The Wickedest Lord Alive Read Online Free Page B

longed for children of her own! That longing was so powerful that she did sometimes imagine how different her life would be if she were free to marry and set up her own household.
    But she wasn’t free, so thinking along those lines was as futile as it was fanciful. She would remain Lizzie Allbright, spinster, until her twenty-fifth birthday. Then she would declare herself to her trustees and claim the fortune that would come to her on that date as an ostensibly unmarried woman. As far as she could discover, her marriage to Steyne remained a secret from the world. Once she’d attained full majority and financial independence, her father could no longer command her in any way.
    And then she would pay a well-overdue call on the Marquis of Steyne.
    She knocked on Lady Chard’s front door and tried to compose herself. She’d raced there directly after calling on the Minchin family, so her plain dimity gown bore a few smuts of dirt. Having intended only to deliver a basket of provisions, she’d discovered the Minchins in chaos after one of their father’s bouts of drunkenness the night before.
    The children’s pale, scared faces tugged at her heart. She stayed longer than she’d intended, helping Mrs. Minchin clean and mend and generally restore order to the cottage.
    Afterwards, there’d been no opportunity to change if she wished to keep her appointment with Lady Chard. The older lady was a stickler for punctuality.
    Lizzie was hardly in a fit state for company, which made it rather provoking of her ladyship to be entertaining guests.
    Lizzie heard the deep rumble of masculine speech from inside the drawing room as she followed the butler down the corridor. Surely Lady Chard had run through all the eligible gentlemen in the county by now with her matchmaking schemes.
    The butler announced Lizzie. With an inward grimace at the appearance she presented, knowing Lady Chard would rake her over the coals for it, she moved to the threshold.
    And very nearly dropped her basket and her book.
    There were two gentlemen in the room. One with an expressive, handsome countenance and a head of thick hair the deep, lustrous gold of Lady Chard’s ormolu clock.
    The other …
    The other man’s black head turned. Eyes the color of sapphires regarded Lizzie from beneath those unforgettable slashing brows. His face was impassive as he studied her.
    This man was no potential suitor.
    He was her husband, the Marquis of Steyne.

 
    Chapter Two
    The shock held Lizzie suspended for several seconds, as if under a deep, quiet sea. She couldn’t hear a sound, couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe.…
    Lord Steyne had married, bedded, and abandoned her without a qualm—or at least, without hesitation. The sight of him, tall, arrogant, with that intense look in his eyes, brought their night together rushing back. A wash of heat flowed through her at the memory of his touch. Fierce longings swirled in her chest.
    Was he here to claim her, after all this time?
    “Well, don’t just stand there like a looby, gel,” said Lady Chard, yanking her out of her trance. Lady Chard flapped her hand in a beckoning gesture that made the drapes of flesh beneath her arm wobble. “Come in and let me make you known to my guests.”
    Years of dissimulation came to Lizzie’s rescue. She filled her lungs with a calming flood of air, and sank into a curtsy as Lady Chard made the introductions.
    “ Miss Allbright.” Steyne’s tone was dryly ironic, his bow a mere inclination of the head that clearly expressed skepticism.
    Lizzie made a small production of relinquishing her basket and book to the butler—so much for Sense and Sensibility —then propelled herself by sheer force of will toward the grouping of chairs around a handsome Adam fireplace, where the small party stood. She sat opposite the two gentlemen, while Lady Chard disposed herself in the armchair in a cloud of black bombazine.
    Would he expose her imposture, here and now, in Lady Chard’s