London's Perfect Scoundrel Read Online Free PDF Page B

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 candles. Chandeliers and rich wall coverings and dim, curtained bedchambers seemed much more his natural habitat.
    “You’re staring, Miss Ruddick,” he said, straightening.
    She started. “I’m merely surprised to see you this morning,” she countered. “I mean, I appreciate your personally bringing word that I’m to have a tour, but you might have sent a note.”
    He nodded, coming toward her with that panther’s stalk of his. “I have to admit, usually when I see this side of morning it’s because I haven’t yet gone to bed.”
    Evie wasn’t quite certain how to answer that. “Ah. Well, if Mrs….” She trailed off, at a loss.
    Saint glanced at the housekeeper. “What the devil is your name, anyway?”
    “Mrs. Natham,” the housekeeper answered. From her tone, it wasn’t the first time she’d supplied him with the information.
    “Thank you,” Evie said, offering the woman a half smile. They’d simply gotten off to a poor start; there was no reason to assume they couldn’t deal together. “If you don’t mind, Mrs. Natham, I would like to begin the tour.”
    “I…but…ah…”
    “She isn’t conducting your tour,” the marquis said, cynical humor touching his voice. “I am.”
    “You?” Evie blurted, before she could stop herself.
    “Yes, I. Shall we?” He led the way to a door on the right side of the foyer and held it open for her.
    “But…don’t you have more important things to do?”
    “Not a one.” His mouth curved in that sensuous smile of his. “You asked for a tour. I am providing one. Decline, and you’re free to walk out the door. But you won’t be allowed back again.”
    So that was it. Another of St. Aubyn’s attempts at control through intimidation. This morning, however, she wasn’t in the mood to be intimidated. Today she could begin doing something useful, and no jaded, arrogant marquis was going to make her run away.
    Saint had a difficult time not laughing. His guest looked like a deer surrounded by a pack of wolves, not knowing which direction to run. Undoubtedly she’d thought to spend the morning gossiping with the troll, Mrs. Whatever. The idea that Miss Ruddick would actually have to confront some of the orphanage’s inhabitants and view their living quarters must have been horrifying to her.
    Her expressive gray eyes studied him and the doorway beyond as though she were weighing her chances of going in and coming back out alive. It would have been amusing, if it wasn’t so predictable.
    “Very well, my lord,” she said, gesturing for him to lead the way.
    Saint exited the foyer, swiftly covering his surprise. With her falling in beside him, they entered