Smirke 01 - An Unlikely Hero Read Online Free PDF Page B

definition.
He couldn’t really comprehend the word charity either, but he was
trying. Instead of screaming obscenities at the maid who took
forever to bring him a lukewarm morning cup of chocolate, he
sarcastically thanked her for bringing it before sunset. It was
such a drastic reformation he was sure he was nearing sainthood.
His mental halo slipped after pinching his nieces for helping
themselves to lemon drops while he dozed through a particularly
boring caller, but overall he was quite pleased with himself. When
his sneering valet laid out a black silk suit with black waistcoat,
stockings and shoes for Sunday’s morning church service John
swallowed a protest that he’d look like Satan and meekly allowed
himself to be dressed. With his blonde hair tide back with a black
ribbon he was quite pleased with the affect even if he did look a
little too wicked for comfort.

    John wasn’t a
stranger to church pews. He’d always found them excellent
situations to spy out unguarded lambs, but he’d never actually
listened to a sermon until the venomous Reverend Sylvester Lark
pointed at him from the pulpit and used him as an example of
immoral heartless depravity. John’s ability to take revenge on the
God fearing man was scuppered when the wretch died two days after
tricking John into accepting the wardship of an eighteen year old
Miss J. Lark. The wench had been away at school practically since
birth. The girl was doubtless a severe antidote bred to save
sinners. Seven months before, the wench had been sent to his
Lincolnshire home sight unseen in hopes that his vast collection of
obscene art would inspire her to run away. His hopes were dashed
along with several of his more lurid sculptures. His bank account
was the next victim. The virtuous young woman had no qualms about
redecorating his home or replenishing her mourning wardrobe. Miss
Lark was a royal pain in the backside; her endless letters begging
him to come home for a visit almost worse than the bills. Now he’d
have to find a kind way to get rid of her. It was too late to offer
her in marriage to the Earl of Mulgrave using a large dowry as
bate, even if it was tempting. Throwing any woman at Mulgrave would
be unkind. John was smiling from the thought of Mulgrave suffering
Miss Lark’s company as he took his umbrella and made his way
downstairs and out the door; tipping his hat at a cheerful angle he
hailed a hackney. His brother’s family attended the evening
service, but John was determined to brave the early congregation on
his own and swallow his dose of hellfire for the week as quickly as
possible.

    Smirke slid
into his brother’s pew and looked around for a friendly face, but
the sleepy crowd was full of strangers eager to remain unknown. He
sighed with disappointment and took out a deep snuff box filled
with lemon drops and put one in his mouth. He crossed his legs and
tried in vain to ease himself into a comfortable position as he
wondered where he was supposed to begin contemplating his
wickedness. Did one start at the end, the beginning or the middle?
He settled on trying to recall his earliest wickedness as the
preacher began to drone from the pulpit.

    “Psst.” Lost
in the past, John didn’t notice the young woman open the Smirke pew
door. “Pssst.” She’d slid onto the bench. “Pssssst!” John jumped as
she hissed directly into his ear, jolting both his wounds. He
turned to snarl at his tormentor, but pain dimmed as large blue
eyes the color of cornflowers sent delicious shivers through his
pleasure deprived body. If only this innocent looking lamb was his
Joan. He gulped down his next thought and leered as he took in
delicate high cheek bones and bowed lips designed to be kissed. “I
was hoping to find you here…” The familiar voice plucked at his
taut nerves like a rusty garden fork. His contemplation of her
elegant slender figure swathed in black and white striped silk
outlining understated, but perfectly balanced curves was cut