Free Leslie Lafoy by The Rogues Bride Page B

thought of explaining her past to Tristan that made such a difference?
    My mother was a prostitute. A simple statement of fact. And it wasn’t as though it were a great secret; everyone in London knew it. In fact, odds were he already knew the truth and there was no need for her to make any sort of announcement of it. Then again, maybe he didn’t know. Most people in Society treated her with a distant kind of stoniness, as though she had some dreadful disease they might catch if the space between them had the slightest bit of warmth. Since Tristan was anything but distant and cool, either he didn’t know he was at mortal risk or he didn’t care.
    If he didn’t know, then telling him the truth could change everything. It would be incredibly sad to lose the delightful, easy banter with him. Not to mention, she allowed in the name of honesty, the delicious way he made her feel. But if it was a matter of his knowing and not caring …
    Or perhaps, she suddenly realized, her heart sinking, it was a case of his knowing and believing that the daughter was as willing to offer her body every bit as casually as her mother had been. And if that was the situation …
    So far she hadn’t done anything to disabuse him of the notion. Did she want to be nothing more than a casual romp in the sheets for any man inclined to ask for one? Most of the men in the world were … She shuddered and looked back to the easel.
    No, only Tristan. She wasn’t her mother any more than he was his father or grandfather. There was something about Tristan that she found absolutely compelling. It was part physical; there could be no denying that he was a handsome, assured man. The other part was harder to define but no less important: an irresistible mix of magnetism and curiosity and delight. It was special.
    Special? She quietly snorted. How incredibly fairy-tale and juvenile. No, “special” wasn’t within the realm of possible. He needed a wife and not only didn’t she want to be one, but also her past made her a completely unsuitable candidate. Even the Lunatic Lockwoods had standards, and the bastard daughter of a duke and a prostitute didn’t come anywhere close to meeting them. Yes, whatever physical relationship she and Tristan had was going to be, by practical reality, brief.
    Of course, the surest and safest thing to do would be to avoid the temptation of Tristan Townsend entirely. There would be no need to explain her convoluted rise to the peerage. There wouldn’t be any risk of scandal, either. Not that she cared about such things for herself, but Drayton was a member of the House of Lords and Carrie, when she wasn’t confined to the house by pregnancy, was active in charity work; they could well live without the ugly whispers and nasty looks that a scandal would inspire.
    Sure and safe were on the one hand, though. On the other … Her gaze slid up and down the length of Tristan’s body and then across the width of his chest and shoulders, mentally stripping him ever so deliberately out of his well-tailored suit. If he looked even half as good as she imagined …
    Yes, on the other hand was Tristan Townsend and a curiosity that she’d never in her life faced. And, truth be told, had never expected to face. What was it about him that stirred so strongly a desire thousands of other men hadn’t even been able to awaken?
    “Ah, your man Gregory was right. Here you are.”
    She looked to the doorway to see Noland advancing on Emmy and Tristan. Actually, Noland was advancing on Emmy and rather like a speeding, overloaded wagon; Tristan just happened to be standing nearby. Simone grinned and hoped he’d be able to jump clear of the wreckage.

Chapter 5
    Well, Tristan allowed, mumbling a welcome of sorts, at least Noland’s arrival had eased the disconcerting furrow between Simone’s brows.
    “Lady Emmaline, you look lovely today,” his friend said as Tristan watched the tension ease out of the rest of Simone’s body. Her