Truly Yours by Bárbara Metzger Read Free Book Online Page A

rational creature could be reasoned with. “That is right. Jordan, Lord Rexford, Lady Royce’s son.” He tried for a smile to reassure her while he put the bottle on the floor. He bowed and said, “At your service.”
    Amanda blinked and tried to focus on the man’s features, not the knife in his hand. He was dark while the countess was fair, and his eyes were a bright sapphire, unlike Lady Royce’s baby blue. But there was something about his mouth, and the smile, that seemed familiar. Perhaps she was thinking of the portraits on Lady Royce’s walls. She almost smiled back, except for the pain in her split lip. “She must be so happy to see you.”
    “Not if I let you sicken worse,” he muttered, not wishing to discuss the countess or their eventual meeting. To avoid any talk of Lady Royce, Rex busied himself putting the knife away and searching for a cup near the washstand, then pouring a tiny bit of the brandy into it. “Here, have a sip. Lord knows you deserve it.”
    She swallowed and sputtered, then looked around. “I am not in prison?”
    “No.”
    “Then it was all a bad dream?”
    “I am sorry, but I cannot lie to you. You are not acquitted.”
    A tear ran down her cheek, so Rex hurried to add, “But I will work on it. I swear, on my honor.”
    Amanda brushed at her eyes with the sleeve of the voluminous gown she seemed to be bundled into, clean and smelling of lavender. “Your mother always said you were an honorable man, one who could be trusted to tell the truth. She thinks you can accomplish anything you want.”
    “Not quite.” Or else he’d be in China right now instead of Grosvenor Square. “But before I can hire barristers and such, we need to get you well. And clean. Your clothes have to be burned to protect against the spread of disease.” He did not mention the possibilities of lice and fleas.
    “Lady Royce?” she asked, looking around the room for her godmother.
    “She is on her way.” Like lice and fleas, the details were not important right now. “As are a physician and hot tea.”
    Ah, the maid must be bringing the tea. “Thank you.”
    “Unless the potboy does not know how to fix a tray.”
    “No maid?”
    “I am afraid not. Not yet, that is. Soon, I pray. I was, ah, attempting to cut off your clothes in the meantime,” he tried to explain, holding up his knife again.
    Could a ghost get any whiter? Miss Carville matched the color of the sheets. To distract her, Rex decided to ask his questions. To hell with her modesty and her virginal fears. He had to know if she killed Sir Frederick. “Miss Carville, you need to tell me about your stepfather’s death. I do not care much what you say, as long as it is the truth. I will help you either way, but I must hear it from your own lips. And believe this if nothing else: I will know if you lie.”
    Her mouth opened as if she were going to speak, but then her eyelashes fluttered closed and her hands fell back to her side. Miss Carville had fallen back into her fevered stupor—or else she was evading his question.

Chapter Five
    R ex cursed. He cursed the sick—or sneaky—female. He cursed the countess for calling for help—and his father for giving it. Mostly he cursed his own traitorous body for assessing Miss Carville’s body while he quickly cut the clothing away, hastily swabbed at dirt and dried blood, hurried to pull the nightgown down. Damn, for all he’d done, for all his freakish quirk, Rex still considered himself a gentleman. Not a voyeur, not a rake, not a lust-driven despoiler of virgins. Of course Miss Carville might not be any pure maiden, not if the rumor mill ground true. Virgin or not, murderess or not, she deserved better than being ogled while she lay ill. That was a reprehensible breach of honor. Yet Rex could not help noticing her high, firm breasts and her narrow waist, flat belly, and long, shapely legs. The female might be small, but she was perfectly formed. And blond.
    He pulled the countess’s