Dreaming of You Read Online Free PDF Page B

you—”
    “Good-bye, Joyce.” He turned and left the room.
    His refusal of her body was insultingly casual, as if he had turned down an unwanted offer of seconds at the supper table. Joyce flushed crimson. “No,” she snarled. “You won’t leave me! If it’s another woman, I’ll claw her eyes out!”
    “It’s not another woman,” came his sardonic reply. “It’s just boredom.” Suddenly his accent changed to coarse, flat cockney. “Or as you gentry likes to call it, ennui.”
    She ran out of the bedroom, still naked, calling after him as he went down the stairs. “Come back this instant…or you’ll pay for this every day of your life! If I can’t have you, no one will! Do you understand me? “ You’ll pay for this, Derek Craven!”
    Derek hadn’t taken her threat seriously—or maybe it was just that he hadn’t cared. He had done what he’d planned with his life, never dreaming that at the end of the long, treacherous path success would be coupled with such disappointment. Now he had gained everything he wanted, and there was nothing to look forward to. Damn ennui, the mind-numbing clutches of boredom. A few years ago, he hadn’t even known what the word meant. A rich man’s disease, he thought, and smiled grimly in ironic appreciation.

Chapter 2
    S ara dressed carefully for her visit to the gambling palace. She wore the best gown she owned, a gray-blue grenadine with three deep bias tucks at the hem, and a high-necked bodice ornamented with lace. She had very few clothes, but they were all made with good sturdy cloth. The gowns she preferred did not adhere to any particular style that would date them. She hoped the bloodstains could be removed from the garments she had worn last night. There had been quite a scene when Sara had returned at such a late hour, spattered with blood. In response to Mrs. Goodman’s frantic questions, Sara had explained mildly that she had encountered a little trouble during her research. “Nothing to worry about—I merely stopped to give assistance to a stranger.”
    “But all that blood—”
    “Not a bit of it’s mine,” Sara reassured her with a smile.
    Eventually she had diverted Mrs. Goodman to theproblem of how to treat the stains. Together they had applied a paste of starch and cold water to her coat and gown. This morning the clothes were soaking in a mixture of gin, honey, soft soap, and water.
    After pinning her hair up to stay away from her face, Sara covered the chestnut locks with a sprigged lace cap. Satisfied with her appearance, she searched through one of her trunks for a light cape. A glance through the small pane of her window had revealed that it was a typically cool autumn day.
    “Sara!” Mrs. Goodman’s puzzled voice drifted to her as she descended the stairs. “A magnificent private carriage has stopped right outside the house! Do you know anything about it?”
    Intrigued, Sara went to the front door of the Goodmans’ modest home and opened it a crack. Her gaze took in the sight of a black-lacquered carriage, gleaming ebony horses, outriders, and a coachman and footman dressed in buckskins, frock coats, and tricorns. Mrs. Goodman joined her at the door. All along the street, curtains were pulled aside and staring faces appeared at windows. “No carriage like that has ever been seen on this street before,” Mrs. Goodman said. “Look at Adelaide Witherbane’s face—I think her eyes are ready to pop out! Sara, what in heaven’s name is going on?”
    “I have no idea.”
    Disbelieving, they watched as the footman ascended the steps of the Goodman home. He was well over six feet tall. “Miss Fielding?” he asked deferentially.
    Sara opened the door wider. “Yes?”
    “Mr. Worthy has sent a carriage to convey you to Craven’s whenever you are ready.”
    Mrs. Goodman’s suspicious stare turned from thefootman to Sara. “Who is this Mr. Worthy? Sara, does this have anything to do with your mysterious behavior last night?”
    Sara