Romancing the Rogue Read Online Free PDF Page A

shame.
    “A mystery you will surely unravel for us! Tell, who is she?”
    “Hear, hear!” a few others shouted.
    Irritation raked down his spine. “A respectable woman, no doubt, if Mrs. Abbott saw fit to employ her.” A fierce wash of protectiveness made him loathe their ribaldry. It seemed a sacrilege in reference to Rosalie.
    “Come now, Devon. Share your tale of conquest. Or is it true you’re a backdoor man?”
    A few officers grimaced in distaste, others rose a brow in interest, likely hoping he would settle the matter of his tastes either way, in favor of men or women in bed sport. Damn them all.
    Vorlay gestured to the mounted game on the walls. “Hunting skirts is not so far from hunting game; the strategy is the same for high-spirited and docile alike, in that — ”
    Wilhelm interrupted, “Actually, Vorlay, my brother Roderick was the collector of trophies. Not me.”
    “Too true, Devon, from what I hear. Indeed you must snare yourself a little prize, perhaps… that one .” He glanced toward the door. The old soldiers in the room crowed in assent.
    Wilhelm felt himself heat from the neck up and suppressed a warning growl. “I don’t hunt for sport, Vorlay, and I don’t take what is not mine.”
    “Then you should have a care, Devon, because I do!” His cronies sang a chorus of Oh-ho , daring Vorlay to have at it.
    His vision darkened. Wilhelm shot out of his seat and gave way to the surge of fury. A grizzled ginger-haired man called to him in thick brogue, grasping his arms — Colonel O’Grady, his trusted friend, urging him to let go.
    Wilhelm cursed himself. He’d done it again, lost control. He forced his fingers one by one to release Vorlay’s throat. Spattered cognac streamed down Vorlay’s face, tap, tap, tapping as it dripped on the floor. Stunned silence filled the room.
    Wilhelm shoved Vorlay back into the chair, his stupid expression and the shriek of furniture legs skidding on the floor gratifying to the beast roaring in Wilhelm’s head.
    “I do not take what isn’t mine, but I sure as hell protect it.” His voice emerged gritty and ugly, but his every ounce of control was devoted to restraint at the moment.
    ~~~~
    “Oh, Wilhelm. No.”
    He’d been caught spying. Aunt Louisa paused at his side in the library doorway and followed his gaze.
    Rosalie stretched over the balustrade of a three-storey split staircase. She reached with a tool to hook the chain of the great hall’s crystal chandelier. Wilhelm had never thought about the beastly chandelier other than to count the 1,260 glittering pieces, which she would have to clean one by one. There were four footmen on the pulleys, but one mishap, a slip of the hand, and… he couldn’t bear to think about it. Or the sixteen-yard fall to the marble floor below. A human body would drop nearly three seconds before impact. A shudder pricked every nerve in his body. He tried to banish the image —
    Aunt Louisa’s hand clamped over his. The splintering noise was him, cracking the doorframe in restraint. He’d been about to go to her. He wanted to. Would do so now if she hadn’t already stepped away from the railing, guiding the chandelier to its resting place on a pile of dropcloths. The footmen secured the rope below, and the danger passed.
    “Who employed her?” Aunt Louisa whispered coldly, the familiar sound of disapproval in her voice.
    “Mrs. Abbott, although I don’t blame her directly. She said Rosalie Cooper came highly recommended by Lady Lambrick, and who could dispute that?”
    “She is not young,” Aunt Louisa conceded.
    “A widow. Supposedly.”
    Rosalie reached over the chandelier for the rope but dropped it and sucked in a breath, clutching her abdomen. She grimaced and breathed deeply with her eyes closed, then sighed as she resumed her work. Wilhelm had seen her do that before; it made him wonder whether she was expecting a baby or battling an illness. Aunt Louisa studied Rosalie with a hard glare.
    Rosalie