Free Seduced by a Scoundrel by Barbara Dawson Smith Page B

from being shut away for more than half a century. Dust motes danced in the sunlight that came through the windows at either end of the chilly attic. Humming to herself, Lady Eleanor knelt on the bare plank floor and rummaged through a trunk of outmoded accessories. The moleskin cape lay beside her, near the piles of curled wigs, buckled shoes, and tricorne hats.
    Alicia had no time to spare for visitors. Until she arrayed herself properly, she intended to postpone the loathesome task of facing the ton.
    The engagement notice had appeared that morning in the Post; Drake Wilder had lost no time in trumpeting their nuptials to the fashionable world. Though most of the nobility would be too haughty to pay their respects to the fiancée of a notorious gambler, there were always those who could overcome their scruples if it meant gleaning a bit of titillating gossip.
    Brushing a sticky cobweb off her apron, she picked a path through the jumble of broken furniture and other discards. At the stairway landing, she peered down the steep steps.
    Mrs. Molesworth stood at the base of the stairs, a mobcap perched on her iron-gray hair. She beckoned impatiently to Alicia. “Come quick, m’lady. You mustn’t keep these visitors waitin’.”
    “Send them away. I’m helping Queen Anne find a gown to wear.” Alicia also hoped to renovate her own meager wardrobe—not that she’d found many promising prospects yet.
    “I won’t be sent away.” A tall man stepped into view behind the servant, and his familiar deep voice echoed up the narrow shaft. “You should know that by now.”
    Alicia’s heart stumbled over a beat. Drake Wilder wore a grin that deepened the dimples bracketing his mouth. His teeth shone white against his swarthily handsome face. A lock of black hair lay on his brow, creating the rakish illusion of a buccaneer.
    He was a buccaneer, she thought disparagingly, though not in any romantic sense. He was a robber, a marauder, an exploiter of the weak.
    And she was no cringing milksop.
    “Go back to your club, Mr. Wilder. I’m busy.”
    Like the uncivilized rogue he was, he ignored her wishes and mounted the stairs two at a stride. “Come, now, that’s hardly the proper way to greet your fiancé.”
    Conscious of her mother at the other end of the attic, Alicia stood guard at the top of the steps. She clasped the antique gown like a shield to her bosom. “Nor is it proper to push your way in, unannounced.”
    “Then it’s good that Mrs. Molesworth invited me.” A devilish glint in his eyes, he cleared the last riser and halted before Alicia. “Allow me to teach you how to receive your beloved.”
    Cupping her head in his hands, he brushed a lingering kiss over her cheek. The freshness of the outdoors swept over her, along with his uniquely male scent. The touch of his mouth conveyed a bone-melting tenderness that sent sparkles of sensation radiating downward; tingling through her breasts and descending to a place so private, she arched backward in alarm.
    “Take your vile hands off me.”
    “As you wish.” His fiendish smile still glowed at her. “In matters of intimacy, I am yours to command.”
    “Then I command you to leave.”
    “Ah,” he said, lowering his voice to a murmur, “but I don’t intend to seduce you—yet. Today I’m merely abducting you.”
    “Abducting?”
    “I’ve come to take you to the shops on Regent Street.”
    For the barest instant, she felt a yearning so intense that her knees nearly buckled. How wonderful to spend an idle afternoon trying on stylish bonnets and new shoes, inspecting the fine fabrics at the linen draper’s, sampling ices at the confectioner’s. It was a yearning she ruthlessly squelched. “I’ve neither the time nor the funds for frivolities.”
    “That is about to change.” Wilder scanned her faded gown with its neatly mended places. “I intend to purchase a new wardrobe for you. My wife must be at the pinnacle of fashion.”
    His wife. A wave of