Wicked Promise Read Online Free

in the room during the hours he was there—certainly not the same sorts of things he did later on in the evening. Elizabeth knew what went on in the house after dark, even though she was supposed to be banished to her suite. On more than one occasion, she had crept down the servants' stairs and watched the earl and his drunken friends playing cards, had listened to them tell their bawdy jokes, seen them gaming away an indecent amount of money.
    The earl would join in their drunken laughter, but there was something in his eyes that made her wonder if he were truly enjoying himself. She wondered as well at the earl's choice of friends. Elizabeth didn't like a single one of them. They were nothing but a bunch of preening peacocks and worthless hangers-on, sponging off Ravenworth's generosity.
    Then again, who was she to criticize? Wasn't she doing the very same thing?
    Elizabeth glanced up at the window, but the shadowy figure of the dark earl was gone. Without him there, the garden seemed somehow less intriguing and she wandered back up to her room.
    Mercy Brown was waiting, the lady's maid Ravenworth had assigned her. "Look at ye—Lord luv ye. Yer chilled to the bone." With a ripe, full figure that Mercy did everything in her power to display, a thick Cockney accent, and almost nonexistent knowledge of feminine etiquette, Mercy Brown was the furthest thing from a lady's maid Elizabeth could imagine.
    "To tell you the truth, I rarely notice the cold. The day was sunny and the sky full of fluffy white clouds. It was simply too nice to stay indoors."
    Mercy clucked and coddled her like a mother hen, though she was only four or five years older than Elizabeth. "You'll catch yer death, ye will. 'Is lordship would 'ardly be pleased."
    Elizabeth draped her cloak over the foot of the big four- poster bed and Mercy began helping her out of her clothes. "I'm sure his lordship couldn't care less whether or not I caught a chill."
    " 'E cares, all right. 'E don't show 'is feelin's much, but 'e cares about people, and 'e 'elps 'em whenever 'e can."
    "I'd say he spends most of his time helping himself to another glass of gin and gaming away his coin," Elizabeth knew that by now the earl would be readying himself for his evening of drinking and cards. He'd be drunk by midnight and losing endless sums of money.
    Mercy Brown gave up a sigh. " 'E lets 'em take advantage, Lord luv 'im. 'E's as good a man as ever come down the pike—not a whit like them others. I don't know why 'e puts up with 'em. Sometimes I just don't think 'e cares."
    It was an interesting observation. Elizabeth wondered as well. "Perhaps he is lonely. The earl is an outcast from polite society. Perhaps the company of these men is better than having no friends at all."
    The buxom little maid merely scoffed. " 'Is Lordship 'as a number of friends. Not such 'igh-and-mighty nobs as them 'e drinks with downstairs, but fine men all the same."
    Elizabeth started to ask which men it was Mercy spoke of, but the girl was already off to her chores, bustling busily around the room, trying to assemble a change of clothing for supper. Whatever men they were, surely they were better than the dandies, coxcombs, and sycophants downstairs, insects out of the woodwork, a blight on Ravenworth Hall.
    Mercy's voice drew Elizabeth's attention. " 'Ow bout this one?" She held up a beaded gold satin gown more suited to a ball than a quiet evening supping with her aunt in their private sitting room. "Lord, is it perty."
    "Too pretty for an evening in my suite, I'm afraid." She pointed to the gown beside it. "The apricot muslin should do nicely."
    Mercy still held the gown. "Ye ain't takin' supper with 'is lordship? I though mayhap tonight—"
    "I'm not invited, which, considering the caliber of his lordship's guests, I am not at all unhappy about. I assure you Aunt Sophie will be far better company."
    Mercy grumbled something she couldn't hear and marched toward the rosewood armoire, her hips swaying