Once Upon a Kiss (Book Club Belles Society) by Jayne Fresina Read Free Book Online Page A

novels. But not in a good way. Very different in reality, with all her senses engaged.
    “You are astonishingly solid for a ghost,” he wheezed. “Not much of the frail and wraithlike about you , Miss Pickles.” Thus he carried her toward the house with no further ado.
    She belatedly found the strength to complain. “How dare you manhandle me? Put me down at once.”
    “Certainly not. You are now in my custody, apprehended in the act of theft.”
    “You have no right to lay hands upon me.”
    “How typical. Rights matter only when they are yours.” Watching his lips, Justina thought she caught the twitch of a smile, but it was gone in the next breath. It might simply have been a wince of pain from the effort of carrying her. “We’ll discuss the matter before the local magistrate, shall we, Miss Pickles? I doubt you’re a stranger to him.”
    She stared at his determined profile. He wore no hat and his hair was dark, with the hint of natural curl. His nose—always an important thing to study in a man—was long, slender, and not too curved. In fact his features might be considered agreeably handsome. But his jaw had a very stubborn angle that suggested he ground his teeth a vast deal. Justina knew the signs, for teeth grinding seemed to happen a lot around her.
    “It was just a few pears for old Mrs. Dockley,” she muttered, sullen. “They will spoil if left on the ground.” If Sir Mortimer Grubbins didn’t eat them all first, she thought, glancing worriedly over his shoulder, searching for any sign of their rescued porker.
    “All lawbreakers and degenerates begin somewhere, madam. The sooner the habit is nipped in the bed, the better.”
    “In the bed?” She grabbed his lapel as he stumbled and nearly dropped her. “You mean, in the bud.”
    “Yes,” he muttered, his face coloring. “Precisely.”
    Her pulse was very rapid now. Had he recognized her? She sincerely hoped not, or she would be in worse trouble than she was already.
    If she was any less sturdy a person she might have fainted. Briefly she considered it, just in some hopes of gaining his sympathy, but Lucy had once assured her she was the least convincing “swooner” in the world, and this man had already shown himself to be a skeptical soul. Why waste the effort?
    How typical of her luck that she should run into him again. He had not been very understanding the last time they met either.
    “ For the love of all that’s holy—and unholy—put some blessed clothes on, woman ,” he’d bellowed at her, rolling out of the bed and trying to hide his own nudity with the quilt. The man didn’t seem to realize that as he used the bed covering to belatedly preserve his own modesty he stripped her of anything to use for the same service.
    So she’d done what any thwarted seductress found in the nude would do.
    She pretended to be French.
    “Oh, where is the gallant Captain Sherringham?” she’d demanded in what she thought was a very passable accent. “What ’ave you done wif ’im?”
    “Captain who? Madam, you have the wrong bed. I suggest you leave at once.”
    He’d barely allowed her time to dress before hauling her down the stairs of the house and putting her out. As if she was the cat.
    But that was not the end of it.
    The next evening, she and her sister attended a public ball at the Upper Rooms, chaperoned by their aunt who introduced them to as many partners as possible. Catherine was much in demand, naturally, but Justina was left like the last loaf on the baker’s tray to stand at her aunt’s side, trying not to look bored. Eventually she’d slipped away into the crowd and sought other entertainments. That was when she spied him again. A tall, pompous fellow who did not dance with anybody, he seemed to think himself above the event and superior to the other attendees.
    She’d meant to avoid him and the evening might have passed without incident, had she not suddenly spied a mouse running about the ballroom