One Dangerous Desire (Accidental Heirs) by Christy Carlyle Read Free Book Online

the Ashworth’s fashionable London street, when he hadn’t ever acknowledged the truth of it to anyone but Sullivan.
    She stopped walking but didn’t look at him.
    “I don’t wish to be known by my father’s name, Miss Sedgwick. Or his deeds.”
    When she did an about-face, he thought perhaps she’d soften, that she would give him a chance for the explanation she deserved years before. Instead, she began stomping toward him and then sidestepped around, wafting her achingly familiar rose scent in the air.
    “Where are you going?”
    “To my carriage. It’s this way, and I’m cold.” She stopped long enough to peel back the lapels of his coat and lift the heavy wool garment out to him with both hands. “Thank you and good day, Mr. Leighton. I hope you enjoy your visit to London.”
    Retrieving the coat, he sank his hands underneath and savored the heat of her body radiating off the fabric. Watching as she continued her angry march to the door of a finely turned-out carriage, he waited until she settled herself inside, then he ate up the pavement in four long strides to reach the vehicle.
    Just as she lifted a hand to signal the coachman, he leaned against the brougham. “I am not visiting London. I live here.”
    An alarming jolt of energy pulsed through him at the interest that comment sparked in her gaze. May Sedgwick could play no role in his plans. She would never be part of his future. He’d given up on that dream. He couldn’t give her the title she craved, and she wasn’t the blue-blooded English bride he needed to secure a foothold in London society.
    Yet whatever had been between them was not yet finished, and he hated loose ends.
    She watched him. Watched and waited, when all she had to do was signal to her coachman and disappear from his life again. “Does my father know you’re in London?”
    “No, and I would prefer to keep it that way.” Ensuring that Sedgwick knew nothing of him, his business, or where he resided was part of the reason he employed Sullivan. His agent reported on Sedgwick’s movements weekly. The name change had given Rex a clean slate in London and, as far as he knew, Sedgwick was unaware of his presence in the city or his ventures.
    But now his daughter knew, a woman who glared at him with long-simmering anger.
    “He wouldn’t be pleased to see you.”
    “I cannot disagree.” The last time he’d met Seymour Sedgwick, the man had promised to have Rex jailed for theft or hanged for something worse if he didn’t end his relationship with May.
    She looked past him, avoiding his gaze, and asked in a softer, unsteady tone, “Will you be attending the Duke of Ashworth’s soiree next week?”
    “I will if you will.” Something slid free inside him, but it wasn’t a pleasant liberation. Pain cut through him like the agonizing sting of a bandage ripped from a cut. He bit down hard and tasted the metallic tang of blood.
    May lifted her gaze and it snagged on his.
    They’d said the words before. He couldn’t remember who spoke them first during the gilded days of their summer romance. She’d risked much more than he to take their walks in the park or escape her father’s oversight to meet him at less-than-fashionable coffee shops. The phrase sealed their agreement when arranging clandestine meetings. They’d last said it on the day they decided to leave New York and begin a life together. She’d been willing to risk everything to be with him. He’d been a pathetic coward, more interested in saving his own neck than defying her powerful father.
    “I am attending the party.” May pitched her voice in that haughty tone he loathed. “I understand the Earl of Devenham will be in attendance.”
    The earl was one of many cash-poor aristocrats who sought wealthy brides. May, and a few American heiresses like her residing in London, were appealing prey for gents like Devenham. American wealth shored up their shallow coffers and maintained their outdated family estates. Rex