The Naked Prince Read Online Free PDF Page A

“I am not afraid of any London cats.”
    She stepped into the corridor and closed the door behind her, but not quickly enough to miss Becky’s muttered words: “Ye should be.”
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    â€œWho was the Amazon you had in your arms, Damian?” Stephen took a sip of his Madeira.
    â€œMiss Atworthy. Her father is a Latin scholar and one of my father’s Oxford classmates.” Damian surveyed the room. Miss Atworthy had not yet made her appearance. Had she recovered from her faint? He hoped so. He couldn’t very well go up to her room and check—well, perhaps he could at this scandalous gathering.
    The assembled guests were an odd assortment of dirty dishes. Mr. Roger Dellingcourt, Viscount Sheldon’s disreputable heir, was laughing uproariously at something Baron Benedict Wapley had said. As Lord Wapley was not considered a wag, chances were good Dellingcourt had got into Greyham’s brandy early. Sir Humphrey Edgert, baronet; Mr. Arthur Maiden—an unfortunate surname; and Mr. Percy Felton, one of the Earl of Brent’s many sons, were lounging by the fireplace and, well . . . giggling was the word that came to mind.
    The women were no better than the men. Maria Noughton sat next to Lady Blanche Chutley, whispering in her ear, probably trying to get her to lure Damian away from Stephen so Maria could carry out her nefarious matrimonial plan unimpeded. Ursula Handley and Sophia Petwell, both nominally widows though no member of the ton had ever met their likely mythical husbands, were standing by the door, talking to Lord and Lady Greyham. Completing the assembled guests were the pleasant-looking, portly Mrs. Butterwick and Lady Imogene Silven, Lady Mardale’s daughter, with, rumor had it, one of her footmen.
    â€œAh,” Stephen said. “So you’d made Miss Atworthy’s acquaintance before?”
    â€œNo, I saw her for the first time today.” He smiled. She’d looked so fierce and full of passion. His smile broadened. She was full of passion. He hadn’t been able to get their kiss out of his mind.
    â€œHa!” Bloody hell, Stephen was almost crowing. “But you’re looking forward to seeing her again, aren’t you? Seeing and touching and . . . other things.”
    Damian shot Stephen a pointed look. “Miss Atworthy is not available for ‘other things.’”
    Stephen grinned. “Oh, don’t lose hope. I grant you she didn’t look like a highflyer, but perhaps looks are deceiving in this case. She is here, isn’t she?” Stephen glanced around and shrugged. “Well, not here at the moment, but here at this party.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I told you this gathering would be good for you.”
    â€œI am not looking for dalliance.” Well, he hadn’t been, but now—
    No. He suppressed his baser urges. He was a scholar; he was used to taming the needs of his body to achieve loftier, intellectual goals.
    This time his body grumbled more than usual.
    He gave Stephen a long look. “I am here to ensure you don’t fall prey to Maria Noughton’s machinations. You aren’t helping matters, by the way. I noticed how you dashed in to see her as soon as you climbed out of the carriage.”
    Stephen laughed. “Listen to yourself, Damian. You sound like my mother, though Mama is far less of a wet rag than you.”
    Damian opened his mouth to blister Stephen’s ears with his opinion of that statement but was deterred by Lord Greyham clapping him on the back.
    â€œKenderly, Parker-Roth, so good to have you here.”
    â€œOur pleasure, Greyham,” Stephen said.
    Damian only managed what he hoped was a civil nod. He was still trying to get his spleen under control.
    Greyham dropped his voice and stepped closer. “I wanted to have a word with you, Kenderly, before the party gets under way.”
    â€œWith me?” Damian glanced at Stephen; he looked