Patricia Rice Read Online Free Page B

from her lap after she leaned
over and poured them across the lad’s thighs. Merrick was hard pressed to keep
a straight face at the boy’s reaction.
    Instead, Merrick held out his gloved palm. “I believe you
owe me a small sum, also, my lady.”
    Cassandra gazed at his palm with contempt, then began to
bundle what remained of her winnings into the linen again. “That’s my finder’s
fee. I’ll have the handkerchief laundered and returned to you on the morrow.”
    A grin forced the corners of his mouth upward as Wyatt read her
defiance. “Very well, my lady, I’ll remember that. Do you have a schedule of
fees for your other services?”
    He should not have said that. It really was quite wicked of
him to taunt her, but he could not resist responding in kind. It worked. The
thundercloud disappeared, and she grinned at him with understanding before
adopting a sultry expression and leaning provocatively closer.
    “Of course, my lord. Shall you come in while I show them to
you? Bring your young friend. I’m certain he would profit from further lessons
this night.”
    The jest had gone entirely too far. Ignoring the shock on
Thomas’ face, Merrick caught the young chit by the nape and held her firmly at
a proper distance. “Cassandra, you ever were in serious want of a sound
thrashing. I’ll be round to see your brother in the morning.”
    Faint mockery laced her voice as she leaned back, forcing
Wyatt to release her or caress her shoulder. “I fear you just left Duncan
behind. He won’t be home until morning, and I can promise you he won’t be in a
humor to hear of my shortcomings. But you’re certainly welcome to try. I might
sell tickets of admission.”
    “You really are an undisciplined brat, aren’t you?” he
asked, removing his hand to the safety of his cane.
    “And you really are a stuffy old stick. That makes us even.”
    Thomas could scarcely believe his eyes or ears as he watched
the dignified earl and the golden miss rip up at each other as if they were cat
and dog. What was worse, they did it with such control that he couldn’t be at
all certain that he could believe a word they said, particularly when they
looked at each other as they were doing now. It ought to be daggers they were
drawing, but instead, Thomas felt decidedly de
trop.
    That was an irrational thought. He was feeling a little
fuzzy from the strong ale. Merrick was the last one to be accused of molesting
a lady. The fellow didn’t even keep a mistress. He had mockingly been called
St. Wyatt behind his back for years for his views on the weaker sex. Not only
did he hold the radical notion that women were not meant to be used by men
except for bearing their children within the confines of marriage, he included
all women in that notion, not just ladies.
    As the landau rattled to a halt before the lady’s residence,
Thomas lifted the curtains. He had every intention of continuing the lady’s
acquaintance despite her insult. She looked like she needed a friend, and
Merrick obviously didn’t mean to be one. He frowned at the sight of another
closed carriage waiting across the street, but he didn’t speak up. Perhaps it
was the habit of the neighborhood to come and go at all hours.
    Thomas gallantly took the lady’s hand, murmured all the
polite phrases he knew, but remained behind as Merrick escorted her to the
door. He didn’t want to know what was between those two. His head was already aching
just thinking about it.
    When the earl returned to the carriage, Thomas commented
idly, “I say, Wyatt, ain’t that Rupert’s carriage across the street? I thought
he had enough barrels of gold to live in a more fashionable district.”
    Merrick glanced out the window to the carriage and cursed.
He leapt out of the carriage again.
    A woman’s scream echoed from inside the house, and hastily,
Thomas scrambled after Merrick.
    ~*~
    Inside, Cassandra swiped her arm over her mouth to wash
away the disgusting moistness of the baronet’s