If Wishes Were Earls by Elizabeth Boyle Read Free Book Online Page A

Lady Kipps had claimed, but something altogether more forbidden.
    And certainly no child. That jinni had fled her bottle sometime ago. Outgrown it, as it were.
    In all the right places, he recalled, unable to resist taking a glance at her familiar curves, the rise of her breasts, the long, coltish legs hidden beneath her skirts.
    “Don’t remind me,” he said, more for his benefit.
    Please, don’t remind me.
    Of course she did.
    “You didn’t think I was a child last summer at the Duke of Preston’s house party when you—”
    “Harry—” This time his warning tones worked.
    “Oh, if you insist.”
    “I do.”
    “Whoever is she?” she asked. “I can’t see why you would want to spend time with any friend of Miss Edith Nashe—”
    “Lady Kipps now,” he reminded her.
    Harriet’s gaze rolled, her lip curling at the notion of that upstart merchant’s daughter holding an old and esteemed title. “You can dress up a sow—”
    “Harry—”
    She appeared unimpressed by the warning in his voice. “And what, pray tell, did you intend to do with that mousy miss Lady Kipps is dragging about?”
    He’d been lucky so far that his actions at Owle Park hadn’t gotten him shot; explaining the particulars of his plans for Miss Murray would certainly qualify him for a full display of the infamous Hathaway wrath.
    Deciding cowardice was the better part of valor in this instance, he caught Harry by the elbow and started dragging her through the crowd, not that such a plan was any better. This close, her perfume left him wavering again.
    Resolve, my good man. Courage , he told himself. You can’t drag Harry into this mire.
    This is for her sake. Her very life.
    “Well, I doubt you plan on marrying her ,” she protested. How like Harriet to get right to the heart of a matter. No dancing on the head of a pin for her.
    Rather she stuck the sharp end right where it needed to be.
    Which was exactly the reason he’d wanted his courtship of Miss Murray all tied up and buttoned down before Harriet got wind of it.
    He’d never thought she’d just turn up in London, where she would do her utmost to remind him of what he should be doing.
    Marrying her . . .
    His gut twisted and he pulled to a stop. Because he knew without a doubt there was no way to explain this other than being blunt and hateful.
    And lying through his teeth.
    “And why wouldn’t I marry her?”
    If he hoped she’d turn and leave, he should have known better.
    She laughed. “Her? Your countess?” She continued to laugh until she was holding her stomach. “Please, Roxley, don’t tease so.”
    “You don’t think I’d marry Miss Murray?”
    Her reply was another fit of guffaws.
    “I am, you know,” he declared.
    She snorted a bit. That is until his staunchly stated words appeared to sink in. All her nonchalance, her confidence melted away, as if the truth was driving a wedge into her heart. Tearing it in two. “You aren’t,” she said. More like stated as a fact.
    “I am.”
    Her chin notched up a bit. “You haven’t asked her, have you?”
    No, he hadn’t. He’d been putting the matter off for more than a fortnight now. And he knew why.
    Well, he did now.
    Because part of him—well, most of him—didn’t want to succumb to Mr. Murray’s blackmail, or settle for the man’s daughter. He had wanted to get to the bottom of all this chicanery—his unfathomable string of bad luck, Mr. Ludwick’s inexplicable disappearance, and then Mr. Murray’s perfectly timed arrival into his life.
    Roxley was a gambler at heart, and coincidences left him suspicious.
    Yet suspicions alone were all he had, and could no longer hold sway. He needed facts, evidence. Proof. Before someone else “disappeared.”
    He glanced over at Harriet, so bright and alive, like a freshly lit candle.
    No, he vowed. No matter what, he wouldn’t let anything extinguish her brilliant light.
    So perhaps Harriet’s untimely arrival was just the push he needed. A reminder