Read What A Rogue Wants Online

Authors: Julie Johnstone

Tags: #romance, #love, #suspense, #england, #historical romance, #regency romance, #ladies, #lords, #alpha male, #julie johnstone

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BOOK: What A Rogue Wants
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Yes, well,
Lord…?”


Drivel.” He could barely
contain his amusement.

She burst out laughing,
the merry sound making him smile. “Your laugh is lovely,” he said.
Instantly, she sobered, eyed him warily and turned her attention
downward on her arrow. She was right to be guarded. His blood
hummed in his ears with his desire. Forget his parent’s boring
dinner. By tonight he’d have this chit in his bed. The
contradiction she presented was irresistible. “I’ll put my money on
you
and
give you
all my winnings to make up for offending you, but if you lose, you
must accompany me to my townhouse.”


She’ll not!” her friend
exclaimed before the lady herself could reply. When the lady gave
her friend a cool look, Grey had to work not to show his
satisfaction. She was just as interested in him as he was in her.
Today was turning out to be splendid, indeed.


I’ll take your
offer.”


Excellent.” He ignored
her friend’s outraged huff and Gravenhurst’s indiscreet snickering
into his hands. “There’s much I want to show you.” Grey imagined
her excited expression when she saw his collection of archery sets.
Her mouth dropped open. By God, the chit thought he was referring
to something sexual. Her expression of barely contained outrage was
priceless and intrigued him all the more.


What precisely do you
think to show me? Are you a collector of art?”

Her tone was brittle as glass. The
challenge of making her pliable in his hands was going to be quite
enjoyable. For now, it might do her good to wonder what he was
about. “I only have one piece of art that’s worth your
seeing.”

At that, Gravenhurst started guffawing
but stopped promptly when the brunette lady glared him into ashes.
The woman’s obvious protective instinct over her friend was
admirable, even if he didn’t like her interference.


I won’t be seeing your
art, but I will take your money,” the blond-haired chit replied
before turning away, raising her arrow and saying in a loud,
confident voice, “I’m ready.”

Romany and his cronies immediately
called for last wagers, collected the money, and then a hush fell
over the crowd.

Grey moved so he could see the woman’s
face. He was rewarded for his effort. An adorable crease appeared
on her forehead as she pulled the bow back with a creak. Her teeth
bit down on her lower lip in concentration, and he could see her
doing all the same small calculations he did every time he
practiced his archery. She tested the tautness of her bow, the
weight of her arrow, and the direction of the wind. Her knowledge
impressed him. Her weight subtly shifted, but her skirt swished
around her ankles and alerted him to her change in
stance.

Fascination stilled him. He might
lose, but the loss of his money didn’t worry him. Her fingers
lifted off the bow and the arrow buzzed through the air true and
straight. He’d underestimated her. Her arrow sliced down the middle
of the other arrow and a collective gasp, followed by cheers and
groans filled the air. He wanted to cheer too, but jaded lords
didn’t cheer.

She whooped, her arms flying above her
head in victory and her feet leaving the ground with her
enthusiasm. He grinned as he watched her. She had real spirit. He
no longer gave a damn about needling his father. He wanted to get
to know this chit for her sake alone.

She faced him with a grin that lit her
whole face. The sight was breathtaking. “I thank you kindly for
your money,” she said. He grabbed her arm before she disappeared
into the swell of people wanting to congratulate her and those who
wanted a chance to earn their money back.


I’d still love for you to
come to my town home.”


To see your one piece of
art?” She tilted her head challengingly to the side.


No. To see my archery
collection.”


Oh!” The smile on her
face filled her eyes and made them shine like polished
bronze.


By God, you’re lovely.”
He’d not been so taken with a woman’s beauty since he’d been old
enough to understand women used their appearance to scheme and
manipulate.

Her light eyebrows tilted into two
twin arches as she gently pulled her arm from his grasp. “Thank
you.”


Miss Prattle,” her friend
said through clenched teeth. “Our hour is over.


Tell me your name,” Grey
insisted as his intriguing, blonde beauty started backing away from
him. He didn’t want her to go. Not yet.


You already know
it.”


Your real name,” he
amended, advancing toward her so she couldn’t simply vanish into
the thickening crowd. “I could call on you. Take you to the
theatre. Show you things you’ve probably only imagined.”

A lovely pink blush stained her
cheeks. “I’ve a great imagination.”


Then let’s explore it
together.” He didn’t give a damn how forward he sounded.


Enough!” her annoying
companion said. “We must go now. It’s been two hours.”


Two hours!” his beauty
gasped. “Dear me. I really must go, but thank you for the
offer.”

He sidestepped in front of her and
looked down into her upturned face. “Meet me here tomorrow,” he
said, desperate to ensure he would see her again. Her
indecisiveness showed as she bit on her lip. “I won’t let you leave
unless you agree.”


That’s
coercion.”


Whatever it takes.” He
loved the word “whatever”. It left so many intriguing possibilities
open to explore.


Please remember that
tomorrow.” She sidestepped around him.

A sense of satisfaction filled him.
“I’ll see you at the fountain at ten.”

Already a few steps away, she looked
over her shoulder. A frown marred her beautiful face. “Goodbye,
Lord Drivel.”

He loved that she was willing to play
the game. “Fair well, Miss Prattle.”

He watched her depart, her hips
rocking enticingly with each step, until he could see her no more.
If he was any other sort of man, he would have followed her all the
way to her carriage just for a few more minutes in her company.
Gravenhurst nudged him in the side. “Do you really think that piece
will meet you here?”


