Too Dangerous For a Lady by Jo Beverley Read Free Book Online Page B

he be alive and happy, somewhere in the world. She’d never prayed that they meet again, for through family strife and death she’d lost all faith in fairy stories.
    Yet here he was, on the other side of the heavy, musty curtains.
    There was still no fairy story, however. She was an impoverished spinster, dependent on her sister’s husband for a roof over her head. He was a down-at-heels thief. Such logic didn’t help. All the magic had returned—the connection that made it effortless to share her thoughts, and gave such pleasure simply from his company.
    And then there’d been that kiss. Far more of a kiss than she’d dreamed of six years ago, but proof that the situation wasn’t a fairy tale at all. He was real. Their connection was real. Their earthy passion was desperately real.
    She couldn’t, wouldn’t, do anything about that, but the thought of him tied uncomfortably to a chair wouldn’t let her sleep. When the clock tolled eleven, she gave up. She put the button back in the pocket and slid out of the far side of the bed to put on her slippers and brown woolen robe. She hesitated then, but she was more covered, neck to toe, than in most of her daytime clothes, and it was dark. The fire must have gone out and only moonlight lit the room.
    As she fumbled her way toward the back of the chair, he said, “What?” perhaps alarmed.
    â€œI’m going to untie you,” she murmured, kneeling behind him to undo his hands.
    â€œIs that wise?”
    She unpicked the first knot. “You won’t hurt us.”
    â€œYou can’t be sure of that.”
    â€œAre you going to scold me? If so, I’ll leave you as you are.”
    â€œThen I should.”
    â€œOh, be quiet. A pest on these knots. Why did I tie so many?”
    He didn’t respond and she lost patience. She found her sewing kit and used the small scissors to hack at the stocking until it fell free.
    She went round to the front, but rubbing his wrists, he said, “I’ll do the legs. I have no other pair.”
    â€œAre you truly penniless?”
    â€œNot quite, but I’m not sure where my luggage is.”
    As he bent to work at the knots on his left ankle, she perched on the nearby chair, despite the cold, tucking her hands up the sleeves of her robe. The boys were sound asleep and the bed-curtains drawn. A little more quiet conversation should be safe, and she needed to know how he’d come to such a state.
    â€œCan’t you tell me what’s going on?” she asked.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œYou did fight in the war?”
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œAt Waterloo?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œYour regiment was sent to North America?”
    â€œI sold out in 1814.” One stocking was done. He started on the other. “Why aren’t you married?”
    â€œIs it an offense?”
    â€œI’m merely surprised. The pretty daughter of a marquess.”
    â€œFlattery, but thank you. I’ve had offers, but none that suited me.”
    He glanced up. “You prefer being a governess?”
    â€œThey’re my nephews. My sister and brother-in-law are next door with the baby.”
    â€œNo nursemaid?”
    â€œNo room for one in the coach.”
    â€œOnly one coach?”
    There was nothing for it. “Didn’t you know we’re the Poor Merryhews?”
    He unfastened the last knot and stood to stretch his legs and arms, tall and so handsomely built. His shoulders were broader now. “How can a marquess be poor?” he asked.
    â€œThe same way as with any other impoverished peer. Unproductive land, bad management, indulgence, a gamester or two along the way.”
    â€œMarquesses should have been able to marry a fortune every generation.”
    â€œYou’d think so, wouldn’t you? It’s not as if they romantically married for love. They simply drifted into the easiest option.”
    He sat down again opposite her,