Claiming the Courtesan Read Free Page B

continuing now. You are overset and not thinking clearly.”
    Verity forbore to point out that he’d hardly been a paragon of tranquility himself. He had at last released her, he spoke of going, and after this afternoon, she never intended to see him again.
    Speaking normally was an effort. “As Your Grace wishes.” Just go, her heart cried. Just go and leave me in peace .
    Secretly she had always liked the Duke of Kylemore, sensing the lonely battle he fought to maintain his facade of perfection. But his startling, woefully unsuitable proposal of marriage and his behavior in the last few minutes made her remember the old rumors of insanity running through the Kinmurrie line.
    His high color indicated he was still far from calm. “I shall return for your answer tomorrow. In the meantime, spare some consideration for the Duchess of Kylemore’s jewels. They make today’s ruby look like a fairground trinket.”
    So you believe me to be no more than a grasping jade, Verity thought resentfully. She didn’t blunt her sarcasm. “I assure you, my mind will dwell on nothing but diamonds and emeralds.”
    That didn’t please him, she could see. “Tomorrow at four, madam. I await your consent.” No gentle kiss on the hand now. Apparently his mistress merited a courtesy his prospective bride did not.
    Kylemore ignored her bobbed curtsey and stalked toward the door. “As you should know by now, I always get what I want. And do not doubt I want this marriage.” He sent afrosty nod in her direction, the picture of aristocratic male omnipotence, and left.
     
    But when Kylemore rode up to the pretty little villa the next day, it was silent and empty. The notorious Soraya, his chosen weapon against his hated family, was gone.

Chapter 2
    K ylemore entered the house and in a matter of moments ascertained it was not only uninhabited but also looted of everything of value.
    Had his marriage proposal frightened his mistress into precipitate flight? He wouldn’t have said Soraya was a woman who scared easily. Yesterday, she’d seemed outraged rather than terrified.
    Perhaps his parting threat had sent her scurrying for whatever bolthole currently sheltered her beguiling hide. But he doubted it.
    From long habit, he kept a tight rein on his temper. Pointless to vent his fury now. No, far better to conserve it for when he caught up with the deceitful trull.
    And he would catch up with her.
    He paused in the parlor. He should have realized what was afoot yesterday when so much had been missing from the house.
    Cleaning indeed! He’d wager the rapacious piece hadnever in her life encountered the sharp end of a scrubbing brush. Although to be fair, she’d been dressed for it. He had a sudden piercing vision of her sitting before him in that remarkably shabby frock.
    Beautiful, of course, and damned fetching as always. But tall, straight and disdainful, as though she already were the duchess he planned to make her. And subtly, not the same person as the compliant courtesan he’d farewelled in the early afternoon.
    When she’d sent him on his way with a kiss, damn her duplicitous soul to hell.
    The Judas kiss.
    He remembered her air of suppressed panic when he’d proposed. No, she’d plotted her betrayal long before he’d asked her to marry him. The house’s forlorn abandonment reeked of a carefully executed departure.
    He started to go upstairs when he heard a muffled thud from the back of the dwelling.
    So he wasn’t alone after all. With triumphant eagerness, he flung open the door from the parlor and found himself in a totally unfamiliar hallway. His heart pounded with an expectation that included a shaming dose of relief.
    He strode down the shadowy corridor, his boot heels ringing on the flags. The kitchens had been cleared like the rest of the house. But here, all was not pristine. His eyes fell on a few scattered crumbs along the sink.
    “Come out. I know you’re here.” His voice echoed in the empty room. “This is