Karen Harbaugh Read Online Free Page B

Lady Boothe was a bold stroke, I must say! But I happen to know Her Ladyship is extremely strict in her observance of the proprieties, and would never let a young woman of her household leave without escort. So, my dear, why don’t we dispense with this unnecessary pretense and engage in some pound dealing, shall we?” He smiled genially.
    Her face was the picture of stunned astonishment, and she seemed bereft of words. Really, he thought with a touch of irritation, she was an excellent actress, but he would prefer she be open with him now.
    “But—but, I assure you, sir, I am not who you think I am,” she managed to croak. She cleared her throat and said more calmly, “Please, you need only let me down at Lady Boothe’s and she can identify me.”
    He laughed. “And have you make a run for it?” She opened her mouth to reply, but he held up a hand. “Or, no. You seem to be an imaginative young woman.... Let’s see. You will be so bold as to approach Lady Boothe and demand her presence. She will not recognize you, and you will then protest that she is against you and seeks only to cast you out from her house.”
    The young woman opened her mouth again, only to shut it. A hopeless look came over her face. “But, my lord, she must acknowledge me!” she whispered. “I am her kin, after all.” She seemed almost to be talking to herself. He could see she was on the edge of giving up her act.
    “Come now. You know she wouldn’t,” he said soothingly.
    She looked at him as if bewildered. “But wait—wait! Am I to assume from this conversation you are not taking me to Lady Boothe’s?”
    “No, I am not.”
    She half rose from her seat. “Then where—” She stared at him in horror. “You must be mad! You cannot just—just abduct someone and carry her off!”
    “Your presence here proves that I can.”
    “No. I cannot go with you, it’s impossible!”
    “What, another assignation with a... er... paramour? Or is it Paul?”
    Her gaze was one of incomprehension. “Paul? What has Paul to do with all this?”
    “So you are on a first-name acquaintance with him, are you?”
    “Why, yes, I have known him for a good while.”
    “Your mask slips further and further, Miss Pickens. There is no one in Lady Boothe’s household who is closely acquainted with Paul.”
    She pressed herself into the seat, away from him. “You jump from one thing to another! You must be mad or—or full of drink! I cannot see why you chose to abduct me and then talk of people I don’t know, and acting as if I should!”
    “People you don’t know,” mocked Rothwick. “You just said you knew my nephew!” His distaste grew. She was playing the innocent maiden role, an act that often lent some spice to other men’s pursuit of women, but it was one he detested.
    “Ah, sir! Why do you do this to me?” she exclaimed. She looked about her wildly. “You must be mad—or I! I cannot go with you!” She jumped up and seized the carriage handle, tearing open the door.
    She moved so swiftly that she was halfway out of the moving carriage before he seized her about the waist and pulled her back in again. From out the swinging carriage door, Rothwick could see the quick flashes of reflected moonlight on the road’s rocks and pebbles. She could have been killed. He turned his head and looked at her. She had fallen against him, and he still had one arm around her waist and a hand clamped around her wrist. She breathed in small gasps, and he could feel how thin her wrist was in his hand and how little flesh covered her ribs that were pressed against him. Her eyes looked up into his, and in the turned-up carriage lights he could see a spark of defiance beneath the fear and fatigue in her eyes.
    The horrible suspicion that had risen in Rothwick’s mind when the woman had gone for the door now turned into certain consternation. Women of the demimonde may act the unwilling maiden to tantalize, but they soon gave way to seduction at the end.