Wicked Read Free Page B

to escape Miss Gambetta's clutches. "I should check on William's packing and on my mail."
    "Send us your news with the consular dispatches," his father said, his gaze amused. "Your mother worries."
    "Of course, Maman." Leaning down, he kissed Chelsea gently on the cheek.
    "You'll be careful now," she urged.
    He smiled and nodded, his relationship with his stepmother one of deepest affection. His own mother had died shortly after his birth, and while Sinjin had taken over his fatherly duties when Beau was a baby, he had not had a mother until years later when Sinjin had married.
    "And we'll expect you back in a month or so?" the duke said.
    "Six weeks at the most. Even if I have to go to Palermo and mingle at court for a time, I should be back by mid-March."
    ******************
    When Beau arrived at his bachelor quarters in St. James a brief time later, he found Albington waiting for him, half drunk and in the company of two young actresses.
    "Told them we'd see you off at Dover."
    "Really," Beau softly said, handing his hat and gloves to his valet, asking William for his mail in an undertone. Turning back to his company, he took in the smiling countenances of the pretty actresses, perceived that Albington, with his feet resting on a case of rare Cognac, was once again i n funds, and debated briefly whether he wanted companions on his drive to Dover. "I'm afraid I'm leaving within the hour," he neutrally said.
    "We'r e ready right now," the marquis cheerfully replied. L izzie's never been fucked in a carriage before." He leered at the girl perched on the arm of his chair.
    Reason enough, Beau sardonically considered. "Would you care for some Champagne?" he asked the young lady seated to one side of the couple kissing each other now with passionate disregard for their companions.
    She giggled. "I've had some already. A l bie ordered up your best stock."
    "Then I've some catching up to do." Beau took his mail from the salver William held out to him. "I'm Rochefort," he went on, sifting through the scented billets-doux that arrived daily. His dark eyes lifted from Miss Gambetta's familiar script gracing one lilac-colored note and, pleased to be so imminently quitting London and her unwelcome designs, he said to the young lady with raven curls and a splendid bosom, "Do you like carriage rides?"
    ******************
    Serena locked her door against Neville's unwelcome advances Sunday night and even he wasn't brave enough to force it open, the risk of waking his sisters or parents outweighing carnal urges. He'd slunk away finally, but not before whispering ugly, graphic threats of what he'd do to Serena when he finally had her alone.
    She hadn't slept after that, fearful of his return, apprehensive about maintaining her virtue against such determined attacks, more happily contemplating various ways she could dispose of his corpulent, repulsive body. It cheered her in those sleepless hours to devise and scheme, even if all her vengeful plans were only pipe dreams. She briefly wondered whether such vicious thoughts put one beyond redemption. Or did God forgive malevolent intent if it was in self-defense? She even fleetingly asked for divine guidance in her plight but no one answered her plea, nor had they anytime these last four years. So she sensibly stayed awake in the event Neville returned.
    Desperately fatigued by morning, she greeted the sound of the girls stirring awake next door with a soft groan. What discourtesies and rudeness would she be subjected to today? Glancing at the calendar she'd made and posted prominently over her bed, she rallied her weary body and mind with the glo ri ous goal of July and liberation.
    The cook was in a pet because Mrs. Totha m had early guests coming in the forenoon so only tea and toast were sent up for the nursery breakfast, the serving girl breathlessly explained after navigating the two flights of stairs. And Serena was fortunate to pluck a single piece of buttered toast from the plate before