The Merry Widow Read Online Free PDF Page A

when she resettled herself did he finally remove his hand from her person. Affected by him in more ways than one, she surreptitiously wiped her sweaty palms on her skirts.
    “I’ve already broken my fast,” he said. “However, do not let my presence keep you from doing the same. Whilst you eat, I will peruse the Evening Marlborough . I have a certain fondness for Lady Cherbourg.”
    Phillipa felt her spine stiffen. I can’t be jealous, she thought. He is only a rentboy! A well dressed one, but still a man for hire. So why should she care if he saw another? Even though she had no answer for this unexpected surge of jealously, she was unable to forestall her wayward tongue from voicing her mind’s curiosity.
    “Is Lady Cherbourg one of your clients?” she asked, seeming to busy herself with her breakfast. Leaning forward, she picked up the teacup and brought it to her lips. She gasped. His hand had slid around the back of her neck, his thumb lightly caressing her spine.
    Phillipa held her breath when he leaned into her, his broad chest utterly masculine against her rounded fullness. “You wouldn’t happen to be jealous, Widow Jones?”
    Her eyes fluttered closed when his breath stirred the hairs at her temples. “H-h-how did you know I was a widow?” She turned her head to look at him and noted she’d missed pressing her lips to his by a hairsbreadth. Of its own accord her head tilted to the side, so if he kissed her their noses would not be an impediment. “Lady Cherbourg? Your client?”
    Something flashed in his eyes, but it languished before he cleared his throat and spoke. “My employer, Madame Valant, makes sure that all of us are well-versed in our client’s history and their particular nuisances. As for your earlier question, no, Lady Cherbourg is not a client. I simply enjoy reading her column.”
    Her eyes widening in amazement, she pulled back from him slightly. “You like women’s gossip?”
    “Of course. It’s a welcome respite from the arduousness of my day-to-day business.”
    “I’m sure whor—I mean, your vocation can be very arduous,” she quipped, unable to keep the cattiness from her voice. The very idea of him servicing a multitude of women turned her stomach. “I’m sure you have many clients you have to please.”
    He sat back against the pillows with a sigh. “Contrary to what you might think, Phillipa, I have no clients. I have put aside all other pursuits to court only you.”
    “Court!” she scoffed. “Save your flattery for another. You forget I’m a paying client.”
    “Have I taken any money from you? I believe I left my payment behind.”
    Phillipa opened her mouth to refute him, but snapped it shut when she recognized the validity of his argument. “Well, that is neither here nor—” She paused when an odd expression shadowed his handsome features.
    “What in the bloody…?” he muttered, adjusting the pillow behind him.
    The blood drained from her extremities as she watched him reach behind the pillow. To her horror, he pulled out Harry’s gift.
    “What’s this?” he asked, moving to open the lid.
    “Give me that!” Phillipa snatched the box from his hands. But since she’d used more force than was necessary, the box flipped up and spiraled through the air. Her long skirts made her slower to her feet, but his agility could not prevent the box from opening and its contents from spilling out.
    If she weren’t made of stouter stuff, she would have surely fainted as he caught both the box and the dildo.
    As if nothing untoward had happened, Phillipa resumed her seat and sipped at her tea. Yet she kept her eyes averted as he retook his own seat. The ticking of the clock on the mantel behind them boomed like cannon fire as the silence stretched between them.
    At last he spoke. “You would share your morning meal with this, but not me?”
    She gasped when he reached out and pulled her against him. The empty teacup rattled to the rug unforgotten as he pushed