Dancing with a Rogue Read Free Page B

didn’t want any complications. But she did want information about the theater’s clientele and about Thomas Kane, the Earl of Stanhope.
    Lynch offered his arm, and she accepted it. The carriage was a public one. The driver jumped down from the box to help the seaman tie down her trunk on the carriage roof.
    Lynch held the door open and offered assistance first to Monique, then to Dani. “I will take you to your rooms. I’m sure you will be pleased with them.” Acceptable lodgings had been part of her contract.
    â€œAnd the schedule, monsieur?”
    â€œWe will have rehearsals for three weeks and then the opening. It is an amusing play,” he said quickly.
    â€œI read it,” she said. “I agree with you.”
    He seemed to slump with relief. “It is a farce. We are not licensed by the Crown to perform drama, but I hope to change that. If this play is successful, then I will apply for a license.”
    â€œThe Prince of Wales—Prinnie—will be in London when we open,” Lynch continued. “He has remarked to friends that he looked forward to your arrival. Your fame precedes you here,” he said, his hand touching her skirt.
    In minutes, it would be up her skirt. She moved away and gave Lynch a stare that had quelled greater men.
    His gaze dropped. “I hope you will think of me and the other members of the company as your family.”
    â€œI’m sure I will,” she said, knowing she would do no such thing. She planned to keep to herself until she made the acquaintance of Stanhope. No tinge of scandal could touch her.
    She had to be the unobtainable Ice Queen. Stanhope, according to her sources, always wanted what he couldn’t have. The longer he couldn’t have it, the more obsessive he became.
    Monique knew she had to be careful. Her mother had called him a very dangerous man. He had tried to kill her mother, then had hunted her like an animal after she had escaped him. If he discovered Monique’s true identity, he might well try to do the same to her.
    She peered out at the shops and town houses as the carriage clattered through busy streets. She had never been to London, though her mother had often spoken wistfully of it and of several cousins who had helped her escape it. Monique had vowed to try to find them and give them help if they were in need, but they could never know who she was, not until Stanhope was either in prison or dead.
    Stanhope. Her father.
    â€œWe are nearing the theater,” Lynch said. “I thought you might like to see it before going to your rooms.”
    She would be expected to be interested, and she made the suitable exclamations. But what she really wanted to know was the location of Stanhope’s residence, the clubs he attended, and the identity of his acquaintances.
    She decided to ask. “A friend of mine in Paris said I should look up the Earl of Stanhope.”
    The smile left Lynch’s face. “He is one to stay away from, mademoiselle,” he said.
    â€œI am surprised at that,” she said. “My friend told me that he was most generous.”
    Lynch paused, as if reluctant to say more. Then, “There will be many men who will be standing in line for moments of your time. Wealthy, well-placed gentlemen. I can help you make wise decisions.”
    â€œAh la,” she said, taking a fan from her reticule where she also carried a handkerchief as well as some coins. She opened the hand-painted Brise fan. “You are making him sound very dangerous. And interesting. I want you to send him several tickets for the new play.”
    â€œMademoiselle Fremon.…”
    â€œMonique,” she said. “Please call me Monique. There should be no formalities between friends, and we will be friends, oui ?”
    â€œI truly hope so,” Lynch said, his hand back on her lap.
    â€œThen I must really insist that you send the earl an invitation.”
    Her employer muttered to