His Mistress by Morning by Elizabeth Boyle Read Free Book Online Page B

getting any younger, and the Rockhursts ofthe world will start looking elsewhere before you know it. Why, I hear he was most generous with Mrs. Vache when they parted company last winter.” The bright flame of avarice illuminating Finella’s gaze could have lit every lamp in Mayfair.
    The carriage wheeled around a corner and Finella straightened, her face rising to look ahead. “Dear heavens! We’re almost there.” She turned around and examined her companion like one might a prize racehorse. Putting her hands on Charlotte’s cheeks, she pinched them a few times, then smiled. “You look perfectly lovely this morning, and there is a fine crowd gathered to give you an excellent mention in the Morning Post . Now smile like I taught you and make every single one of those fools wish they had diamonds enough to make you theirs.”
    Crowds? The Morning Post ? Whatever was Finella nattering on about?
    Just then the carriage came to a stop before an average-looking house, but that was the only thing normal about the place—for gathered there before the plain brick residence was a large group of men.
    Why, it was as if they’d emptied the entire membership of White’s and Brooks’ and Boodle’s and dumped them on this very spot.
    A throng of dandies and Corinthians and dashers jostled each other to be front and center to the door of her carriage.
    Finella nudged her from behind. “Smile, Lottie. For gad’s sakes, smile at them.”
    Doing her best to turn her lips up and not turn and order the driver to hurry away with all due haste from this mayhem, she got up on shaky legs.
    Immediately the door to the carriage was flung open and a volley of “huzzahs” arose from the crowd.
    Charlotte thought she was going to faint, but with Finella pressing her from behind and a gentleman’s hand now holding hers and pulling her forward, there was nothing she could do but go along with this farce.
    The handsome man who’d claimed her hand was none other than the Earl of Rockhurst—the man Finella had been urging her to consider for her next…
    “Green, gentlemen! Just as I wagered. The lady is wearing green,” he announced. “Pay up!”
    They were betting on the color of her gown?
    Another stepped forward. Boxley, she thought his name was. The new Earl Boxley. “Rockhurst, how the devil do you always know what she is going to be wearing? What are you doing? Slipping in behind Trent?” He stepped forward and took Finella’s hand, kissing it and giving the saucy lady a broad wink.
    Male laughter, rough and hearty, filled the street. Charlotte didn’t know whether to be shocked that the entire ton, at least the male half, seemed to know about…well, were aware that…well, of the fact that she and Lord Trent were…
    Oh, she couldn’t even think it without blushing furiously.
    Lovers .
    But now to add to that, here was this fellow insinuating that Lord Trent wasn’t the only man who took such liberties with her!
    “Demmit,” one of them cursed as he paid off his companion. “I thought she’d be wearing yellow this morning.”
    “Perhaps her garters are yellow,” came the suggestion of someone in the back of the crowd.
    This brought out a hearty laugh, and Charlotte felt the heat of a blush fall from her cheeks right down to her very green garters.
    “I’ll take that wager,” said Lord Boxley. “Fifty pounds says her garters are yellow.”
    “You’ve got a bet, Boxley,” countered Lord Fitzhugh, who had jockeyed his way to the front of the crowd. The man grinned at her. “Come on, Lottie, be a dear girl, and let us see your garters.”
    “M-m-m-y-y garters?” Charlotte managed to sputter, now bent on reversing her course and heading back to the questionable safety of her carriage. The color of her gown was one thing, but her garters? Heavens above, what sort of lady did they think she was?
    Given the lively betting and expectant looks on their faces, obviously the sort who would accommodate them by lifting