Surrender To A Scoundrel by Julianne MacLean Read Free Book Online Page A

Solent, and Martin smiled and laughed, but was aware that his laughwas artificial, for he was distracted by the wonderful challenge of the woman standing across from him.
    Breckinridge turned to her. “And will you attend the ball this evening, Mrs. Wheaton? The one on board the Ulysses ?”
    The Ulysses was a 290-foot steamship owned by a wealthy American businessman who had commissioned one of the yachts in the race but preferred the champagne at Cowes to the actual sailing.
    “Yes, I’m looking forward to it,” she replied.
    Lord Radley placed a hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “Would you like to reserve a spot on her dance card, George? I suggest you reserve it now, because it will doubtless be full as soon as Mrs. Wheaton is announced.”
    Martin watched the exchange with interest.
    “Indeed I would,” Breckinridge replied. “If you would be so kind, Mrs. Wheaton?”
    “I would be delighted,” she replied.
    Martin casually jingled the ice chips in his glass before he downed the rest of his lemonade. “I’ll be there as well,” he said. “And I would be remiss if I did not also request a spot on both your cards—Mrs. Wheaton and Lady Radley?”
    Lady Radley blushed ardently.
    Martin smiled at her. She was a delight.
    “And my dear aunt, you’ll save a dance for me as well?” Breckinridge added.
    But it was too late. Martin had already taken that splendid point in the race.
    “Yes, dear,” Lady Radley replied, sounding preoccupied because she was still gazing in a state of bemusement at Martin.
    He gave her another congenial smile. “I’ll look forward to our dance, madam.” Then he turned his gaze toward the widow. “And Mrs. Wheaton, I will look forward to seeing you to night as well.”
    Her reply was conspicuously cool. “Likewise.”
    Then he and Spencer bid them all adieu and made their way off the Squadron property to go and prepare for the night ahead and the most excellent diversions on board the Ulysses.

Chapter 6
    E velyn stood on the back lawn of the Squadron with the hot sun beating down on her head, and watched Martin exit the gate.
    She could not believe what had just occurred. He had teased her and toyed with her, yet despite all of that and despite her best efforts to remember that she was no longer a childish young girl infatuated with a charming but reckless young man, she was gazing after him in a numb stupor. His teasing had been so fantastically thrilling and electrifying, her heart was still pounding wildly in response.
    She was also remembering the hero of her childhood dreams—the dark-haired, blue-eyedboy who had dragged her from freezing-cold water and forced her to crawl across the ice to safety. She hadn’t spoken a word to him that day years ago. She hadn’t even known his name. She had been in shock, determined only to survive and reach her mother. But he had spoken. He had said one thing. He had told her to kick. She would never forget the sheer force of that command—compelling her to obey, no matter how impossible it seemed.
    She felt the same urge to kick right now—to break free from the pressures of finding a husband in this opportunistic marriage mart even though she had convinced herself it was what she wanted and what was best for her. But seeing Martin again—feeling the excitement he aroused in her—made her doubt everything. She suddenly wished she hadn’t come.
    Lord Breckinridge spoke then—quietly to his uncle—and Evelyn turned her eyes toward them.
    “Lord Martin is worried,” he said. “Could you see it?”
    “Absolutely,” Lord Radley replied, also in a hushed tone. “But how could he not be? The Endeavor is a force to be reckoned with. I’m afraid Langdon’s reign as Cowes champion is over.”
    Evelyn merely listened while a footman refilled her cup with hot tea. She did not wish to join the discussion because she was afraid she might reveal how frazzled she was.
    “You know I adore you, George,” Lady Radley said, also still