Maggie MacKeever Read Online Free Page A

seemly. “You must tell me all. But first— Am I de trop? Do you wish to be private with Quin?”
    Liliane glanced at Quin. He scowled, lest she mistake his dislike of the notion, and she said, “ Mais non! I came for the coffee. Unless milord desires I leave before I break my fast?”
    “Don’t be a goose!” Beau scolded, before Quin could express his regret that Liliane had not departed at the break of dawn. “Of course you must stay.” Liliane reached for the sugar bowl, a maneuver that invited her companions to gaze down the neckline of her dress.
    Beau’s gaze drifted to her bosom. Liliane leaned forward to afford him a better view. Quin raised his coffee cup. Trial enough that he had forgone his morning whiskey. Watching flirtation enacted at his breakfast table was more than a man should have to bear.
    “May I bring you some toast?” asked Beau.
    “Yes, please. Merci!” Liliane glanced again at Quin. “Are you angry with me, milord? I am sorry I slept so late. I lay awake almost all the night, tossing and turning and fretting myself to flinders about what the pig person may do.”
    Although he suspected she had ulterior motives — in Quin’s experience, females almost always had ulterior motives — Liliane also had a valid point. Coffey was of a vindictive bent.
    He pushed away his untouched plate. “You have misplaced your accent, mademoiselle.” Liliane had rested her elbows on the table. She flushed and snatched them back.
    Beau returned from the sideboard, carrying a plate of cheese and toast. He set the food in front of Liliane. She thanked him prettily. He resumed his seat.
    The door again swung open. Kate hesitated on the threshold. “I’m sorry to interrupt. I didn’t realize you weren’t alone.”
    “It’s a marvel to me how seldom I am alone.” Quin stood.
    Liliane stared at the newcomer. “Who is that? What is she wearing? Someone should recommend to her the so-clever Mme Dubois.”
    Lord Quinton felt like recommending Liliane take herself to Hades. “Do join us, Kate. You must pay no heed to Liliane, who has no manners. Furthermore, she was just leaving. Weren’t you, Liliane?”
    “But I have not—”
    “You have overstayed your welcome. Go, before I call Samson to render you assistance.” Cheese and toast in hand, Liliane pushed back her chair. Kate limped toward the table, her gait more awkward than the night before.
    “By God! The rumor’s true,” said Beau. “You do prefer rigidly virtuous females.” Halfway to the doorway, Liliane turned to gape.
    Quin crossed the room and opened the door; pushed Liliane through the portal, and closed it in her face. “Kate, this reprobate is Beau Loversall. Beau, you will not be rude to Miss Manvers.”
    “Rude?” Beau echoed, wounded. “I was merely pointing out—”
    “I don’t think I am rigidly virtuous.” Kate looked reflective. “Though I daresay I once was.”
    Beau poured coffee into another cup. “Before you met Quin, you mean. Witness me proven correct.”
    “Witness you an idiot.” Quin reclaimed his seat. “Kate and I were betrothed.”
    Beau widened his blue eyes. “The most wicked of all the wicked had a fiancée?”
    “I was a mere eighteen. And I didn’t have her long.”
    Kate sipped her coffee. “That would be because he also got himself betrothed to Verena Wickersham.”
    Beau tsk’d. “Miss Wickersham was an heiress, I suppose? Immense dowry, lands marched apace, that sort of thing? Did she additionally have spots? A hairlip? A squint?”
    “I couldn’t say,” said Kate. “We were never introduced.”
    Sobriety, decided Quin, was highly overrated. All in all, he’d rather be nursing a sore head.
     
    Chapter Six
     
    Moxley House was busy. Countless people were flitting about, whispering behind their hands, casting curious looks at Kate as Quin hustled her down the hallway and through the door.
    They were puzzling over who she was, of course, and why she’d been allowed to stay. The