Free My Fair Temptress by Christina Dodd

“I accept your offer with gratitude.”
    Bouchard caught her other arm. “Allow me to assist you, too.”
    “Yes, thank you, you are both so good.” As she walked away, taking both of Jude’s Moridovians, and all their goodwill, with her, she glanced back at Jude with twinkling eyes. “Some Englishmen need lessons in how to flirt. Perhaps, if they pay attention, they will get what they deserve—a bride.”
    At the moment, Jude realized…she wore a red rose in her lapel.
    He looked up the path where Lady Pheodora had escaped.
    He stared the other way at the sinuous figure of Miss Caroline Ritter.
    He had wooed the wrong girl.

Chapter 6
    M iss Ritter rode off in a cab.
    Comte de Guignard and Monsieur Bouchard walked in a wide circle around Jude and indicated their opinion with a haughty sniff in his direction.
    How had that happened? In one fell swoop Jude had lost his influence with the Moricadians, and all so he could learn to flirt…with a woman who tied his guts to her garters. She was magnificent, a Helen of Troy who could launch a thousand ships, a woman of beauty and mystery.
    He should discover where the cabriolet had taken Miss Ritter, follow her, and show her how very well he could flirt.
    He should accost Comte de Guignard and Monsieur Bouchard, follow them, ingratiate himself with them.
    He was torn between his brains and his balls, being the dashing cavalier he had sworn on Michael’s grave to become and the man driven by the need for vengeance for his brother’s death.
    Before he could make a decision, he heard a voice he’d not heard for many a long year. “Huntington? Huntington, is that you?”
    He turned to see Rodney Turgoose, the silliest man in London—and Jude’s best friend—bearing down on him.
    “I heard you were back, but I didn’t believe”—Turgoose looked him over—“the report.”
    Jude might as well allow de Guignard and Bouchard time to get over their pique and to follow up on the lead regarding Gloriana Dollydear. In addition, he saw no real sense in chasing after Miss Ritter. He’d see her often enough to suffer all the frustration a man could bear.
    So, sighing, he fell into the role of fop and fool as easily as he might tumble into one of the shiny puddles left over from the rain. “Turgoose! As you see, I returned to England a new man!”
    “Yes, I…see.” Turgoose stood a full foot shorter than Jude, but the elevated soles of his shoes brought his nose level with Jude’s shoulder. A soft fall of reddish blond hair hung artfully over Turgoose’s forehead. His lips were full, his smile fatuous, but he was warmhearted and generous to a fault.
    Jude flung out his arms in exuberant exhibitionism. “Am I not the finest Beau Brummel you’ve ever had the good fortune to view?”
    Turgoose’s eyes widened in alarm. “I heard you looked ridiculous.”
    “I have my jealous detractors.” Jude chuckled humorously.
    “No. You really do look ridiculous,” Turgoose insisted.
    Jude fought the desire to laugh in real amusement. The two men had attended school together, and as one of the deans said, it was a good thing Turgoose was pretty, for he wasn’t smart. But he was honest, incurably honest, and Jude found himself enjoying the novelty. “Come, come, my dear Turgoose, you don’t mean that. I’m magnificent!”
    “If you like vulgarity. You look as if you fell into a vat of paints from that crude Vermeer fellow.” Catching the glint in Jude’s eyes, Turgoose pounced. “Let me guess. You’re not serious. You’re playing a part. You’re driving your old man batty so you can take over the family fortune.”
    Wrapping his arm around Turgoose’s neck, Jude pulled Turgoose’s head to his chest and knuckled him hard, messing up the careful arrangement of hair.
    Turgoose sputtered and groused, and when Jude let him stand on his own two feet, dedicated a full two minutes to rectify the damage done to his coiffure. In an aggrieved tone, he said, “If you don’t