Rogue's Honor Read Online Free PDF Page B

alarm. If the woman couldn't be found, he'd have no choice but
to keep Purdy with him overnight. He wasn't at all sure his
self-control was equal to that. "She's about this tall—" he held up
his hand—"with dark, curly hair. A few years younger'n me."
    One of the scullery maids allowed that she'd
seen someone of that description earlier, but no one had noticed
her for the past hour or more, and no one recalled anyone by that
name.
    "Likely went looking for her wastrel
brother," the cook's assistant told him dampingly. "Ought to be
ashamed, you ought, worrying her so. Now that's three hirelings
who've took off before their shift was done, counting you. You
didn't see that blonde wench outside, did you? The one you was
flirting with early on?"
    This was dangerous ground. "Blonde?
Flirting?" He furrowed his brow as though trying to remember.
    "Ah, you're all alike. Begone with you!"
    Shrugging and grumbling, Luke headed back to
the mews. Not until he was out of sight of the house did he
straighten his shoulders and quicken his steps. When the silver
inside his shirt clinked, he pulled it out and shoved the bundle in
his pocket. At least he'd made a good haul, and from one of the
most undeserving households he'd ever met. He'd love to see that
arrogant butler's face when his calling card was discovered where
the silver had been.
    But what the devil was he going to do about
the girl?
    When he reentered his lodgings a few minutes
later, she looked up with a hopeful smile, Argos at her knee. He'd
spent most of the walk back convincing himself that she held no
attraction to him, that he'd always preferred intelligent women,
but his body made a liar of him the moment he saw her again.
    Her smile faltered as she looked beyond him,
then back at him, questioningly.
    He shrugged. "Hettie wasn't at the
Mountheath's, though someone matching her description was noticed
earlier. It appears she wasn't going by the name of Hettie,
however."
    Purdy bit her lip, looking both alarmed and
charmingly confused. Luke felt an almost overwhelming urge to take
her into his arms and comfort her. He suppressed it ruthlessly, but
not before his wayward imagination wondered what she would feel
like, pressed against him.
    The helpless expression in her eyes as she
gazed at him helped to cool that inappropriate surge of desire. "I
. . . I thought surely you would find her there," she stammered.
"Without Hettie, I have no idea where to go."
    "Perhaps in the morning we'll have better
luck," Luke offered soothingly.
    "In . . . in the morning?" She seemed not to
understand.
    Taking a deep breath, he spoke the words he
feared he would live to regret. "Unless you can think of somewhere
else to go, I see no alternative to your spending the night
here."

CHAPTER 3

    Pearl gasped. "Spend the night?" She had
intended a tone of imperious outrage, but what came out was more of
a squeak.
    "You'll be quite safe, I assure you." Mr. St.
Clair's fine, dark eyes were as intense as before, but with
kindness, she thought, rather than desire.
    Still, she shook her head. "No, I really
mustn't." In fact, it was unthinkable. Why had he not found
Hettie?
    The abigail to the daughter of the Duke of
Oakshire might be well known in servant circles, she supposed.
Perhaps Hettie had used an alias, just as Pearl had. They hadn't
discussed it, and had been separated the moment they entered the
Mountheath house.
    It suddenly occurred to her that Hettie had
most likely gone back to Oakshire House to hunt for her after she
disappeared. Her father's men might even now be combing London for
her!
    The obvious thing, of course, was to give up
her entire scheme and return to Oakshire House before a full-blown
scandal erupted. Hettie had been right, much as it galled her to
admit it. She grimaced at the thought of what her stepmother would
have to say to her. The very idea of humbling herself to Obelia was
abhorrent.
    Mr. St. Clair was regarding her with sympathy
mingled with more than a hint of