Dark Obsession Read Online Free Page B

I put any stock in scandal-sheet prattle?’’
    A wave of chagrin swept Grayson’s shoulders. He certainly knew what the scandal sheets had to say about him . He knew too that behind every rumor there existed at least a particle of truth.
    The Earl of Clarington was pushed. . . .
    Must a push be physical?
    He cleared the darkness from his mind with a quick shake. ‘‘Dozens of people were treated to the sight of Honora Thorngoode’s unabashedly naked body. The scandal sheets didn’t make that up. Not to mention the buggers who are lining up claiming to have been with her.’’
    ‘‘Besides that Alessio chap?’’
    Grayson nodded, his expression grim.
    ‘‘Who?’’
    ‘‘Bryce Waterston, for one.’’
    ‘‘No.’’ Chad pushed a low whistle through his teeth.
    ‘‘Don’t tell me the bloke had the audacity to tell you to your face.’’
    ‘‘He bragged about it at White’s. Everyone knows.’’
    ‘‘Jealous, are we?’’ With athletic grace, Chad ducked Grayson’s halfhearted fist. ‘‘All I’m saying is keep an open mind. At the worst, you’ve found yourself a lusty bedmate, and a deuced comely one at that. With my luck I’ll end up chained to some vapid little virgin who’ll do her duty until she produces an heir and a spare and then forever bar her boudoir door. Sorry, but I’ve no pity for you at present.’’
    ‘‘I’m worried about Jonathan,’’ Gray said on a more sober note. ‘‘He doesn’t need any further heartache.’’
    ‘‘Then keep the new Lady Lowell clear of Cornwall. Meanwhile, enjoy your marriage for what it’s worth.’’
    ‘‘You’re simply trying to prevent me from slipping out through the kitchen and spoiling your dinner party, aren’t you?’’
    ‘‘The wolves must be fed, after all.’’ Chad flashed the smile Grayson had always envied, the one that had gotten him out of scrapes, made him a favorite at Eaton and, later, won the hearts of ladies. ‘‘Besides, it seems I am indebted to Mrs. Thorngoode. The woman addresses me as your grace. Odd, but I thought only the king could elevate an earl to duke.’’
    ‘‘She wrote to me last week, addressing me as your worship. That’s rather a step down, I should think.’’
    ‘‘Ouch.’’ Chad shook his head. ‘‘New money.’’
    ‘‘So new one can smell the ink, not that my creditors will complain.’’
    Chad gestured toward the open doors of the drawing room. ‘‘Chin up, old boy. Almost time to face the front lines.’’
    Zachariah Thorngoode closed the door to Chad’s private study and drew back the gilded armchair that faced the desk. ‘‘Sit, my boy.’’
    The gruff invitation sounded more like a command, and Grayson wasted no time folding himself into the exotic, Egyptian-inspired piece.
    He had met his bride-to-be not five minutes earlier, exchanged a bow, a how-do-you-do and a polite kiss on the hand before her father stepped between them. Without preamble Thorngoode had grasped his elbow and abruptly ushered him from the drawing room. Indeed, one might say grabbed his arm and hauled him without being accused of a gross exaggeration.
    He’d barely had time to form the slightest impression of the young woman. Except for her hair. Rich, dark chestnut. Streaked with gold. So glossy he’d wager it hung perfectly straight when not coaxed into the curls that danced about her shoulders tonight.
    Of her face he’d noticed little but its heartlike shape—full in the cheeks, pertly narrow at the chin. And her eyes. He’d glimpsed them just before her father yanked him away. Though their exact color escaped him—greenish, perhaps hazel—it was their exotic slant that produced a little jolt of . . . he didn’t know . . . interest? Curiosity? Perhaps even a begrudging desire to know more of her.
    Then again, why shouldn’t he find the Painted Paramour desirable? Most of London already did.
    Like a prowling footpad Thorngoode noiselessly circled the desk, his gaze pinned on