Taming The Bride (Brides of Mayfair 2) Read Free Page A

call for you, did I?”
    “But ’e was kissin’ ye, miss, and gropin’ ye like there was no tomorrow. Ye didn’t want ’im t’ keep maulin’ ye, now, did ye?”
    She glared up at the stranger who had just made a fool of her and watched him squirm in Mungo’s grasp. “Of course not. But this creates a problem. This man might very well call for the constable—considering that you’re strangling him—and I haven’t even begun my work for the night. We must get rid of him, quickly.”
    “Well, I made me suggestions,” Mungo shrugged. “Ye didn’t seem t’ like any o’ those.”
    Prudence regarded the struggling stranger and tapped her chin as a plan formed in her mind. Reluctantly, she said, “I’m afraid there is only one thing to do.”
    * * *
    Gadzooks, but he was cold.
    Alfred struggled to open his eyes. He blinked several times to try to focus his vision, but saw only the dimness of the lamp-lit night.
    After a few moments, he realized the reason the world looked so strange was because his head was lying on the cold, wet grass, and everything that normally stood vertically now seemed to be horizontal. He must have been royally in his cups tonight to end up like this.
    He tried to get up, but a sharp pain in his head made him groan and stay where he was.
    Which was a good question. Where the devil was he?
    As he lay immobile, he realized that he was shivering, and his teeth were chattering. All in all, he felt quite decidedly terrible.
    He opened his eyes again and willed himself to get up.
    Ughh.
    With all the strength he could muster, he pushed himself up and leaned on one arm. It was then that Alfred realized why he was so bloody cold.
    He was naked.
    Damnation, he was naked!
    Then, it all came back to him—the flame-haired prostitute teasing him on the street, the heated kiss, the huge man who came out of nowhere, holding Alfred aloft and nearly strangling the very breath from his body.
    And then, blackness.
    Alfred reached back and felt the lump on the back of his head. The big oaf had knocked him out with those meaty fists of his. And then the pair had robbed him.
    He slammed his fist against the ground in frustration. At least they had seen fit to deposit him behind some bushes, so that all of London wouldn’t see him in nothing more than his skin.
    He looked around to see if anyone was about. How on earth was he going to get himself home like this? He couldn’t exactly walk down the avenue without a stitch of clothing on.
    Then in the faint lamplight he spied his hat just a few feet away, sitting up-ended on the ground. He grabbed it and looked inside, and found his wallet—still holding all his money. His watch and quizzing glass were also there.
    Standing, Alfred held the hat in front of the most private part of all and hid behind a shrub. With any luck, a coach would drive by and he could hail it without the whole street seeing him. At least he still had money to hire a coach.
    He turned his head at the sound of voices approaching.
    A man and a woman strolled down the street. They would soon pass by.
    God in Heaven, let them keep walking .
    They stopped directly in front of the bushes that hid Alfred from view. He held his breath and tried not to move, willing them to move on. But they paid his thoughts no heed.
    “Oh, Lavinia…my dearest,” the man whispered loudly. “You are surely the most ravishing creature alive. Let me kiss you.”
    Alfred couldn’t help but watch this uncomfortable display through the lamp-lit branches. He recognized the man as Viscount Seton, a member of Alfred’s club.
    Damnation! He didn’t want to have to explain himself to this dimwit. If Seton got sight of him, the story would be all over London in a matter of hours.
    Alfred held still and watched Seton drool slobbering kisses over the poor creature in his arms. Though she was obviously a member of the ton , the young woman didn’t seem to mind Seton’s attentions.
    Probably counting his money in her