Free Cheryl Holt by Complete Abandon Page B

fellow. Sometimes, he acted so outrageously that he even offended himself!
    “I’m sorry.” The apology slithered out before he realized he was going to utter it. “I truly didn’t anticipate that you’d deign to visit. I’ve been up all night, and I—”
    “You never made it to your bed?”
    “No.”
    “Wakefield!” she gently chided, and her tender intonation did something to his insides, causing his heart to twist and expand as though it didn’t fit between his ribs. “I suppose you haven’t eaten, either.”
    “Well—”
    “All you’ve done is carouse and tipple? Since yesterday?”
    “Yes,” he admitted. His demeanor, when considered through her eyes, left him contrite and sheepish.
    “Honestly! You must take better care of yourself!” With a sassy smile, she inquired, “How will you keep up with me if you don’t?”
    How, indeed?
    With a kind of envy, he observed as she deftly arranged and rebuttoned his shirt, then sprang to her feet, nimble and energetic, equipped to take on the world and reform it to her version of how things should be.
    There must have been a time when he carried on with such enthusiasm, but he couldn’t remember when. Many activities that he’d previously treasured had lost their appeal. Sporadically, he managed to practice at fencing, but other than that recreation, not much interested him beyond his vices.
    She walked to the windows and yanked on the drapes, jerking them open as far as they would go. Sunshine flooded the room, making his eyes burn and hishead pound. “Miss Fitzgerald! Do you mind?”
    “Not a whit,” she impertinently responded. “What’s your butler’s name? Rutherford?”
    “Yes. Why?”
    He was reclined on the couch, an arm flung over his eyes to shield them from the onslaught of daylight, when abruptly, she was hollering into the corridor.
    “Rutherford, come at once. I need you.”
    “Good God, Miss Fitzgerald. Are you trying to raise the dead?”
    “With the condition of that indolent servant, I might be.”
    Eventually, the retainer showed himself. He was in a snit, obviously mistaking Miss Fitzgerald for one of John’s London colleagues. Though Rutherford tried to hide his feelings, he abhorred most of John’s acquaintances.
    Little did he know that the individual doing the shouting was his newest nemesis!
    “You!” He was aghast to discover that she’d sneaked in without his knowledge or permission. “What are
you
doing here?”
    “Didn’t Lord Wakefield tell you? I’ll be here every afternoon. For at least two weeks. Perhaps longer if it suits me.” She rotated so that Rutherford couldn’t see, then she winked at John. “I’m helping him to evaluate the financial situation of the estate.”
    “Holy cripes,” John grumbled. He’d speculated as to how she’d rationalize her repetitive appointments to those who might question her goings-on. So she was
working
for him, was she?
    He bent over and rested his chin in his hands. The lady had more audacity than anyone he’d ever met.
    “He’s paying me an exorbitant amount for my
assistance
,”she breezily prevaricated. “I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.”
    For a vicar’s daughter, the lies certainly rolled off her tongue! In his dealings with her, he couldn’t overlook that fact. She was capable of all sorts of duplicity, and he had to be on his guard, lest he be ensnared in one of her schemes—of which he was now convinced she had many.
    “She hasn’t done much—yet—to prove that she’s worth it, Rutherford,” he pointed out.
    “But I will,” she baldly rejoined. “I’ll be worth every penny.”
    Did she ever let a man have the final word?
    “Now then,” she continued, “Lord Wakefield advises me that he’s been involved in debauchery all night—”
    “Miss Fitzgerald!” John sputtered, flustered by her public dissection of his profane tendencies, but she didn’t miss a beat.
    “—so he’s having difficulty settling down to business. He