London's Perfect Scoundrel Read Online Free PDF Page B

reputation as a rake had been well warranted, to say the least, though now that he’d married his heretofore harshest critic, most of the gossip had ceased. If he felt it necessary to caution her aboutSt. Aubyn, his words were something she should take seriously.
    â€œThank you for the warning,” she said, granting him a warm smile, “but Lord St. Aubyn is merely an obstacle to the commencement of a project of mine. In another few days I’ll have little or no reason even to set eyes on him.”
    â€œWell, until that time, just don’t turn your back on him, Evie.”
    That didn’t leave her feeling the least bit better about any of this. At the same time, all of the rumors and finally meeting St. Aubyn face-to-face made her nothing if not more curious. As things were, however, she’d be better off leaving her questions about him unanswered.
    Â 
    She spent the next morning organizing questions and points to look for during her tour of the orphanage. Thankfully Victor stomped off to one of his meetings early, leaving her with one of his perturbed glares that wondered why she even breathed when he hadn’t instructed her to do so. The longer she could put off a confrontation over her waltz with St. Aubyn, the more likely he was to forget about it—especially if he needed her to go to a tea party or charm one of his fat, bald compatriots.
    If he discovered her plans, he would forbid her to have anything to do with the orphanage. And if that happened, she wasn’t certain what she would do. Best, then, if he didn’t find out.
    The only places she could go without a chaperone were Lucinda’s, Georgiana’s, or her Aunt Houton’s, so she told the butler that Victor would be able to find her at her aunt’s. That seemed the location least likely to raise his ire or his suspicions. It was ridiculous, to haveto lie about doing good deeds, but she didn’t want her plans ruined before she even had a chance to begin them.
    When Phillip stopped the coach on Great Titchfield Road, she sat inside for a long moment, making certain she had her pencil and papers and notes so she wouldn’t look like a fool in front of her escort—or the children. “Please wait for me,” she said as she emerged. “I may be a short while.”
    The driver nodded. “It’s all that heavy traffic between Ruddick House and Lord and Lady Houton’s,” he said, shutting the door behind her and climbing back up to his perch.
    Evelyn smiled at him, more grateful than she could express. Since Victor’s return from India, all the servants had aided her escapes from his frequent political diatribes. They had to know that if he discovered their activities, any or all of them would be summarily dismissed.
    She hurried across the street. As she knocked at the orphanage doors, Evie frowned. St. Aubyn hadn’t said who would be leading her about the orphanage. She hoped it wouldn’t be that dreadful housekeeper. Evie couldn’t imagine she would be the least bit helpful or understanding.
    The door creaked open. “Yes?” the housekeeper asked, her broad shoulders filling the doorway.
    Drat . “I had an appointment this morn—”
    The housekeeper bobbed an awkward curtsy. “Oh,…you’re Miss Ruddick,” she stammered, bobbing again. “Please come in. You’re expected, miss.”
    Evie walked past her into the foyer, not certain whether to be alarmed or relieved at the housekeeper’s sudden politeness. Any further contemplation, though, halted as she caught sight of the figure leaning against the stair banister.
    Even in the middle of the morning on a pleasant summer’s day in London, the Marquis of St. Aubyn had about him the aura of a figure of the night. It was probably his reputation, but even without that, Evie would have known that he didn’t belong in a place of plain, graying white walls and tallow