The Secret to Seduction Read Online Free PDF Page A

Licari murmured. “What else would it be? It is Bedford we speak of, after all. His name suits him…so many beds.”
    “The Countess Montshire,” Wyndham clarified.
    “Ah,” the earl said, as if this explained everything. “And how is her husband taking it?”
    And at this, Sabrina set her fork very, very carefully alongside her plate and stared down at it. It was rather a large dose of sophistication to take in all at once: Countess? Duel? Husband? And all delivered in that accent of offhand irony.
    Even Mary’s chatter had slowed, and her lashes were batting rapidly, as though something had been splashed in her face. Paul looked less distressed, but he’d shot a warning look at Wyndham. Wyndham shrugged and smiled, as though he could not be held responsible for what popped from his mouth.
    And then, to Sabrina’s chagrin, the earl seemed to notice her stillness.
    “Our apologies, Miss Fairleigh. Do we scandalize?”
    There was that voice again, as deep and elegant as a cello. She somehow doubted he was sorry if he’d scandalized. But his words had been polite, and delivered directly to her, and he was their host.
    She cleared her throat. “It must be terribly uncomfortable to be at the mercy of the sort of uncontrollable passion that leads to duels.”
    There was a silence as everyone’s head swiveled in unison to regard her.
    “Do you really think so, Miss Fairleigh?” This came from the earl again. It was unsettling to suddenly be the focus of his blue gaze. A bit like having two comets aimed in her direction. But his question seemed sincere enough. That is, if one discounted the curious glint in his eye.
    “Oh, yes.” She said it gently, in case he thought she was judging him. Too late realizing he’d allegedly killed a man in a duel.
    “So you’ve never been ‘at the mercy of uncontrollable passions’ yourself, Miss Fairleigh?” The earl sounded gravely, solicitously curious.
    She lifted her fork and turned it in her hand nervously. Round and round. “I count myself fortunate to be possessed of an even temperament,” she said modestly. “It is simply how I was born. However, I feel great compassion for those who suffer extremes of feeling. I imagine it is dreadfully inconvenient, at times, and must cause considerable pain on occasion.”
    The earl was now staring at her with the oddest expression. Something akin to fascination.
    Next to her, Mr. Wyndham coughed once into his fist.
    “You are very gracious indeed to offer compassion to those buffeted by their own animal natures, Miss Fairleigh,” the earl said somberly, at last.
    Sabrina wasn’t certain how to respond.
    “Thank you,” she decided to say, tentatively.
    Mr. Wyndham coughed again.
    “Lady Mary tells me you hail from Tinbury. Your father is the vicar there?”
    Well, apparently she’d at last captured the earl’s full attention. She was no longer certain that she wanted it.
    “Yes, Lord Rawden.”
    “And what sort of pastimes do you enjoy in Tinbury, Miss Fairleigh?” Another sincere-sounding, easy- sounding question. And yet there was little of ease about this man. Something restless, probing, hummed beneath the surface of every word.
    “Well, I like to visit the poorer families in town, you see. We collect clothes and food for them at the vicarage—everyone in town brings them round—and then we take them round to people like Mrs. Dewberry, and Mr. Shumley, who”—she cleared her throat again—“who drinks.” She lowered her voice a little, and said the last word delicately.
    “A sinner is Mr. Shumley, then?” The earl had lowered his voice, too, to almost a hush. One of his dark brows made an inquisitive upward leap.
    Given that the earl was allegedly versed in a multitude of sins, Sabrina suspected she would need to answer gingerly. “Drink happens to be Mr. Shumley’s particular weakness, Lord Rawden. That, and he believes he is King George.”
    There was a burst of laughter at this at the