Too Dangerous to Desire by Cara Elliott Read Free Book Online Page B

as he liked Sara, at that moment Cameron could have wrung her neck.
    Gryff straightened from his slouch. “What lady?”
    “Hmm, let me see…Leighton, Lightbourne…Lawrance. Aye, that was it. Miss Lawrance.”
    “And who, pray tell, is the mysterious Miss Lawrance?” Gryff’s question was directed at him.
    “Why ask me?” glowered Cameron. “Sara is the one who seems to know all the sordid details.”
    Without waiting for further invitation, Sara chimed in, “Well, I wish I could tell ye more, but the whole thing was all very havey-cavey. The young lady came in, claiming it was a matter of grave importance that she speak with Lord Dudley.”
    “Somehow, that scenario has a familiar ring to it,” said Gryff. Both he and Connor had first encountered their future wives at The Wolf’s Lair under similar circumstances.
    The quip earned a reproving look from Connor.
    “Oh, come.” Gryff, always the most light-hearted of the trio, made a face. “Does no one else here possess a sense of humor?”
    “Have a care, Haddan. Yer friends look ready to bite yer head off.” Sara waggled a warning finger. “Now hold yer tongue and let me finish.”
    Gryff cocked a salute and refilled his glass. “You can’t be miffed. Unlike Cam, I always pay my bill here.”
    “Oh, I always add his tab to yours, seeing as ye can well afford it.” Sara smiled sweetly before going on. “Getting back to the young lady, she wasn’t closeted with Dudley very long—a minute or two at the most. She left quickly, just as I had asked…and now here comes the strange part.”
    She paused for dramatic effect. “Dudley returned to the gaming rooms, looking like a cat with cream on his whiskers. Shortly afterward, Mr. Daggett arrives and plays a hand of cards at the same table, then he leaves to come visit me back here—and then all hell breaks loose. Dudley starts screaming that his pocket has been picked of a very valuable bit of jewelry. But when pressed, the viscount refuses to describe it.”
    “Interesting,” murmured Connor.
    “I don’t see why,” snapped Cameron. “Not every bauble that goes missing in London ends up in my hands. More’s the pity, I might add.”
    Gryff set down his glass and steepled his fingers. “Something has gotten under your hide and is pricking a sensitive spot. My guess is it’s a woman.”
    “Definitely a woman,” concurred Connor. “And it’s about bloody time your sharp-toothed sarcasm about love circles around and bites you where it hurts.”
    Gryff let out a low chortle.
    Cameron felt a prickle of heat steal along his cheekbones. He was used to doing the most caustic needling, and it was damned uncomfortable to find himself the butt of their teasing.
    “Ha, ha, very amusing,” he replied. “Love has nothing to do with the matter. But seeing as you lapdogs can yap about nothing else, I think I shall seek more convivial company elsewhere.” He started to reach for his hat, but a sudden thought made him hesitate.
    Sophie was in trouble, and however much he loathed to reveal this chink in his worldly cynicism to his friends, he couldn’t let pride stand in the way of the chance to help her. So, much as he wished to appear aloof and uncaring about anyone or anything, he forced himself to speak.
    “By the by,” he muttered, trying to sound casual. “What do you know about Dudley, Connor? Seeing as he’s been a regular patron of the Lair for several years, you must be privy to his habits.”
    Gryff made a low sound in his throat, but Connor signaled him to silence. “What sort of habits do you mean?”
    Cameron drew a deep breath. “Does he gamble beyond his means? Does he have any secret depravities…that sort of thing.”
    “In short, you wish to know whether he is a blackguard?”
    Cameron nodded.
    “Dudley is a thoroughly dirty dish,” replied Connor. “As is his close crony Morton and their circle of friends. They are clever and conniving about twisting other people’s