The Rogue Read Online Free PDF

picking his teeth.
"You weren't following me, were you?"
    Peebles
flicked his toothpick past Ethan into the street. "No, sor. If
I'd been followin' you, you'd never have seen me.
    "You
wanted me to see you. Why?"
    "Don't
know, sor. I was told to be seen around every corner, I was."
Feebles grinned. The elfin smile didn't do much to ease the
impression that he was eerily odd. "If I was you, I'd be
thinkin' someone wanted to keep an eye on me and wanted me to know
it."
    "Lord
Etheridge?" The leader of the Liars wasn't someone Ethan would
have ever met under other circumstances, being far too high above him
and far too upright a fellow to invite a gamester to his home for
amusement. If Lord Etheridge wanted to see him socially—well,
he wouldn't. Which meant it had something to do with those bloody
pikers, the Liars.
    Ethan
turned back to Feebles. "What—"
    Feebles
was gone. Ethan was quite sure he wouldn't spot the little man again.
He was also quite sure Feebles would still be there.
     
    Over
breakfast in Lord Maywell's chilly breakfast room, Jane toyed with
her fork as her cousins chattered endlessly about the previous
night's ball.
    Even
now, Uncle Harold ignored the chatter and chaos about his breakfast
plate, instead absorbing himself with the day's news sheets. Poor
Aunt Lottie, always left to handle things on her own. Jane shot her
uncle a disapproving glance.
    He
didn't see it.
    She
cleared her throat.
    He
turned a page.
    "Uncle
Harold!" Her voice echoed through the breakfast room. She
wouldn't have believed there could be a break in the madness, but of
course, there was, right at the moment she'd chosen to speak. All
eyes turned to her, even her uncle's.
    "I
say, Jane," he muttered. "You do have a set of lungs on
you."
    "Tsk-tsk,
Jane." Aunt Lottie shook her head. "I know you've been
brought up in the country, dear, but there's no need to yodel
here
."
    Jane
narrowed her eyes at them all. "I only meant to speak above the
noise, Aunt Lottie."
    Six
pairs of female eyes regarded her with complete innocence. "What
noise, dear?" Aunt Lottie seemed seriously concerned with her
sanity.
    Uncle
Harold was already diving headfirst back into his news sheets.
    "I
intended to ask Uncle Harold what he thought of the young gentlemen
who attended last evening," Jane said. "I did not meet them
all to speak to, and I value his opinion."
    Uncle
Harold blinked. "What? Oh, that useless lot. Bunch of simpering
second sons without a hope in hell of inheriting anything useful.
Boring too. You girls ought to be glad to see the last of those
fellows."
    "The
last?" Augusta seemed horrified by the very thought. "What
do you mean, Papa?"
    "No
more balls, hosting or attending," Uncle Harold said bluntly.
"Can't afford more dresses and you and your sisters won't wear
anything twice."
    Such
an unjust accusation silenced all the women at the table for a long
indignant moment. Still, Jane had to admit that her uncle had a
point. Even though the girls had been the unofficial hostesses of the
evening, and therefore entitled to first pick of the gentlemen,
they'd scarcely been able to fill their dance cards.
    The
man from the garden had not danced, she was sure of it. She would
have noticed someone so fine.
    "That
is too bad, Uncle," she said, answering his declaration above
the wails and protests of her cousins. "You did seem to enjoy
your cards so much last night."
    "Hmph!"
Her uncle grimaced over his eggs. "Only two players were any
good—and one was married and the other is ineligible."
    Aunt
Lottie blinked. "Who was married? I only invited single men."
    "Tremayne,"
Uncle Harold said. "Went and got himself married on the quiet."
    Aunt
Lottie gasped. "Not nice Mr. Tremayne!" The wails erupted
once more. Jane thought that was a bit much, since everyone knew Mr.
Collis Tremayne had been moon-high out of her cousins' reach even
when unmarried.
    "Who
did he marry, Papa?" Augusta asked tearfully.
    Uncle
Harold shrugged. "Black-haired girl, the one he