss of his little bag had not forced him to do other crimes. She would hate to think herself the cause of misfortune in others, or the further ruination of the man that had climbed out of her window.

      But, somehow, she suspected it was not the case. Perhaps she was romanticising a criminal, and most foolish for it. She might be creating a Robin Hood out of a common scoundrel. But the situation had been so fortuitous, it almost seemed that he had meant to leave the money behind for her use.

      It was a ludicrous notion. What reason would he have had to help her? But he had offered, had he not? And if he had not meant to leave it, he must have missed the bag by now. Surely he would have returned to take it from her? After she was sure he was gone, she had gathered the money back into the sack, and placed it under her pillow. And then she had lain awake in dread most of the night, convinced that at any moment, she would feel a breeze at the window and hear a light step on the carpet, approaching her bed in the darkness…

      And at last she had forced herself to admit that it was not dread she was feeling at the reappearance of the strange man. The idea that he would return and she might open her eyes to find him bending over her bed and reaching to touch her, held no terror, just a rush of passionate emotion fuelled by the memory of a stolen kiss.

      Which was utterly ridiculous. It had been a very nice kiss. And best to leave it at that. He was a thief, and she would be a fool to trust him with her heart or her reputation, despite what he had said to her the previous night.

      And even if he were a gentleman, as he claimed, what could they possibly have in common other than a single moment of weakness? Could she have a conversation with him, in the light of day? Would he even wish to see her? He had said something about being in love. Did he care for her at all? Kisses meant very little to most men. He had probably forgotten it already.

      But it had been a most extraordinary kiss.

      Her mind had circled back again, to replay the kiss, as it seemed to do whenever she tried to talk herself out of the fantasy. She was fast creating a paragon out of nothing. A man both dashing and kind, but more than a bit of a rogue. When the candles were lit, he would be passably good-looking, and as innocuous in appearance and behaviour as he had claimed. But at night, he was a burglar, living off his wits. And a single kiss from her would make him forsake all others and risk capture by returning to her rooms.

      She closed her eyes and smiled, imagining his arms about her again. He would confess that he was unable to resist the attraction, and assure her that, if she could find it in her heart to forgive his criminal misdeeds, he would love and cherish her ’til the end of her days.

      ‘Your Grace, there is a gentleman here to see you.’

      Susan was standing in the door, hesitating to interrupt. And for a moment, Constance thought that her dream had come to life. She looked enquiringly to her maid.

      ‘Lord Barton.’

      Damn.

      ‘Tell him I am not at home, Susan.’

      ‘He is most insistent, your Grace.’

      ‘As am I. I am not now, nor ever shall be, at home to Lord Barton.’

      ‘I thought you might say that.’ The voice came from the hall, just beyond Susan’s head. ‘So I took the liberty of letting myself in. I hope you don’t mind.’ Jack Barton’s tone made it clear that he didn’t care one way or the other whether she minded—he intended to do as he pleased in the matter.

      Constance swept the papers she’d been holding under the desk blotter to hide them, and stood to face him.

      ‘I mind very much, Lord Barton.’

      ‘I believe I requested, when last we talked, that you call me Jack.’ He was smiling, as though he had totally forgotten her response to their last conversation.

      ‘And then you insulted me.’

      ‘I meant the offer as a compliment, your Grace. I do not make it lightly, nor do I make such generous offers to all the women of my acquaintance.’

      ‘You suggested that I become your mistress,’ she reminded him, coldly.

      ‘Because I wish to surround myself with beauty, and can afford to do so. You are quite the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and I mean to have you.’

      ‘I am not some item, to be added to your collection,’ she replied. ‘You are mistaken, if you think you can purchase a woman as easily as a painting.’

      He was unaffected by her answer. ‘I have not been so in the past. For the most part, it is only a matter of finding the correct price. Once you do, you can purchase anything.’

      ‘Let me make myself clear: you cannot buy me, Lord Barton. No amount of money would induce me to submit to you. Now, get out of my house.’ She pointed towards the door.

      ‘No.’

      This presented a problem. She could not put him out herself, and such male servants as she had were either too young or too old to do the job for her. To a gentleman, her demand that he leave should have been enough. But if she was forced to rely on Barton’s honour as a gentleman, she was left with nothing at all to defend herself. ‘Very well, then,’ she said, resigned. ‘State your business and then be gone.’

      He smiled and took a seat in the chair near her desk, as though he were a welcome guest. ‘I expected you would see it my way, once you had thought about it. I came about the ball I am hosting, tomorrow evening.’

      ‘I sent regrets.’

      ‘Yes, you did. You are the picture of courtesy, if a trifle stubborn. I must break you of that, if we are to manage well together.’

      ‘Do not think you need to manage me, Lord Barton,’ she snapped back at him. ‘I thought I made it clear, when I refused your contemptible offer, that we would not be doing anything further together. I do not wish to dance with you. I doubt I can eat in your presence, since the thought of you sickens me. And thus, I sent regrets for your ball.’

      Her word seemed to have no effect on his continued good humour. He was still smiling as he said, ‘That is not acceptable.’

      ‘It is most acceptable to me,’ she insisted. ‘And that is all that matters. I doubt that you have any tender feelings that I might have offended. I do not believe you capable of them.’

      ‘Let me speak plainly,’ he said.

      ‘I have been unable to stop you.’

      ‘You will be in attendance at the ball, because I wish it to be so.’

      ‘And why would I care what you wish?’

      Without another word, he reached into his pocket, and withdrew an object, wrapped in a linen handkerchief. His eyes widened and his mouth made an ‘Oh’, like a conjuror performing a trick. Then he dipped his fingers into the bundle and withdrew a СКАЧАТЬ