On a Wild Night by Stephanie Laurens Read Free Book Online

assure her it was. She took mental notes as he waxed lyrical on the sight of the stars reflected in the black waters. She had no idea how many nights she would have to spend here, keeping her trap baited with men like Fitzgibbon, Walter and Cranbourne—men only too ready to help her take her first steps into the less virtuous world they inhabited.
    She had no intention of accepting their aid, but she hid that well. Logic suggested that Dexter would visit Lady Hennessy’s salons; she was betting she had his real measure.
    If he didn’t appear, she would waste a few nights, a drop in the ocean of time she’d already spent searching for a husband. If he appeared but failed to react as predicted, shewould gain an immensely valuable insight, enough to conclude that despite all she believed, Dexter was not in fact for her.
    But if all went as planned . . . she stood to win all she desired.
    She thought her plan quite splendid. With a glorious smile, shamelessly deploying her eyes and her charms, she threw herself into its execution.
    Â 
    Martin saw Amanda the instant he entered Helen Hennessy’s drawing room. She was standing to one side of the hearth; the light from a candelabra on the mantelpiece fell full on her, bathing her in golden light.
    The effect of seeing her surprised him—the sudden clench of possessiveness, the unexpected visceral tug. He shook the sensations aside; his cynically amused mask in place, he strolled forward to greet his hostess.
    Helen was delighted to see him. She chatted, drawing his attention to three separate experienced ladies who were attending that night. “They’d each and every one be delighted to make your acquaintance.”
    She glanced at him, one brow raised. Martin barely glanced at the ladies in question. “Not tonight.”
    Helen sighed. “I don’t know whether to applaud or pout—your reticence only heightens their interest, as you well know, but continued refusals to engage . . . well, it does call into question my ability to deliver.”
    â€œYou always deliver in the end, my dear, as I’m quite sure your ladies know. But tonight they’ll have to make do with someone else’s talents. I . . .”—Martin considered Amanda, a golden angel dispensing smiles and laughter upon her captives—“have other fish to fry.”
    He looked at Helen before, intrigued, she could follow his gaze. “And no, you needn’t wonder. I suspect the role I’m scripted to play is that of knight-protector, not demon lover.”
    â€œHow fascinating.” Helen opened her eyes wide, then smiled. “Very well. You have my permission to dispense your favors as you wish—not that you’d listen to any edicts otherwise. But beware!” She slanted him an arch glance asshe turned to greet another guest. “You know what they say of rakehells visited by a sudden urge to reform.”
    He didn’t know and didn’t need to. The warning faded from his mind as he ambled through the crowd, ostensibly looking the ladies over, in truth watching just one.
    She hadn’t seen him, or so it appeared; he’d yet to see her gaze turn his way and she’d given no sign of recognition. She continued to engage the three others and Carmarthen, although he was looking more worried than entranced.
    Martin had to admit she was a dab hand at entrancing. Her smiles, her laughter—which he couldn’t hear but wished he could—the lively chatter, the gaiety dancing in her eyes, all served to project the persona of a confident young lady brimming with sparkling, bubbling charm. Indeed, she reminded him of the very best champagne, fine wine subtly effervescent, deepened by just the right touch of age to the point where it promised liquid gold on the tongue and glory to the senses.
    He couldn’t tell if she knew he was present. Couldn’t tell if his suspicion that her current