50 Ways to Ruin a Rake by Jade Lee Page A

what feelings were, how life could be expressed in laughter and in lust, such as she’d never thought existed before.
    And now, as all that awareness died, she learned about pain. Not physical pain, but an ache as that brimming understanding slowly quieted. She was once again sitting without moving, watching silently as life passed her by. It was all she could do to muster the strength to stand and face the home of the esteemed Lady Eleanor.
    Meanwhile, Trevor stepped out of the carriage, groaning slightly at his stiff muscles. His jaw had swollen to an ugly and no doubt painful degree. And she was sure he had a myriad of other bruises about his person. And yet he had endured the long carriage ride in silence without a word of complaint. She couldn’t imagine her father doing such a thing. Or Ronnie, for that matter. She hid a small smile. Her uncle was in for a miserable ride back to his home with Ronnie in the carriage.
    Meanwhile, Trevor was extending his hand, and she felt awkward as she alighted. Her own body was stiff from the travel, and she winced as her knee popped when she straightened it. She was sure that Lady Eleanor’s knees never made noise.
    â€œNo worries now, my dear,” said Trevor as he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “Everything will be right and tight, you’ll see. By the morrow, you’ll be buried in dress shopping and party invitations. You won’t have a second left to worry.”
    She didn’t answer. She hadn’t the life inside her to speak, but the feel of his hand and the heat of his body gave her enough strength to begin the stately walk to the door. It was an impressive house in an impressive neighborhood. She’d never been in Grosvenor Square, though of course she’d heard of it. As it was near dark, there were no other people on the walk, but the ever-present murmur of the city beyond kept the place from being quiet. At least until Trevor banged the huge brass knocker carried in the beak of a fierce eagle. The ducal crest, she presumed, and she felt appropriately intimidated by it.
    The door opened on silent hinges by a butler with a large frame and immaculate salt-and-pepper hair. Trevor greeted him warmly.
    â€œSeelye, you’re looking in excellent health.”
    â€œMr. Anaedsley. A pleasure to see you this evening.” By not even a flicker of an eye did he acknowledge Melinda, but he did step back to gesture them inside. “Please step in out of the damp air. I shall inform His Grace that—”
    At that moment, a woman’s low throaty laugh vibrated through the air before they heard the words, “Radley, that’s wicked!”
    â€œIs it?” the man answered, humor lacing through his words. “I thought it would be fun.”
    Melinda looked up to see a couple descending the stairs, the woman a bit faster than the gentleman, her eyes alight with laughter as he reached forward and missed her arm. There was nothing untoward in their actions, except that anyone with eyes could see that the two were playing with each other. Nothing so childish as tag, but still a game of run and catch though neither went faster than a quick walk.
    â€œSlow down, minx,” the man called, but he needn’t have said it. The woman had stopped abruptly on the second to last step, her gaze finally catching the party in their front hallway. Since the man hadn’t noticed yet, Mellie feared a collision, but at the last second, the gentleman stepped nimbly aside, taking a small leap around his companion to land sweetly on the main floor. Which was when Seelye cleared his throat and everyone—the couple included—looked to the butler.
    â€œYour Graces,” Seelye intoned. “Mr. Anaedsley and Miss…”
    Mellie remembered at the last second what was required. She hastily dropped into an awkward curtsy. “Miss Melinda Smithson, Your Grace. Er, Your Graces.”
    â€œA pleasure to meet you,