This Rake of Mine Read Online Free PDF Page A

wasn't mistaken—been about to steal a kiss, detestable beast, yet he hadn't even blinked in recognition. Hadn't known her from any other lady.
    She took a deep breath and tried to still her hammering heart.
    He didn't recognize her.
    The astonishment of such a notion nearly bowled her over as she tried to fathom how he couldn't know who she was.
    For even after all these years, when she had all but forgotten the dark hue of his hair, the blue of his eyes, the breadth of his chest, and his commanding height, (well, perhaps she hadn't forgotten
those
things) there were other bits and pieces of Lord John she had forgotten, but that didn't mean she wouldn't have recognized him anywhere.
    Even as ragtag and tattered as he looked now.
    So how could he not know her? She took another breath as a second, more damning notion thudded into her thoughts.
    Lord John had recognized her and had neither the desire nor the honor to acknowledge her.
    What did she expect? He'd ruined her and hadn't possessed the wherewithal to offer for her. Why she thought time would have afforded him a sense of honor or responsibility, she knew not.
    Pushing the curtain shut, she turned from the window, having realized that in some foolish, dark corner of her dreams, she had always thought that one day he would seek her out, proclaim that he had never forgotten her kiss, and redeem her ruined reputation with a proposal of marriage.
    "Harrumph!" she sputtered. Lord John had held her and tossed her aside once again like a week-old mackerel.
    Worse yet, he pitied her!
    My apologies. Miss Porter. For whoever he was, he was a fool to leave you here.
    "Yes, you were a fool," she muttered. No more than she had been to carry such ridiculous romantic notions around all these years. She was five and twenty now, a woman of means and certainly no longer susceptible to the bird-witted memories of a man's kiss.
    Shoving her hand into the pocket of her apron, her fingers closed over the solid silver reminder of that fateful night.
    The button that had fallen from his coat. A keepsake from a rake who had kissed her until she'd been senseless, breathless.
    And very ruined.
    She didn't know why she had kept it. Then again, perhaps she did.
    Miranda shivered, her body still tingling where his hands had touched her, her lips parting, as if waiting for the kiss she had thought for one blissful moment to be hers yet again.
    So when she turned and glanced once more out the window at Lord John, she knew he still did. Somehow. Some way. Even after all these years.
    Leave her breathless, that is.
    "Dreadful, wretched man."
     
    The front door opened and Miss Emery bustled inside, closing it behind her with a decided thud.
    "There you are, Miss Porter," her employer said, coming to stand beside her at the window. "Sorry business all this, but don't think for a second I feel that Lady Arabella's indiscretion reflects on you in the least. She is a Tremont, after all."
    Miranda nodded her appreciation but said nothing.
    Miss Emery, who never liked silence, continued on unabashed. "My dear, I wish you would think again of staying on. Are you sure you want to leave at the end of the term?"
    Nodding, Miranda smiled at the lady. "Yes. I think it is best that I go." She had gained her inheritance recently and with it, a measure of independence that she'd never thought she'd possess. So she'd taken a house in Kent and invited an elderly cousin to come live with her. It was all very respectable and proper.
    Miss Emery wasn't so convinced. "My dear, I worry about you."
    "I am quite capable of managing for myself," Miranda told her. "Look what I've done for your accounts and the school's budgets. You of all people should know that I will not squander my father's money."
    Miss Emery waved her off. "Yes, I'm not disputing your business acumen." She lowered her voice to a whisper before continuing, "But Miranda, my dear girl, the world isn't made up of account ledgers, and life can't simply be