Simply Shameless by Kate Pearce Read Free Book Online Page A

shadowed corridor to an imposing set of double doors. A footman opened the doors to reveal a man sitting at an opulent desk, quill pen raised in his hand as if he was just about to write something. His hair was almost gray, his face aristocratic, and his gaze held a hint of wariness.
    "Madame Delornay?" The viscount got to his feet and bowed, his silver-gray eyes fixed on her face. "I apologize if I can.'t quite place your name. Perhaps you can remind me of where we became acquainted."
    Helene dropped him a deep, respectful curtsey. "My lord, you might remember me better as Helene."
    He dropped his quill pen, and two patches of color stained his cheeks. He picked up the small piece of parchment from his desk and reread it.
    "Good God, Helene from the Bastille? Have you carried this with you for all these years?"
    To her surprise, he came around the desk, took her hand, and brought it to his lips.
    "The woman who saved my life. How could I ever forget you?"
    She attempted a shrug. "Hardly that, my lord. I merely helped you escape from your cell." He chuckled. "And if you hadn't done that, I wouldn't have gotten very far, would I?"
    She met his gaze and smiled into his eyes. "I am simply glad you survived, sir."
    His expression softened. "I'm more surprised that you did, my dear. Your appalling existence in the prison was not conducive to survival."
    She felt her cheeks heat as she remembered being fondled by one of the prison guards while they chained the viscount to the wall and beat him.
    "I managed to find a way out. I'm not proud of how I did it, but in truth, I had no choice."
    He used his fingers to raise her chin and look into her eyes. "You are alive, ma petite.
    You should never regret that."
    He placed her hand on his arm and led her over to the fire, where two large wing chairs faced a comforting blaze. He helped her into a seat and went back to the door to speak to the footman stationed just outside.
    "Please make yourself comfortable, Helene. You seem fatigued. I've ordered some tea for us while I hear the rest of your story."
    Helene gripped her hands together in her lap to stop them from shaking. The viscount seemed to be an honorable man. But how much of her story would she need to reveal to gain his support? In the heat of his escape, he'd promised her anything her heart could desire. She fought a bitter smile. But so had Philip, and that had scarcely ended well.
    The viscount returned and settled himself in the chair opposite her. His gaze swept over her dark gown and the black silk ribbons of her bonnet.
    "It is only three years since I last saw you. Have you married, then, my dear, or God forbid, are you widowed?"
    "Neither, sir. I decided it would be safer to travel to England dressed in mourning garb than as a single woman."
    Not that her disguise had done her much good. It certainly hadn't deterred Philip Ross or saved her heart from being broken.
    She took a deep steadying breath. "I was hoping you might help me start afresh here in England. I have no desire to continue the life I've been forced to live."
    The viscount reached across and patted her knee. "I can assure you that will not happen.
    Over the past few years, I have met several gentlemen who benefited from your help in the Bastille. I am sure they will be as interested to hear that you have survived as I am."
    Helene managed a smile. "As I said, sir, I was only a small part of the undertaking. Your thanks really belong to the others who risked their lives to get you to the coast."
    The viscount leaned forward, his expression gentle. "They were adults who knew the risk of their involvement. You were only a child."
    "Not really, sir. I stopped being a child when I was separated from my family."
    "Excuse me for asking this, but are they all now deceased?" Helene swallowed hard.
    "Yes. I watched them being taken away one by one to their deaths." She shrugged. "My father thought to save me from such a fate. Sometimes I wished he'd allowed me to die