The Wager (Entangled Scandalous) by Lily Maxton Page A

released her from her stupor: Michael Grey, the Earl of Thornhill. “It’s you !”
    He glared at her. “Very articulate, Miss Middleton. May I ask what you are doing on the floor?”
    She jumped to her feet, nearly colliding with him in the process. He stepped back. “I’m not trying to entrap you, that’s certain.”
    “Well, let us be grateful for small favors,” he said, his voice tight.
    Lord Thornhill had never liked her. She couldn’t put her finger on the exact reason. He was her sister Elizabeth’s cousin by her first marriage. And he’d been quite smitten with Elizabeth after her husband had died and he’d returned to London to claim the earldom. Everyone had thought they would marry.
    But Elizabeth had been in love with someone else, and married the other man instead.
    If the animosity had begun after her sister turned down Thornhill’s proposal, Anne might have understood it more.
    But Anne suspected Thornhill had disliked her even before then. There was something in the way he looked at her—as though he didn’t approve of what he saw. Was it because she was the complete opposite of her sister? Passably pretty, while Elizabeth was lovely? An outspoken, opinionated woman who would most likely become a spinster, while Elizabeth had always been elegant and proper and exceedingly popular?
    If so, it really wasn’t fair to disapprove of someone simply because they didn’t live up to the paragon of virtue he imagined in his mind.
    She assumed her dislike for him was equal to his dislike for her.
    Anne went to the bookshelves and began to search by the muted light of candles that filled gold wall sconces. “Do women always follow you into secluded libraries?” she asked without looking at him.
    Odd—she could feel his presence behind her, though he was silent. It was probably the force of his disapproval making itself known.
    “Only Miss Richards. She hasn’t stopped seeking me out for the past week; I thought to escape her by coming in here, but she followed me.”
    “I do admire her tenacity.”
    “Yes, you would.” Subtle emphasis on “you.” “Is that how you’ll find a husband, Miss Middleton? Throw yourself at him during a musical soiree?”
    She glanced over her shoulder, lifting her eyebrow and tossing the most disdainful look she could muster at him. “How else, my lord?”
    Either he couldn’t think of a retort to that, or he’d been silenced by his shame. Good. Let him dwell on his atrocious behavior. Lord Thornhill would never have insulted Elizabeth like that, or, for that matter, any of the ladies present at tonight’s gathering. To him, Anne was different because she spoke her mind and didn’t waste her life trying to be perfect. To him, she wasn’t quite a lady.
    A title on the bookshelf suddenly caught her attention. “Fairchild, you are a lecher!” she crowed. She yanked the book from its companions. It was dark-green leather with an embossed title…and it was heavy.
    Lud. How many confessions could a courtesan have?
    Curious, she flipped open the book, falling on a random page near the middle:
    He curled my hair around his hand, tilting my head back so I was forced to stare up at the ceiling as he rode me. Dukes, I thought, they always need to demonstrate their control.
    “Oh my,” Anne muttered, a flush starting in her cheeks and sweeping down the rest of her body.
    Ride her? Like a horse?
    She’d seen stallions with broodmares at her father’s stables…though ladies weren’t supposed to be interested in that sort of thing. The couplings had looked wild and angry and painful. She was finding it difficult to believe that humans could mate in the same way horses did. She remembered the male stallion had dug his teeth into the female’s neck as he mounted her. Did men do that too?
    Her fingers fluttered to the base of her throat and she swallowed.
    “Horses?” Thornhill asked sharply.
    Good Lord, she’d forgotten about him. And apparently she’d spoken