To All the Rakes I've Loved Before (A Honeycote Novella) Read Online Free PDF Page B

the wounds with tepid water and redressed them, she sat on the bed beside him. Swiping at the light sheen of perspiration on her brow, she sighed softly. “There. All done.”
    “You’re exhausted.” He was too. “I’m sorry. I should have insisted on waiting for the doctor.”
    The corners of her lovely mouth turned up and her eyes grew moist. “Don’t be daft,” she scolded. “You’ve seen me at my worst—looking like a stuffed sausage rolling around on the floor of your ballroom—and now I’ve seen you at your worst as well.” She picked up a cloth and lightly patted his face with it. “I’d say we are completely beyond trying to impress one another.”
    “Thank you. Again.”
    “Do you think you could eat some soup?”
    “I think I’ll rest for a while.”
    She pressed a palm to his good cheek, forcing him to meet his gaze. “But you’ll eat something when you wake?”
    “Will you sit with me while I do?”
    She eased herself off the bed and smiled, her dimple winking mischievously. “Perhaps. I still have a few questions for you. But for now, you have been granted a reprieve. Sleep.”
    “Good night, Amelia.”
    “Good night, Stephen.”
    In the twilight between consciousness and sleep, he thought about what she’d said. Be genuine with me.
    Most females expected—wanted—him to act the part of a titled, irresponsible rake. Hell, it wasn’t even an act. But Amelia was different. She saw beyond his face, beyond his reputation.
    She challenged him to be something more.
    And for her, he just might try.

Chapter 5
    Miss W. shows positively no regard for the correct forms of address.
    Thus begins the crumbling of a once great civilization.
    —from the make-believe gossip papers of Miss Amelia Wimple
    “Do you miss your mother terribly?”
    Lady Rose, Amelia’s second cousin by marriage, asked the question with such feeling, such sincerity, that Amelia almost choked on her scone. Her dear cousin hadn’t spent much time in Mama’s company, obviously. Amelia took a sip of tea, needing time to formulate a response that would somehow be both polite and truthful. “The house is ever so quiet without her,” she said soberly.
    Rose nodded her red head sympathetically and patted Amelia’s knee.
    Rose’s sister, Lady Olivia, gazed about the richly appointed drawing room. Mama had selected every furnishing with the intention of impressing London’s elite. However, when one bought up scores of expensive objets d’art and placed them haphazardly around a room dressed with crimson silk on the walls… well, the effect was less “fashionable Mayfair townhome” and more “tawdry house of ill repute.”
    When Giles announced that Lady Rose and Lady Olivia had come to call, Amelia had actually considered turning them away, pleading a headache or some other ailment. But if her cousins were worried about her, they were certain to make a return visit, so Amelia thought it best to receive them and be done with it. Stephen wasn’t likely to saunter into the drawing room in his nightshirt. Just the same, she’d bid Cicely to warn him that they had visitors. It would never do for him wander out of his room. Or his bed for that matter.
    Amelia’s cheeks grew hot.
    Olivia set down her teacup and made a sweeping arc with one arm. “How do you like being mistress of a large house such as this? Are you going mad with boredom? Or,” she added somewhat hopefully, “have you had any daring adventures?”
    Did hiding a man in a bedchamber qualify as an adventure? Amelia’s pulse began to pound in double time.
    “You know I’m not fond of the social scene,” Amelia said. “I like staying at home.”
    Olivia sat on the edge of the settee and leaned toward her. “Do you? What do you do to occupy yourself?”
    “I read.” Gossip rags, mostly, but Amelia saw no need to divulge that detail. “I write the occasional letter. I take walks at unfashionable hours.” It did sound rather pathetic now that she