A Loving Scoundrel Read Free

that Jeremy couldn’t walk into a room without every woman in it falling a little bit in love with him. Aside from the women in his family, of course. They merely adored him.
    Jeremy had taken after his uncle Anthony in his looks; in fact, anyone who met him for the first time would swear he was Tony’s son, rather than James’s. Like his uncle he was tall with wide shoulders, a narrow waist, lean hips, and long legs. They both had a wide mouth and a strong, arrogant jaw, as well as an aquiline, proud nose, darkly tanned skin, and thick ebony hair.
    But the eyes were the most telling, a mark of only a few Malorys, purest blue, heavy-lidded, with the barest suggestion of an exotic slant, framed by black lashes and slashing brows. Gypsy eyes, it used to be rumored, inherited from Jeremy’s great-grandmother Anastasia Stephanoff, whom the family had just last year discovered had really been half Gypsy. She’d so captivated Christopher Malory, the 1st Marquis of Haverston, that he’d married her the second day of their acquaintance. But that was a tale only the family would ever know about.
    It was quite understandable why Percy had wanted to get Jeremy’s father involved instead. Hadn’t his best friend, Derek, gone straight to James when he’d had problems of the unsavory sort? Percy might not know of James’s pirating days, but who didn’t know that James Malory had been one of London’s most notorious rakes prior to his taking to the seas, that it was the rare fellow indeed who dared stand up to James, then or now, whether in the ring or on the dueling field?
    Percy had settled back down on the bed for his “impression” of sleeping. After a few more mumbles, some tossing and turning, he was then mostly quiet in anticipation of their next intrusion.
    Jeremy wondered if he should mention that taking this particular matter to his father wouldn’t get it settled anytime soon, that James had hied off to Haverston to visit his brother Jason the very day after Jeremy had been presented with his new town house. He was quite certain his father had gone to the country for a week or two out of fear that Jeremy would drag him about furniture shopping.
    Jeremy almost missed the shadow moving stealthily across the room toward the bed. He hadn’t heard the door open this time, hadn’t heard it close either, hadn’t heard a bloody thing for that matter. If the occupants of the room really had been asleep, as was to be expected, they certainly wouldn’t have been awakened by this intruder.
    Jeremy smiled to himself just before he lit a match of his own and moved it over the candle on the table he’d placed next to his chair. The thief’s eyes had been drawn to him instantly. Jeremy hadn’t moved otherwise, was sitting there quite relaxed. The thief wouldn’t know how quickly he could move to prevent his escape if he had to. But the thief wasn’t moving either yet, as he was apparently frozen in his surprise at being caught.
    “Oh, I say.” Percy raised his head. “Did we finally get lucky?”
    “I’d say so,” Jeremy replied. “Didn’t hear him a’tall. He’s our man, or boy as the case may be.”
    The thief was starting to shake off his surprise and probably didn’t like what he was hearing, to go by the narrowed, suspicious look Jeremy was now getting. Jeremy ignored it. He looked for a weapon first, but didn’t see the thief carrying one. Of course, Jeremy had his own hidden in his coat pockets, a pistol in each, so just because he didn’t see one didn’t mean the lad didn’t have one.
    Much taller than the previous miscreants who’d tried their hand at robbing them, and lanky besides, this thief was probably no more than fifteen or sixteen, to go by those smooth cheeks. Ash blond hair so light it was more white than blond, naturally curly, worn short. A misshapen black hat several centuries out of fashion. He wore a gentleman’s coat of dark green velvet, stolen no doubt, and quite grubby-looking