Lady Rogue Read Online Free PDF

woman and blinking the unexpected thought of Everton out of her mind. Dash it, she didn’t have time for such nonsense. “I do think you should call me Kit, though.”
    Mrs. Hodges wrinkled her nose. “I could never.”
    “Well, calling me ‘miss’ could cause all kinds of confusion,” she argued. Drat the woman for being so thick-headed. She hadn’t wished anyone’s assistance at all, but Everton had insisted on it. And considering that he already knew more about her than she had intended to reveal, she had thought it best not to argue.
    “It’s just so peculiar, if you don’t mind my saying.”
    Kit sighed. “Yes. I know.”
    She hesitated before she stood to receive the towel the housekeeper held open for her. It was perfectly proper, of course, but she was unused to anyone seeing her naked. She had never had a personal maid, and she barely remembered her mother, for Anne Riley Brantley had died just after Kit’s sixth birthday. Only a breath of time after that, her father had sold their small estate in Hampstead, and they had moved to Madrid, and then to Venice, and finally to Paris. And sometime during those travels she had become Kit Riley, either her father’s sonor his nephew, depending on the circumstances in which they found themselves.
    Hurriedly she wrapped the soft cloth around herself, while the housekeeper stepped over to the cleaned pile of clothes a maid had brought up. “It’s all right, Mrs. Hodges, I’m used to dressing myself.”
    The older woman picked up her cravat and examined it. “Just as well,” she said, scowling. “I don’t think I could, in good conscience, assist you with these things.”
    Kit laughed at her prudishness and motioned her out of the room. The servants had cleaned off her dirty, rain-stained clothes as best they could, but it was fairly obvious that her French rags, as Lord Everton had called them, were becoming exactly that. They felt old and stiff, and the strip of cloth she wrapped tightly across her breasts scratched her.
    She sighed and tried to straighten out the drooping brim of her beaver hat. “Damnation,” she muttered. Mrs. Hodges, or else Everton, had thought to provide her with a hairbrush and a strip of cloth with which to tie back her hair in its short tail, and she quickly finished what was left of her toilette.
    Kit hesitated before she opened the chamber door to return downstairs. The scrutiny Everton had given her last night had been the most intense she’d ever weathered. That, though, had been nothing compared to this morning. Those eyes knew she was a female now, and they looked at her differently. He was a rakehell, her father had said, and with him knowing what he did about her, the next fortnight was going to be even more difficult than she had envisioned.
    The housekeeper and Wenton, the butler, were waiting for her at the foot of the stairs as she descended. “Where’s the earl?” she queried, craning her head to gaze into the room on the left.
    “He’s gone out, Mr. Riley,” Wenton said. If the butler thought it odd that Everton had asked Mrs. Hodges to attend his cousin, he said nothing about it.
    “Out?” Kit repeated, dismayed to realize that she was disappointed. But after all, if he’d asked her to go withhim on his rounds, she would have been able to learn something of his acquaintances, which might have helped her task immeasurably.
    “Yes, Mr. Riley. He said you were to, if I may, ‘explore all you like, but don’t go out, and don’t, ah, steal anything.’” He gave a small nod. “Sir.”
    Kit sighed irritably. “Oh, very well.” All things considered, it was likely a wise idea that she become acquainted with her immediate surroundings, anyway.
    “Luncheon is generally served at one o’clock, if that is acceptable,” the butler continued.
    “Yes, that’s fine, Wenton,” she replied, disguising her surprise at being asked. Few meals in Saint-Marcel were planned for ahead of time, and luncheon