The Trouble With Being Wicked Read Online Free

him to catch himself staring at her décolletage in the hopes of glimpsing the round white tops of her breasts, and yet… He was.
    “My lord, since you are here, we might as well inquire about the crack in the north wall,” she said very practically, and without any of the silky invitation that had enraptured him, “which has me very concerned. I’m sure it’s the tree outside causing it.”
    His eyebrow lifted. Not because she had the effrontery to suggest he’d hawked a less-than-quality property, but because if Mrs. Inglewood was the mistress in this relationship, he’d eat his stocking. Miss Smythe obviously commanded the show.
    “My lord?” she prompted him.
    “Pardon my ignorance,” he replied, aware he was losing patience for her, and for whatever game she and Mrs. Inglewood played, “but I have never noticed a tree encroaching on the house. Are you certain?”
    Her low laugh felt like a caress. “Anyone would see it, if they but looked the place over. It’s visible from the drive.”
    He began to wish he’d gone to fetch his steward before embarking on this spontaneous welcome mission. What the devil was she talking about? The cottage was surrounded by trees. He’d never seen a crack in a wall. If one existed, he certainly hadn’t meant to sneak it past a prospective buyer. “The sweet chestnut, the pollard oak, or the sycamore?” he asked, because he truly couldn’t place it.
    It was her turn to pause. “The…tree?”
    Perhaps he should have ridden out to inspect the house prior to listing it for sale. He hadn’t, because he’d imagined it as he’d seen it last: filled with love and laughter. The late vicar had been his tutor when he was a boy, and he’d spent many happy hours here before Mr. Amherst had gone onto his reward.
    “There are many trees,” Ash said, feeling out of sorts by this fault being lobbed at him. “Surely you don’t expect recourse if you can’t identify the precise tree that is causing your distress.”
    “I’d be more than happy to show it to you,” she replied sweetly.
    He had a feeling what she wanted to show him were her knuckles. Unlike a lady, she wasn’t well-bred enough to disguise her opinion of him. Mentally, he struck another mark against her—not that he was keeping a tally of her points and faults. He was simply too aware of her not to make a concerted effort to remember why he must remain suspicious of her. “By all means, Miss Smythe,” he said, “lead the way.”
    “Miss Smythe,” Mrs. Inglewood said with an edge, “I’m sure it would be just as well if we went to Worston and allowed Lord Trestin to look it over with his steward on the morrow…” Her voice trailed as it became obvious there was no stopping her “companion” now. Before Ash could approach and offer his assistance, Miss Smythe stepped off the table. With more grace than Ash had in his entire body, she dropped to the floor and swayed past him.  
    Truly, he’d never met a woman like her in all his life.
    He turned and followed her into the hallway. She must have come down from the city. She positively reeked of excitement. High spirits. Mystery. Yes, sin. He steeled himself, focusing his eyes on the back of her poke bonnet instead of the seductive sashay of her hips.
    Women like her meant one thing: trouble. What had he done to deserve it?

 
    Chapter Two
     

     
    Elizabeth followed them outside, much to Celeste’s dismay. Intending to turn and dissuade her friend from exerting herself, Celeste stopped suddenly. Lord Trestin slammed into her back. He caught her shoulders in his hands and steadied her, sending frissons of awareness through her.
    As soon as she caught her balance, he released her and took a few too many steps away. She stepped from him, too, somewhat shaken to have reacted to his touch, when she’d been touched more intimately yet felt nothing at all for so long, she’d almost forgotten what desire felt like. A bit shaken, she turned to address