Your Scandalous Ways by Loretta Chase Read Free Book Online Page A

turned the Countess Benzoni’s stomach, though. She probably hadn’t noticed his head. His lower body was of far more interest.
    â€œMadame.”
    Francesca turned. “Drat,” she muttered.
    The golden-haired prince of Gilenia strode towardthem, smiling. “At the last, I find you,” he said. “Everywhere am I looking. I had the great hope of us to meet again at the Florian.”
    Losing his place to the Russian count had not dampened his ardor for long, it seemed.
    Even in the uncertain light near the Campanile, the bell tower of St. Mark’s Square, Francesca had no trouble discerning the happy sparkle in his eyes. Once upon a time, John Bonnard had looked at her in that way, and made her heart flutter. The moth to the flame. The old story. The old cliché.
    Now she experienced an irrational urge to weep. John Bonnard was a treacherous man. This man was utterly guileless. She hated to disappoint him. It was like kicking a puppy.
    But she wasn’t sure she wanted him, and pity was not the way to commence an affair. In any case, she knew very well that if she made it too easy, he’d quickly lose interest.
    â€œThe café was so crowded and hot,” she said. “And I’m fatigued.”
    Instantly his beautiful face was all concern. “But of course,” he said. “This weather so strange in this place. One day so hot and the air like the soup. The next day, cold, with rain and wind. And everywhere madame goes, a crowd happens, to admire her. But please, you will allow me the honor so great, to escort you to your house?”
    â€œThank you, your highness, but not this night,” she said gently. “Another time.”
    â€œI worry for you,” he said. “These are times of too much danger. Everywhere is revolt, theinsurrection. Only a short time ago is the Duke du Berri murdered.”
    â€œYou are kind to worry,” she said. “And you flatter me, putting me in the same category as the heir to the French throne.” Lightly she patted his sleeve. His face lit at the touch.
    Her conscience screeched.
    â€œBut please be assured,” she went on, “I am in excellent hands. My gondoliers can deal with any would-be brigands or revolutionaries. Good night, your excellency.”
    She made her deepest curtsy, offering him a splendid view of her bosom. Giulietta did likewise. Then, while he was still blinking, dazzled by the display, she took Giulietta’s arm, and walked on.
    They soon passed the Campanile and turned into the Piazzetta San Marco, the smaller square between the Doge’s Palace and the Zecca, the city mint. The area was far from deserted at this time of night. Now and again she nodded to acquaintances as they passed, walking to and from the landing place.
    She was aware of Giulietta, unusually silent beside her, as they made their way to the gondola waiting at the water’s edge.
    Only when they were settled aboard the boat and gliding past the palaces bordering the Grand Canal did Giulietta speak. “Poor boy,” she said.
    â€œWhat would you have me do? Bed him out of pity?”
    â€œI would.”
    â€œI can’t,” Francesca said. “I need a lover, a formal arrangement, not a night’s amusement.”
    â€œI know. It is not good for one’s reputation to take to bed every pretty boy—or man—who appears. Too easy, too cheap, we lose position. One becomes common, a mere whore, una puttana. ”
    Francesca looked out at the boats passing, weaving in and out among their fellows, the lights of their lamps bobbing in the darkness. “Men are investments,” she said. “One must choose carefully, and think of the future.”
    â€œYou think Lurenze will lose interest as soon as he has bedded you?” Giulietta said. “I do not think so.”
    Francesca shrugged. “I’m not sure what I want at the moment. He isn’t the only