The French Maid Read Online Free PDF

saved from herself. Then, as they joined a long line of dancers, she saw Lord Gabriel catch sight of her. His gaze widened, then slid down her figure with rude interest.
    And the last thing she saw, as Pierce whirled her into the dance, was the curst Angel of Death look straight into her eyes and smile.
    L ORD G ABRIEL S HARPE watched as Miss Virginia Waverly danced down the length of the hall with the Earl of Devonmont. Thank God she had come. If he’d had to endure an entire blasted ball without accomplishing his purpose, he’d have blown his brains out.
    Fortunately, he was well prepared for her appearance here. Jackson Pinter, the Bow Street runner helping his siblings look into the deaths of their parents, had discovered a great deal of sobering information about Miss Waverly. And Gabe meant to use it to his advantage.
    “There goes your nemesis,” said Maximilián Cale, the Duke of Lyons.
    Lyons was a fellow Jockey Club member and Gabe’s closest friend. He had a stable of Thoroughbreds that Gabe envied, one of which had won the Derby twice and another that had won the Royal Ascot. Gabe had brought the progeny of the latter horse last month, after he’d scraped together enough money from his wager winnings to afford it.
    “Miss Waverly hardly qualifies as a nemesis,” Gabe said dryly.
    Lyons snorted. “Has she renewed her challenge to you yet?”
    “She hasn’t had the chance,” Gabe said, feigning nonchalance. That damned challenge had been bandied about society ever since Turnham Green, and tonight he meant to put an end to it.
    “Surely she won’t.” Lyons sipped his wine. “She can’t possibly be as hotheaded as her brother.”
    Gabe stiffened. Seven years, and he still couldn’t forget the sight of Roger lying twisted in the grass, his neck broken. If only …
    But “if onlys” was for priests and philosophers. Gabe was seeking neither absolution nor understanding; he couldn’t change what had happened.
    But perhaps he could assuage the dire results, now that he knew about them. “I suspect that Miss Waverly is not only hotheaded, but stubborn.” Gabe followed her with his eyes as Devonmont led her down the narrow row. “She came here tonight, didn’t she? She had to guess I might be here.”
    “If she mentions the challenge again, will you accept it?”
    “No.” He was done with running that course in Turn-ham Green.
    Lyons smirked at him. “Afraid that the chit will beat you?”
    Gabe knew better than to rise to the bait. “More afraid that she’ll run her rig over my best team of horses.”
    “They say she beat Letty Lade. That’s no small feat.”
    He snorted. “Letty Lade was nearly seventy by then; it’s a miracle the woman didn’t fall off her perch. Leave Miss Waverly to me. After tonight, there will be no more talk of a race.”
    “What do you mean to do?”
    “I intend to marry her,” Gabe said.
    What else could he do? Clearly her grandfather over-indulged her, and that scoundrel Devonmont probably encouraged her for his own amusement. Miss Waverly needed a man to take her in hand. And since he was partly to blame for her present situation, he’d be the one to do it. In the process, he could solve his own problem.
    Lyons gaped at him. “Marry her? Why the hell would you do that?”
    Gabe shrugged. “Gran is demanding that my siblings and I marry, and Miss Waverly needs a husband. Why shouldn’t it be me?”
    “Because she blames you for Roger’s death?”
    Gabe forced a smile. “Once she realizes that what happened with Roger was truly just an accident …”
    He trailed off, bits of memory plaguing him. Roger rousting him out of bed for the race. Lyons looking green about the gills as they arrived at the course. Gabe’s blood running high as he approached the boulders …
    An uncharacteristic anger boiled up in him, and he tamped it down with effort. He didn’t generally get angry. Long ago, he’d buried his emotions in a grave so deep that they could never