When the Rogue Returns by Sabrina Jeffries Read Free Book Online

rough soldier, and in his place was a fine gentleman. He looked a little older, too, which made him even more attractive, more . . . settled in.
    Yet some things about him were exactly the same. She’d forgotten how tall he was, and how well he filled out his coat. She’d forgotten that he had the aquiline nose of an aristocrat and the warm eyes of a sensualist.
    She’d forgotten his crooked mouth.
    How could she have forgotten that , after all the times they’d kissed—secretly at the shop, heatedly in the alley beside it, passionately in their bed . . .
    Drat him, she wouldn’t let him do this to her again!
    She tightened her grip on her reticule. No, she would take this chance to find out as much as she could about his purpose. “So, how long do you intend to remain in the city, Mr. Cale?” she asked as Lady Lochlaw handed her a cup of tea.
    His brutally intense gaze speared her. “I haven’t decided. It depends on . . . a number of factors.”
    “But he’s staying at least through my house party,” Lady Lochlaw put in. “Aren’t you, my dear?”
    He stiffened. “If that is what your ladyship wants.”
    Her ladyship clearly wanted quite a bit more, which sent a surge of jealousy through Isa that annoyed her exceedingly. She no longer cared whose bed her wretch of a husband shared. She didn’t .
    The baroness flashed him one of her not-so-coy smiles. “Don’t be so formal, cousin. You must call me Eustacia.”
    “As you wish, my la—Eustacia,” Victor said. But his eyes were on Isa, scouring her as if trying to flay the flesh from her bones so he could see every secret in her heart. “And shall I call you Sofie, Mrs. Franke? Or do you have some nickname you prefer?”
    Her temper flared at his blatant attempt to bait her. Did he think she would crumble into weeping and confess her real name just because he was tormenting her?
    Of course he did. He’d always thought her easy to get over. “My late husband called me Mausi when we were first married. I suppose he thought me so meek and helpless that I would endure any insult to keep his affection. But he soon learned I wasn’t a mouse after all.”
    His eyes burned into her. “Was your husband German? Because just as the English endearment ‘my lamb’ doesn’t really mean a bleating, four-legged creature, Mausi as a German endearment doesn’t really mean‘mouse.’” A haunted expression crossed his face. “It means something small and fragile and innocent. Precious, even. Perhaps that was how he meant it.”
    The words made her ache for the way they had been, which was probably what he’d intended. “I doubt it, or he wouldn’t have—” She broke off, horrified that she’d nearly said abandoned me. “My husband was Belgian, Mr. Cale. Or so I thought.” Her tone hardened. “I really didn’t know him very well. He didn’t let me know him very well.”
    “My, my, Mrs. Franke,” Lady Lochlaw put in, “while this is a very intriguing conversation, it is hardly suitable.”
    Isa pasted a smile to her face for the baroness. “I’m sorry. I forget that you’re a widow, too. No doubt talk of husbands pains you as much as it does me.”
    It was clear from the woman’s arch smile that it wasn’t talk of husbands that pained her. It was the fact that Isa had diverted Victor’s attention from her.
    “So,” Lady Lochlaw said, “how is your little business doing, Mrs. Franke?”
    Isa gritted her teeth. “It’s doing quite well, thank you. We’re about to unveil some new designs for our imitation work. You should come to the shop sometime, and I’ll show them to you before we offer them for sale.”
    Lady Lochlaw looked horrified. “My dear, what need have I of jewelry made with imitation jewels? I can afford real jewels.”
    “We have those, too,” Isa said, undaunted, “but youmight enjoy our imitation ones as well. They look so real that half the women in town are wearing them, and no one even knows. These are no