Our Wicked Mistake Read Online Free PDF

she was obviously on her way out.
    As beautiful as she looked, all delicate, fascinating female, it was the faint dark circles under her eyes that moved him the most. Those telltale, fragile smudges were a reminder of what she’d been enduring alone. How much had she cried . . . alone? Lain awake and wondered if she was about to be humiliated by having the most private part of her life put on display?
    That was why a note wasn’t sufficient.
    “Good morning, Lady Brewer,” he said formally, in case there was a footman within hearing or her butler was near the still-open front door of her town house. “I thought I might call, but I can see you have an errand or appointment. Perhaps I can escort you or offer my carriage.”
    She was composed and her smile merely polite, but her gaze searching. “That’s very kind of you, my lord. I was going to walk over to visit my sister-in-law, as the weather is so pleasant, but we could use your carriage instead so you are not forced to walk back.”
    Her dark eyes, so unusual in contrast to her blond beauty, gazed at him in open, unhappy question. He said, “It would be my pleasure to give you a ride.”
    Instantly he wished he’d used different wording, for his anything-but-innocent mind envisioned giving her a different sort of ride than a polite jaunt in his carriage, the kind of journey that began with slow, melting kisses, then involved discarded clothing, and ended with her straddling his hips as they moved together toward a common erotic destination. . . .
    One night. They’d shared one night together almost a year ago, and his body traitorously remembered it whenever she was nearby. A whiff of her perfume, a chance glimpse of her profile at a crowded event, the sound of her low, musical laugh, and his cock begged him to forget why he’d declined to pursue an affair. Madeline was one of those rare women who was refined, sophisticated, and glib in public, and deeply passionate in the bed room. Moreover, he admired her intelligence and sense of humor as much as he did her physical allure, and the combination filled him with the deepest sense of alarm.
    This was a woman men fell in love with, not one they casually bedded and left behind. He wasn’t all that sur prised that the literary minded Lord Brewer had rhap sodized over his wife’s charms, for they were well worth recalling.
    Having once loved and lost, Luke knew he wasn’t interested in such emotional pain again. Back in Spain, amidst war and all the hell that accompanied it, he had met the woman of his dreams. It remained just that, an illusion, and he woke each morning aching for the loss. The ordeal was too agonizing to risk a repeat per formance. In obligation to his title, he would probably marry eventually, but at thirty, he wasn’t interested at all in that change in his life right now. When he did decide it was time, he had every intention of selecting his wife in the most dispassionate way possible. He might even—God help him—let his mother give him advice on whom to select as a suitable bride.
    “I expect if anyone sees me getting in or out of your carriage,” Madeline murmured as he politely assisted her inside the vehicle, “there will be gossip.”
    “Your virtuous reputation can probably withstand a few whispers,” Luke replied in cynical amusement at her prim tone, though he did understand her reservations. No one would care if he was seen with her, but the other way around did matter. “Now, then, where does your sister in law live, so I can give my driver instructions?”
    “Brook Street.”
    “Ah, that is close by. I’ll tell him to take a turn around the block first so we have a few minutes to talk.”
    Without waiting for her to agree, he gave Harold the address, and then clambered in to settle opposite. As they pulled away, he said without preamble, “It was the doctor’s opinion Fitch wasn’t even seriously injured, and his unconscious state might just as easily have been