London's Perfect Scoundrel by Suzanne Enoch Page A

conversation. And she could think of no way to phrase her question without it sounding as though she’d done something tawdry or improper. No doubt he counted on precisely that. Whatever she said next, he could use it to ruin her. She should have hidden under her bed tonight.
    Best to get it over with, then. “Lord Dare mentionedthat you’d found a necklace at the Hanson soiree. I think it might be mine. May I see it?”
    His lips twitched. “Yes, I discovered it in the punch bowl,” he said smoothly, and reached into his pocket. “Would this be it?”
    Evie felt faint with relief. “Oh, thank you so much, my lord,” she gushed, before he could even produce the thing for her inspection. “It’s my favorite piece, and I thought I’d never find it.” She held out her hand.
    Saint stepped behind her. “Allow me.”
    Before she could do more than gulp and flush bright red, the marquis slid the cool chain around her throat and fastened it. His fingers brushed the hairs at the back of her neck as he leaned closer. “Well done, Evelyn Marie,” he murmured into her hair. “Now smile and say ‘thank you, Saint,’ or I’ll kiss your ear.”
    If her heart beat any faster, it would burst from her chest. She gave a friendly smile to the air. “Thank you again, Saint. That was quite thoughtful of you.”
    â€œYou arouse me,” he whispered, “and you’ll pay for that.” Then he released her and stepped back.
    The lesson , she reminded herself frantically, closing her eyes for just a moment to steady herself. “Lord St. Aubyn, have you met my mother?” she asked, turning. “I’m certain she’d like to thank you for your good deed, as well.”
    He froze for a heartbeat, then faced her. “You want me to meet your mother?” he repeated, surprise touching his eyes.
    It was the first time she’d ever seen him off balance. “Yes. Why not?”
    â€œI can name a thousand or so reasons,” he returned, then shrugged. “But why not, indeed? The evening’s been fairly uneventful so far.”
    Yes, except for her near ruination and nearer fainting spell . “This way, then, my lord.”
    â€œSaint,” he reminded her softly, falling into step beside her and, to her horror, offering his arm.
    â€œBut—”
    â€œIf I’m being civilized, then so must you be.” Not waiting for her response, he took her hand and draped it over his black sleeve.
    As they left the ballroom for the salon where most of the matrons had gathered to gossip and nibble on sweets, Evie realized what a mistake she’d just made. “Saint,” she whispered, as her mother came into view, “she doesn’t know I’m working at the orphanage. Please don’t say anything.”
    For a moment she thought he hadn’t heard her, that he was occupied with noting the shocked expressions and gasps of the matrons as they realized who’d wandered into their midst. Then he glanced at her, green eyes amused and cynical. “For a kiss,” he murmured.
    â€œB…beg pardon?”
    â€œYou heard me. Yes or no?”
    With the rest of the matrons edging away from her, Genevieve Ruddick pasted a mortified smile on her thin face. “Evie! What in the world are you—”
    â€œMama, I would like to introduce the Marquis of St. Aubyn to you. He found my missing necklace in a punch bowl at the Hanson ball, of all places. My lord, my mother, Mrs. Ruddick.”
    â€œMrs. Ruddick,” he said amiably, taking her hand. “I should have introduced myself days ago, I suppose, since your daughter and I—”
    Oh, no . “Yes,” Evie hissed.
    â€œâ€”waltzed at the Hanson soiree,” he finished smoothly. “She’s a brave young lady.”
    Her mother’s expression darkened into a frown, which looked much more natural on her pale