What an Earl Wants by Kasey Michaels Read Free Book Online Page B

impertinent question about her brother the earl, voiced in
the center of the dance floor at Almack’s, with a stunning punch to the
questioner’s nose, breaking it quite nicely, word had it. She hadn’t come to
town this Season, which to Jessica’s mind made more of a statement about Lady
Katherine’s disdain for society than any possible fear of it or shame over her
actions.
    Jessica felt she most probably could like Lady Katherine. Lords
Maximillien and Valentine were of no real concern to her, although she imagined
they were no better or worse than their brother. As to their grandmother, the
dowager countess? All Jessica had heard about the woman was that she knew every
secret of every man and woman and even royal, and there wasn’t a single person
in all the ton who wasn’t scared spitless by
her.
    Jessica felt she most probably could like Lady Saltwood, as
well.
    She did not like Gideon Redgrave, however. Not his reputation,
not the man who had just very clearly made a complete fool out of her. Damn him.
    “Before your brother deigns to join us,” he said now,
presumably having had his fill of looking at her as if she might be a bug under
a microscope. “We’re quits of this ridiculous offer of yours? You insulted me
with your patently insincere offer, not to mention that idiocy with the pistol.
In short, as a seductress, Jessica, you are an abysmal failure. I, on the other
hand, succeeded admirably in pointing out I am not to be insulted, not without
consequences. And, much as you may believe yourself irresistible, I am more than
confident I can stumble along through the remainder of my days without learning,
firsthand, and, needless to say, most intimately, whether or not you are a true
redhead. In short, I am willing to accept your apology and move on.”
    She was certain she now looked as if her eyes would simply pop
out of her head. “You...you... how dare you! ”
    He sighed and shook his head, as if saddened by her outburst.
“Make up your mind, Jessica. Harlot or genteel widow fallen on hard times. Which
is it to be? So far, I would have to say you’ve mastered neither role. But
before you answer, let me make one thing clear to you. I choose my own women,
and they come to me willingly or not at all. I’ve no desire to bed a martyr, no
matter how lovely.”
    There was one part of Jessica, one very small, even
infinitesimally tiny part of her that took in the words “no matter how lovely,”
and considered them a compliment. She shoved that infinitesimal part into a dark
corner of her mind and locked the door on it, intending to take it out later and
give it a good scold.
    “You’ve made your point, Gideon. Several times, in a variety of
unconscionably crude and insulting ways. In my defense, I can only point out
that I was, am, desperate. I offered you the only thing I had—”
    “Please don’t tell me you’re referring to your virtue. I don’t
believe that’s been yours to bestow for quite some time. Unless the fabled Mr.
Linden was a eunuch?”
    “No,” Jessica said quietly, “far from it.” She took a steadying
breath. “A month. You ignored my solicitor’s communications for a month, and
then you came to see me in person, looking just as I’d imagined you. Arrogant,
overweening, for all the world as if you owned it. You weren’t going to listen
to reason. And you wear the golden rose. That told me all I needed to know.
I...I offered you what interests you most. And damn you, Gideon Redgrave, I did
it knowing who you are. What you are. If you had
half a heart, which you don’t, you would have realized what that cost me.”
    Gideon sat back on the sofa, rubbing a hand across his mouth as
he looked at her. He looked at her for a long time.
    “I’m sorry,” he said at last.
    “Excuse me?” She hadn’t any idea what he was going to say, but
what he said made no sense at all.
    “I repeat, Jessica. I’m sorry. Tell me—sans the golden rose,
would you have made your