Free Never Resist a Rake by Mia Marlowe

dishabille and not wearing gloves. Men loved to touch a bit of skin in private that was forbidden to them in public. Besides, if done correctly, the tip of a man’s tongue placed at the juncture of the index and middle finger could create a remarkable sense of stimulation in another place on a woman’s body. “I don’t believe you’ve ever called on—goodness me! What’s happened to your eye?”
    â€œOh, that. It’s nothing. I’m sorry if the sight of it distresses you, but please don’t be concerned.” Hartley removed his topper and took her hand, bending to brush his lips across her knuckles with correctness. Clearly the newly elevated lord had picked up a few high-toned manners along the way— more’s the pity . “The bruise looks much worse than it feels.”
    Chloe returned to the settee and draped herself artfully across it. In a little while, she’d tuck her neatly shod feet up beside her on the seat, taking care to make sure she displayed more ankle than she ought. But she’d do it in such a way as to make it seem inadvertent. Chloe did so enjoy teasing gentlemen with what she wasn’t prepared to give them.
    Yet.
    She waved Hartley to the striped chintz Sheridan chair across from her.
    â€œNever say you engaged in a boxing match and I didn’t get to watch,” she said with a pout.
    Lord Hartley’s face brightened like a little boy who’d just been invited to display the toad in his pocket for her inspection. “As a matter of fact, I did, but it was no place for a lady. Besides, I fear it was all quite illegal.”
    â€œSo much the better.” Chloe gave a shiver of delight that wasn’t entirely feigned. “Do sit down and tell me all about it.”
    Blackwood had already described the match to her in some detail. She loved watching half-dressed young fellows go at each other hammer-and-tongs and was quite put out at Blackwood for taking Hartley to the boxing crib without her. She had a full suit of men’s clothing she kept for just such occasions, when women weren’t allowed. She often joined the Daemon Club on their jaunts about Town that didn’t involve ladies of light virtue.
    Even if she didn’t go incognita, since Chloe was a widow many times over, her movements weren’t as restricted as most ladies. If the evening involved cards or dice, she could often venture out and she wouldn’t be the only woman present. Chloe wasn’t received by the fashionable set in any case, and thus she had very little reputation to protect.
    Hartley settled in to give a blow-by-blow account of the match that was worthy of a boxing coach.
    â€œBut I didn’t get this in the ring,” he said pointing to his shiner. “That came later, after I left the crib.”
    The thought of his being set upon by ruffians sent a thrill rippling through her. She wondered how she’d have fared if she’d been with the Daemon Club when that pack of human wolves gathered around. Perhaps if she’d pulled out the little pistol she always carried in her reticule, Lord Hartley would be able to see out of both of his soulful, dark eyes now. The floor-to-ceiling draperies that were pulled shut over her Palladian windows moved slightly. Blackwood was hiding there.
    â€œI didn’t come here to talk boxing with you, Lady Chloe.”
    â€œYou have me on pins. Why did you come?”
    â€œTo invite you to Somerfield Park.”
    Chloe blinked at him in surprise. He was too good, this country mouse her city friends had brought to her notice. No one ever invited her anywhere respectable, and the seat of the Somerset marquessate was the pinnacle of respectability. “Me? Go to the country with you? Why?”
    â€œLord Somerset is hosting his annual hunt, and the house will be filled with his friends,” Hartley said. “I’d like to see a few of mine there as well. That’s why