Wicked Promise Read Free Page A

he? I should like to meet this ogre who has instead turned out to be our savior."
    Elizabeth flushed as Nicholas Warring materialized like a ghost out of the shadows. It was the first time she had seen him since the day they had spoken in his study.
    He smiled, though rather thinly, apparently nonplussed by Aunt Sophie's words. "Nicholas Warring," he said with a slight bow of his head. "A pleasure, Mrs. Crabbe."
    He sounded as if he meant it, which she knew he did not. He wasn't the least bit happy about either of his most recent guests, but at least he was gentleman enough not to show it.
    Aunt Sophie beamed, spots of red appearing in her apple- round cheeks. "Well, aren't you just the image of your father, and every bit as handsome, too."
    A slashing black brow arched up. "I had forgotten that you knew my father."
    "And your lovely mother, Constance, as well, God rest their poor, dear, departed souls. Good people—the salt of the earth—were your mother and father. I imagine you must miss them very much."
    Something flickered in the earl's silver-blue eyes. His posture grew a little more erect. "Yes. I am sorry I wasn't here when they died."
    "Yes, yes, terrible thing your being sent away like that, and all for killing that awful Hampton boy. No doubt he deserved it. No doubt at all."
    "Aunt Sophie—" Elizabeth gently gripped her aunt's plump arm, hoping to steer her away from an unpleasant subject, but the older woman kept on talking.
    "And what of your lovely sister?'' she asked. "Does Lady Margaret fare well?"
    Any pretense of a smile slid from his lips. "My sister has chosen a life in the Sacred Heart Convent. Though I haven't seen her in quite some time, from the letters I receive, I presume she is faring quite well."
    But for whatever reason, Nicholas Warring didn't seem happy she was there. Aunt Sophie opened her mouth to say something else, but Elizabeth cut her off before she could speak.
    "I'm certain my aunt is tired after such a long journey. If you don't mind, my lord, I would show her upstairs and help her get settled in her rooms." It was obvious the subject of his sister wasn't a pleasant one. Elizabeth couldn't help wondering why.
    Ravenworth nodded stiffly and bent to take the old woman's white-gloved hand. He frowned slightly when he noticed the dirty ball of string she clutched like gold against her bosom.
    Elizabeth forced herself to smile. "My aunt... ah, likes to collect things." She grimaced to think of the filthy bits of string, wrinkled scraps of paper, shells and odd-colored stones that would, if left unattended soon fill every corner of Aunt Sophie's room.
    The earl stared down at the string. "So I see," he said dryly. He flashed her a pointed glare. "I'm expecting some friends from London this evening. Since I'm sure you and your aunt would prefer your privacy, I'll have supper sent up to your sitting room."
    Elizabeth smiled thinly. "How thoughtful." He didn't miss the sarcasm and she didn't miss the warning in his eyes. You know the rules , that dark look said. I'll expect you to obey them . She nudged her aunt toward the stairs. "Have a good evening, my lord."

T WO

    N ick stood at the window of his study. A watery late February sun shone down between the branches of the trees, casting fingerlike shadows over the stark winter landscape. Strolling the gravel paths between the hedgerows, Elizabeth Woolcot's cloaked figure paused to study the hollyhocks and ivy beds, the skimmia and carpets of heath that made up the winter garden.
    She wandered a little farther, toward a small meandering stream that tumbled over rocks, formed a pool, then disappeared into the rolling grassy fields beyond. Nick had seen her there before, heedless of the chill in the air, the blustery breeze, or even an occasional light fall of rain. It was obvious she liked the out-of-doors, and equally clear from the bloom in her cheeks that the fresh air agreed with her.
    He couldn't help comparing her to his latest