How to Entice an Earl by Manda Collins Read Free Book Online Page A

stop in front of the Earl of Essex’s town house, Gresham opened the carriage door and leaped down, handing Maddie out himself rather than making her wait for the driver. “Do you wish me to come inside with you? Explain to your parents what happened?”
    “Good God, no!” That was all she needed, for her mother to learn that she’d ridden home in a closed carriage with Gresham on top of the fact that she’d gone to a private gaming house. One or the other would be shocking enough to her parents. Both together would likely give either or both of them an apoplexy. “That is, no, thank you. I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
    The glint in his eye told her that he knew exactly why she was refusing his offer. But rather than push the matter, he gave her a brisk nod. And bowed very correctly over her hand as if they were in a drawing room.
    “If you need to talk about … things,” he said, his gaze meeting hers briefly, “you know where to find me.”
    “Thank you, my lord,” she said, suddenly feeling a wave of gratitude that he’d come to her rescue tonight. “I do.”
    “Good night, then,” he said, bowing slightly once again. As if he were unsure of what to do. Which wasn’t really like Gresham at all, Maddie thought. Odd, that.
    “Good night, my lord,” she said, before hurrying up the walk toward her father’s house. When she reached the steps, she turned and watched the carriage drive away. Her rescuer gone, she bolted up the steps to the entry door, grateful that her father’s servants were elderly and did not keep a close watch on the front walk at night.
    It was not until she was safely inside her bedchamber that she realized she still held the earl’s handkerchief clutched in her hand.

 
     
    Four
     
    The next morning, his mind still occupied by the events of the evening before, Christian went in search of Winterson. He found his friend reading the papers and drinking coffee at White’s.
    Since the other man’s marriage earlier in the season, he’d become a bit annoying in his blissful contentment. It wasn’t that Christian begrudged his friend his contentment. After all, Winterson had done his bit for king and country, and had come home with a bad leg to show for it. And after that ugly business with his brother’s murder, Winterson deserved some happiness. It was just that he was so bloody smug about it all.
    “Morning, Gresham,” the duke said, setting his newspaper aside to greet his friend. “You look like hell.”
    “Thanks,” he said, dropping into the chair opposite his friend. Nodding to a nearby waiter, he indicated that he would also like coffee.
    Winterson lifted his brows. Christian almost never drank coffee. “Late night?”
    “You’ve not heard about the goings-on at Mrs. Bailey’s last night, then,” Christian said. It was a statement, and not a question.
    Winterson shook his head. “Enlighten me.”
    In some detail, Christian related to his friend what had gone on at the gaming hell the evening before. Though he stopped short of telling him about Maddie’s involvement beyond her finding of the dying Tinker.
    The duke gave a low whistle. “Not what you expected to happen when the operative met his contact last night, I’ll wager.” He shook his head and leaned back in his chair. “So what had Lady Madeline to say of all this? I have difficulty believing she stood aside quietly while you questioned the witnesses.”
    Christian snorted. “Hardly.” He thought back to her response to the goings-on last night, and sobered as he remembered her distress in the carriage after they’d left the scene. “She was shaken, of course. More than I had expected from her, I’ll admit. I had been given to think that she was entirely fearless.”
    “One thing to remember about Lady Madeline,” Winterson said, “is that she feels things deeply. She is so determined because she cares.” He sipped his coffee. “Or so Cecily has given me to believe. They are alike in