A Masked Deception Read Online Free

side on the floor. He tried to feel some flicker of desire for this meek little wife of his, and felt nothing. He looked into her face again, and at the same moment, those large eyes opened and gazed blankly into his. Brampton felt that same uncomfortable jolt he had experienced on other occasions when he had unexpectedly met her eyes.
    “Has the journey tired you, my dear?” he asked kindly.
    “A little, my lord,” she replied. “These last four weeks have been busy.”
    “You must call me Richard now,” he said, irritated, and turned to the window to stare out at the passing countryside.
    Yes, they certainly had been busy weeks, but he thanked Providence for that. He had had little time to think about the fate in store for him, little time to grasp at dishonorable schemes for getting out of his unwanted betrothal.
    He had Devin Northcott to thank. His mother and Margaret’s had immediately swept to the attack and taken over all the organization of the wedding. Devin, Brampton’s friend since childhood, whose parents owned the estate adjoining Brampton Court, had devoted himself to filling every spare moment of his friend’s time to keep his mind off his inevitable doom.
    “I say, Bram,” he had said on first learning of his friend’s betrothal, “didn’t know the wind lay in that direction. And Miss Wells? Do you have a tendre for her, old man?”
    Brampton had snorted. “My mother’s and Rosalind’s choice,” he had explained. “Impeccable lineage and reputation and morals and all that.”
    “I say, though, Bram, you are planning to turn respectable?” his friend had asked anxiously.
    “Have I ever been anything but?” Brampton had raised his eyebrows and favored his friend with a haughty glare.
    “Oh, say, Bram, don’t come the frosty aristocrat with me,” Devin had said, unperturbed. “No offense meant. Was referring to Lisa.”
    “I shall be quite respectable enough for my wife and my mother and my sisters—all three of them, Dev,” the earl had said decisively. “What I do privately and discreetly will hurt no one.”
    “So Lisa stays,” Devin had concluded. “Not fair to the little Miss Wells, though, Bram,” he had added daringly.
    Only a close friend could have got away with such open criticism of the Earl of Brampton.
    “I live my own life, Dev,” was the stiff reply he received.
    And Devin Northcott had devoted himself to seeing that his friend enjoyed his last few weeks of freedom. They had ridden, played cards, drunk, gone to the races and to boxing mills, spent hours at Jackson’s boxing saloon, and wandered from club to club at night, very often not returning home until the early hours of the morning.
    Lisa had not been too perturbed by his approaching nuptials. She knew that there was no hope of his marrying her, a mere opera dancer. He was a generous and an attentive protector. She had a comfortable home, an adequate number of servants, many expensive clothes and jewels, and a generous allowance of pin money. She knew from research she had done when he had first suggested becoming her protector that he made generous settlements on his ex-mistresses. She also knew from similar research that Miss Margaret Wells was a little mouse of a woman, almost middle-aged—all of twenty-five to Lisa’s twenty—and quite unlikely to be a rival in her lover’s bed.
    Brampton had visited her more frequently than usual in those last few weeks. He had not been sure how frequently he would be able to get away to her for the first weeks of his marriage, and Devin’s comment had made him wonder whether his conscience would allow him to enjoy the illicit liaison once he was a married man. He had bedded Lisa with almost desperate passion in those weeks, allowing his body to become satiated with her practiced feminine charms. His mind had constantly made comparisons with his fiancee’s body.
    Gazing now out of the carriage window without seeing the passing scenery, Brampton acknowledged he