The Masked Heart (Sweet Deception Regency #2) by Karla Darcy Read Free Book Online Page B

aunt. There was a bad odor to the story of the sickly woman. The sudden recovery at the word of a possible invitation sounded both miraculous and highly suspect. He had sensed some hesitation on Robbie's part at the mention of the old lady and he wondered what rumors were rampant in the neighborhood. He suspected that it would cost a pretty penny to convince the girl and her unhealthy aunt to look elsewhere for prey.
    He stretched his legs out and yawned. He hated the thought of removing to Wiltshire. A more godforsaken place he had never seen and it was a constant amazement to him that Robbie seemed to thrive there. He supposed he might as well leave London. His pursuit of La Solitaire was hardly flourishing. The Green Mews Theatre would be closed for a month while they prepared to mount a new production. With luck he would return refreshed from the country and then he could apply all his energies to gaining the affection of the fair Maggie Mason. He could only hope she would miss his attention and soften her attitude by the time he sought her out again.
     
     
    In the windowless room of a gaming hell in another part of town, the air was heavy and the candles flickered in the wall sconces. Talbott Stoddard glowered across the table at his companions. His long white fingers played with a pile of chips, clicking them together with annoying repetition. His pale blue eyes reflected his impatience at the continued conversation.
    "Then after Tattersalls, I took him round to White’s," Sir Edgar Willoughby concluded, his voice a monotone of boredom as befitted those aspiring to the dandy set. The fact that he was well under the hatches contributed to a slight slurring of his words.
    "Your hospitality has been superb, cuz, but I much preferred yesterday. Spent the evening at a private establishment," James Chittenden announced, snickering at the remembrance.
    "You old dog, Willoughby," Chester Morrison cried. "Don't tell me you went off to Madame Farrageau's."
    "Well, rather," Sir Edgar drawled. "The Madame has a magnificent little blond who looks all of ten and three but has the ingenuity of a much traveled wench. Startling cornflower eyes."
    "Devil take it, Willoughby, are we here to play cards or to discuss the attributes of every tart in the vicinity of London?" Stoddard snarled.
    "I say, old chap, no need to go all toffy-nosed, just because you've had little success with the entrancing Maggie Mason," Willoughby smirked. Drink had made him brave and he was unmindful of the deadly coldness that entered Stoddard's eyes.
    Chittenden and Morrison eyed each other in dismay but made no attempt to turn the conversation. For all their apprehension, there was an edge of enjoyment in watching the rising anger of the blond nobleman. Over the years, Stoddard had made many enemies by his unwarranted arrogance and vicious competitiveness. Now the men waited to see if he would rise to the bait.
    "I do not recall that I intimated my intentions to acquire La Solitaire. If I had, I assure you even now she would be panting beneath me and you, sir, would be grinding your teeth in envy." Stoddard flicked a hair from his dark blue sleeve of Bath superfine in a patent show of disinterest.
    The youthful Willoughby was too deep in his cups to perceive the danger of twitting the man. "The betting book indicates that Lord Farrington will mount her before you ever leave the stalls," he said.
    Stoddard slapped his beringed hand on the table. His pile of chips scattered with a tinkling sound that was loud in the silence that followed. "Perhaps you would care to test your knowledge against mine?" he said, his husky whisper more menacing than a shout.
    Chittenden rushed into the conversation, knowing full well that, in his present ugly mood, the nobleman was looking for a fight. "Willoughby's foxed, milord. Just running off at the mouth. No reason the rest of us fellows need take offense." He kicked his cousin brutally beneath the table and vowed he would