The Heart of a Scoundrel Read Online Free PDF Page B

face. A hand fluttered to her breast and he buried a black humor at that ineffectual, defensive gesture. “My lord?” She looked quizzically up at him.
    Her instincts were sharp. “Surely, you do not intend to leave without rescuing your shawl?” As though that hand could protect her from his legendary prowess. His was an arrogance based on years of bringing lonely, eager ladies to great heights of pleasure.
    His words proved the correct ones. She caught her plump, lower lip between even pearl white teeth and angled back around. Miss Barrett had made her first of many missteps around him—she’d demonstrated a weakness. The shawl, an item belonging to Miss Honoria Fairfax, meant nothing to this woman, and yet she’d risk her reputation, safety, and well-being in his, a stranger’s, presence…but for her friend’s shawl. This hopeless devotion demonstrated her weakness—she cared that much about Miss Fairfax and that would prove useful. He pressed, unrelenting. “I gather it is an important article to you,” he said in soft tones. It was also a fact he intended to put to valuable use. He held out his arm. “Allow me to lend my assistance.”
    Except, she narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “I…it wouldn’t be proper,” she said at last.
    He’d not given the lady enough credit. With her caution and hesitancy, she’d already demonstrated more reserve than he expected of an innocent. Edmund bowed his head. “Of course,” he agreed. “Forgive me.” He backed away once again. He turned to leave while counting silently to five. He made it no higher than three. “Wait!” she called out, bringing him to a halt. “Perhaps if you remain here while I search below then I might freely conduct my search. That way, if any interlopers,” trysting couples, “should happen by, then you might send them on their way.”
    A slow grin formed on his lips that would have likely chilled Miss Barrett’s heart should she have seen it. He schooled his features and turned back around. “It would be my pleasure.”
    She gave him a wide, unfettered smile. This was not the guarded, icy, seductive smile worn by the lovers he took to his bed, but rather an expression that spoke to her artlessness. Odd, she should retain even a shred of innocence with her bastard of a father. The viscount’s daughter sprinted for the end of the terrace with a speed anything but ladylike. She raced down the steps and disappeared into the gardens below.
    Edmund strolled closer, damning the thick cloud coverage overhead that blotted the moon and obscured the lady from his vision. She moved noisily through the plants. Then the moon’s glow penetrated the passing clouds, illuminating her. “Do you see it, Miss Barrett?” he called down.
    She paused and frowned up at him. “Hush,” she scolded as though she dealt with a naughty child and not the most black-hearted scoundrel in London. She held a finger to her lips. Her tone was far gentler, almost apologetic when she again spoke. “Mustn’t be discovered, you know.”
    “No,” he called quietly down. Discovery with this one would prove disastrous. It would prevent him from the revenge he intended to exact upon Margaret, the Duchess of Monteith. “If you require my assistance, you need but ask.”
    *
    The stranger’s softly spoken promise carried down into Lord Delenworth’s gardens. Phoebe lingered, staring up at the dashing stranger far longer than was appropriate and then gave her head a clearing shake. She resumed her search for a splash of ivory fabric amidst the darkened landscape. Though in truth, her efforts, her attention, which should be reserved for the very important task at hand were instead reserved for the gentleman, a man whose name was even more talked about than her own.
    Phoebe picked her way down a row of expertly pruned circular boxwoods. Then, a gentleman of his stunning beauty well knew the risk faced of being discovered, unchaperoned with a lady. He had the face and form