Wicked Becomes You by Meredith Duran Read Free Book Online Page B

left, which still sat demurely in her lap; the rogue digits were squeezing the armrest in a fierce and regular rhythm. She was imagining herself in possession of Pennington’s throat. Alex would wager money on it. Already she had told him to wring Gerard’s throat for the sin of selling a musty house she’d never bothered to visit.
    Had a good deal of snap, did Belinda. Put her down in Manhattan’s Five Points, and by nightfall, half the citizens would be pouring into church to repent their evil ways.
    “But Fulton Hall is lovely,” said Elma Beecham. She cast a hopeful look toward the settee, where Caroline was languishing.
    As suited the twins’ respective roles, Belinda had shrieked in the church, while Caro had wept. Now Caro offered a regretful smile, along with a shake of the head.
    Elma sighed. “No, I suppose not, then. It’s too near to Pennington’s estate.”
    “Then keep her in London,” Alex said flatly. He rubbed his eyes. “I told you the viscount is bound for the Continent.” Henry Beecham might have come home directly from the church, but Alex had not. He’d found Pennington’s town house in a state of disarray. The master had fled to the railway station, intent on the Dover-bound train.
    Elma gaped at him. “But she’s not invited to anything, Mr. Ramsey. Everybody thought she would be on her honeymoon.”
    “Besides,” said Belinda, “it doesn’t matter. His mother is still in town.”
    Caroline gave a visible shudder. “She’s even worse.”
    “Right,” he said. “The dragon might slay her with an unkind look, I suppose. Who bloody cares?”
    Elma gasped.
    Most of the world could not tell his sisters apart. He’d no trouble on that account, but it never failed to amaze him how identically they delivered a glare.
    “Watch your language,” Belinda bit out. “And please, do not illuminate us with one of your trenchant social commentaries.”
    All right, he was usually a bit subtler in his approach, but this conversation was going in circles. “I illuminate, do I? And here I thought I idled, ignored, and absconded.” Absconded . Almost, he sighed with longing. It sounded like an excellent idea.
    Belinda launched into a lecture to which he did not bother to listen. His attention wandered to the empty sofa across the room, an overstuffed piece of maroon brocade. Hideous. Unusually long, too. Almost as long as a bed.
    It looked quite comfortable.
    Sleep . The doctor in Buenos Aires had warned him against napping. That was very easy advice to give, no doubt.
    Belinda grew louder. He nodded agreeably, and she rewarded him by modulating her voice to a less strident pitch. “. . . you may find civility tedious, Alex, but Gwen cares about her place in society.”
    “Certainly,” he said. “But if actions bespeak character, as you have so often told me”—he gave her a flattering smile—“then I consider this morning a lucky escape for her. Don’t you?”
    Belinda sighed. “Well, I am tempted to agree.” She wrinkled her nose. “What a toad the viscount is!”
    “I just can’t understand it,” Elma murmured. As she took a deep breath and launched back into her pacing, Caroline sat up and sent him a mischievous look.
    He lifted a brow in acknowledgment. Since vanity did not permit Elma to wear spectacles, her progress across the carpet was proving dramatic. Three times already she’d collided with the centre table, and now she looked bound for a fourth.
    “I still don’t see why Trumbly Grange won’t do,” Elma grumbled. “The peace and quiet would do her good.”
    Bel and Caro gave speaking snorts. Unaccustomed to their synchronized contempt, Elma halted. The centre table held its ground, four inches away. Alex shook his head at Caro , who grimaced apologetically.
    “It’s a sad little house located on the edge of the moors, isn’t it?” Belinda was never one to mince words, even when the property she maligned was her host’s. “There’s not a neighbor in