The Accidental Mistress Read Online Free PDF Page A

laugh. "You might as well give up the charade. Although I must confess you've put on a bravura performance. Had everyone fooled, I believe. Except me."
    Her vivid eyes grew round as marbles as she stared at him in obvious consternation, the internal battle she waged clearly visible on her face. Abruptly her shoulders drooped as she gave up the fight.
    "How long have you known?" she asked.
    "Since about ten minutes after you first walked into the public room downstairs."
    Her lips parted. "All that time and you didn't say a word?"
    He gave her a grin. "No, I did not."
    The frown returned. "Then you put me through all that misery for nothing?"
    "I don't recall any surfeit of misery. You ate a generous meal and enjoyed your very first cheroot—an admirable way to pass the time, in my estimation."
    "For you, by amusing yourself at my expense, you mean?"
    "By letting you spin out your game a bit longer. I was intrigued to see how long you would persist, and I must say you held steady to the very last. Now, why don't you tell me who you really are and why you're dressed in those clothes?"
    Lily stared at him another long minute, then straightened her shoulders.
    He knows,
she cursed inwardly.
Damn and blast, he knows! Now what am I to do?
    Bluster her way through the best she could, she realized, and hope she could repair the mess. Telling him the truth was out of the question. Despite his generosity to this point and the undeniable magnetism of his charm, she really knew nothing about the man. Confiding in him and hoping she could count on his discretion was not an option, at least not one she was willing to take. After all, her whole future depended upon keeping her secrets intact. Anything less could spell doom for her, or worse, marriage to her stepfather's brute of a business associate.
    Luckily there was no chance of the marquis and her stepfather ever meeting. For one, Gordon Chaulk didn't go to London—he considered such visits an expensive waste of time. For another, her stepfather could only dream of moving in the same exalted social circles as those in which the marquis must dwell. Despite her respectable lineage, she could hardly imagine such a thing herself. But that was neither here nor there. Right now she needed to find a way to extract herself from her current predicament.
    Do not panic,
she told herself.
Use your brain and all will be well.
    "If you must know," she declared a minute later, "I am dressed in this fashion as a lark."
    Her audacious statement wiped the lazy grin from his mouth. "A lark?"
    Next to her hip, she crossed her fingers. "That's right. A friend of mine and I wagered that I could travel in male attire and no one would suspect a thing. You, my lord, have just cost me two guineas."
    Emotions chased over his sculpted features, running the gambit from amazement and incredulity to irritation. He waved a hand toward her. "So this disguise is nothing more than a silly prank?"
    "I don't think it's silly, but yes, I am having a bit of fun. After all, why should men be the only ones who can play adventurous games?"
    He shot her a scowl, his golden brows scrunched up in a way that didn't lessen his attractiveness one iota. "A foolhardy way to entertain yourself, if you ask me. Do you have any idea the sort of trouble in which you could have landed?"
    Her heart warmed at his outrage on her behalf. She thought again of how he'd stepped in to save her from the burly oaf downstairs and realized that he really was quite gallant.
    "I am perfectly well, as you can see."
    He scowled harder. "You might not be well were I another sort of man, were I the variety given to taking advantage of lone females who put themselves at risk for a bit of pin money."
    "But you said yourself my disguise fooled everyone."
    "Everyone but me. And how do you know I won't importune your favors? I could lock that door right now and ravish you on this very table."
    Her breath caught in her lungs at the lurid idea, her pulse skittering