When Tempting a Rogue by Kathryn Smith Read Free Book Online Page B

not. If you so much as breathe in Vienne La Rieux’s direction, I’ll finish you. Understood?— FINISH you. And no one— no one —will ever find your useless corpse.”
    Jones stared up at him as Trystan straightened. Shock and pain brightened his green eyes. He swallowed and nodded, but didn’t speak.
    Trystan smiled. “Excellent. I suggest you find yourself another place to sleep tonight as well. I don’t think Mrs. Lake is too terribly impressed with you at the moment.”
    Then he left the room and made his way back the way he’d come, tipping his hat to the housekeeper as he passed. “I’ll show myself out, missus. Good day.”
    Outside, it seemed a little brighter, a little sharper, yet the day was just as it had been when he first arrived. He certainly had no business doing what he had just done—threatening a man over Vienne’s honor—but he had done it all the same. He couldn’t afford to have her distracted by thoughts of persecution or further scandal. He needed her sharp, alert, and able to make sound decisions where their joint venture was concerned.
    He needed her attention fully focused—on him.
    L ater that day, as Vienne sorted through her gowns, searching for the correct one to wear to her meeting with Trystan, she received word that a workman had suffered an accident at the emporium site and would be unable to return to work for several weeks. The man was a master craftsman; and she had hoped that his delicately carved woodwork would be a focal point, uniting all the different shops and floors into one cohesive space.
    While she would never belittle a man’s personal injury by making it a slight against herself, she did take a brief moment to ask God why this had happened to her—at a time when Trystan Kane was looking over her shoulder.
    There was, though, a bright side to the unfortunate incident: the workman would recover, and he had several apprentices who could continue the work he had started. It might not be as perfect, but it would be close. She would have to be happy with that.
    Also, she’d just heard from her solicitor that William Jones planned to go to Scotland Yard and tell them that the “altercation” between them had been nothing but a huge misunderstanding—an accident.
    Vienne had been tempted to go to the authorities herself and tell them it was not an accident at all, that the weasel had tried to force himself upon her—but it wasn’t worth the scandal; her name was in the papers often enough. Yet not for anything quite so . . . colorful. She wanted to keep what tenuous good standing she had in this city, but hadn’t thought of that when she pulled the trigger. She’d been so outraged by William’s behavior, so indignant, that she could only at that moment make her point.
    Hopefully it had been a lesson young Monsieur Jones would not soon forget.
    Now she was dressed in an exquisite new gown designed by Mr. Worth—a shimmering gold fabric, embellished with tiny copper crystals that sparkled under lights and hugged her snugly from shoulder to hip. Its swaths of fabric were gathered in the back and tumbled down to the floor in a short train. A simple design that allowed the fabulous confection to stand out but not overpower. After all, it should be the lady in the gown that received the attention, not the gown itself. Her sister had told her that . . . a long time ago when they still spoke to one another.
    But she would not think of her sister. Not tonight.
    Vienne stood in the door of the club dining room, her gaze drifting over the early supper crowd. There would be a steady flow in and out of this hall for at least the next three hours. By that time the gaming rooms would be filled as well. There was no entertainment this evening, but later in the week a famous opera singer would regale guests with her amazing voice.
    Personally, Vienne couldn’t stand opera.
    She glanced at the ornate clock in the corner. Trystan would arrive soon. The realization caused