Free How the Scoundrel Seduces by Sabrina Jeffries

her.
    A perverse urge to plague her rose up in him. “You know what they say: It’s just as easy to fall in love with a rich man as a poor one.”
    Instead of taking the bait, she cast him a smooth smile. “Interesting words, coming from the man who considers love ‘an unattainable dream.’ Forgive me if I don’t take advice on marriage from a bachelor more famous for seducing women than courting them.”
    Sliding from between him and the table, she headed for the door. “In any case, since you seem to have a plan for investigating my family’s past, I believe we’re finished here.” Reaching for the door handle, she added, “I’ll expect a report from you as soon as you return from Liverpool.”
    “Of course.” Bristling at being so summarily dismissed—and in his own bloody office, too—he snapped, “Shall I come to the Keane town house to present my report? Or send it to you by the mails?”
    Ah. That got a reaction at last.
    Two spots of color appeared high on her cheeks. “That won’t do, and you know it. We’ll have to find some discreet way to communicate.”
    “ Discreet . Your sort’s polite word for hiding the truth.”
    She leveled a dark glance on him. “Manton’s Investigations does offer discretion. Your brother insisted that it would be provided.”
    Damn. He really was losing his mind, to even hint otherwise to a client. “I will be perfectly discreet. If you’ll tell me how to accomplish that feat.”
    After a long pause, she said, “I could invite you to the soiree my aunt intends to throw for my cousin when he arrives, but I hope to have this settled long before then. And, well—”
    “I’m not exactly acceptable in polite society,” he said silkily. At heart, she was just another fine lady with her nose in the air.
    Her gaze flashed to his. “Acceptability has naught to do with it. I’m not supposed to have met you, remember? You weren’t officially at that house party. You were sneaking around pretending to be a thief, and since Aunt Flo was at that house party, she’ll know you weren’t there. So she’ll find it highly suspicious if I insist upon inviting a stranger to a soiree. I can get away with inviting Mr. Manton, the Cales, and the duke and duchess—”
    “You’ve never met the duke and duchess,” he smugly pointed out.
    She rolled her eyes. “He’s a duke. My aunt would think it mad not to invite any duke with whom I can presume to have some connection by virtue of his relation, Mr. Cale. Besides, Mr. Manton said that the duke is interested in my cousin’s paintings, so I need only claim to have heard that somewhere.”
    God, he hated it when she was sensible and logical, making him appear biased and obnoxious. Which he apparently was, at least regarding anything that concerned her .
    “The soiree is out, then.” He forced himself to behave like an investigator rather than a slavering hound thirsting for another taste of her mouth. “Do you plan to go anywhere else I might be permitted to roam? The theater, Bond Street . . . Vauxhall—”
    “Oh! I know what we can do. When I’m in London, I ride on Rotten Row every afternoon during the fashionable hour. You could meet me there. No one will think anything of a gentleman accompanying me for a few circuits.”
    “Riding in Hyde Park. Of course. What else would an heiress do for fun?”
    “Rotten Row is the perfect hunting ground for ladies seeking husbands. Or didn’t you know?”
    Why did he get the feeling she was trying to provoke him now? And why, by all that was holy, was it working? “Husband-hunting. Always a rousing sport. I suppose you go there dressed to kill.”
    “No, indeed. What good is a dead husband?” She smiled airily. “I go dressed to maim only.”
    “Why does that not surprise me, princess?”
    Her smile vanished. “I thought you were going to stop calling me that.”
    “I said ‘perhaps.’ ” He strolled up to the door, where she stood poised for flight. “But