Taming Wilde Read Online Free Page B

She is a tasty piece of cheese.” Mr. Percival raised his
     glass. “To the cheese.”
    “To the cheese,” the rest of them said in unison and raised their glasses in salute.
    The sound of their mocking laughter sent a chill burning down Gemma’s spine. Colin.
     Hawke was the reason he hated her. Some ancient grudge her brother held against Sir
     Wilde was what had truly kept them apart. And Hawke had convinced their parents of
     Colin’s unworthiness.
    Indignation rose like bile in her throat, and she stepped from behind the pillar to
     address her brother.
    Instantly, Mr. Everett stood to his feet, and Mr. Percival choked on his brandy —served
     the blackguard right, and Gemma hoped he’d never recover from it. A tasty piece of
     cheese, indeed.
    Hawke glanced up at her as though the conversation she had just overheard had never
     happened.
    “My lady,” he said with a sickeningly gallant grin, standing slowly.
    “My lord, I beg your pardon. I have had my fill of dancing this evening. If it pleases
     you, may we take our leave?” Her voice was level and in perfect control. A direct
     contrast to the turmoil that raged within her mind and soul. Her lifetime of practicing
     proper etiquette was her support now. She would not make a scene in front of the peerage
     for the wide world.
    “Of course, my dear.” He nodded and turned to his entourage, offering them a conspiratorial
     wink and a slight bow. “Gentlemen.”
    Mr. Everett bowed to Gemma. His smile was almost apologetic, but Gemma did not care
     to determine the depth of it. After all, he had toasted the cheese along with the
     rest of them.
    Gemma curtsied and took her brother’s arm, though her mind was spinning with all the
     ways she could injure him in the process. Patience, Gemma, she told herself. Soon enough they would be alone, and she would have her say.
    ****
    Hawke led her back into the ballroom so they could say their farewells to the hosts.
     She stood awkwardly to the side as he laughed and joked with Mr. Smythe. Had he any
     idea how upset she was? Or how uncomfortable?
    Gemma exhaled and crossed her arms, stealing a glance to her right, where the door
     led outside. A few more feet and she would be rid of this awful, torturous night.
    Wilde suddenly appeared across the room. He looked unsure on his feet as he stumbled
     toward the door with a woman on one arm.
    “Pity, for I would have liked to take my turn at taming that man tonight,” a feminine
     voice said next to her. Gemma did not recognize the woman, but she was beautiful.
    “Whatever do you mean?” Gemma asked, unable to tear her eyes away from Wilde as he
     whispered something into his lady friend’s ear.
    “The gossips have been absolutely dying with curiosity. Is he as heartbroken as everyone
     claims? What happened to Sir Wilde last Season that turned him into such a delicious
     rake? I would have liked to have my try at the man.” She giggled. “But it is of no
     matter. I will simply be patient; after all, if he is as wild as everyone is saying,
     he’ll be needing new companionship tomorrow evening.”
    Gemma felt her face flush as she looked away from Wilde and directly at the woman.
     “How do you mean to heal his broken heart? How does any woman successfully seduce
     a rake?”
    “My, you are innocent, aren’t you?” The woman threw her head back and laughed. “He
     does not want to remember he has a heart. Men are vulnerable creatures; when they
     offer a gift of love, and it is rejected, they are never the same. I aim to make him
     forget he had a heart to begin with. And whatever woman was stupid enough to reject
     him, well, I hope she is there to witness his behavior. After all, it is she who is
     responsible for the man he has become.”
    “The man he has become?” Gemma repeated as the feeling of dread descended into her
     belly.
    “Why, yes! At this rate, Sir Wilde will be one of the most delightful rakes this Season,
     mark my words.” The