On a Wild Night Read Online Free PDF

hand.
    â€œâ€”that Miss Cynster might not have room in her stables at present for the mare.” His changeable green gaze fixed on her face. “My stables are large and only half full. If you wish, Connor can send the mare to my establishment and you may send word whenever you wish to ride her, or to move her, once you’ve had time to make the necessary arrangements.”
    Relief swept her. The man was a godsend in more ways than one. She beamed. “Thank you. That would suit admirably.” She glanced up at Connor. “If you would be so good, my lord, as to deliver the mare to Lord Martin’s house?”
    Connor stared down at her, his expression inscrutable. “Lord Martin’s house, heh?” Then he nodded. “Very well. Consider it done.” He hesitated, then reached down, took her hand and bowed. “You play remarkably well for a female,my dear, but you’re not in my class—or his.” With his head he indicated Martin. “In your future forays into the hells, you’d be wise to remember that.”
    Amanda smiled sweetly. Thanks to Connor’s wager, the need for further forays into the hells had evaporated, and she had no intention of forgetting Martin.
    Releasing her hand, Connor stumped off. Meredith, who had said not a word throughout, rose stiffly, bowed, and murmured, “It was a pleasure, Miss Cynster.”
    With that, he followed Connor through the gloom and away.
    Amanda turned to Martin and favored him with her best smile. “Thank you for your offer, my lord—I would indeed find it difficult to accommodate the mare on such short notice.”
    He regarded her steadily, that gentle, somewhat wistful amusement very evident, at least to her. “So I would imagine.” He raised his glass to her, then drained it and set it down. He rose; she did, too.
    â€œI must thank you, too, for your assistance throughout.” She smiled again, her mind skating over his offer to partner her, his replacement of her champagne with water, his arranging for the candlelight, the many moments during the play when his steady, moss-green, gold-flecked gaze had kept her from panicking. She let the thoughts light her eyes, and held out her hand. “You were indeed my champion this night.”
    His lips kicked up at the ends; he took her hand, long fingers closing strongly about hers . . . and hesitated. Amanda looked into his eyes and realized they’d changed again, grown darker. Then he bowed and released her.
    â€œConnor was right—hells like Mellors are no place for you, but I fancy you’ve realized that.” His gaze roamed her face, then he reached into his pocket and drew out a silver card case. He extracted a card and offered it between two fingers. “So you know where to send for the mare. Send a message and one of my grooms will bring her around.” His gaze touched her face again, then he inclined his head. “Good-bye, Miss Cynster.”
    She brightly reiterated her thanks. As he turned away, she glanced at his card. “Good God!”
    The exclamation escaped her despite her years of training. Without thinking, eyes fixed on the card, she caught the sleeve of the man who had been her partner through the night. Obediently, he halted.
    She couldn’t, at first, drag her eyes from the card—a simple, expensive rectangle of white with a gold crest upon it. Beneath the crest was stamped one word: Dexter. Beneath that was an address in Park Lane, one she knew had to belong to one of the huge old mansions fronting the park. But it was the name that turned her world upside down.
    Hauling her gaze from it, she looked up at him. It took a moment to get enough breath to even gasp, “You’re Dexter?”
    The rakish, rumored-to-be-profligate, elusively mysterious Martin Fulbridge, fifth Earl of Dexter. She certainly knew of him, of his reputation, but tonight was the first time she’d set eyes on