One Wicked Sin Read Free Page A

my circumstances most graphically,” she said tightly.
    He put his head on one side, his blue eyes narrowed on her face. “You don’t like to be described like that, do you, Lottie Palliser?” His tone was soft but it was not gentle. There was no compassion. Lottie wondered if he could look into her soul and see the tarnish there.
    “You don’t want to face the fact that you chose to become a courtesan because you preferred survival to starvation,” he went on, “but it is the truth, just as all the things that you said about me are the truth.” His lips twisted in a parody of a smile. “I think that you and I are very alike, Lottie.” His voice was quiet. “We’re both survivors, both adventurers. We don’t believe in martyrdom.”
    “We’re both prisoners, ” Lottie said, unable to erase the bitterness from her voice. She made a slight gesture. “Should you not be locked up, my lord?”
    He shrugged, supremely elegant and supremely unconcerned. “Plenty of people think so, my father included.”
    “And yet,” Lottie said, “you are free.”
    This time he shifted in the chair, tension in the line of his shoulders now. “If you call it freedom. I gave my word not to try to escape—my parole—and in return I am penned in a country town in the middle of nowhere, with nothing to do all day, waiting for the war to end.”
    “Then what are you doing here in London?” Lottie asked. “Have you broken your parole?”
    Ethan shook his head. The candlelight caught the sheen of blue in the deep black of his hair and madehis eyes look deep and fathomless. “All officers are permitted to come up to Town once in a while if they plead urgent personal business.” He gestured around the boudoir. “And what could be more urgent and personal than visiting a Covent Garden brothel?” He smiled at her. “I require a mistress,” he said. “That is why I am here. I have come to ask you if you will accept the role.”

CHAPTER TWO
    L OTTIE DID NOT ANSWER him immediately. Ethan watched her as she got to her feet and walked away from him. The room was small; there was not far for her to go. He sensed her need to escape. She was like a trapped bird in an exotic cage, like the golden canary that sat mutely in the cage by the window.
    “You hate this life, don’t you,” he said. It was a statement of fact, spoken without sentiment or gentleness. It was a long time since he had felt sympathy for anyone.
    “Yes.” She did not turn back to look at him. Her shoulders were slumped. The saucy transparent negligee she was wearing with its swansdown trimmings was like a mocking reminder of her status. After a moment he saw her reach for a shawl from the bed and wrap it tightly about herself as though she were cold.
    “I should not hate it.” She sounded defiant. “God knows why I feel so demeaned. You are right that I chose this life rather than starve.” She turned and looked at him. “And anyway, I used to like sex.” She sounded vaguely surprised. “I used to be rather good at it, too.”
    Ethan laughed. Such plain speaking in a woman was refreshing and unusual. He had heard that Lottie Palliser was an unusual woman but he had not expectedher to be quite like this. “That doesn’t mean you would be a good courtesan,” he pointed out. “Nor that you would like the work. When money changes hands it alters matters. It is like being a mercenary soldier. You put yourself up for hire and cannot always be scrupulous about who pays or what you have to do for the money.”
    She laughed, a rich throaty sound. “A nice analogy.” The humor fled her voice. “It was naive of me to imagine I could step easily into a role like this.”
    There was far more to it than that, Ethan thought. He had heard what had happened to her and knew that the scandal of the divorce and her ruin must have shattered her world and stolen her certainties. No one could remain unchanged by so cataclysmic an experience. Gossip had painted her as a