For the Earl's Pleasure Read Online Free PDF

leg and pushed her against the wall. His fingers worked to undo his old fashioned trousers in frenzied motions.
    Two matrons walked by, chatting behind their fans and pointing long fingers to different attendees at the Grayton House ball, identifying anything noteworthy. If the servants’ clothing hadn’t given it away, the complete inattention by two of society’s dragons to the moans, groans, and squirming of the two copulating in the corner reaffirmed to Abigail that she alone was seeing the spectacle.
    Her talent .
    With Rainewood absent from all activities for the past two days, the tension that had always gripped her in society had gradually diminished. And the timing between his heated interaction with her and his disappearance had her name on many lips, which ironically was helping her social stock. Sending more than one sneaking glance her way.
    She should be securing a quality husband—quickly. So why was she concentrating on things she usually tried to ignore? The very things that had destroyed a cherished friendship and turned her life upside down.
    It was almost like she was the spirit languishing in nostalgia—attached to the physical plane, doomed to repeat the same movements over and over.
    And unfortunately not memories as entertaining as the scenario being played out in the corner.
    She stared more inquiringly at the physical mechanics required to attain the position that the footman was rocking the maid into. She wondered if it was a true memory she was seeing, and if so had the gilded wall sconce dug into the woman’s bared shoulder? Had her head knocked into the fresco of satyrs at play? Or was this an unfulfilled act that their spirits could only indulge in after death? Whichever it was Abigail felt her face heat.
    “Miss Smart?”
    Abigail focused on the slight man standing across from her. He was looking at her worriedly while Mrs. Browning glared. “My apologies, Mr. Southertonmonsmith…” She let the last part trail into a mumble as she couldn’t quite remember what the man’s name was. Her senses had dulled as soon as the donkey had gone missing.
    “Mr. Sourting was inquiring as to whether you would like to take a ride in the park tomorrow. I think it a lovely idea.” Her mother smiled widely at Mr. Sourting, who smiled tentatively back.
    Sourting. Right. He had popped up in what seemed a bid to court her weeks ago, then abruptly dropped the suit. She was used to the quick changes—the lure of the Smart fortune bringing the men forward, then something about her changing their minds. Her oddness or ambivalence, she didn’t know. Easier to deal with the hit to her pride by forcing herself to forget the mercurial suitors entirely.
    Mr. Sourting looked to her and Abigail worked up a smile. “Of course. How lovely that would be.”
    “Excellent. I shall see you on the morrow.” He looked rather relieved, then quickly excused himself. She absently wondered at the man’s change of heart.
    “Abigail! What have you to say for yourself? What were you doing?”
    She could be honest and say that she had been watching a couple of spirits copulating in the corner, but she didn’t think that would please her mother, nor Mrs. Browning.
    Mrs. Browning sniffed. “Yes, do bring her in line Mrs. Smart. I will speak with a few other gentlemen and return for a hopefully more respectable performance.”
    “Well, Abigail?” her mother asked as Mrs. Browning strode off.
    “Just thinking, Mother, my apologies.”
    “Thinking? No man wants a future wife who thinks instead of listens! You know better than that.”
    A lady in a one hundred-year-old flat-bosomed dress drunkenly swayed through the crowd singing a bawdy ditty. With a downward swipe of her hand one breast spilled over her bodice, and she caterwauled at the top of her ghostly lungs about meaty paws and suckling maws.
    Abigail tore her eyes away as the woman stepped through her mother, who shivered and waved her fan.
    Abigail swallowed.