Improper Ladies Read Online Free PDF

before.”
    “How do you do, Mrs. Archer?” Lord Lyndon said, bowing over her outstretched hand. His fingers were warm through her thin glove, his grip steady and sure.
    “Welcome to the Golden Feather, Lord Lyndon,” she answered. “I do hope you are enjoying your first evening here.”
    “Of course,” he said. “Who could help but enjoy themselves here? You have a lovely establishment, Mrs. Archer.” But his eyes, a vivid sky blue in his sun-browned face, still looked bored and perfectly, blandly polite. His gaze slid ever so briefly over her shoulder before focusing on her again.
    “Thank you, Lord Lyndon,” she murmured, wondering what could possibly be so interesting behind her. Another woman, perhaps?
    Her vanity was a bit piqued by this inattention. Unaccountably, she wanted this man’s attention; she wanted his gaze to fill with admiration when he looked at her. Usually she disliked male attention and longed to turn away from their flattery, their long, suggestive glances.
    “This may be Lyndon’s first visit, but his brother is a regular patron,” Freddie said, interrupting her jumbled thoughts.
    Caroline turned to him in relief, away from Lord Lyndon’s mesmerizing blue eyes. “Oh, yes? And who might that be?”
    It was Lyndon who answered, in his deep, brandy-rich voice. “Mr. Harry Seward is my brother.” He gestured with his champagne glass toward a table.
    Caroline looked back to where he pointed. So that was what had caught his attention. His brother, Mr. Seward, was quite familiar to her. He came to the Golden Feather several times a week, sometimes winning, more often losing. He was a bit of a mischief maker, but she had never had any serious trouble with him. Tonight he sat next to another regular patron, a woman who called herself Mrs. Scott, a bottle of champagne between them.
    It was hard to believe that the feckless Mr. Seward was the brother of the serious, solemn man who stood before her.
    “We do see Mr. Seward often,” she said.
    “So I have heard,” he answered softly. Caroline had the distinct impression that he did not approve of his brother’s pastimes.
    And that would mean he also disapproved of her.
    Caroline glanced at Freddie and saw that his glass was almost empty. “You need more champagne!” she said, half turning to summon a footman. Then she sensed Lord Lyndon’s tall figure stiffening beside her.
    She followed the direction of his now-cold gaze back to his brother’s table. Harry had risen from his chair to face another patron, a Lord Burleigh. They were speaking together, if speaking was the right word, their voices rising sharply. Harry’s face was red beneath his untidy shock of hair; his hands were curled into fists at his sides. Mrs. Scott laid her hand on his arm, trying to draw him away.
    He shook her off impatiently and whipped back around to face Lord Burleigh. A small crowd was gathering, a hush settling over the room as people noticed the brewing quarrel.
    This was not good at all. There was nothing more tiresome than a fight.
    Caroline shifted her skirts so that she could better reach the small pistol tucked into her garter, and looked about for the footmen who doubled as guards. Before she could find them, she felt Lord Lyndon’s hand on her arm, moving her gently aside as started toward his brother.
    “No, please, Lord Lyndon!” She caught his hand, stopping him from taking another step. “Let me handle this.”
    His eyes were now a stormy gray as he looked down at her. “He is my brother.”
    “I know. But I deal with this quite often, unfortunately. It will be easier if I speak to him.”
    Lyndon’s jaw tightened, but he nodded shortly. “Damn,” he said, “but I knew something like this would happen.”
    Caroline had just taken one step in Harry’s direction when a high-pitched shout erupted from Lord Burleigh followed by a great crash as one of them, Harry or Burleigh, sent the card table toppling. Coins, cards, and champagne