Jane Feather - [V Series] by Virtue Read Free Book Online

getting the better of unease.
    “I’ll come straight to the point,” he said.
    “Do.”
    He ignored the sardonic interjection. “A house and servants in Half Moon Street; a barouche and pair, or laundelet, if you prefer; a riding horse; and a quarterly allowance of two thousand pounds.”
    “Good God,” Judith said. “Whatever are you saying?” She turned to look up at him, her eyes wide. “I think you are run mad.”
    “It seems reasonable,” he said. “Such an allowance should be more than enough to keep you in style … of course, there’ll be presents. You’ll not find me ungenerous, my dear.”
    “Sweet heaven.” The color had drained from her cheeks. “Could you be utterly precise about what you’re offering me, my lord?”
    It struck him she was being unusually obtuse. “A carte blanche,” he elucidated. “And I will make provisionfor your future should we … should we tire of one another.” He smiled. “There now, what could be fairer than that?”
    Judith rose from the bench. Turning her back on him, she walked a few paces away. Her game of intrigue had suddenly got out of hand. It was one thing to engage a man in a pointful flirtation, quite another to be his paid whore.
How dared he make such a proposition … make such assumptions about her?
    Marcus watched her fumble in her reticule and thought perhaps she was looking for her handkerchief. Such an offer would be sufficient to bring tears to the eyes of the most grasping female.
    “I don’t have anyone to defend my honor, Lord Carrington, so I must do it for myself.” She turned. In her hand was a small, silver-mounted pistol, and it was pointed in the most workmanlike fashion at his heart. “You have insulted me beyond bearing. Davenports are not whores. Even highly paid whores.”
    Carrington was vaguely aware that his jaw had dropped and his mouth was hanging open as he stared in shocked amazement, his eyes riveted to the small, deadly muzzle pointing at his chest. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, swallowing hard. “Put the gun away, Judith, before you do something stupid.”
    “I am an excellent shot, I should tell you,” she said. “I’m not about to do anything stupid. Indeed, I consider putting a bullet in you, my lord, to be one of my more sensible notions.”
    “God in heaven,” he whispered, trying to order the turmoil raging in his brain. For some reason, he had the unshakable conviction that Judith Davenport was more than capable of pulling the trigger. “I intended no insult,” he tried. “Not to you or to your family. The manner in which you and your brother live led me to assumeyou wouldn’t be averse to an unconventional but nevertheless convenient source of income. You don’t live like a woman of virtue, ma’am, however skillful you are at the masquerade. You and your brother lead a raffish, hand-to-mouth existence in the shadows of the gaming tables. Can you deny that?”
    Judith didn’t attempt to do so. “That doesn’t justify offering me such a dishonorable proposal. My circumstances are not of my own making. You can know nothing of them.”
    Marcus swallowed again. His mouth was very dry. He wondered if he could cross the space between them before she pulled the trigger. He couldn’t. He watched, mesmerized, as she squinted down the barrel, extending her hand with the pistol straight in front of her. The sharp report and the flash of fire from the barrel were simultaneous. The smell of cordite hung in the muggy air. He waited for the pain, but there was nothing. He followed the direction of her eyes, between his feet. The bullet had dug a neat hole in the ground, directly in the middle of the space between his boots. It was no accident.
    “I decided you weren’t worth hanging for,” Judith said coldly. She dropped the pistol in her reticule. “I’ll send the twenty guineas to your house as soon as I return to my lodgings.”
    Marcus cleared his throat. “In the circumstances, I am