Free The Redemption of a Dissolute Earl by Julie Johnstone Page A

nothing. Deciding that ignoring Lord
Edgeworth’s comment was her best recourse, she said, “If I didn’t
know better, I’d say you’re a romantic.”
    “Ah, you think you know me?”
    Charlotte studied Lord Edgeworth. She knew
he never took the same lady anywhere twice. She knew that when they
had been younger he had followed the groomsman’s daughter,
Katherine, around like a puppy dog, but then the girl had surprised
everyone by becoming betrothed to the decrepit Duke of Vischase.
That betrothal had made Charlotte stupidly believe she too could
cross over the class boundary that divided her from the ton .
    “I don’t know you,” Charlotte finally said.
And she didn’t, not really. She’d judged him a rake and dismissed
him. Perhaps Lord Edgeworth had been in love with Katherine. A
memory filled Charlotte’s mind of seeing Katherine and he sitting
close together in Lord Danby’s moonlit garden. Charlotte had
completely forgotten that.
    She reached out and squeezed Lord
Edgeworth’s hand. “Thank you for your offer of friendship. I gladly
accept it.”
    “Good luck, Miss Milne. I’ll see you in the
morning.”
    She nodded, moved past Drew’s cousin and his
now glowering companion, and hurried down the stairs, through the
common room, and down a short hall that led to the taproom.
    True to Lord Edgeworth’s word, Drew sat at a
table by himself, his only company the roaring fire that crackled
in the quiet room. His back was to her, but she immediately
recognized him with his sinfully thick, blond hair. Her fingers
twitched in memory of just how silky those curls felt when she
grasped him to pull him closer.
    A fierce desire to brush the curls off his
neck and kiss the sensitive spot near his ear soared through her.
She tried to will her desire away, but as she studied him, her
desire only grew stronger. His shoulders curled forward, his neck
lowered as he obviously studied something before him. Drew in deep
concentration was a sight an artist would long to paint. She
pictured his eyes―as they had always looked when his mind was
occupied― light blue turned to dark and his lids would slant just a
touch. She bet he had one long, slender hand propped against his
right cheekbone.
    Besieged with curiosity, she tiptoed towards
him, scarcely daring to breathe lest he be alerted to her presence.
She should alert him. That was the right and proper thing to do,
but every instinct she possessed told her whatever he was
concentrating on was important.
    For better or worse, she wanted to see what
held him captivated. Before she’d allowed Drew to bed her, her
instincts had never failed her, and since she had fled her home for
London and joined the theatre, all her instincts had been correct.
She embraced her intuition to keep her presence unknown and moved
silently until she stood behind him.
    Looking over his shoulder, she peered down
at the scroll he was writing on, but she couldn’t see a thing. She
squinted, trying to make out the words. Drew sat up abruptly and
faced her.
    Yelping, she jumped back. His blue eyes bore
into her, a smirk pulling at his lips. “You’re very quiet, but your
scent gave you away the minute you came close.”
    Her heart fluttered being so near to him.
His shirt collar hung open, allowing her to glimpse the top of his
chest and the dusting of golden hair that covered his skin. She
knew―memory by singed memory―what lay lower. Shoulders thick with
corded muscles, a stomach chiseled by ripples, long, muscular
thighs that would trap her between his legs and hold her captive
until she was spent. She swallowed against a wave of desire that
left her dizzy.
    Drew laughed knowingly. “Care to sit?”
    She nodded. If she didn’t sit she might
swoon from the need pulsing from her belly all the way to her core.
“What are you doing?” she asked as she took the seat opposite of
him.
    “Making a list.” His gaze held hers,
unblinking and unrelenting.
    “Of what?”
    Drew slid the paper