Taming an Impossible Rogue Read Online Free PDF Page B

bedchamber, the door bolted. She might even have been hiding behind the bed. Of course that would have been in her parents’ house, when she still had her own bedchamber. Even here at the club, though, she was still hiding. And that realization abruptly bothered her.
    The magnitude of difference between his scandal and hers wasn’t even a near thing; she’d fled a wedding, and he’d killed a man. But there was still that question he’d asked. And now she understood why he’d been interested in her point of view. And the way he stood not quite facing her, his right shoulder forward as though he were ready for a blow. How many friends had he lost? Did he hope people would simply forget him, leave him be?
    “The man you killed,” she said aloud, her voice not quite steady. “Was it murder, or a fair fight?”
    He studied her face for a moment. “He broke into my home and came after me with a pistol. But it was certainly my actions that drove him to do so.”
    “Do you regret it?”
    “Are you my confessor?”
    Camille tilted her head. “You think we have something in common. I’m testing that theory before I risk spending another minute in your company.”
    Finally he nodded. “I regret it. I regret all my actions where Lord and Lady Balthrow are concerned.”
    It might merely have been lip service, but the same thing that had compelled her to agree to meet with him out in the garden in the first place whispered to her that he was speaking the truth. And that perhaps she could learn something from him. Perhaps he could instruct her how to walk outside in London where people knew what she’d done, and not care what they said about her.
    “I’m about to take my luncheon in the employees’ quarters,” she said slowly. “Would you care to join me?”
    He inclined his head, surprise briefly crossing his handsome features before the cool cynicism dropped back into place. “I would. And I can promise that I’m generally not so macabre. I’m fairly amusing, actually.”
    “I’ll be the judge of that.”
    “Then I shall save my best dialogue for you.”
    As he followed her into the Tantalus Club through the servants’ entrance and up the back stairs to the third floor, Camille couldn’t help the feeling that she was some sort of doe leading one of those sleek black Indian panthers into her den. Some of the other ladies took gentlemen from downstairs—and elsewhere—upstairs to their beds, but this was the first time she’d invited anyone from outside the club inside its walls. Into what she considered her private sanctuary.
    She pushed open the door into the large common room where the half-dozen long tables had been set for luncheon. Fifteen or so of her companions were already present, including the large Mr. Jacobs and Mr. Smith. And everyone looked in her direction. Camille shivered. Oh, this was a mistake; she had enough people looking askance at her. Adding Bloody Blackwood to the mix would only make things worse.
    And yet, there they were, and unless she turned around and pushed him back outside, there they would stay. It’s only luncheon, she told herself. Surely she could manage to be brave for an hour. Camille took a seat at one of the tables, and without hesitating, Mr. Blackwood sat on the sturdy bench opposite her. “This is not what I expected to see up here,” he commented, taking two of the cucumber sandwiches set in the center of the table and placing them before him.
    “What did you expect?”
    “Deep red wall hangings and less clothing, generally.”
    Her cheeks heated. “A brothel. Disappointed, then?”
    His lips curved at the edges. “No. Surprised. I like being surprised. It doesn’t happen often.”
    “You were here this morning, weren’t you?” a second female voice asked.
    A pretty brunette sat on the bench beside him. He could practically smell the seduction flowing from her and drawing around him. Enticing as it was, he was also struck by the difference between this