To Sin With A Scoundrel by Cara Elliott Read Free Book Online Page B

manuscript.”
    “Whatever they are, I am not interested.”
    “Where is your sense of adventure, Lady Sheffield? I thought all scientists were excited by the possibility of new discoveries.”
    Ciara looked away, appalled by her lapse in judgment. “It is not really my field of study,” she lied. “Your uncle will have
     no trouble finding someone else.”
    “He wanted you.”
    Her hands fisted in the folds of her skirts. “Well, we all must learn to live with disappointment in our lives.”
    The earl acknowledged his dismissal with a slow, mocking gesture at the row of instruments aligned on the table. “A strange
     sentiment for someone who clearly has a passion for exploring the unknown.”
    She bit at her lip, unwilling to admit the truth of his words.
    “You may want to add an observation to your laboratory journal.” He retrieved his overcoat but made no move to pick up the
     manuscript as he turned for the door. “Even the most carefully controlled experiments can have unpredictable results. I will
     keep my word—for today. But be advised that you haven’t seen the last of me.”

Chapter Four
    D
ismissed.
Given his
congé
. Rather than dull the prick to his pride, Lucas found that the walk to White’s only honed his temper to a more dangerous
     edge. Tossing his overcoat to a club porter, he stalked into the reading room and signaled for a bottle of brandy.
    Lady Sheffield was right. He wasn’t used to taking no for an answer, especially from a female. He had become accustomed to
     having the opposite sex beg for a favor, rather than the other way around.
    Bloody hell.
    Swearing under his breath, he slouched into one of the chairs by the hearth and stared at the dancing flames.
    The tiny, teasing tongues seemed a mocking reflection of the heat still lingering in his limbs.
Hiss. Crackle. Snap.
Was there smoke coming out of his ears?
    Two quick drinks finally cooled his fury. By the third, Lucas was in a more reflective mood. The fire-gold flickers now seemed
     to sway in unison—wagging, scolding fingers of conscience.
Had he behaved badly with Lady Sheffield?
The urge to kiss her had been irresistible—and he wasn’t very good at self-discipline or denying himself what he wanted.
    But intriguingly enough, despite her protests, she hadn’t been averse to his attentions. Indeed, her words had said one thing,
     but her body had said quite another.
    Lucas pursed his lips and set his glass down. An experienced rake should have no trouble charming an unworldly widow into
     granting him a favor. However, to do so he would need another meeting. And by now Lady Sheffield had likely nailed every door
     and window shut.
    She was smart… so he would have to be exceedingly clever.
    But no matter how hard he thought on it, his mind remained blank.
    Damn.
    He looked around, desperately searching for some familiar face to distract him from his dark musings. But none of his rakehell
     friends were present—with his closest comrades-in-mayhem still rusticating in country, their ranks were a bit thin. The only
     other person in the room was a sober, serious-looking gentleman who was reading the newspaper as he smoked a cheroot.
    Lucas cleared his throat. Even stuffy Lord Brewster was better company than his own thoughts. “Any fresh news from Russia?”
     he asked.
    “General Kutusov may be old, fat, and blind in one eye, but it seems he has Boney in full retreat.” Brewster turned the page
     with a low snort. “Now, if our navy can keep the French fleet bottled up, we may have a chance to end this interminable war.”
    “Indeed,” murmured Lucas.
    “Speaking of water…” The viscount cocked a bushy brow. “Thought you had sailed out of Town until the outrage over your latest
     escapade had a chance to blow over.”
    “A pressing family matter required my return,” he replied tersely.
    “Hmmph.” Brewster pulled a face. “Well, at least you aren’t expected to show your phiz at Lady Becton’s