Never Resist a Rake Read Online Free PDF Page A

we were waiting to learn whether your brother Richard could find you in Whitechapel, I got a chance to get to know your sister-in-law and grandmother. They told me all about you.”
    John didn’t know what to say. Unfortunately, Rebecca did.
    â€œYou’re shaming your family,” she accused.
    â€œThat assumes the Barretts are capable of shame.” What with a secret marriage, a scheming dowager marchioness who kept John’s true parentage a mystery, and a marquess who even now reportedly had more holes in his memory than a moth-eaten cloak, the Somerset legacy was not something to boast about. “Besides, you’re wrong. I have no family.”
    â€œNonsense. You’re a Barrett, rightwise born. You’re the marquess’s heir, for pity’s sake. You have four half siblings and a lovely stepmother who are ready to welcome you home to Somerfield Park with open arms.”
    John snorted.
    â€œYou haven’t given them a chance,” Rebecca said.
    â€œAfter the chance they gave me, what can they expect?”
    John had been six years old when his mother died, penniless and alone. After a few days in the foundling home, someone came to collect him and bring him to a farm in Wiltshire, where he was fostered by Sir Humphrey Coopersmith and his wife. John was reared by the genteel yet threadbare couple. They were distantly kind to him, but he was always conscious of being someone else’s son—someone who didn’t want to admit John was his son.
    The very next week after John was placed with the Coopersmiths, Lord Somerset had wed Lady Helen and built his real family with her.
    â€œI don’t owe the Barretts anything,” John said.
    â€œYes, you do. They might have abandoned you forever, but they didn’t. The dowager could have taken the secret of your birth to her grave, but she didn’t.” Rebecca leaned toward him, and he caught a whiff of her violet scent again. “Don’t you see? You have a chance to make everything right and you’re frittering it away in pursuit of…well, in whatever it is you’ve been in pursuit of.”
    Anger boiled in him, worse than when he was beating the stuffing out of Edgar Meek in Whitechapel. She was trying to make this his fault, and it wasn’t.
    â€œDon’t beat around the bush. An unusual debutante like you knows full well what I’ve been pursuing—drinking, gambling, and wenching. That’s what lords do, don’t you know?”
    Her cheeks flushed with color, but she stood her ground. “Then it’s too bad you became a lord. I rather suspect you were a much nicer person before you learned who you were.”
    She rose and made to go, but he caught her by the wrist. Her pulse point jumped under his grip, fluttering like a hummingbird’s wing.
    His chest ached. She was right. No matter what he did now, he’d never get back the innocence of that boy from Wiltshire.
    â€œYou’re right. I did used to be…” John couldn’t claim to have been nicer. As long as he could remember, he’d had a bitter taste under his tongue and a driving need to prove himself. But he hadn’t always been such a bounder. “Well, I was different from the way I am now. Don’t go, Rebecca.” He swallowed hard. “Please. Even if you hate me, stay. No one tells me the truth anymore.”
    She fixed him with a pointed look, her chin determined, her eyes overly bright. Then she nodded and sat back down, giving her hand a slight tug. He released her with reluctance.
    â€œI could never hate you,” she said. “Not after the way you came to my rescue this night. I’ll stay. But I want you to promise you’ll do something for me, John.”
    Something inside him relaxed. It was as if every bit of his body had been holding its breath till she said his name. She caressed it a bit, let it linger on that beguiling little tongue of