Free WANTON by Cheryl Holt Page A

working so diligently to seem calm and unaffected, she’d have laughed at his reaction.
    “You can’t associate her!” he hissed.
    “Why not?”
    “She’s notorious. You’ll ruin your reputation.”
    “Well, it’s mine to ruin, isn’t it? You declined our engagement, so it’s not as if I have any prospects.”
    “But Barbara Middleton! Are you insane?”
    “No. I’m having quite an enormous amount of fun.”
    He shook his head. “I don’t know what to say, Miss Hubbard.”
    “Don’t say anything. It’s none of your affair if I have friends of whom you don’t approve.”
    “You’re racing down a very bad road.”
    “Yes, and I expect I’ll crash before it’s all through.”
    He studied her, assessing her dress, his hot attention focused on her bared bosom.
    “What happened to the schoolteacher you were last week?” he asked.
    “She was too boring. I buried her.”
    “I believe, Miss Hubbard, that you’ve gone stark raving mad.”
    “Yes. Isn’t it grand?”
    She stepped in even closer so the front of her body was pressed to his for the briefest second. The charged air surrounding them sizzled with a heated intensity.
    “It was lovely to see you,” she said, “but I’m very busy, and I must be off.”
    She sauntered away, but she could feel his eyes locked on her bottom, and she bit down another grin. Barbara insisted men were thick creatures, and she was right. Amelia had simply exposed too much flesh, and Mr. Drake was bumbling like an idiot.
    “Miss Hubbard!” he snapped from behind her.
    “What?” She threw him a lazy look over her shoulder.
    “You haven’t heard the end of this.”
    “The end of what?”
    “You have no father to guide you.”
    “No, I don’t.”
    “So...as your prior fiancé, I must warn you of the dangers you’re facing in befriending Barbara.”
    “I understand the dangers, Mr. Drake,” she blithely quipped. “Barbara explained them all, so you needn’t fret about me. I’m fine.”
    She swept inside without glancing back.
    * * * *
    “Is she at home?”
    “Yes, Mr. Drake, she’s at home.”
    “And...?”
    “She’s not receiving visitors, but she’ll make an exception for you.”
    “Wonderful.”
    “If you’ll come with me?”
    Barbara Middleton’s butler gestured to the stairs, but Lucas didn’t move.
    “Where are we going?”
    “Miss Hubbard is not dressed for company.”
    “I thought you said she’d make an exception for me.”
    “She will—in her boudoir.”
    “Her boudoir?”
    Lucas was so shocked that he nearly sputtered with outrage.
    After bumping into Miss Hubbard the previous evening, he’d fussed and fumed all night. Then, first thing this morning, he’d forced himself to his father’s so he could find out what was occurring.
    Apparently, Mrs. Middleton had asked to assume control of Miss Hubbard, and Lord Sidwell had agreed. He’d handed her over to Middleton without mulling the ramifications.
    From what Lucas could surmise, Miss Hubbard had been staying with Mrs. Middleton for five days, and she was already inviting male callers up to her boudoir. It wasn’t even referred to as a bedchamber.
    There were so many aspects wrong with the current situation that his head was spinning. Partially from Miss Hubbard’s swift plunge from the straight and narrow, but also from his trying to figure out why—precisely—it mattered to him.
    She was his father’s mess, his father’s problem. Lucas had been very clear that he didn’t consider himself betrothed, so why would he care if she was flaunting herself to every libertine in the city?
    He supposed his change of attitude was because of his recent encounter with his cousin, Rose Ralston. She’d been in dire straits and had begged him for assistance, which he’d been too lazy to provide. Due to his refusal, she’d suffered numerous catastrophes that could have been avoided if he’d been a tad more concerned about her. Her plight had given him a whole new perspective as