The Rogue's Reluctant Rose Read Online Free PDF Page A

dear.” His dark voice seemed to caress her and he leaned even closer. His warm breath next to her ear made her freeze, heart pounding in her ears.
    “Then… then perhaps you will let me pass, sir,” she replied breathlessly.
    He chuckled, and suddenly stepped back with a gracious bow.
    “Your servant, my lady.”
    Araminta was momentarily startled at the loss of his presence. She blinked at him owlishly in confusion, before attempting a curtsey despite her weak knees.
    “Good day, Lord Chestleton,” she said quickly, before hurrying past, her book forgotten. She hoped he had not read the startlement on her face
    Her flustered appearance surprised Susan and Lord Harris as they joined her on the street, but she was quick to dismiss their concern, using the stuffiness of the little shop as an excuse.
    She spent the rest of their stroll trying to take part in the conversation as best she could, though she wished fervently she were back in her own room, alone with her thoughts. At the back of her mind, Araminta was aware that she faced a very significant obstacle in the powerful form of Jasper, Marquis of Chestleton.
    ***
    The clock in the hall struck midnight. Jasper Devereaux leant back in his wing-back arm chair of newly-upholstered green. His eyes drifted lazily half-closed and he gazed absently at his half-full whiskey tumbler. His library in Kilney House, the Devereaux Townhouse in St James Square, was to him a bastion of comfort and peace, well away from societal niceties which made dinner parties and balls such a dreadful bore.
    Of course, the season promised to be a lot more entertaining now, Jasper thought. Yes, it would be nothing if not entertaining .
    He had only been back from White’s an hour, after a particularly invigorating game of billiards, when one of his informants had called for him. The Marquis of Chestleton had many informants. He liked knowing things before others did. His network of informants was certain to give him an upper hand whenever he wanted one. This time was no exception. He was certain that he was the only person in London, apart from the family and solicitor, to hold the knowledge that he now possessed.
    Chestleton took a moment to savour this fact. The information held a lot of potential.
    The gentleman bearing this particular tidbit had come before the marquis looking quite pleased with himself. A clerk in the firm of Davies and Gerber, the young man had certain career ambitions without the means to carry these out. The marquis’s patronage would be very helpful in overcoming this unfortunate setback.
    “Ah, Fenwick, do come in,” Chestleton drawled. “Sit down, man. Whiskey?”
    The nervous-looking young man politely declined, while seating himself carefully on the brown leather sofa. Fenwick was quite intimidated by the marquis, who was known to be a man of much wealth and power and few morals. The clerk opened his valise, and produced a sheaf of papers. He cleared his throat uneasily and looked up at the dark nobleman seated behind a large mahogany desk.
    Chestleton’s keen eyes did not miss the young man’s unease. Fenwick had a tall, gangly build and neatly combed dark hair. His grey frock coat was only just beginning to look shabby. His complexion was pale, and his brown eyes darted about the room. The marquis supposed that the clerk was perfectly aware that he would lose all chance of employment if anyone were to find out about his breach of the client’s confidence.
    “Now tell me, what is it that you have found, Mr Fenwick?” Chestleton regarded the clerk with patient interest, eyes intent on his nervous face.
    “The Barrington papers, your lordship, as Mr Davies has them, seem to suggest that the family is in rather dire financial straits.”
    “Are they now?” The marquis looked like a panther about to pounce, his long elegant fingers curled around his wine glass, a contemplative expression coming over his face.
    “It seems so, your lordship. I have here the