In Love With a Wicked Man by Liz Carlyle Read Free Book Online Page A

that,” he said, swallowing hard. “I do know laudanum turns my stomach. And I do know that I should like—above all things, it seems—some beef tea! Lord, my manhood may never recover!”
    “Oh, I’m fairly confident your manhood never forsook you,” she said on a laugh. Then, feeling faintly awkward, she leapt up to ring the bell. “Perhaps you oughtn’t try to think so much.”
    “Try not to think?” he said irritably. “How can I not think? I’m trying like the devil to remember something—anything—about myself.”
    She returned to the chair, and regarded him gravely. “I rather doubt memory is something one can force,” she murmured, pensively setting her chin on her fist. “Not even someone as formidable as you.”
    “Formidable?” He snorted. “I’m terrified.”
    “And yet you maintain your—I don’t know—your gravitas, perhaps? Or composure?” she said evenly. “You seem very much in command of yourself.”
    “Frozen with fear,” he muttered.
    She laughed, and leapt up at Hetty’s knock. After ordering his tray, she returned to her chair. “I will make a deal with you,” she said. “If you will try not to think, I will remain here and we will just chat until you’re drowsy.”
    “Chat?”
    “In the way of people just getting to know one another,” she said. “As if we just met . . . on a train, say. On a long journey. Perhaps some memory will inadvertently stir.”
    He gazed about the room, which was admittedly large, and dramatically furnished in an almost medieval style. “You are Baroness d’Allenay of Bellecombe,” he said, “and can doubtless afford a private, first-class carriage.”
    “Oh, you would be surprised at what I cannot afford,” she said.
    “In any case, you would not be traveling with the likes of me,” he replied.
    She looked at him, puzzled. “What does that mean? The likes of you?”
    His brow furrowed again. “I do not know,” he finally said. “But for all you know, Lady d’Allenay, I am a very bad man. And here you are, alone with me.”
    “Nonsense,” she said tartly. “I am in my home, surrounded by people who, I do assure you, have my best interests at heart—and yours, too. Moreover, you are a gentleman. I see it in your attire. Your voice. Your demeanor. Never take me for a fool, Edward.”
    But it seemed suddenly odd to call him by his Christian name. And he was still regarding her with grave intensity. “There are a great many gentlemen , my lady,” he finally said, “who are very wicked indeed. In fact, I would venture to say the odds run a little higher of that being the case than they would within the general population.”
    “You sound quite certain of that,” she said. “Are you a student of human nature?”
    “I believe I must be,” he answered in a cool, certain voice. “I may be half naked and two-thirds terrified, but my talents, such as they are, seem not to have left me. And by the way, Lady d’Allenay, most people are fools.”
    “I find I cannot disagree with you, but you do sound a little like a radical,” she said. “Do you mean now to read me a lecture on universal male suffrage? If so, you quite waste your breath. I support it entirely—or would do, if they’d let me take my seat.”
    “Ah, a secret Chartist!” he said on a chuckle. “Will women want the vote next?”
    “I hardly think we could fare worse in wielding it, do you?”
    “ Touché , Lady d’Allenay,” he murmured. “A rabble-rouser. I begin to like you better and better.”
    Against her will, she burst out laughing, then set her fingers to her mouth. “Dear heavens, you’re thinking ,” she said. “Dr. Fitch will have my head on the platter.”
    “And a lovely head it would be,” he said smoothly. “Dare I suggest a surround of parsley and winter cabbage? It would set off your creamy complexion to quite good effect.”
    Kate felt her heart hitch, then jerked herself back to reality. “I’m afraid, sir, that you’re