Succumb to Me Read Online Free PDF

couldn’t wait around to see what he had planned.
     
    The boy, Sam, whom she’d paid to watch
Lord Remington’s residence, had come with a message, assuring her
his lordship had left the premises to attend a card party at Mr.
Wickston’s. A more opportune time would likely never arise again—at
least not one that coincided with her level of desperation.
She had to get that painting.
She had to do it now, before her courage failed her.
     
    It very nearly did fail her as she took out
the disguise she’d found for herself and examined it. Trousers! She
felt faint only thinking about the consequences should she be
recognized in such disgraceful attire, but the possibility of being
seen with no attire whatsoever, should that painting be displayed,
bolstered her flagging spirit.
     
    She dressed in the discarded livery of one of
their servants, from a time when such could be afforded, slipping
on the midnight blue breeches, as well as a shirt and matching
jacket. The wool was warm enough she could easily stand the cold
outside, and hopefully no one would take much note of a servant
roaming the streets.
     
    She could think of nothing to do with her
hair but tie it back and tuck it into her jacket, and cover her
head with a cap. Satisfied she could easily blend in with her
surroundings, she crept quietly out of her room and out of the
house with none the wiser.
     
    She did not have enough confidence in her
disguise to try to catch a hack in her neighborhood—not that she
could have found one so late in the evening. Instead, she made her
way to the station not far from the park and rode to his townhouse
from there. The entire time she felt her belly working itself into
a tangle of knots. She was unused to being so nervous, and it did
not settle well with her.
     
    Nearly an hour after she’d first received
Sam’s message, she stood across the street facing the darkened
residence, hidden in the shadows. A glow in the front entrance told
her the servants had left candles burning for their master’s
return. At this hour, she’d likely not encounter them were she
careful, for they should be abed. Avoiding the servant’s quarters
should suffice for her safety.
     
    Swallowing her heart, which seemed to have
lodged itself in her throat, she dashed across the street to the
weathered brick house. As a child, she and her friends had played
here often, and she’d visited the home as a young adult until the
family had been forced to move away after the war. It saddened her
to think they were gone now. How ironic that an English nobleman
now owned this home.
     
    Shaking off her distracting thoughts, she
went to the window of the parlor on the right side of the
townhouse. She prayed no changes had been made to the structure
since Logan had appropriated the place and moved in. If he hadn’t,
she should be able to access the house with little difficulty. She
remembered the window in that room had stuck in the sill and had
never been able to be locked down fully. A hard tug could pull it
open. She and her friend had discovered it one day when they had
sneaked out of the house to avoid the governess.
     
    Reaching the window, she pressed her hands
against the lip and pushed up with as much strength as she could
muster. It shifted, moving up almost silently, and she nearly
jumped with joy, working it higher and higher until she could fit
through the opening.
     
    She slipped inside, pausing to allow her eyes
to adjust to the gloom before proceeding further, trying to decide
where she would start her search.
     
    It seemed unlikely he would have had such a
monstrosity hung in any of the public rooms. Poor taste aside, if
he hung it where any might see, he could not hope to hold it over
her in threat. The servants would gossip. The whole town would know
within hours of its placement.
     
    It was possible that he had simply hidden it
away. On the other hand, Logan struck her as the sort of man who
would prefer to keep his ‘weapon’