When Angels Fall Read Free Page A

vulnerable in it as she was made powerful by it.
    He bent down and wiped the dust off the brass plaqueon the frame’s bottom rail. The fair-haired girl’s name was engraved upon it in heavy ornate script. It said:
Miss Eliza
beth Victorine Alcester of Nodding Knoll 1850
.
    He straightened and gave the portrait one last glittering stare. Then, as if he were fully aware of his own madness, Tramore tipped back his dark head and laughed. He ended this strange self-indulgence by violently whipping the linen covering back over the portrait. He left the attic without a backward glance.
    Some time later that evening the gold-painted calèche from Fanny Kimbel’s pulled up in front of the marquis’s door. A fine mist had begun to fall just after eight o’clock, but as Fanny always saw to it, her girls were well shielded from the weather. When this particular beauty emerged from the leather-upholstered, satin-hung interior, all she had to do was pull her fox mantle a little bit closer to keep warm. The trip to the door was only a few steps, and soon she was inside the well-lit hall, being attended to by the marquis’s majordomo.
    Upstairs the marquis was waiting in his apartments. Attired for the evening in a black cutaway and trousers, Tramore looked the quintessential peer, rich and disciplined. A deep-blue silk cravat tied around his wing collar broke some of the severity of his dress, as did a matching blue foulard waistcoat that showed along the edges of his coat.
    He waited in the anteroom, nursing a small brandy and lounging in an old-fashioned wing chair. When he heard the footfall of visitors, his head turned to the door.
    Mrs. Kimbel’s most expensive girl entered Tramore’s apartments with a sweep of crinoline and perfume. Roseanne was a gorgeous creature, from her perfectly set glossy brown ringlets to her costly white satin slippers. Her powder-blue watered silk gown made her a vision of elegance. Its bodice was alluring yet tasteful, the waist tiny yet not artificial.
    “My name is Roseanne, my lord. Mrs. Kimbel saidyou had need of companionship.” Roseanne tilted her head to the marquis. Tramore’s mouth lifted in an arrogant half-grin and he stood to greet her. With one look from him, Biddles, the majordomo, immediately closed the door and left them in private.
    “I hope the weather didn’t make your journey too tedious.” Tramore put down his drink.
    “Nothing could be tedious this evening, my lord.” Roseanne’s gray eyes narrowed. She was obviously pleased with Tramore’s dark good looks, and even more so with his lean, broad-shouldered figure.
    The marquis also stared assessingly at her. But his eyes were more dispassionate; the gleam of lust lent them their only sparkle. “Fanny has excellent taste,” he finally commented.
    “Mrs. Kimbel was determined to send a girl who would please you.” Roseanne walked up to him and put a finger to his finely hewn lips. “And I shall.”
    Tramore looked away, desire and, yet, disinterest etched on his Adonis-like face.
    Unhappy with his sudden aloofness, Roseanne then kissed him. She stood on her tiptoes, placed her soft hands on either side of his rigid face, and pulled him down to her lips. Though Tramore was just barely cooperating, it was still a most intimate kiss. Afterward, at least Roseanne looked quite hungry for more. The marquis only stared at her, his eyes heavy-lidded yet watchful.
    She whispered, “There’s no need for you to be so distant, my lord. Not on a rainy night such as this. I promise you, it will be far better to let me keep you warm than to go to your cold bed alone.”
    He looked down. Roseanne was already unbuttoning his waistcoat. Her hands then worked beneath his cravat to unfasten his shirt. A warm palm slid beneath the linen and massaged his hard, hair-covered chest.
    “You’re a greedy little one, aren’t you?” he statedflatly. Tramore placed his hand over hers and made her stop. He did not, however, remove it.
    “As