Free Wicked Promise by Kat Martin Page B

thrust deeply two more times, taking what he once thought he wanted, wasting his seed inside a woman he cared nothing about.
    He lay there in silence as she climbed from the bed, taking care of her needs, wiping away the evidence of a passion that had left him feeling cold. He watched her dress, watched her leave.
    But this time he did not follow.

    Elizabeth sat on a wrought-iron bench along a high stone wall of the garden. The budding leaves of a plane tree cast fingers of shade over her head. A small wooden bird feeder built in the shape of a castle hung from one of the branches. A little garden warbler, a plump brown bird with pale underparts and a stubby tail, sat on the miniature drawbridge plucking up seeds.
    Elizabeth smiled to watch him, enjoying the slight, jerky movements of the small bird's head as it studied her in return.
    Light footfalls sounded along the path and, like the warbler, she hastily turned her head.
    "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you." The woman smiled, but it held no warmth. "You must be Miss Woolcot."
    Elizabeth came to her feet. "I'm Elizabeth Woolcot." Her stomach suddenly tightened, knowing only too well that the beautiful silk-gowned, black-haired woman was Miriam Beechcroft, Lady Dandridge—Nicholas Warring's mistress.
    "I've been hoping to meet you," the viscountess said with another of her slightly brittle smiles. "I'm Lady Dandridge, a close friend of the earl's."
    "Lady Dandridge ... yes, I know who you are. I've seen you here before."
    A fine black brow arched up. "Have you, indeed?"
    Elizabeth merely smiled. The last thing she wanted was a lengthy conversation with Ravenworth's mistress. "I'm afraid his lordship isn't home at present. I believe he had some busi-ness to attend with one of his tenants."
    "So I've been told." Lady Dandridge glanced back toward the gray stone house. "The whole place is empty. That isn't like Nicky at all. He usually has any number of people about. Apparently they have all returned to the city."
    "I'm sure they'll be back," Elizabeth said with a touch of sarcasm she made no effort to hide. "You know what they say about bad pennies ..."
    Thick black lashes lowered over eyes a perfect sapphire- blue. "I gather you don't approve."
    "I'm a guest here. I haven't the right to approve or disapprove of any of his lordship's friends. Besides, I've only met a few of them."
    The viscountess waved an immaculate white-gloved hand, and Elizabeth glanced down at her own bare hands, the backs lightly freckled from the hours she spent in the sun.
    "I'll grant they are not exactly diamonds of the first water," the woman said. "Why Nicky puts up with them I cannot imagine." She gave Elizabeth a knowing, slightly condescending smile. "Of course, there are any number of people who try to take advantage of a man of Ravenworth's wealth and position."
    The needle found its mark and Elizabeth's head went up. "I'm certain there are."
    "His wife was that way." The viscountess toyed with the fingers of her glove. "You did know he was married?"
    Something sharp stabbed through her. "Of course I did." But she never really thought of him that way and the reminder felt like a barb beneath her skin.
    Miriam sighed, plucked up a pale pink blossom that had fallen onto the sleeve of her high-waisted gown. "A number of people don't know. Nick never mentions Rachael and neither does anyone else—not if they wish to remain in his good graces."
    "How did his wife take advantage? That is what you were implying."
    "Rachael wanted his money. Nick was the Ravenworth heir, after all. That is the reason she married him."
    Elizabeth shrugged. "Marriages are often arranged for such reasons. That is simply the nature of things."
    "True. I am merely pointing out that there is always a motive for one's behavior. I don't know what you are interested in, but if you think—"
    Elizabeth slashed a hand upward through the air, anger making the movement jerky. "I want nothing from Nicholas Warring but his