The Demon's Mistress Read Online Free PDF Page A

a little high. “The one who lost his fortune?” He had a demon on his chest?
    â€œI was saying to the duke that we should do something. He and the others were so kind to Dare last year. Professional soldiers, you know. But Vandeimen’s affairs seem to have sorted out. So, can you help me there, too, Maria? I will have to hire people who can do these tattoos, and obtain the cooperation of the Horse Guards . . .”
    The orchestra struck a louder note, alerting all that the dancing was to begin. Sir Burleigh hovered. Maria promised support for the foolish tattoo fund and gave the persistent wasp her hand.
    She loved to dance, though she knew she did it with grace rather than verve. They called her Lily because of her pale complexion and habit of wearing pale clothes, and Golden for her outrageous wealth. She knew they also called her the Languid Lily, and shared scurrilous jokes in the men’s clubs about whether she was languid in bed.
    She would love to be able to sparkle, and perhaps she had as a rompish sixteen. The years had taught her control and discretion, however, and they reigned even in the dance.
    In the bed—well, that was a private matter.
    Then as she turned in the dance pattern, she saw him.
    She missed a step, and with a hasty apology she concentrated on the dance. When she glanced back across the room, Vandeimen was gone.
    He was here, though. She couldn’t have mistaken that tall lean grace and primrose hair, made more brilliant by dark evening clothes.
    He was here.
    Alive.
    Ready to fulfill his bargain.
    With a sudden beat of the heart, she knew it had begun.

Chapter Three
    When the set was over, Maria felt flushed, an unusual occurrence for her. She plied her fan as her wasps gathered, all seeking the next chance at the jam pot. Maria playfully put off choosing.
    Where was Vandeimen?
    Had she imagined him?
    Then she saw him, in company with Gravenham. Beside the marquess’s mousy solidity, Vandeimen seemed a wild spirit, despite his perfect, tidy appearance. His primrose hair shone in the candlelight, and his scar, doubtless honorably gained, suggested wickedness, especially with the lingering marks of dissipation.
    â€œMrs. Celestin,” Gravenham said, “you have enraptured another of us poor males. Here’s Vandeimen begging me for an introduction. Now mind,” he added, “I wouldn’t agree if you were a sweet young innocent, but I judge you well able to deal with rascals such as he.”
    Maria appreciated Gravenham’s subtle warning. It showed that Vandeimen was in danger of losing his place in accepted circles.
    â€œA rascal, my lord,” she said to Vandeimen, offering her hand. “How intriguing.”
    She managed a cool manner, but was alarmed that she hadn’t thought of this essential detail. Of course he couldn’t just walk up to her. He had to find someone respectable to introduce him.
    He bowed gracefully over her hand, perfectly judging the distance. A slight inclination would be cool. To actually touch his lips to her gloves would be scandalously bold. Just over halfway was within bounds, but hinted at interesting ardor.
    She kept her light smile fixed and prayed not to shiver. This perfectly turned-out young man with deft social skills was not what she had expected.
    â€œThen perhaps I might persuade you into the dance, Mrs. Celestin?” he said straightening but still holding her hand. “Some opportunity there to be rascally.”
    â€œReally? I was not aware of that.”
    â€œHow dull your partners must have been.” He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “Come, let me brighten your life.”
    He stole her from under the noses of her wasps, and she wasn’t sure whether to be outraged or wildly amused.
    â€œMy partners have not been particularly dull,” she said, as they joined a set.
    â€œGood. Then you won’t be shocked.”
    She wasn’t sure about