Surrender To A Scoundrel by Julianne MacLean Read Free Book Online

it either. But don’t worry, I’ll think of it. Trust me.”
    He smiled devilishly at her, and when sheglared back at him with tight lips, he was quite utterly certain it was the most fun he’d had all day. All year, for that matter.
    The discussion then turned to the race, and Breckinridge asked Martin’s opinion on the wind velocity over the past few days, and if he thought the fine weather would continue.
    Martin answered the question, then posed one of his own. “Now that the races are about to begin, Breckinridge, would you be willing to reveal the name of the Endeavor ’s designer? I’ve seen her keel, and I’m guessing it was an American.”
    The earl grinned at him, as if their entire conversation were part of a game with clever strategies and hidden agendas. “I’d been keeping it secret before now,” he replied, “but since you’ve already seen what’s below her waterline, I suppose there’s nothing left to hide. You’re correct. It was indeed an American—a man by the name of Joshua Benjamin.”
    Joshua Benjamin . Martin knew of him. The man was gaining notoriety for designing boats with speed in mind and little else. “Ah yes. Mr. Benjamin,” Martin said. “What’s he like to work with? Does he listen to your ideas?”
    Lady Radley slid her arm around Evelyn’s corseted waist and interjected. “He’s very handsome,” she said. “Even our Evelyn thinks so. As well she should. He proposed to her in London a week ago.”
    Martin was momentarily staggered. “Proposed? You don’t say.”
    Mrs. Wheaton cleared her throat uneasily, as if she didn’t appreciate others sharing the details of her personal life. “Yes, but naturally , I turned him down.”
    He detected a hint of that self-important superiority again. “Why naturally ?” he asked. “Do you have something against sailors, Mrs. Wheaton? Or perhaps Americans?”
    She responded matter-of-factly. “No, Lord Martin, not at all. In fact, I seriously entertained his proposal for about two-and-a-half seconds, until I recalled that he already had a wife back home in Schenectady.”
    Everyone fell silent.
    “Evidently,” Mrs. Wheaton added just before taking one last sip of tea, “she was unaware of her husband’s propensity to enter his vessel in more than once race at a time.”
    The others stared dumbfounded, as did Martin for a brief moment before he laughed out loud and nearly spit out his lemonade.
    Breckinridge scrambled to change the subject. He turned to Spencer and asked about his parents.
    Martin was more than happy to let Spencer take over the conversation, for it finally granted him an opportunity to observe Mrs. Wheaton—who had just achieved the impossible. She hadmade him laugh. Truly, she was one of a kind. She always had been, he supposed, recalling again that day at the train station.
    While the polite conversation continued all around him, he allowed his gaze to meander downward and was pleased to admire the alluring feminine curves “Miss Foster” had developed over the past decade, including a lush, generous bosom, which would fare quite nicely in a lighter gown with a lower neckline, he thought. Dressed as she was at present, she reminded him of a pleasure yacht with her sails trimmed too tight, rendering her incapable of moving freely at the speed she was built for.
    He wondered suddenly how this aloof young widow would respond to a little wind in her sails and a skillful skipper like himself at her helm. Would he be able to bring the best out of her, like he did with the Orpheus ?
    Yes , he thought with absolute confidence while he admired the grace of her gloved hand as she touched one finger to the corner of her mouth to dab at an errant drop of tea. He certainly could bring the best out of her, and also bring out that spark she kept hidden from the world. A marvelous, masculine satisfaction flowed through him at the thought of it.
    The earl made an amusing remark just then about the currents in the