Angel in Scarlet Read Free Page A

going to be pea green with envy when I told her about it!
    â€œClinton—” she moaned. “No—no—it isn’t—”
    â€œIt’s what you want,” he told her.
    â€œNo. I—I’m not—”
    â€œDon’t give me that malarky,” he said harshly, and his handsome face was suddenly hard, predatory. “Jon Hartley told me all about your little sessions in London—how you slipped off to meet him, how you couldn’t get enough. Don’t try that virginal act on me, Laura love. I know better.”
    â€œJon—Jonathan Hartley is no gentleman!”
    She was angry. Her face looked hard, too, no longer soft and dreamy. He laughed, curling his arm tighter around her throat, holding her down there on the bench even though she was trying to get up. His hand was still holding her teat, squeezing it savagely now.
    â€œYou—you’re no gentleman, either!” she cried.
    â€œYou knew that before you agreed to slip off and meet me. Jon isn’t the only one who’s mentioned your name. William Brandt said the two of you had a jolly time in Bath last month when you were there with your aunt, said he was damn near worn out before you finally went back to London.”
    â€œLies!” she protested.
    â€œI think not, love. I think it’s all true—and I think it’s delightful. I’m a better man than Jon Hartley or William Brandt, love—know a lot more ways to make a woman happy, make her squeal with pleasure.”
    â€œYou—you invited me and my aunt here just so—”
    â€œRight,” he said, grinning.
    He let go of her then and stepped back, and Laura frowned and tossed her head and stuffed her teat back beneath the blue velvet. She stood up, looking all sulky now, looking like a spoiled child. Clinton Meredith put his hands on his thighs and leaned back a little, grinning at her.
    â€œI’ve heard all about you, too!” she snapped. “Raping serving wenches is more your style, I hear. I heard about those escapades in Oxford, how you raped the wrong wench—turned out she was the daughter of one of the dons. Cost your uncle a fortune to get you out of that jam, and he still couldn’t keep them from booting you out.”
    â€œI don’t deny a word of it,” he said amiably.
    â€œAnd then there was Lady Milburn. Forty years old if she’s a day! You just seventeen at the time. Quite a scandal that was.”
    â€œLady M. was a magnificent instructor. Taught me everything I know.”
    â€œYou’re a cad! A rake!”
    â€œAnd you, Laura love, are an aristocratic little whore. It’s obvious we were made for each other.”
    Jemminy! I exclaimed to myself again. This was better than Tom Jones , better than Roxana , a hundred times better than that dreary Clarissa . Eppie was going to die.
    â€œTonight,” he said. “Leave your door unlocked.”
    â€œI may,” she said haughtily, “and then again I may not.”
    The grin widened on his beautifully chiseled lips. His gray eyes gleamed with devilish amusement.
    â€œYou’ll leave it unlocked, all right,” he told her. “You can hardly wait. We’ll have a lovely time, love. Now I’d better go join the other guests.”
    And he strolled casually away, just as though nothing had happened. Laura tossed her head again, raven curls spilling loose, and then she scowled and adjusted her deep blue velvet gown. I expected her to stamp her foot. She didn’t. Instead, she smiled, looking as satisfied with herself as he had looked a few minutes before. She plucked one of the pink roses and sniffed it, and then she strolled away, too, and I found myself looking at the empty marble bench and thinking these bluebloods, beneath their fancy facades, weren’t at all different from other folks, just richer and better dressed was all.
    I was a little disappointed, truth to tell. I had