Wed Him Before You Bed Him by Sabrina Jeffries Page A

to marry him or be disgraced.
    Perhaps she could wait until she reached home…
    It seemed like only moments later that Papa’s shouting made her start up in confusion. Lord, she’d fallen asleep! Papa was ordering the footmen about, trying to hurry them along with taking down the packed trunks.
    The door edged open and her mother’s head appeared. “Oh, good, you’re awake. Your father is eager to be off. He’s worried about the weather. Are you packed?”
    Papa pushed into the room. “Never mind that.” He planted his hands on his hips. “How do you stand with young Masters?”
    A pity she couldn’t speak the truth: I detest and despise him, and I will never marry him!
    She sat up in bed. “I believe he intends to call on me in London, Papa.”
    Papa frowned. “So he hasn’t offered marriage?”
    â€œNot formally, no.”
    â€œBut you think that he will.”
    She steeled herself for the lie. “Probably. It’s only been a few days.”
    â€œTrue. A young man like that—he has to be cautious.”
    She clenched her hands into fists behind her back. “Yes.”
    â€œWell then, missy, get dressed. We have to be off.”
    Thankfully, Papa was in such a hurry that she only had to see David briefly, and his mother kept them from having a private moment. Still, the way he looked at her made her blood boil. How dare he give her that smoldering glance after what he’d done?
    She fumed about it all the way back to London. By the time they reached home, several hours later, she’d figured out how to send her letter. She couldn’t use one of the servants, since they all spied for Papa, and she couldn’t mail it without Papa franking it. He would want to read it first.
    But David would be in London in a few days, and there was a lad who sold cross buns in front of the house every morning. She would pay him to deliver it. She’d just have to make sure that while David knew exactly whom it came from, there was nothing to tie it to her in case it fell into the wrong hands.
    She’d be careful, very careful. But one way or the other, she would get David Masters out of her life forever.
    Â 
    Tom Dempsey couldn’t believe it. The young miss at 15 St. James’s Square had entrusted him with a letter to deliver. And she was paying him handsomely, too. It almost made him forget the rain as he hurried along the streets, the prized letter carefully tucked inside his breast pocket.
    Unfortunately, he was so busy congratulating himself on his good fortune that he didn’t see the older lad with a bag stuffed full of envelopes until he ran smack into him. It exploded to scatter mail around him like gigantic confetti.
    â€œYou ass!” the other lad snapped as Tom stood gaping at the disaster. “What the devil do you think you’re doing?” He boxed Tom’s ears. “Well, come on then, help me pick these up! Mr. Bowmar will have my head if I lose all these letters on account of you!”
    The two boys scrambled to gather them up as the rain beat down on their backs and the ink on the envelopes began to run. When the last one was in the bag, the other lad ran off without even so much as a thank-you.
    â€œBloody sot,” Tom grumbled, now soaked to the skin as he hurried on.
    But when he got to the proper address, he reached inside his pocket to find that his letter was gone. Frantically, he patted all his pockets, then retraced his steps, hoping perhaps he’d dropped it on the path. After reaching the corner where he’d encountered the other fellow and still not finding it, he had to acknowledge the truth. Somehow it had fallen out and been mixed in with those other letters.
    He groaned. That scurvy fellow was gone, and Tom’s good fortune with him.
    The miss had said she would give him one of her ear bobs when he delivered the letter and the other when he brought back a note from