Lady Scandal Read Free

angled so Juliet could see the room, Wivy situated herself at the desk.
    “Ready to have another go?” Juliet whispered.
    Wivy took a deep breath and released it on a loud sigh. “Two more,” Juliet heard her murmur. “Two more then the blessed respite of the weekend.”
    Juliet knew this marriage scheme had been hard on her friend. For years, she’d been the one constant in Juliet’s life. If it weren’t for her companionship, betrothal to Lord Letheridge at sixteen—with Papa refusing to grant her the opportunity of a season, much less the chance to meet any other gentlemen—might’ve been her undoing.
    As it was, by the time their extended engagement elapsed and the pompous ceremony held at St. George’s as her dear mama insisted (her mother’s dying wish, else Juliet had no doubt Papa would’ve disregarded it as he had all her others), old Leth’s determination had dwindled, his winkle had waned, and though Juliet couldn’t bring herself to in any way welcome his persistent attempts at bedding her, she’d tolerated them in good stead as she’d been taught a dutiful wife ought.
    Yet she remained untouched, in the extreme intimate sense, to this day. Hence, part of her unfailing resolve to have a say in her next spouse. And bed partner.
    After all, other young ladies were allowed to choose, didn’t have an odious father who gave them no voice, no—
    Oh, holy day!
    Every righteous thought flew from her brain as she caught sight of a most compelling man hesitating in the doorway. Why did he wait? Why did this one persist in stalling? In not coming closer where she could secure a better look?
    Why did her heart jump in her chest and the air in her lungs evaporate to nothing—at nothing more than her first hazy glimpse of him?
    Juliet caught herself listing forward and hastily scooted back upon the chair (falling face first into the screen would certainly
not
aid her cause!). Once firmly situated, she again stared toward the newcomer. Yet he still hadn’t moved. Why—
    But then he did and she could breathe again, her chest expanding and eyes flaring wide as he passed through the doorway. His former dithering aside, he now stalked purposefully into her sitting room, inspecting his surroundings as if he already owned the space—and everything, every
one
in it.
    An unruly shock of dark blond hair fell forward over his forehead, nearly to his jaw. He raked it back, giving her a view of strong, harsh features and brooding eyes, their color indistinguishable from this distance.
    Though his size was akin to Jacks’, this man moved with an innate, confident grace, his strides long, his Hessians clipping brusquely upon the floor until he gained the rug and stopped, tilting his fair head in deference to Wivy. “Madam.”
    He flashed a grin and something dormant inside Juliet flared to life, leaving her feeling bold and anxious and giddy all at once.
Is he the one?
    Regardless of how very serious the entire undertaking was to her future, Juliet couldn’t refrain from gawking at his…um…masculine form. His impressive, muscular thighs specifically.
    An audible gasp wound its way up her throat. Juliet clamped one hand over her lips.
    A lady wasn’t supposed to acknowledge, even mentally, that a man’s limbs existed, much less
name
them.
Thighs
, she thought again because she could, smiling behind her fingers. Because never again would she let any man rule over her mind or her tongue.
    Thighs. Legs.
    Simply acknowledging how his drew her made her blood flow hot and thick.
    Legs!
She wanted to shout it out the open window.
This stranger possesses the most magnificent legs.
Oh, she was brazen indeed!
    Lady or not, there was no denying she admired everything outwardly about him—his shaggy hair and craggy face, his legs, hips, waist…thighs, they all fascinated and beckoned.
    She swallowed back another gasp, one of pure unadulterated relief. For here was a man worth gasping over, a man worth abandoning maidenly