A Taste for Scandal Read Online Free PDF Page A

leashed anger. He could be fearsome when pressed. Just when he thought they had all been put properly in their places, Beatrice tilted her head to the side. “Were you still able to get my ribbons?”
    With a squeak, his mother finally came to her senses. Herding the girls back to the drawing room, she said, “Come along, dears. I think we should give Richard a moment to . . . compose himself.”
    Finally. He knew he loved his mother for a reason. Turning toward the stairway, he vaulted up the white marble steps, two at a time. In all his life, no one had ever treated him like that, that woman had.
    He snarled as he stalked into his room and slammed the door. He yanked the bellpull with much more force than necessary and began peeling off his ruined clothes.
    He could understand her initial confusion, but to speak so derisively after she knew who he was? What kind of woman belittles and insults the very man who tried to help her? Especially one of his status. He pictured her, with her porcelain white skin and lavender gown. Did she think she could get away with such rudeness, such dreadful behavior because she was beautiful? Possessing plump, rosy lips and shining, midnight hair didn’t do a lick of good when one also possessed such a disagreeable disposition. With the scowl she wore, no man in his right mind would find her attractive.
    He tossed his coat on the floor and went to work untying his cravat. Well, Miss Jane could rot, as far as he was concerned. And he hoped she was happy—he’d certainly think twice before risking his neck to help another stranger. He sighed; no, he wouldn’t. No matter how dreadful she’d been, he’d do it all over again simply because that would be his first instinct. Clearly he had the better opinion of his fellow man than she.
    By the time his valet arrived, most of Richard’s clothes were in a pile on the floor. Bradford, smart man that he was, said not a word as he headed to Richard’s dressing room to retrieve a fresh set of clothes. Normally, the man might have gone into hysterics at the sight of such carnage. It was good to know Richard could pull off such a forbidding expression when the occasion warranted it.
    And nearly being arrested thanks to a self-important, apron-wearing, finger-pointing shrew definitely warranted it. Shrew—he rather liked the sound of it. Perfect description, really.
    After he had washed away the stickiness from the tussle in the shop and dressed, Richard finally started to feel more himself. He couldn’t let some silly misunderstanding or vengeful shopgirl ruin his day. It had not been his finest moment, but it was over now. And besides, it wasn’t as though he would ever see the girl again. Why had she been so blasted accusatory, anyway? She seemed to personally despise him, even when the watchmen and that barn door of a cousin of hers relented and realized their mistake.
    People liked him, damn it. Being personable was the one thing he got right every time. He might not have had the mind for business his father would have liked, but he could make just about anyone laugh, if he chose to. He could make even the most homely debutante feel beautiful with a mere smile—something he rather liked to do, since it seemed to give them a boost of confidence—or charm a jaded widow right into his bed. Hell, he didn’t even have a mistress. He didn’t need one. Besides the fact he found paying for pleasure vulgar, there were few things more satisfying than the challenge of wooing the woman he desired. No money changing hands, no promises of homes or carriages—just pure, mutual pleasure.
    Actually, a lady in his bed sounded rather perfect after such a rotten day. Perhaps he would visit the enchanting Lady Kingsley. With her lecherous, wizened old husband off in the north with his mistress and their by-blow, Theresa had been very receptive toward Richard of late. She tended to work wonders for a man’s wounded ego . . . as well as other, more