The Scoundrel's Lover by Jess Michaels Read Free Book Online

mother’s gate. It was pathetic.
    “Once again, I apologize for my man allowing Annabelle access to the club. I will speak to him about it.”
    Rafe shook his head as he joined Marcus on his feet. “Don’t be too harsh on Abbot, he’s a good man. And Annabelle can be an unstoppable force.”
    Marcus just barely kept himself from the laughing agreement that inappropriately leapt to his lips. He didn’t know Annabelle. At least, he shouldn’t know. He couldn’t know.
    “And thank you, for your kindness to her and to my brother,” Rafe continued, “Crispin is safe?”
    “For the night,” Marcus said with a nod. “Would you like me to keep you apprised as to when your brother is at the masquerade?”
    Rafe hesitated, and then he sighed. “Yes. I do not know if I will come and I certainly don’t expect you to watch over him or keep him from harm, but I want to know if it isn’t too much trouble.”
    Marcus shrugged. “We both know I owe you and your brother quite a bit. It is no trouble to me to keep Crispin out of harm’s way when I can. Or to let you know of his movements in the walls of my club.”
    Marcus set his drink down and held out a hand. Rafe shook it without hesitation and followed Marcus as he left the study and reentered the foyer.
    “Good night, Your Grace,” Marcus said with a slight bow.
    Rafe shook his head. “God, man—Rafe or Flynn as usual. ‘His Grace’ is for the fops and in public. Good night and thank you, once more.”
    Rafe clapped him on the shoulder, and Marcus smiled before he walked down the steps to the still-waiting carriage. But as the driver maneuvered them back toward the club, he couldn’t help thinking of Annabelle and the shocking desires the lady stoked in him.
    Ones he could never, ever let her or anyone else see.
     

Chapter Five

     
     
    It turned out that the balls of the Upper Ten Thousand were just as boring as the fetes put on by those without title. Annabelle stood in the corner of the huge ballroom, watered down drink in hand, watching as couples spun by in each other’s arms.
    In each other’s arms, but decidedly unconnected. She had never seen so many stiff, formal, dreary faces. Some of the couples did not even look at each other and seemed gloriously happy when the music ended.
    She couldn’t help but think of Marcus’s Donville Masquerade. There the opposite was true. Couples in that wicked hall couldn’t even wait for privacy to touch each other and did such passionate things together without a care for propriety or who watched.
    “Annabelle?”
    She jolted as Georgina Hickson joined her, completely oblivious to Annabelle’s wicked thoughts. Georgina was the daughter of a younger son, so she had no title, but she had been raised to catch a titled gentleman. Although Georgina was younger than Annabelle, they had become friends of a sort and the other woman was trying to help Annabelle figure out how to land her own marquis or earl.
    “That very odd look on your face will not attract the bees to honey, my dear,” Georgina said with the falsely bright expression that seemed to always grace her cheeks. “Smile now and try to look enamored with it all.”
    Not for the first time, Annabelle wished desperately that Serafina could have come out for the ball. Although she too had been raised as a lady in every sense, there was nothing false or put on about her. They certainly would have had more fun.
    But Annabelle did appreciate Georgina’s attention and help, so she did as her friend demanded and plastered a fake smile on her face.
    “You have had some success tonight,” Annabelle said, through her grinning teeth. “Didn’t Lord Poppington dance with you?”
    Georgina nodded. “The earl was very attentive, yes.”
    “But, er, isn’t he a bit old for you?” Annabelle asked as she caught a glimpse of the ancient man in the crowd.
    Georgina blinked. “Whatever does that matter? He’s an earl , Annabelle!”
    Annabelle shivered. That