When Tempting a Rogue by Kathryn Smith Read Free Book Online

Europe.
    And it was his. Most men would be pleased with this accomplishment—satisfied even—but not him. He was proud of everything he had achieved since setting out on his own, but none of it was enough. He still felt like the Duke of Ryeton’s youngest brother—constantly held up against the flaws and virtues of Grey and Archer. He still felt like that boy who foolishly fell in love with the wrong woman only to be rejected just when his heart was fully engaged.
    Trystan knew himself enough to have long ago realized that proving himself to Vienne would ease that need inside him. Why else go through so much trouble to force her to work with him? He could have built his own emporium and made himself her competition if all he wanted to do was make her squirm. He didn’t want to be her enemy— Actually, he didn’t know what he wanted to be where she was concerned. But what he did know was that he wanted to go more than a handful of days without thoughts of her taunting him.
    Obsession wasn’t a trait he found attractive in himself.
    His carriage was waiting for him on the street outside.
    “Chelsea,” he instructed, giving the man the direction as he stepped into the vehicle. He set his hat on the seat beside him and raked a hand through his hair. A copy of the Times lay on the cushions across from him, put there by his thoughtful driver, Havers, who knew he hated being stuck in a carriage with nothing but his own company.
    He read, having long ago trained himself to not get nauseous during a drive. There was another article on the shooting at Saint’s Row, and mention of an inquiry. Trystan snorted. He wisely hadn’t mentioned the incident to Vienne when they spoke—mostly because she would have taken it as an affront. Also because it would drive her to distraction if he pretended ignorance. Vienne was not a woman accustomed to indifference.
    Though, if she found out what he was up to right now, she would realize just how far from indifferent he was.
    Sometime later, the carriage rolled to a stop and Trystan opened the door. The metal steps were flipped down and he stepped onto the sidewalk in front of a pretty stucco house with a flower garden in front.
    He offered the paper to Havers, perched atop the box. “I won’t be any longer than an hour.”
    The craggy-faced driver tipped his hat. “No worries, sir. A lovely day to sit and read the rag.”
    Trystan left him and took the pretty flagstone walk up to the whitewashed front door. He rapped the knocker and stood back, waiting. It hadn’t been difficult to find this place; a few succinct, discreet questions and here he was.
    The door opened, revealing a thin middle-aged woman in a housekeeper’s uniform. “Yes?” Her tone was cautious, almost wary as she took in his fine dress and posture.
    He removed his hat and smiled at her. “Trystan Kane to see Mr. William Jones.”
    A ginger brow rose—the only discernable reaction to his request. Of course, it wasn’t well known that this was where the man had come to convalesce. The housekeeper stepped back to let Trystan cross the threshold. “Come in, sir.”
    Once inside the doorway, Trystan surveyed his surroundings. It was a lovely, tidy little home—one which the lady who lived there had no doubt earned. Camilla Lake had been a successful actress in her day, and an even more successful mistress. In her prime she never took a lover who was below the rank of viscount or had an income less than thirty thousand. He admired her shrewd business sense, if not her choice in lovers.
    The housekeeper led him down a corridor carpeted in a Morris print of black, peach, and green; the walls were painted a warm ivory. They stopped at the last door on the right. The woman announced him to her mistress, and Trystan was allowed inside.
    Camilla Lake rose from her chair to greet him. If she was surprised to see him, she didn’t show it. “Mr. Kane, what an unexpected pleasure.”
    She was still a beautiful woman, with