Of course I do. I’d not
have let her leave, otherwise.”

One Year Later

Windsor Castle

1805

 


Lady Madelaine, your
stitch is off again.” Queen Charlotte jabbed her needle into her
material and set her embroidery hoop on her lap. “Hand it to
me.”

With a quick glance at the queen’s
disapproving stare, Madelaine dismissed the idea of summoning
tears. The notion had been ridiculous anyway. After a year at Court
she knew better. The queen disliked her and no amount of crying
would ever change that.


Are you defying me, Lady
Madelaine?” Polite iciness, and perhaps a tad of hopefulness,
underlay the queen’s words.

Was she? Her fingers curled around her
wood hoop. Did she dare disobey the queen? Her heartbeat banged in
her ears. She could do it. Then she’d be ousted from Court and back
home where she actually had a friend, instead of here surrounded by
a hateful queen and equally cold ladies-in-waiting.

Life would be grand. The fantasy
disappeared, as always. Home was no escape. The worry she saw on
her father’s face the few times he’d visited her at Court would
become worse if she was sent home. She’d rather endure the lectures
and the loneliness than further sadden him.

The thumping in her ears lessened as
her fingers loosened and she handed her embroidery hoop to the
queen.


What’s this?” the queen
demanded.

She swallowed her pride, huge, bitter
pill that it was. “A disgrace, Your Majesty.”

The queen’s eyebrows raised high.
“Yours, to be sure.”

A spattering of nasty giggles erupted
around Madelaine. She should pretend not to notice, really she
should. But she just couldn’t do it. Her pride was definitely going
to be her downfall. Or perhaps her temper. It was an ongoing debate
in her head. She shot an icy glare to each lady who dared to meet
her narrowed gaze. Only three ladies out of four today? My, the
odds were improving. If she dismissed support as a requirement in a
friend she could now count Lady Elizabeth Adlard, whose gaze was
focused on her lap, as a friend. Madelaine nearly laughed. Ah,
well, at least Lady Elizabeth didn’t join in mocking
her.

Queen Charlotte stood, her silk skirts
falling in a swish at her ankles as she did. She handed Madelaine’s
now bare embroidery hoop to her. “Redo this and then you may join
us in the library and play the pianoforte for me.”

Madelaine gnashed her teeth. The queen
truly had it in for her today. She was worse at the pianoforte than
she was at embroidery. Yet there was a bit of hope. By the time she
redid her stitches the queen could well be tired of listening to
music and might want to go for a walk through the gardens or a
leisurely ride. Madelaine brightened considerably. She could walk
and sit with the best of them. “I’ll come to the library as soon as
I’m finished.”


One hour,” the queen
commanded and exited the room with the rest of the ladies on her
heel.

Well, all the ladies save one, but
Grace, with her venomous personality, was hardly a lady in
Madelaine’s mind.


Did you forget your
pitchfork, Grace?” Madelaine had learned the hard way to strike
first. She’d been the brunt of too many of Grace’s hurtful comments
to sit and wait like a fool for Grace’s razor-sharp tongue to lash
her.


Lady Grace.” Lady Grace
Frost enunciated each word like only someone who truly wasn’t a
lady would do.


So you keep saying,”
Madelaine murmured, “yet it seems to me true ladies have kind
hearts.”


Be sure to work slowly,
Madge. I’ve a bit of a headache and don’t think I can tolerate your
pounding on the keys today.”

In swirl of skirts and blonde hair,
Grace was gone. Madelaine snatched up her needle and spool of
thread and furiously pushed the pin into the fabric while indulging
the fantasy that Grace was the fabric. It was stupid to let Grace
upset her. That’s exactly what she wanted. Yet Madelaine was upset,
foolish or not.

When the clock struck the hour,
Madelaine stuffed her hoop into her embroidery box and trudged down
the hall. Lost in her own thoughts, it wasn’t until she was at the
library door that she realized how quiet it was. She entered the
library and could not help but gape at the empty room. Finally,
she’d hit on a bit of luck in a year of providence
drought.

She gazed at the rows of thousands of
books, and a sliver of anticipation raced through her. She hurried
toward the bookcase, but as her fingertips touched the first spine,
the distinct creak of the door being opened filled the room. Her
shoulders slumped. How ridiculously silly of her to hope for five
whole minutes alone. “I’m coming.” It was hard to make her tone
falsely pleasant.


Is that disappointment I
hear?”

Madelaine whirled toward the door and
blinked. Lady Elizabeth, with her head of curly black hair and
light blue eyes, smiled at her. “I’m not disappointed,” Madelaine
lied.


Really? I’d be if I’d
thought I was going to be alone for a bit and then my hopes were
dashed.”

That was exactly how Madelaine felt,
and this was the first time in a year anyone had made an effort to
have an actual friendly conversation with her. She could protect
herself from further hurt and ignore Lady Elizabeth or she could
take a chance and reach for the olive-branch. She was always one
for taking a chance. “Did the queen send you to retrieve
me?”

Lady Elizabeth grew serious. “Worse.
I’m to take you to the tower where you’re to be whipped for
insubordination.”


What?” Madelaine’s
stomach plummeted.

Lady Elizabeth moved further into the
room and took Madelaine’s free hand in her own. She studied
Madelaine. “Yes. Didn’t you know? A lady who cannot properly
embroider must be banished from polite society until she can master
the skill.”

BOOK: What A Rogue Wants
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