Wicked Becomes You by Meredith Duran Read Free Book Online

encountered.
    That was saying something, for although she only had one other kisser to go by, Lord Trent’s performance had not recommended itself either. Very . . . slobbery, had been Lord Trent. Paired with all the nipping, he had put her in mind of a terrier.
    Oh, surely she could . . . extrapolate a little?
    In fact, with all your slobbering, you put me in mind of a terrier.
    There. That would make him wonder!
    Also, you talked of all the things you would do for us, as if “doing” were tantamount to “purchasing.” You never acknowledged that it was my money you spent so freely in your imagination—and your own desires, not mine, that you intended to gratify. Why should I desire the addition of a smoking room to your country house? Moreover, why would you not wish first for a roof?
    Some delicious feeling was sparkling to life inside her. It made her breath come quicker and the fog clear from her brain. Her heart was pounding and her skin tingling in the very same manner as when she’d taken that balloon ride across Devonshire last summer.
    As for me, do not think I am crying into my pillow for what happened today. As you wanted my money, so I wanted your name. It was a fair trade, I thought, to achieve my parents’ dream for me.
    Good luck with the roof at Pennington Grange, by the way. I will hope it does not rain too much this season.
    No, no. That sounded too bitter. Also, she had no interest in defending herself through reference to her parents’ hopes. She did not need to excuse herself to him.
    In fact, I will admit that I very much liked the idea of being a viscountess. It seems I am as shallow and vain as you. But at least I can acknowledge it! Besides, I have an excuse: I had no true understanding of how empty and insignificant a title might be, until its worthlessness was demonstrated by your unmanly cowardice.
    Nevertheless, you may persist in thinking me grasping: I simply don’t care .
    “I don’t care,” she whispered. What an astonishing statement. She laid down the pen. Was it true? “I don’t care.” Had she ever said those words before?
    She hoped they were true, for she knew what would come next. All the pity in the world would be directed toward her. After all, she was so very, very nice .
    How undignified. How unbearable! She could not tolerate it again. And it would be worse this time, for she was clearly the victim now.
    Perhaps she should take out an advertisement in the paper: Do not waste your sympathy on me. I don’t require it. I am glad to be rid of the swine. Why not? Surely there was more dignity in being thought rude than wretched. She had spent a great deal of time at Lady Milton’s orphanage; she had seen how the wretched lived, and she had seen with what distaste the other ladies ministered to those children. There was nothing worse than being thought wretched. And she was not wretched! The roof over her head wasn’t collapsing.
    She reached again for the pen, and the shine of the gold band at its base struck some chord in her. She frowned at it, trying to think—
    She sat bolt upright in the chair. He had Richard’s ring! Her father’s ring!
    She cupped a hand over her mouth. Horror prickled over her, hot and mortifying. What had she been thinking? She had agreed to marry him with no love in her heart, but she’d given him her most precious relic! Even with Trent she’d shown more caution.
    It was unforgivable. Oh, she was low and rotten. And he had worn it at the altar! Bile rose into her throat. He had bounded out of the church wearing her ring!
    She would demand it back instantly. If he dared to give it away or pawn it, she would—why, she would set the police on him!
    The thought astonished her. Police chasing a viscount. A laugh bubbled in her throat. Why, she was not so nice, after all.
    She looked down at the words, scrawled so fiercely that one might think a man had penned them. A terrier! It made her laugh again. Maybe wickedness was more her native