Deliciously Debauched by the Rake Read Free Page B

the flowers themselves. And their perfume was lovely.
    A knock sounded on the door.
    She glanced at the clock. Yes, it was indeed the time for morning calls. Broom entered the room a moment or two later. “Mr. Francis,” he said.
    She frowned. “I’m not at home.” She’d already told Broom she would not see him. Money. No doubt the man had greased her footman’s palm. He would have to—
    â€œGood day, Lady Elizabeth.”
    The beautiful man who stood looking at her had a bad boy smile on his face.
    Her jaw dropped. “John?” Her voice was a squeak. A mouse would have been louder. Her glance shot to the footman. “You said it was Mr. Francis.”
    The footman went scarlet. “That’s what it says on his card, my lady.”
    â€œOh, my goodness,” Barny said, leaping to her feet with an agility Elizabeth hadn’t seen in years. “I just remembered I needed to…to speak with Cook. Come along, Broom.”
    The two of them disappeared from the room so fast Elizabeth could feel a swirl of air pass her cheek.
    She rose to her feet. “What are you doing here?”
    John grinned at her. “Throwing my hat into the ring, so to speak.”
    Dreadful canting talk. But she knew exactly what he meant. He was taking up the challenge. He looked lovely. Smiling. Handsome. Her heart lifted so high it was only now she realized how low it had sunk.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œNo?” he asked in a low, seductive murmur.
    He took her hand in his, kissed the back of it, his breath hot against her skin through the lace of her mitten, reminding her of all the passion they had shared.
    â€œI told you,” she said, struggling against the longing in her heart, in her very soul, to have him stay. “It is over between us.”
    â€œUs,” he said musingly. “There never was an us.”
    Was this some kind of horrid joke? Some sort of revenge? She would not have expected it of him. “We lived together for almost five years, remember?”
    â€œYou lived with Lord Radthorn for five years. A young nobleman of means who wrote up a contract. A cold arrangement for money. I am his distant cousin. You and I never met before.”
    â€œI have no idea what you are talking about.” She spun away from him. Turned her back. Her heart pounded with fear. Her voice shook. The calmness with which she’d faced him only a few days before seemed beyond her grasp. “Please go.”
    The lack of sound behind her had her turning back. To her shock, he held a yellow bloom in his hand. He held it out to her.
    Frantic, she curled her lip. “You know I only like red roses.”
    â€œI know nothing about you,” he murmured
    â€œJohn, please.” The anguish in her voice shocked her.
    â€œGeorge.” The rose remained steady, while his lips curved in an encouraging smile. “You can’t despise yellow entirely, my lady, if you kept them by you.”
    Unable to resist the appeal in his eyes, she reached for the bloom. He captured her hand in his the moment she clasped the stem. He stepped closer, only the blossom standing between them. He touched the petals to his lips and then pressed the flower gently to hers. It was a heady sensation to be kissed by a rose. On a shuddering breath she stepped away. He dropped her hand and she immediately felt the loss.
    She moved to the window, looking out into the quiet street. “Why are you here? What is this game you are playing?”
    â€œNo game. I understand you found your last lover lacking. I am here to see if I can improve upon his performance.”
    Startled, she turned to stare at him. The sight of him, his physical presence, was pure temptation and torture. The warmth in his gaze a tug at her heart. “I—No. This is nonsense.”
    He watched her gravely. “Am I so unworthy, you will not give me a chance?”
    Was that hurt she heard in his voice? Possibly. She