Kaleidoscope: A Regency Novella Read Free Page B

pillow. And the lower portion of Luke’s anatomy didn’t lack for imagination. He sat up straighter in bed to hide his obvious interest. His head and side still ached, but he was assuredly not dead. “I can’t believe there’s a man alive who would not want you,” he blurted out before his brain could stop his mouth.
    She laughed again, but this time the sound was companionable and appealing. “Gerald has never forgiven me for having an Indian grandmother and for marrying his uncle. To have someone of my heritage in his esteemed family is anathema and, more importantly, if I didn’t exist, the income from the Rydell Shipping Company would be his now that his uncle has died. So the two of us do not rub along well together.”
    Luke was surprised he hadn’t equated the Rydell family name with the Earl of Kelton’s family. But Kelton had come to his title when he was only a boy and in Luke’s remembrance, had always simply been Kelton. That Carolyn—no he must think of her as Mrs. Rydell—was a widow explained why there was no husband or father in evidence. “I can see why the two of you don’t get along. I must admit that I never much liked the man.”
    She chuckled again. “Well, it seems he’s not too fond of you either. In speaking of you, among his many descriptive phrases was ‘whoremonger.’”
    This had to be one of the oddest conversations he’d ever had with a lady, for Mrs. Rydell was every inch a lady, regardless of how plain spoken she was. No, not just plain spoken. In her unbridled mirth and uncensored word choices, Mrs. Rydell sounded like a man.
    “I take exception to that description. I’ve never consorted with whores,” he said, echoing her forthright language. Of course, he had consorted elsewhere, but that wasn’t the point. “I will admit, however, that among the ton, my reputation is perhaps not all that it could be.” Now that was the greatest understatement that had dropped from his lips for all time.
    “So I was led to believe. Gerald’s advice was that I throw you out as quickly as possible if I hoped to retain the minimal acceptance in society that I have.”
    Guilt, his persistent friend, asserted itself again. “Kelton is an ass, but in this he’s correct. My being here can do your reputation no good.” If her grandmother were indeed an Indian, then Carolyn Rydell was clinging to respectability by her fingertips. It might have been different if her husband had been alive or if Kelton had enthusiastically embraced her as family, but this didn’t seem to be the case. Society was not kind toward those they deemed half-casts. Having been its recipient, he was well aware of the cruelty lurking in London drawing rooms.
    “I doubt you could injure my reputation, and that’s hardly a consideration since I seldom go out in society as it is.” She came over by the bed and began fussing with his pillows. He breathed in her elusive, spicy scent and knew she would not be welcomed in many drawing rooms simply because of her beauty. The ladies of the ton didn’t relish imported competition.
    “You should go out in society. Nothing protects a woman like marriage to a peer, and I can’t imagine that there are not a number who would happily marry you.”
    She gave him a rueful smile. “I’m well aware of this concept. My late husband married me to give me the protection of his name. Since I arrived in London a year ago, I have not been without offers. But the men who offered marriage were impoverished, and the attraction was my wealth and not myself. Men with plenty of money made other offers.”
    Luke bet they did. And he suspected even those who needed funds were motivated by more than the desire for financial improvement. He knew he would have been. “Are you quite wealthy, then?” he asked.
    “Quite.” She dropped her eyes as if embarrassed, long black lashes fanning her cheeks.
    “Then this makes my departure even more imperative. I’m afraid I fall into the