His Wicked Seduction
compromise her, then she might convince her brother that she must marry soon. He’d never let her marry Charles, of that she was certain. Her plan was to persuade him Jonathan was a safer choice.
    Audrey had even spoken to Emily about her plan, hoping she would know how to help. She was quite knowledgeable when it came to outwitting her brother and his dashing League of Rogues. But Emily had warned her it carried too much uncertainty and risk, and asked her to wait. She planned to bring up the subject with their mutual friend Ashton, believing him to have the best chance of reasoning with Cedric.
    However, Audrey was not a patient person. Horatia had inherited that trait, and Audrey envied her for it. No man ever coddled her or treated her like a babe still clinging to her mother’s skirts. Men treated Horatia with respect. If Audrey could get married, then perhaps people would have to take her seriously as well.
    “Did you find what you were looking for?” Charles’s rich voice broke through her determined thoughts as he sat down next to her on the couch.
    “Yes. I dropped my glove near the couch.” They were settled in Charles’s drawing room, completely alone. He hadn’t even been suspicious when she’d asked to stay a while longer after finding her “missing” glove. The time had come for her to reveal her hand and see what level of mischief she could achieve.
    Charles lounged on the red velvet cushions, his golden hair tousled as though he’d just woken from a pleasant nap. Audrey felt her pulse leap, though more with excitement and guilt than attraction. But she was a Sheridan. She took pleasure in the thrill of the game. This was no exception.
    Audrey rose from her chair, and smoothed her rose-colored muslin gown, trying to keep her hands from shaking. She knew she looked fetching tonight. She prayed it was enough to seduce Charles. Her russet brown hair hung loose in a Grecian fashion, wound with periwinkle blue ribbons. Despite her efforts, her hands continued to shake as she approached the loveseat. He looked at her curiously.
    “What’s wrong, love? You’ve been awfully quiet this evening. You haven’t even tried to tell me about the latest fashions from Paris.”
    Audrey held in a sigh. She was about to make him very angry, and she was already regretting it.
    “Surely you don’t care what styles of gown are most in fashion?” She wrinkled her nose as she slid into the seat next to him and gave him a coy smile.
    Charles chuckled, but it was a hesitant sound, as though he’d sensed something had changed. “Right, er, well, it was good to see Avery again, wasn’t it?”
    Charles swallowed hard when Audrey moved several inches closer. He put his right hand down, as though hoping it would act as a barrier between their bodies. Audrey glanced down at it, then brushed a fingertip along the back of his hand in a sensual pattern. He jumped and yanked his hand back.
    “Audrey,” he warned when she scooted over the last few inches, now pressed right against him. She could feel the heat of his body radiating from his dark blue waistcoat and tan breeches.
    “Shh, my love. Not another word.” She leaned into his body, lips puckered.
    Charles went rigid, then thrust out his hands, as though trying to ward off an evil spirit. His eyes were alight with panic and Audrey giggled, guiltily, enjoying the look of terror on the rake’s face. This was the infamous scoundrel Charles Humphrey, the Earl of Lonsdale, and he was frightened of her ? She ducked under his arms and hopped onto his lap, twining her arms about his neck.
    He squawked like a startled goose and fell off the love seat. Audrey, with a death grip on his neck, fell flat on top of him. He grunted beneath her and tried to shake her off.
    “Kiss me, Charles.” Audrey captured his surprised mouth.
    His struggling slowed. Audrey didn’t know the first thing about kissing, but it didn’t seem to be as romantic as she’d expected. Charles lay

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