A Man Above Reproach Read Online Free Page A

legs and your stunning eyes, even behind that ostentatious mask.”
    This time she gulped the wine. It was easier to take those kinds of comments from men whom she was not attracted to. She had to admit it. She was attracted to the damned cad. He was odd, stoic, nearly uncouth, but she was unaccountably drawn to him. Josephine urged time to go forward as fast as possible, because she could not take much more of the close proximity and wordplay.
    “No response? And you seemed so feisty a moment ago.”
    “Erm… thank you.”
    “What do gentlemen who pay for your company usually talk about?”
    “My appearance, much less poetically. Lewd comments and questions about which lady they should choose among the crowd. Consistent pleas to grant a private audience. Complaints about Mother Superior and the alcohol. Demands to know what I look like under my mask. What I look like under my dress.”
    The room was clearing out, just a smattering of stragglers were left now: women past their prime trying to entice the last of the gentlemen and some hopeless louts who would leave disappointed, with coin still in their pocket. It would be a comfort that there were many other places in seedier parts of the city still open to allay their frustration.
    “It sounds terribly depressing.”
    “It is, Your Grace. You needn’t feel sorry for me, however. I would not want your pity.” She gestured around the room at the people dispersing. “Mother will be closing up the bar soon, as the couples have gone off two by two or three. I hope you do not feel cheated out of your money.”
    “Not in the least.” He picked up her hand as if to kiss it, but then just ran a thumb over her palm, looking at her too keenly. The tactilebuzz of it was shocking. She imagined she could feel every line of his finger graze her skin.
    “It was… a lovely evening.”
    “Indeed it was.”
    Josephine stopped herself just short of asking if she would be seeing him again. What a stupid, impractical, girlish question to pop into her mind. She held his gaze too long, mesmerized, and then pulled her hand back to finish her wine in one swig. She was not looking forward to settling accounts with Mother this evening.
    “Have you a way home?” Elias asked.
    “I will rent a hackney, as I do every night. That is, after I give Mother Superior her well-earned cut of your ill-spent money.”
    “Allow me to drive you home in my carriage.”
    She actually guffawed. “I am sorry—Your Grace—but a woman from a brothel getting a ride home from a duke would cause quite a stir. It is uncommonly good of you, but I cannot.”
    He looked hurt.
    “You do not want me to know where you live.”
    He was damned astute. She thought her excuse still stood as well; there was no societal way it would ever be accepted. Someone would see and someone would talk. There was a moment where they were just staring at each other. She could see those absurdly deep brown eyes considering how long the argument would be to convince her otherwise. She could see the moment that he knew she would not give in. There was an odd look of respect on his face after that.
    “Do not let the wench take too much of your money, Blue.”
    “I have no control over that,” she told him with a sad smile. “Farewell, Elias.”
    One last impropriety.
    “For now, yes.” He stood and bowed, holding his hat instead of putting it on his head. It was almost as if he was stalling.
    Josephine scraped to her feet and curtsied rather without a stitch of grace. She took a good look at the wolfish and sensual face that she was sure she would never see again. She had a wild premonition that he was going to sweep her into his arms—whatsoever was wrong with her racing thoughts? Josephine shifted, trying to break his heavy gaze without being obvious. She could daydream about him, perhaps cast him in the novels she read at voracious speed. Unlike Sally, she would not hold out hope that this particular nobleman was anything