Always a Rogue, Forever Her Love by Christi Caldwell Read Free Book Online

myself for company.”
    Now, that would be a tragedy of the greatest kind; this spirited beauty, unwed, a forever virgin who never explored passion under the veneer of ladylike gentility. An ugly, needling idea slipped into his mind. He didn’t know where the thought came from, and knew there was no merit to such an idea, but… “Some gentleman has set his cap upon you.”
    Her body jerked, and he knew with the intuitiveness that had won him Rosecliff Cottage and vastly heftier purses he’d been on the mark with his statement.
    It rankled that some nameless gentleman had discovered the hidden beauty when Jonathan and the remainder of the ton were unaware that one such as she bloomed in their grimy, city grounds. Suddenly, Jonathan wished he’d taken the time to learn more about Sir Albert Marshville who’d wagered at the same table as him a number of times, because then he might have known there was a sister, and the identity of the gentleman who intended to claim her.
    He reached over and distractedly pulled back the curtain that covered his window, just enough to study the passing streets. “You know, I still do not know where you make your home, Miss Marshville.” He glanced over at her. “Other than my Rosecliff Cottage,” he amended when she opened her mouth to speak.
    She quickly closed it, only confirming he’d been correct in his thoughts about what she’d intended to say. She was as tenacious as a pup with a bone from Cook’s kitchens, he’d grant the young lady that much.
    He dropped the curtain and it fluttered back into place. “I’m left to wonder why a young lady such as you would not return home.” A muscle twitched at the right edge of her lip. She remained silent. “Ahh, so you’ll not tell me,” he said, when she folded her arms, almost protectively, about herself.
    How interesting, indeed. For the first time, in a very long time, interest hummed through him. “I have a proposition for you, Miss Marshville.”
    “A proposition?” she repeated through taut lips. Another crimson stain flooded her cheeks, and he realized what manner of proposition she thought he put to her. Ahh, the poor beauty would be deplorable at a game of chance.
    “Do you know how to handle a needle, Miss Marshville?”
    She cocked her head. “A needle?”
    He waved a hand. “A needle. As in embroider.”
    “I’m proficient at needlework,” she said, confusion in her eyes.
    “How about the pianoforte? Are you an accomplished songstress?”
    Miss Marshville’s brow wrinkled even further. “I am an adequate singer,” she replied, a guarded caution in her eyes, as though she spied a neat snare laid out before her, and gauged the best way to tip-toe around it.
    “And watercolors?”
    She hesitated a moment, and then nodded. “Why do—?”
    He held a hand up. “What if I assured you that I had a place for you, a place that would find you free of your brother’s hold, which is what I imagine you seek. I’ll not even delve into the desperation that brought you out this evening, and in return you’ll do something for me?”
    She brought her arm back and he caught the delicate wrist before she could slap him a second time. He turned it over and studied the cream white smoothness of her palm. Palms such as these were not made for slapping a gentleman.
    Jonathan raised her hand to his mouth and placed his lips along the skin on the inside portion of her wrist. “I’d like to hire you as a governess, Miss Marshville.”

Chapter 4
     
    Juliet shook her head once. Then twice. And a third time for good measure. Her efforts proved futile. The Earl of Sinclair’s words came as if down a long, muffled corridor. “A governess,” she repeated in a bid to make sense of his last words.
    As he’d lowered his smooth, baritone voice, a breathless anticipation of his indecent offer had both tantalized her senses and outraged her sensibilities. She’d be so very certain the offer he intended to make her had been the