Never Surrender to a Scoundrel Read Online Free PDF Page A

his companion, Lord Havering, as they exited the doors of White’s, the club where they had spent the previous hour reading newspapers and drinking coffee.
    “Any chance to reacquaint myself with Wolverton’s liquor cabinet is a welcome opportunity indeed,” Dominick replied with a wink.
    His scant belongings had been packed and his rented town house, largely closed up. He expected to receive his new orders tonight or tomorrow. Why not spend one last evening beneath the glittering chandeliers of a London ballroom? Who knew where tomorrow would take him, or whether the circumstances would be as comfortable?
    Havering studied him as he drew on his gloves slowly. “I suspect there’s more to it than that, such as that you’ve grown fond of Wolverton and the ladies, despite yourself.”
    Havering—or “Fox,” as he was called by those who knew him best—had no discernible family of his own and had since childhood been thrown by circumstance into the midst of Wolverton’s welcoming brood. While Dominick’s circumstances were far different, he too was very much alone in the world. Perhaps for that reason he felt closer to Fox than to the other gentlemen of Wolverton’s circle—as close as he could feel to anyone. His occupation was largely a solitary endeavor and did not lend itself to making longtime friends. Sometimes he regretted that.
    “They are all very nice people,” he conceded.
    He looked out over St. James’s Street, crowded with carriages and hackneys, uncomfortable with revealing anything more. It had taken him years to perfect the obscurement of his true thoughts and feelings. He wasn’t about to start emoting now, here on the pavement, in front of God and Fox and everyone. He kept his manner and tone cool. “Whatever the case, I wouldn’t miss it.”
    He wouldn’t miss it. Though it would take a team of horses to pry the sentiment from his tongue, he’d grown exceedingly fond of the earl and the ladies who made up the elderly gentleman’s surviving family, even though he found the whole idea of a debut ball frivolous and silly, especially when the young lady in question had been out in society for quite some time already—since the marriage of her sister Sophia to Claxton, to be precise.
    He didn’t have a younger sister, not anymore, but he told himself if he did, he might understand better the wishes of a young lady’s heart.
    What he did know was that for whatever reason, Clarissa had thought enough of him to insist that he attend, and he would not disappoint her or Lady Margaretta, who just yesterday had pressed Claxton to call on him and confirm he would indeed join them tonight. Even the always-distant duke had seemed more sincere in his manner, just as they all had been since learning he wasn’t their relation. Since that day just one week ago, there had been invitations to suppers and parties and rides in the park, some of which he’d accepted and others not. Now that they knew he wasn’t an “imposter,” it seemed their suspicions about him had eased, as had their minds. Now, on the precipice of his departure, he felt more a part of their family than when he had supposedly been their cousin.
    His carriage approached, having come from the nearby livery.
    “I will see you tonight, then,” he said, tilting his hat in adieu to Fox.
    “Until then.”
    With that, Dominick climbed into the conveyance and settled back for what would be a brief ride to what had been his abode for almost two years.
    It was time to leave.
    The first rule of subterfuge was that one did not become attached to one’s human assignments, which was just as well because life had only ever made sense when he was alone.
    Just then, his carriage passed a chapel where a small group crowded the pavement, throwing rose petals high over the heads of a newly wedded couple. All the ladies wore diaphanous summer dresses and fancy bonnets done up with flowers and ribbons, and the gentlemen stood distinguished in their