Maggie MacKeever Read Free Page B

and mouth break-teeth words better than most.
    Life was a curious business. Here she was pretending to be the sort of female who when nose-to-nose with trouble would feel a spasm coming on, her constitution not being strong; who in a ticklish situation would require a nice lie-down, and her temples bathed with lavender water, and calves’ foot jelly served up to her on a silver spoon. In truth, Liliane considered silver spoons better for the selling of them, and wouldn’t recognize a maidenly spasm if it nipped her on the nose.
    However, a nice lie-down was in her future, providing she was clever with her cards.
    At least, she supposed it would be nice enough. His lordship had tossed up sufficient skirts that he should know what he was about.
    Liliane turned away from the mirror. Her nerves were in a jangle, now the moment drew nigh. Still, how difficult could the business be? Everybody knew the Black Baron was a sot.
    Lord Quinton entered the supper room at last, beckoned an attendant to his side. As his eyes flicked over her, Liliane discreetly tugged her neckline lower. His lordship, alas, appeared more interested in the brandy fetched him than in her creamy flesh.
    Ladies and ladybirds alike flocked to the Black Baron like moths to a candle flame, drawn by his reputation, curious to discover for themselves how well he was equip’t. Liliane wondered if those other hopefuls found it this difficult to catch his eye.
    She drew in a breath so deep the seams of her bodice creaked, and cleared her throat. Quin frowned, as if puzzling why she was still here. “ Tiens! That Coffey pig— The incident was of the most distressing.” Liliane clasped her hands beneath her breasts, plumping them up further in case his lordship was too fuddled to remark what was right under his nose. “Although it is not the first time I have found myself the object of unwanted attentions, you comprehend.”
    Quin sampled his brandy. “I didn’t imagine it was.”
    He had barely glanced at her bosom. The man was jaded beyond belief. Liliane was strongly tempted to inform Lord Quinton that he might kiss her arse.
    Instead she touched a lace-trimmed handkerchief to the corner of one eye. “He said he desired to speak with me about a private matter. I did not expect one of your friends would behave so shabbily.”
    “More fool you,” murmured Quin. “Curious, is it not, that a man would try and force himself on an unwilling female when there are so many willing females to be found?”
    Matters weren’t progressing as Liliane had anticipated. For one thing, her employer was — despite his reputation — far from being foxed.
    Needs must when the devil drove. Mam would have her guts for garters if she didn’t soon have some progress to report.
    “Who can explain a drunken swine?” Liliane allowed a second tear to trickle down her cheek. “I beg you, don’t turn me off! It’s a harsh world for such as me, should I lose my place.”
    Unmoved by her tears, Lord Quinton gestured. The attendant hastened forward, decanter at the ready. She poured. Quin studied the brandy, then raised it to his lips, and drank.
    Only when his glass was empty did he look at Liliane. “Samson wants me to dismiss you, being of the opinion you wouldn’t have wandered into the hallway in the first place if you were up to any good. However, I’ve decided to give you the benefit of the doubt.”
    “ Vraiment?” Liliane dabbed her eyes with the scrap of fabric before tucking it into her bodice, which — though there seemed little enough point in doing so — she nudged lower still. “You are of a kindness unsurpassed.”
    “Ah yes, I am all indulgence,” Quin said sardonically. “Therefore, I will tell you that even if you drop your neckline to your navel, you’ll catch no more than a cold.”
    He thought so, did he? Mam thought otherwise. Liliane thought she’d like to be shut of the pair of them. This behaving like a hen-hearted little ninny without a