Always a Scoundrel by Suzanne Enoch Read Free Book Online

courtship. Yes, being affronted and indignant was much better than finally having to pause and consider that she was the daughter expected to wed that awful man.
    “Rosamund,” her father said abruptly, “you know that none of us is pleased to be in this position.” He sent a glare at James, seated beside her. “But I expect you to behave, and to keep a civil tongue in your head.”
    “Of course, Father.”
    James shifted. “I don’t see why this is such a sacrifice for Rose, anyway. I think Cosgrove is being very generous. And he knows everything about everything.”
    “Lord Cosgrove has forgiven your current debts, James,” their father grunted. “I have nothing else to give him—or anyone, so pray don’t do it again.”
    “Yes, James,” Rose seconded, “nearly destroy the family a second time, and you might just have to face a consequence.”
    “Ha. You think Cosgrove and his cronies have reckoned me an easy touch. Well, that’s not so. Bram Johns had me to luncheon just today, and we went to White’s. No wagering at all, and he even asked what my plans were for tonight and said he might attend, as well.”
    Another shiver ran down Rose’s spine. Lord Bramwell must have met up with James immediately after their…unusual little conversation. What was he up to? She had enough trouble. All she needed was for Lord Bramwell Lowry Johns to make a few more of those comments he undoubtedly found clever and oh,so effective at stirring female hearts. Well, she might be obligated to behave toward Lord Cosgrove, but no one had made any such stipulation where Lord Bram was concerned.
    Generally, attending Great Aunt and Uncle Clacton’s annual soiree was a dull chore. The staid festivities seldom attracted any but the white-haired set who all had to be home in bed by eleven o’clock in the evening at the latest. So the large crowd of vehicles lining the drive and the street outside Clacton House was something of a surprise.
    “Good heavens,” her mother said as they stepped down from the coach. “Is there no other entertainment to be had tonight?”
    “Apparently not,” Lord Abernathy answered, his own expression growing grimmer by the moment. And not because they were coming closer to the moment of sighting the man to whom he’d sold his daughter, but more likely because there would be more witnesses than he’d anticipated.
    The harried-looking butler ushered them into the foyer. “Lord Abernathy,” he panted, gesturing to one of the dozen footmen scurrying about the entryway. “Desmond will take your wraps.”
    “What’s afoot tonight, Wiltern?”
    “A very many last-minute acceptances to the soiree, my lord. Lord Clacton is quite put out that we shall likely run out of Madeira before the second set.”
    “There’s always his wine cellar,” Rose’s father returned.
    “That is what he’s afraid of.”
    Before Rosamund was ready, they found themselves inside the upstairs ballroom. It was so crowdedthat she could barely keep her mother in view. Hope flashed through her. Perhaps Cosgrove would miss her entirely. Perhaps he’d seen the crush of vehicles in front of the house and decided to forgo the evening entirely in favor of visiting one of those infamous dens of iniquity.
    Then she caught sight of him, and her heart turned to ice. He wore a light brown coat that somehow accented his golden hair, an angel’s costume concealing a demon. Dread trickled deeper through her, and involuntarily she took a step backward. The longer she could go without engaging in any conversation with him, the better.
    Swiftly she turned around before he could see her—only to spy the other blackguard in the room. Lord Bramwell stood by the stairs, accompanied by two young ladies and a tall, dark-haired man with a narrow scar down his right cheek. The two ladies laughed at something the Duke of Levonzy’s second son said.
    Laughing? With a glance again at Cosgrove across the room, she edged closer to the