Free Your Scandalous Ways by Loretta Chase Page B

described what had happened from the time the men had attacked to the moment Mr. Cordier had taken his leave.
    Halfway through the recitation, Giulietta turned pale, but the story of Francesca’s futile attempts to seduce Mr. Cordier revived her.
    â€œI have to kill him,” Francesca said. “It must be poison, though, because he’s too big to strangle.”
    â€œBig and beautiful and he would not make love to you,” Giulietta said with a laugh. “Who can blame you for wishing to murder him?”
    Francesca had described him in mouth-watering detail: the thick, curling, raven-black hair; the eyes so shockingly blue; the athletic physique, the potent aura of masculinity.
    Her mouth still watered, though she of all people ought to know better. She waved her hand dismissively. “I’ll get over it. A temporary madness, perfectly understandable in the circumstances.”
    â€œHe is beautiful. He saves your life. You are shocked and frightened. It is natural to want a big, strong man in your bed to keep you safe.”
    â€œAnd to help me forget,” Francesca said. “What better than a bout of lovemaking to shut out unpleasantness? If only he’d obliged, I might have had a proper night’s sleep.”
    â€œI understand,” Giulietta said. “Everyone knows this happens. After a great danger, after a funeral, the lovemaking proves that we are alive. To me the puzzle is why he refuses. He desires men, do you think?”
    â€œNo.” Francesca glanced at the small table placed, as always, near at hand. Today it held the wine decanter on its silver tray, along with two wine glasses, for she’d known Giulietta would arrive earlier than usual. Rumor traveled at a stunning speed in Venice.
    In her mind’s eye, Francesca saw Mr. Cordier’s long-fingered hand as he set down his drink on that table. Recalling the quick, cool work he’d made of her attacker, she’d felt a chill—of fear or of excitement, she wasn’t sure.
    Then she’d felt his slight inclination in her direction, and the chill dissolved into a tingle of anticipation. But he’d straightened in the next instant, and withdrawn.
    â€œNot that it matters,” she went on, “because he won’t get a second chance. A younger son, my dear? That would never do. He could never keep me in the style to which I’ve chosen to become accustomed, and I cannot lower my standards.”
    One standard being that Lord Elphick must get a stomachache when he learned who the latest lover was, instead of smirking at what he’d perceive as her downfall, the downfall for which he waited so eagerly. He’d still be waiting, she was determined, when he breathed his last—and, she hoped, agonizingly painful—breath.
    â€œI cast lures at Mr. Cordier only because I was overwrought.” She hesitated briefly before continuing, “I was grateful as well, naturally. Do you know, this was the first time in my life a man came to my rescue? Not one of the men I’d known during my Season or during my marriage made the smallest attempt to help me when my husband behaved so abominably. My father had already run away, leaving me to the wolves. Imagine the shock to my sensibilities, when a complete stranger risks his life on my account!”
    Giulietta’s brow furrowed. She rose from the footstool and turned to the small table. She picked up the wine decanter and filled the two glasses. She gave one to Francesca, then took her own and lifted it. “You are alive,” she said. “For this I give your neighbor thanks.”
    Francesca raised her glass. “I’ll be thankful for that, in any event.”
    They clinked the glasses and drank.
    â€œBut now let us set aside for the moment this provoking man who rescues you, and so stupidly declines to have his way with you,” Giulietta said.
    â€œSet him aside, indeed.” Francesca gave a rueful