Free Don't Tempt Me by Loretta Chase

Girl. They would have to start thinking of her as normal.
    She wasn’t, but that was not his concern.
    â€œDo you remember little Zoe Octavia Lexham?” he said.
    His aunt cast her pale blue gaze in the direction of the great chandelier, as though that was where she kept her memory. “Zoe Octavia,” she said.
    He heard the whispers start up again: Zoe Octavia .
    His aunt’s vague blue gaze widened and sharpened as it returned to him. “The bolter?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWhat nonsense. Lexham misplaced her—in the Holy Land or Constantinople or some such.”
    â€œShe turned up recently.”
    â€œShe usually did turn up, eventually,” said Lady Sophronia. “But it’s been an excessive eventual , by my calculations. Is she or is she not a snake charmer?”
    â€œTo be absolutely truthful, I am very nearly certain she is not a snake charmer.”
    â€œI suppose ‘very nearly certain’ is the best we can expect in an uncertain world. Is she an American?”
    â€œDecidedly not.”
    â€œVery sensible of her. Well, then. It’s out of my hands. I leave it to the Queen.” She waved her hand. “I say no more. It’s up to you. I have a great deal on my mind. You can’t expect me to explain everything to you.”
    He could have stayed longer at Almack’s, but he reckoned that (1) his work here was done and (2) his aunt had treated him to as much entertainment as any reasonable man could hope for. He took his leave about the time the words Zoe Octavia were making their way into the refreshment room.

Four
    Marchmont House
Morning of Thursday, 2 April
    The Duke of Marchmont did not even look up when Lord Adderwood burst into the breakfast room. His Grace had been expecting the interruption. Last night, in fact, he’d sent word to the porter to watch for Lord Adderwood in the morning and send him in as soon as he arrived.
    Adderwood waved a newspaper under his nose. “Have you seen this?”
    Marchmont glanced at it. “It appears to be a newspaper.”
    â€œIt’s the Delphian. Have you read it?”
    â€œCertainly not. I never read the papers before bedtime, as you well know.”
    â€œI should have bet anything you’d read this one.”
    â€œI hope you bet nothing. It pains me to see you lose money, unless it is to me.”
    â€œBut it’s all about the Harem Girl!”
    â€œIs it, indeed?”
    â€œWhat an aggravating fellow you are, to be sure,” said Adderwood. “You must know all about it. You were at Lexham House yesterday. I heard you stood on the balcony with a young woman. This”—he tapped the newspaper—“appears to be the young woman.”
    â€œCertainly not,” said Marchmont. “That is a newspaper. We settled that a moment ago. Do you not recollect?”
    Adderwood threw him an exasperated look, sat down, and opened the paper. “I came straightaway, as soon as I got it. I’ve only had time to glance—” He broke off, his eyes widening. “Why, this is shocking! Did you know of this, Marchmont?”
    â€œOh, Adderwood, your lamentable memory. How could I know what is there when I haven’t read it?”
    Adderwood glared at him over the paper, then cast his gaze down again and began to read aloud:
    Â 
    Miss Lexham’s Oriental Ordeal by John Beardsley
    The following DRAMATIC NARRATIVE Comprises a Full and TRUE Account of Events Having Lately Befallen a LADY OF THE ARISTOCRACY, as Narrated by Her to this Correspondent.
    Adderwood looked up from the paper. “A dramatic narrative?” he said. “Strange way to go about it.”
    â€œEveryone knows that Beardsley fancies himself awriter,” said Marchmont. “As I recall, he once wrote an account of a fire in the form of a Greek epic, in dactylic hexameter.”
    Adderwood returned to the paper, and in suitably dramatic tone, continued to