Free What a Wicked Earl Wants by Vicky Dreiling Page A

knowing that Rachel would scold her for using two sheets of paper when she could easily cross it. Laura reflected on how much her world had changed since marrying Phillip. Perhaps she’d grown a bit complacent about the luxuries she’d once never dreamed of having, but mostly she enjoyed the ability to give fine gifts to her family. They were only possessions, but she bought them keeping in mind the interests of her brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, and parents. With a smile, she decided to send a missive to Lady Atherton inquiring if she wished to accompany her on a shopping expedition. She had just lifted the lid of her lap desk and drew out another sheet of paper when a knock sounded. “Enter,” she said.
    Reed stepped inside. “My lady, Lord Bellingham has called.”
    Laura frowned. She recalled the earl’s torrid kiss and decided it would be best to steer clear of him. “Please tell him that I am not at home.”
    Reed cleared his throat. “His lordship anticipated that might be your answer and suggested you had better receive him, as he has an important topic to discuss with you.”
    Laura suspected a trick. But what if there was a problem? She couldn’t afford to ignore the earl, but if he’d lied, she most certainly would call him on the carpet. “Very well, please admit him.”
    Reed’s usual stoic expression slipped a notch, but he nodded and exited. Laura assumed the butler found the earl too bold. She certainly did.
    A few minutes later, Reed entered. “The Earl of Bellingham, my lady.”
    “Thank you, Reed.” She rose and maintained her poise until Bellingham sauntered inside her drawing room. He wore a hunter-green coat and shiny black Hessians. Though he was clean-shaven, she detected a faint shadow above his lips and along his sharply defined square jaw. When she met his intense gaze, she found herself mesmerized by his sapphire eyes. Her thoughts scattered, and she felt unaccountably tongue-tied. Breathe.
    “My lord.” His pristine cravat was expertly tied, his coat fit him like a glove, and his fawn-colored trousers were so tight she could discern his rather long male organ. Her face grew warm, and she averted her gaze. Laura could almost hear her mother’s voice. Recall your manners. You’re no school miss. In all fairness, no man should be that incredibly…endowed—or handsome. Doubtless he was well aware of the effect he had on countless women. Well, she certainly did not wish to be one of them. “Please be seated. My butler indicated you had an important matter to discuss.”
    She expected him to take the chair, but he flustered her by picking up her lap desk and sitting next to her on the sofa. The scent of starch drifted to her.
    To her consternation, he pushed up the narrow flap at the top of the lap desk to examine the inkwell and pen. Then he opened the main compartment. “Ah, you have an unfinished letter.”
    “Are you in the habit of reading other’s correspondence?” she said in exasperation.
    He lifted the box and looked at the underside. “I’m only interested in the make of the box.”
    She reminded herself not to roll her eyes. “My lord, when you finish playing with my lap desk, perhaps you would be good enough to tell me the reason you called.”
    A sly smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he set the lap desk on a side table. “I like to play. Do you, Laura?”
    For a moment, the merriment in his blue eyes captivated her, but she mustn’t allow him to draw her in with his games. “You will address me properly,” she said.
    “Lady Chesfield,” he said in a rumbling voice.
    “I’m not a child and neither are you.”
    “I wasn’t referring to child’s play.”
    He was much too close, so she moved over. “I assume you called for a reason.”
    “Yes, I called regarding your son.”
    “He is my responsibility, not yours,” she said.
    “Then you’re not interested in his whereabouts last night.”
    “He spent the evening reading, not that it