If You Give a Rake a Ruby by Shana Galen Read Free Book Online Page B

too-red hair had been twisted into a sophisticated style and her green gown was cut low enough to intrigue but was modest enough to keep a man wondering. He didn’t think she was for sale any longer. She’d begun her career on the streets and had fought her way to a position where she now owned a section of those streets. He didn’t agree with her business, but who was he to judge? She might sell young women, but she had more morals and scruples than many of the so-called paragons of the nation.
    â€œDaisy.” He gave her a genuine smile and met her halfway, taking her in his arms for a long embrace.
    When he released her, she swatted his arm. “You should come by more often. We don’t get many men like you in here.” Her accent was pure London streets, though she’d managed to refine it slightly, probably aping her betters as best she could. And yet it was as familiar to him as his own mother’s clipped consonants.
    â€œYou flatter me.”
    â€œOf course. And who is this mysterious lady? Your sister, I presume?”
    Daisy was diplomatic, if nothing else. Warrick turned to observe Fallon, her hood still over her head and shrouding her face. The mantle enveloped her small, rounded figure and only her dark eyes peered out. He wondered if she realized for all the effort she made to conceal herself, it only made her that much more intriguing. She couldn’t hide her beauty, no matter how she tried. The glimpse of sun-kissed skin and the flash of those impossibly dark eyes drew a man.
    â€œNo. She’s not my sister. She’s…” What the hell was she? He shook his head. “It’s complicated.”
    Fallon lowered her hood and stepped forward with her gloved hand outstretched. He saw Daisy’s gaze flick to the soiled glove. It wasn’t in keeping with the rest of her appearance and gave a good indication of the night she’d had thus far. But then the abbess’s gaze roved to Fallon’s face, and she took a step back. “Gawd’s nightgown!”
    One of Fallon’s dark brows arched slightly. She gave him a questioning look, but he wasn’t going to intervene. Daisy stepped closer to Fallon, all but towering over the courtesan. To Fallon’s credit, she didn’t move back or cower. She stood where she was and endured the scrutiny. She was probably used to it.
    â€œYou’re one of them. The Three Diamonds.”
    Fallon gave a slight nod of her head, and Warrick wondered if she encountered this sort of reaction often. To a woman like Daisy, The Three Diamonds were celebrities the way Sarah Siddons or John Philip Kemble were to those who enjoyed the theater.
    â€œDon’t tell me,” Daisy insisted. “You’re not the Countess of Charm. She’s got red hair.” She indicated her own hair, and Warrick wondered if the woman was attempting to emulate the third Diamond with her hair color. Having seen the countess up close, he had to say she was not succeeding. Lily’s hair color was all too real and vibrant. “You’re the Marchioness of Mystery. You’re Fallon!” She said the last reverently then hurried to turn a chair toward Fallon. “You should sit down. Gawd, I’m beside meself!” Her accent pushed through the more agitated she became. “I have a genuine celebrity in my establishment!”
    Warrick didn’t have the heart to tell her Fallon was no celebrity, and he could read in the courtesan’s tight expression the last thing she wanted was to have her virtues extolled and praised within these sullied walls. But she was nothing if not magnanimous, and she took a seat on the chair upholstered in a rose-patterned cloth.
    â€œIt’s a pleasure to meet you,” Fallon said, her smoky, cultured voice a sharp contrast to Daisy’s. She glanced about, fumbling for some sort of compliment to make. Warrick could have told her Daisy was too awe-struck to hear