The Blue Devil (The Regency Matchmaker Series) Read Free Page A

walls of her alcove pressed in on her. What had seemed a sanctuary before, now seemed a trap. She fought down an urge to run and tried instead to memorize every detail of the devil before her to tell the authorities later. Maybe she could be of some help to poor Lydia yet.
    Kathryn noted for the first time what the blackguard was wearing. He was dressed as a highwayman in a flowing, white linen shirt laced loosely up the front. His throat was wrapped with apparent carelessness in an azure silk kerchief. Kathryn couldn’t help staring at the shocking triangle of browned skin he’d boldly allowed to show below the knot of blue silk. His chest was covered with dark, springy-looking curls, the widest swath she’d ever seen.
    Kathryn blinked. Apart from one hairless lad back home in Heathford, she’d never seen a man’s whole bare chest before (her mama had kept her strictly away from the blacksmith’s!). Her gaze slid down the solid column of his torso almost of their own will. His black trousers, indecently tight about his muscled legs, ended in a pair of soft, low boots, very much like the ones Kathryn had left back in Heathford. Clenched in one fist, he held a black cape lined in rich blue satin, and as Kathryn watched, he swept it into the air and fastened the clasp at his Adam’s apple, the material swirling around his massive shoulders. The clasp sparkled with the unmistakable glint of a large sapphire.
    Kathryn swallowed, her eyes fixed once more on that triangle of chest crowned with smooth, browned, sinewy neck. She thought she detected a pulsing there, where his blood beat through his veins. She could not look away. Had it been the same for Lydia? Is that how he had fascinated her, by baring his flesh? Was that triangle all he had bared to the poor girl?
    And what had he done to her in that darkened bedchamber?
    The devil swore again, and she remembered the muffled sounds she’d heard from within the clothespress. He must have been using that silken voice to seduce Lydia. Kathryn imagined how it would be, hearing that soft voice whispering endearments near her own tilted ear, and she shivered. It was a barely perceptible movement, but the demon’s gaze swept her end of the hallway once more as though he’d sensed her presence. She willed herself to stop breathing. He stood motionless, listening, and then, finally, he turned and dissolved like an apparition into the gloom at the other end of the hallway.
    Kathryn stood transfixed, staring after him. The corridor seemed to spark with the electricity of his presence. Tiny hairs that had prickled with goose bumps on her arms and down her back gradually subsided, and Kathryn remembered to breathe.
    Emerging from her hiding place, she understood how poor Lydia had been lured to such ruin. The man was more than charismatic. His eyes were hypnotic, his voice enchanting. He was exciting. Enticing. Way too much temptation for a flower of tender years and experience such as dear Lydia.
    Fortunately, Kathryn was beyond the age where rakes such as Lydia’s tormentor held any real power over her. Though her experience with the manly portion of the population was admittedly lacking, she was still a sensible, cautious, worldly-wise two-and-twenty. Why, she had hardly a blush left in her! Certainly, she was incapable of tumbling into the trap Lydia had fallen into. Wasn’t she?
    Her hands were shaking and her heart was threatening to beat its way out of her chest as she stumbled back to the bedchamber, opened the door, and realized that it wasn’t the same room. Stepping in, she gasped. And then, immediately, she heaved a sigh, for Kathryn knew instantly that this bedchamber—and no other—was the one Auntie had intended for her.
    There on the dressing table stood an enormous bouquet of violets, her favorite flower, with a note that said, “For Kathryn” resting against the vase. The other rooms on this floor had been decorated sumptuously in golds, crimsons, and blues,