Pretty Persuasion Read Online Free PDF

better off being rid of her. Wouldn't want to tie yourself to a deceitful lass with a short fuse."
    No, he certainly wouldn't, no matter how beautiful she had become. But God, was she lovely. No longer a gangly young girl, but a woman with the power to dazzle. Where there had been little but bones and angles, there were flesh and curves. Around her, every color seemed more intense. Violet eyes instead of deep blue; unruly curls of jet black hair, the odd tendril defying the imprisonment of pins and ribbon; creamy skin that flushed a delicate pink when her temper was aroused.
    And freckles. Dozens of tiny, charming freckles, sprinkled across her nose and cheeks.
    She had always possessed an endless curiosity, an indefatigable vivacity. It had made her a veritable tempest of youthful energy, and now it was manifesting itself as an air of inherent sensuality, to the point where, coming from her, even an insult sounded like an erotic invitation.
    Imagining her in the arms of that fop had no more than stung his pride until he set eyes on her. Since then, he had been battling all-powerful, irrational jealousy. He was not used to feeling possessive about a woman, and he damned well didn't like it. Especially since the woman in question had wasted little time in renouncing him.
    "Better off without her," he mumbled, hoping to God he'd manage to convince himself of that.

Three
     
    "Phillip sent word, and it is to be to-night! I shall meet him at Hill and John Street at three in the morning, where he shall await with a hired coach. Mamma has improved enough to attend Lady Faversham's soirée, so I shall make good my Escape without detection. But, O! I am so beside myself with nerves that I cannot sit still for Two Minutes together!"
     
    — From the diary of Lady Georgiana Montford, aged 20
     
    GEORGIE TREMBLED LIKE a leaf when she slinked out of her room that night. Heart thumping, she crept down the stairs, expecting with every step for the aged wooden boards to creak and give her away.
    She opened the front door, hands cold and clammy inside her kid gloves. Berkeley Square was deserted, and, as she darted around the corner onto Hill Street, she sucked in the crisp night air and exhaled in relief. Exhilaration flooded her and only the bags she carried kept her from taking off into a run.
    The closed carriage looked conspicuous, for all that it was cloaked in shadows, lingering on the corner of John Street. Two dark figures hovered nearby, and a third was pacing back and forth.
    Phillip.
    He noticed her, and she quickened her steps as he hastened to her, his arms outstretched. Dropping her bags, she hurled herself into his embrace, letting out a squeal as he swept her into the air.
    "Hush," he commanded with a chuckle. He sought her mouth, and their lips met for a hot, breathless moment.
    "Let's be off," he said, taking her hand.
    The manservant swung open the door, and Phillip lifted her inside as if she weighed little more than a feather. After a few hurried instructions to the coachman, he vaulted into the carriage, settling on the seat across from her. The door shut, a whip cracked in the still night air, and the vehicle lurched into motion.
    Georgie's heart sang. The glory of freedom, the heady but frightening taste of the forbidden, and the fulfillment of a yearlong dream fused into one giddy feeling. No more secret meetings; no more lies. Instead of chaos, she saw only bliss, and for that, she could weather her parents' censure.
    "I was afraid I did not leave you enough time to prepare."
    The sound of his voice, dark and fervent, melted into her. "I was ready." It was true; she had been ready before she even met him. She patted the squabs. "Come sit beside me."
    Phillip said nothing for a while, but she could sense his smile in the darkness. The air between them hummed with anticipation and high spirits.
    "I should not be able to keep my hands off you," he said roughly.
    Warmth curled through her, and she gave a short,