Joan Wolf by His Lordship's Mistress Read Free Book Online Page A

but took Jessica’s elbow in a firm grasp and steered her past the remaining booths and out the door.
    “He was in rather a hurry to leave,” said Mr. Romney.
    “You would be too if you were going home with Jessica O’Neill,” said Lord George. And, upon an instant’s reflection, Mr. Romney agreed.
    * * * *
    Jessica was performing the following two evenings, and the evening after that Linton took her to a very exclusive gaming club in St. James’s Square. “My cousin Bertram is very enthusiastic about it,” Linton told Jessica. “To own the truth I’d like to see the lay of the land. Bertram is only twenty-four and not very shrewd. The place may be perfectly honest; in fact Crosly and Abermarch assure me the play is fair, but I’ll feel better if I take a look myself.  Do you care to accompany me?”
    Jessica’s large gray eyes looked luminous.“To agaming hell? I should love to go.”
    He smiled a little. “I shouldn’t exactly call it a hell. And why do you want to go?”
    “I’d love to see the place where all that money changes hands; where fortunes are lost and men blow their brains out.”
    He laughed at her. “No one blows their brains out in the club, Jess. Very bad ton to do that. One waits until one is decently home.”
    “Too bad,” she said cryptically.
    “Too bad?”
    “Yes. I should love to see some stupid ass who had bankrupted himself and his family blow his brains out right in front of me.” The memory of Sir Thomas was still raw in her memory and he winced a little at the note of contempt in her voice.
    “Not everyone who gambles bankrupts himself.”
    “I suppose not. Do you gamble, my lord?”
    “I have been known to upon occasion,” he answered with sonorous gravity.
    The comers of her mouth quirked with amusement “I bet you win, too, you wretch.”
    “Upon occasion,” he repeated serenely, and Jessica laughed.
    * * * *
    Mr. Romney had been startled when his cousin had informed him he was bringing Jessica. “But why, Philip?” he had said. “We’re going with Litcham and Harry Crosley. She’ll be the only woman.”
    “I have no intention of staying until the small hours, Bertram, and we will meet you there,” Linton replied imperturbably. “I am taking Miss O’Neill because she hopes to see someone blow his brains out.”
    “I beg your pardon?” said Mr. Romney, unsure if he had heard correctly.
    “No need to do that,” Linton assured him kindly. “We’ll see you this evening, Bertram.” He began to move away.
    “But aren’t you dining with us?” Mr. Romney called after him.
    “No,” came the definite reply.
    Bertram was right to be puzzled, Linton thought as he walked down the front steps of Brooks’. Whenever he had joined a party like this in the past they had always commenced with a comfortable dinner and gone on to their destination, a good-humored, high-spirited, all-male group. He was breaking with tradition by taking Jessica. Why?
    It was quite simple, really, he thought as he took the reins of his phaeton. He preferred her company to a party of his friends. There was nothing so odd in that, he told himself. After all, she was a very beautiful woman. The fact that no beautiful woman had ever come between him and his bachelor pursuits before was a thought he did not pursue.
    Jessica wore the last of her newly purchased gowns, a creamy silk that made her skin seem to glow with a shell-like luster. Linton looked at her bare neck for a moment in silence then said, “Have you no jewelry, Jess?”
    The beautiful color in her cheeks deepened. “Very little,” she answered shortly. It had all been sold to help pay her stepfather’s debts.
    “I shall have to remedy that,” he said smilingly.
    “No!” He looked at her, his blue eyes wide with surprise. “You are very kind,” she said with an effort, “but I assure you I do not wish for any jewelry.”
    “I see,” he said equably. He did not see, of course, but there were many things he did