Free What an Earl Wants by Kasey Michaels

bargain, and I
paid dearly for it. Modistes, tutors. Why, I myself taught her the intricacies
of proper behavior at table. Comely girl, biddable and really quite fetching,
but shocking table manners. In any case, she’s turned into a tolerable silk
purse, thanks to my attention, but the sow’s ear of her former, shall we say, occupation? That will soon come to light. I’ll
enjoy knowing Reggie will take that realization to hell with him.”
    “I can see you’ve put considerable planning into the duke’s
downfall. Who was it said it’s women who most delight in revenge?”
    “I have no idea, but I should have, because it’s true. You men
haven’t the proper appreciation for a well thought-out revenge. I do know the
source of my most favorite quote, if that helps you in any way. The dear Pierre
Laclos, in his marvelously naughty Les Liaisons
dangereuses, warned, ‘Old ladies must never be crossed: in their
hands lie the reputations of the young ones.’ Something to keep in mind, pet,
although I would protest I’m not yet old. I suppose I will be, someday, but in
my mind and heart, I’m only a girl.”
    “You were as ancient as sin in your cradle,” Gideon told her,
earning himself a playful tap on the forearm as they sat down beside each other.
“And if I recall correctly, it ended badly for the conspirators in that immoral
tale.”
    “Ah, but they were all French. Give me credit for being smarter
than any Frenchman, if you please. They chop off heads. How gauche! I’m much
more subtle. Now, if you aren’t going to cut up stiff with me about a paltry
thing like the soon-to-be late duke—and trust me, his is a paltry thing indeed
and sadly lacking in talent—why are you here?”
    Gideon smiled sadly. “I’m not certain I remember. Perhaps it’s
been too long since I’ve felt dizzy, turned around and around by a crafty old
woman who should be minding her knitting.”
    “Or her grandson’s children, whom I’ve little hope of at the
moment, sadly. Don’t think the widow Orford will give you sons. Her womb has to
have shriveled to nothing by now, as she’s at least fifteen years your senior.
Really, Gideon, what could you possibly have been thinking, to bed her?”
    “Lucile and I aren’t lovers, Trixie. You shouldn’t put credence
in every rumor.”
    “You’re not tipping her? You greatly relieve my mind. But then,
for God’s sake, why are you seeing her? You’ve
squired her around the Park at least twice in the past week, and you’ve stood up
with her at balls three times. No, four, I nearly forgot Suffolk’s flat affair
this past Thursday. It can’t be for her conversation, her wit. She possesses
neither.”
    “Her late husband was one of my father’s cronies. I was
interested in the manner of the man’s death last year. She’s just out of
mourning, remember? Cultivating her friendship and confidence seemed the easier
way of learning the particulars that might not have become public
knowledge.”
    “Particulars concerning the manner of his— How perfectly morbid of you. Gideon, why would you even care about a
thing like that?”
    She was so good at playacting. Nibbling around the corner of
the subject would get him nowhere; she was too proficient in deception to be
caught out so easily. Which left the direct approach. “My father’s fellow
members of that damn Society of his have been dying with alarming frequency of
late, Trixie, all of them in a variety of accidents or other misfortunes.
Orford, for one. Lady Malvern’s uncle, Sir George Dunmore, for another. I know
they were members because they all wore the rose. Are you killing them?”
    Her response was swift. She slapped him hard across the
face.
    He lifted a hand to his burning cheek. “I believe I should be
remiss if I didn’t point out that’s not an answer, madam,” he told her
coldly.
    “Perhaps not, but it was most deserved. What’s going on,
Gideon? I’d decided not to ask about the stickpin, waiting for you to