When His Kiss Is Wicked Read Online Free PDF

introduce you?”
    “Thank you, but I think not. However, I’ll be sure to let you know when I’m ready to settle down,” he said, evading her usual matchmaking plans. Finding a suitable bride was a task he intended to accomplish without any assistance from well-intentioned matrons. “Where is Lord Hayvenhurst this evening?”
    “Oh, he’s about somewhere.” She laughed carelessly. “He managed to lose me over an hour ago.”
    “If I find him, I’ll send him your way.”
    “Thank you, my dear!”
    As Lady Hayvenhurst greeted yet another guest, Lucien made his way forward, pressing through the heavy crowd. Judging from the large number of people, all of London had turned out for the ball.
    “Waverly!”
    Lucien turned as his name was called. Lord James Buckley, one of Lucien’s closest friends and an inveterate gambler, stepped toward him. “How are you, Buckley?” Lucien asked.
    “Just fine! We’re starting up a poker game in Lord Hayvenhurst’s back drawing room. Come join us and give me a chance to win back some of what I owe you.”
    Lucien shook his head. “I’ve only just arrived. Perhaps I’ll join you later.”
    “Right, then.” Buckley hesitated, his hands in his pockets, looking sheepish. “I haven’t seen you in a few weeks, Lucien, and I’m sorry about your father’s illness. And I know I owe you money. I haven’t forgotten and I would really like to pay you back tonight. But the thing is, I owe Crandall some also, and he’s pressing me for the money now, and as I’m rather short on funds at the moment…” He trailed off awkwardly.
    “It’s all right, Buckley,” Lucien said. “Get it to me when you can.”
    Absolute relief showed all over his freckled face. “Thanks, Lucien. I will pay you back. I’m good for it, I promise.”
    “I know you are.” Lucien then added, “But perhaps you should forgo any games tonight.”
    “Good idea!” Buckley nodded in understanding and headed off hastily. Lucien hoped his friend heeded his advice, but unfortunately sensed that he would not.
    Continuing through the crush of people in the Hayvenhurst ballroom, Lucien paused now and then to acknowledge the familiar faces that greeted him. Above the growing din, he heard a very distinctive voice calling his name.
    “Lucien!”
    Lord Jeffrey Eddington, a tall, dark-haired gentleman with a wide grin on his face, waved in his direction, motioning for Lucien to join him. Still making his way through the mass of guests, Lucien finally reached his friend.
    “It’s a madhouse in here tonight,” he commented when he reached the alcove where Jeffrey was standing. “I’ve been here forty-five minutes and still haven’t been able to get a drink.”
    “Well, you can’t have mine.” Jeffrey held up a crystal tumbler half full of scotch. “I need it too much.”
    “Rough evening already?” Lucien asked with a wry look.
    “I have been cut down by the most beautiful creature.” After making a tragic face, he took a long swig from his drink.
    Lucien laughed out loud. Lord Jeffrey Eddington, the illegitimate son of the wealthy and influential Duke of Rathmore, had a reputation only slightly worse than Lucien’s own. Women, young and old, swooned at Jeffrey’s feet.
    He and Lucien had known each other since their days at Eton, becoming instant friends at the age of eleven when Lucien punched the arrogant and irritating Walter Brockwell in the face for calling Jeffrey a bastard. At the time Lucien wasn’t even entirely sure what that word meant, but judging from the stricken expression on Jeffrey’s face, he knew it signified something terrible, so he had hauled off and given Walter Brockwell a black eye, earning Jeffrey Eddington’s loyal friendship.
    Each suffering the effects of a shattered home life and without the need for further explanations, the two young boys turned into fast friends from that day on. They even attended Oxford together. Over the years Jeffrey became one of the very