don’t know the meaning of the word.”
“I beg of you, my lord, help me.”
His expression hardened and his mouth flattened with implacable rejection. “You waste your time with these theatrics. I
told you—I’m awake to your deceit.”
Weak, useless tears welled up. She could see that nothing she said would convince him she wasn’t his enemy. All hope
was lost. All hope had been lost from when she’d set out to find Vere in Bristol.
ABC Amber LIT Converter http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
ABC Amber LIT Converter http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
She stumbled toward the door. She didn’t have the strength to argue with the man she must seduce. The man who had
never liked her, most emphatically didn’t want her, and who now quite obviously loathed her.
He turned his head as she reached him and spoke with a detachment she knew was feigned. “Just tell me one thing, Mrs.
Paget—are you my uncle’s lover?”
She stopped as if she collided with an invisible barrier and stared at him aghast. For the first time, she really believed he
was out of his mind.
Another woman might have slapped him. But she was too astonished for outrage.
As her shocked silence extended, he straightened away from the wall and brushed past. She didn’t move as she listened to
him stride out of the cottage. His rapid steps suggested he couldn’t bear to breathe the same air as she did for another
second.
Chapter 8
Matthew stretched out as far as he could—not bloody far enough—on his awkward sofa and listened to Grace pace in the
room above. It was late, past midnight. As if to prove him right, the hall clock chimed two. He hadn’t slept. From what he
heard upstairs, neither had she.
They hadn’t met since he’d challenged her with being his uncle’s mistress. For the first time, she hadn’t come down to
dinner. He wondered if she’d eaten, then chided himself for caring about the artful trull’s well-being. She could sulk up
there until Kingdom Come as far as he was concerned.
Burning anger still choked him. Anger with her. And with himself for allowing her to sneak under his barriers. He’d
always known she was his uncle’s creature, a superb actress ready to go to any length to convince her unwilling audience
of one. God knows she’d even drugged herself to nausea to achieve that last touch of verisimilitude.
Yet she’d gained his cooperation, his friendship, his trust. Or at least she’d been on the verge of gaining those things. If
he hadn’t emerged from the courtyard in time to see his uncle drive away, he might have fallen into her warm, fragrant
trap.
He’d wanted to kill her then.
He rolled over on the couch, but five nights’ experience told him there was no comfortable position for a man of his
height. Savagely, he punched the cushions under his head.
What use lying awake and stewing over her duplicity? He should be inured to treachery. Betrayal had dogged him for the
last eleven years. Hers was just one more instance, and scarcely the most significant.
Although that wasn’t how it felt.
A step creaked. What the hell was she doing? Perhaps she wanted a walk, unlikely as the hour was. He’d welcome
surcease from her damned endless pacing.
She paused outside the salon. The door squeaked faintly as she pushed it open. Immediately, he lay still, feigning sleep.
ABC Amber LIT Converter http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
ABC Amber LIT Converter http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
His senses were always abnormally sharp around her. He heard the uneven saw of her breath, the rustle of her clothing.
Not the rasp of the silks or satins that seemed to constitute her wardrobe. No, this was something softer that whispered as
she moved.
She crept inside, then paused in the center of the room. He dared a quick look under his lashes. She wore something pale
and filmy so he had no trouble locating her.
She’d never approached him at night. Clearly, Lord John’s
“I beg of you, my lord, help me.”
His expression hardened and his mouth flattened with implacable rejection. “You waste your time with these theatrics. I
told you—I’m awake to your deceit.”
Weak, useless tears welled up. She could see that nothing she said would convince him she wasn’t his enemy. All hope
was lost. All hope had been lost from when she’d set out to find Vere in Bristol.
ABC Amber LIT Converter http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
ABC Amber LIT Converter http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
She stumbled toward the door. She didn’t have the strength to argue with the man she must seduce. The man who had
never liked her, most emphatically didn’t want her, and who now quite obviously loathed her.
He turned his head as she reached him and spoke with a detachment she knew was feigned. “Just tell me one thing, Mrs.
Paget—are you my uncle’s lover?”
She stopped as if she collided with an invisible barrier and stared at him aghast. For the first time, she really believed he
was out of his mind.
Another woman might have slapped him. But she was too astonished for outrage.
As her shocked silence extended, he straightened away from the wall and brushed past. She didn’t move as she listened to
him stride out of the cottage. His rapid steps suggested he couldn’t bear to breathe the same air as she did for another
second.
Chapter 8
Matthew stretched out as far as he could—not bloody far enough—on his awkward sofa and listened to Grace pace in the
room above. It was late, past midnight. As if to prove him right, the hall clock chimed two. He hadn’t slept. From what he
heard upstairs, neither had she.
They hadn’t met since he’d challenged her with being his uncle’s mistress. For the first time, she hadn’t come down to
dinner. He wondered if she’d eaten, then chided himself for caring about the artful trull’s well-being. She could sulk up
there until Kingdom Come as far as he was concerned.
Burning anger still choked him. Anger with her. And with himself for allowing her to sneak under his barriers. He’d
always known she was his uncle’s creature, a superb actress ready to go to any length to convince her unwilling audience
of one. God knows she’d even drugged herself to nausea to achieve that last touch of verisimilitude.
Yet she’d gained his cooperation, his friendship, his trust. Or at least she’d been on the verge of gaining those things. If
he hadn’t emerged from the courtyard in time to see his uncle drive away, he might have fallen into her warm, fragrant
trap.
He’d wanted to kill her then.
He rolled over on the couch, but five nights’ experience told him there was no comfortable position for a man of his
height. Savagely, he punched the cushions under his head.
What use lying awake and stewing over her duplicity? He should be inured to treachery. Betrayal had dogged him for the
last eleven years. Hers was just one more instance, and scarcely the most significant.
Although that wasn’t how it felt.
A step creaked. What the hell was she doing? Perhaps she wanted a walk, unlikely as the hour was. He’d welcome
surcease from her damned endless pacing.
She paused outside the salon. The door squeaked faintly as she pushed it open. Immediately, he lay still, feigning sleep.
ABC Amber LIT Converter http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
ABC Amber LIT Converter http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
His senses were always abnormally sharp around her. He heard the uneven saw of her breath, the rustle of her clothing.
Not the rasp of the silks or satins that seemed to constitute her wardrobe. No, this was something softer that whispered as
she moved.
She crept inside, then paused in the center of the room. He dared a quick look under his lashes. She wore something pale
and filmy so he had no trouble locating her.
She’d never approached him at night. Clearly, Lord John’s
Similar Books
