Free Wicked Temptation (Nemesis Unlimited) by Zoe Archer Page A

If so, the dead man was far more progressive than others of his sort. While Marco was raised among the sons of self-made men and had two sisters, Simon came from the ranks of the elite and possessed many, many siblings. From what he’d described, and Marco’s own observations, genteel women were treated like prized hunting bitches, whelping one pup after another to ensure the family line. The queen herself had birthed nine children, though two were no longer living.
    Mrs. Parrish picked at the seam of her cloak. “My husband believed something wasn’t quite right with my…” She cleared her throat. “He thought it a biological issue. Made me visit several doctors, all of whom declared me of sound health and perfectly able to … breed. Yet to everyone’s bafflement, I never did.”
    Scratching at his goatee, Marco said, “A vinegar-soaked sponge.”
    The widow did look shocked now, her gaze flying to his. “How did you know?”
    “Unless he was remarkably unobservant,” Marco said, “your husband would’ve noticed if you put a prophylactic on him.” God above—Marco would have been aware if her slim hands rolled one of the lambskin or rubber devices over his uccello . “Same with rinsing after coitus. If my wife leaped up right after we’d made love”—odd how his voice grew deeper at those words—“to clean herself, I might get a little suspicious.”
    “Do you have a wife?” she asked.
    “I am and will always be a bachelor,” he answered.
    “You cannot say always, ” she said. “Unless you’ve got the gift of prophecy, too, no one can know the future.”
    “I might not be able to read tarot cards or tea leaves, but I know that I’ll never marry.” He continued before she could press him further. “Getting a cap would have required you seeing a doctor for a fitting, which was risky, since it might lead to Mr. Parrish finding out. He was likely the sort of man to announce his intention of visiting your bedchamber ahead of time. After dinner, say, when you were both in the drawing room, and you were reading a novel while he perused the evening paper. Giving you plenty of time to prepare for his marital attentions.”
    Mrs. Parrish was silent.
    What a dull and passionless way to conduct a marriage. And entirely typical for the English. Marco had memories that he’d like to forget, of his mother stalking up to his father and dragging him by the neckcloth out of the study, and then they’d reappear several hours later, flushed and languorous. At the time, he’d been repulsed. Even now, he didn’t relish the thought of his parents’ sex life, but it set a standard that he’d rarely seen replicated.
    He never thought about what kind of husband he’d be—that was a path he’d deliberately gated and locked. But if he’d been married to Mrs. Parrish …
    Basta. An unprofitable thought to pursue.
    She spoke stiffly. “I expect you’ll call me unnatural. One of those awful progressive women subverting God and the law.”
    “You might’ve noticed, Mrs. Parrish, that I’m not really the man to accuse anyone of subverting anything.” He leaned forward and braced his forearms on his thighs. “Every Nemesis agent chose their work because they don’t believe that anyone should have a say in how others lead their lives. Especially when it comes to the powerful dictating the choices—or lack of choices—for those without power. So if you decided you didn’t want to swell up with child every nine months, I’m not going to pass judgment on you.”
    She stared at him. “You’re not?” she said, disbelief plain in her voice.
    He shook his head. “I applaud your guile. For years, you were able to trick your husband and several doctors. That takes bravery and cunning. Two things Nemesis always appreciates.”
    “And you?” she asked. “Do you appreciate a woman with cunning?”
    He found himself smiling. “What do you think?”
    She actually smiled back. “I think you’re the oddest