The Heart of a Scoundrel by Christi Caldwell Read Free Book Online Page B

He’d have staked all his possessions and all the debt owed him on that fact, and it was a pleasure he’d gladly act upon. There was something intriguing about the prospect of laying down the trusting innocent, parting her legs, and teaching her the pleasure one could find in darkness.
    “My lord is there anything you desire?”
    Edmund glanced up at the owner of that sultry whisper. He flicked a bored gaze over the blowzy blonde woman with rouged lips and a promise in her eyes. Life had taught him the perils of distraction. Margaret had been a distraction. She’d been the last. Wordlessly, he waved the barely-clad woman away. She departed on a flounce of crimson skirts.
    Any other day, any other moment, he’d have gladly welcomed a diversion with one or two of the warm, willing women of Forbidden Pleasures. Not since his meeting with Phoebe , as the young lady had insisted he call her—a rather silly, ladylike name. More specifically, not since his encounter with Miss Honoria Fairfax. Following that meeting, he’d come to the rather surprising revelation it would be a good deal harder to slip into that lady’s good graces and lure her away from respectability. Such a woman would take care to avoid being alone in Edmund’s company, which, in turn, would make ruining the pinch-mouthed miss difficult. His mouth tightened. No, he’d not earn himself Miss Fairfax’s favors, but he could earn the favors of the more trusting, naïve Phoebe Barrett.
    Edmund tapped his fingers along the edge of his tumbler. The lady’s friend was an altogether different matter. No, the prickly, pinch-mouthed Miss Fairfax would be the one he was saddled with. He gave a shudder at the prospect of shackling himself to that one; though revenge would certainly sweeten the otherwise unpalatable prospect of having her for his wife.
    After he’d taken his leave of the ball last evening, he’d immediately realized he must alter his plans. Miss Honoria Fairfax could not be easily seduced away from respectability. No, the lady’s defenses could only be broken down if he ingratiated himself to Phoebe Barrett. Through her friend’s affiliation with Edmund, Miss Fairfax would slowly come to realize his trustworthiness. He’d crumple the walls of her reservations, and when she at last trusted—as they all inevitably did—he would trap her and, at that, have his revenge. His plans now all hinged upon another woman—Miss Phoebe Barrett.
    He scanned the crowded, noisy club. His gaze alighted upon a familiar, bumbling form as he ambled past the other patrons. Lord Waters lurched his large frame through Forbidden Pleasures, carelessly shouldering younger dandies in his haste to get to his tables. The man’s lecherous gaze lingered upon the women scattered about the club, plying their trades. He paused and a brown-haired beauty sidled up to the fat viscount. Edmund studied the woman almost dispassionately. Never one to desire a brown-haired beauty, he’d long favored blonde creatures and the ladies with midnight black locks, as Margaret’s.
    There had been something faintly interesting about Miss Phoebe Barrett’s tresses. What would those strands look like spread upon his satin sheets? He gave his head a brusque shake. Where in the hell had that bloody idea come from? He didn’t dally with innocents, but preferred his women as skilled and jaded as himself. A scantily clad woman leaned up and flicked her tongue over Waters’ ear. Edmund eyed Phoebe’s father disinterestedly. Give a lady some coin and it mattered not who she took to her bed. The Prince Regent, a pauper who’d found a purse or, in this case, the paunchy Viscount Waters.
    Growing impatient while the man took his pleasures there, Edmund downed his brandy.
    The viscount stiffened. His back straightened and like a buck caught in a hunter’s snare, he scanned the room. His beady eyes collided with Edmund’s and then he stumbled away from the brown-haired beauty. He walked with a far