Page 64 of Wicked Designs
In seconds she was laughing again. It was too odd to believe, she and the infamous Duke of Essex were entangled together, laughing and teasing. It was how she’d always believed love would be like.
The stormy passion in his eyes softened when she smiled at him. “Come on. We ought to catch up with the others.”
Emily climbed off his lap.
They started to walk, and without a word, Godric slipped his hand into hers, their fingers lacing as if the world had always meant them to be together.
CHAPTER 12
Thomas Blankenship stood in the parlor of Evangeline Mirabeau’s townhouse, admiring the woman. She reclined on a chaise and watched him through hooded eyes painted an unusual, rich, honey-colored hazel. Her curves—large breasts and shapely legs, revealed through a dampened muslin gown in thin blue—could easily harden a man. Her pale blonde hair curled in perfect ringlets down her neck and back.
Blankenship smiled. It was no surprise that this courtesan had been the Duke of Essex’s lover for a year and then some. If Blankenship didn’t contain such a hatred for whores, he would be tempted to sate his desires between this woman’s thighs. Evangeline had the body of a siren, one that beckoned men to perish upon the rocks at sea, but she lacked Emily’s innocence and sweet nature. He craved that, needed to bathe in it, let it soothe the beast which rampaged in his head.
“MonsieurBlankenship, we have not met, have we?” Alilting, sultry French, Evangeline’s accent alone would have swayed most men. She must have entertained Essex in his bed in ways innocent little Emily Parr never would, unless the duke took the time to teach her. Blankenship certainly hoped he would. It would make his own claiming of her all the sweeter.
“No, Miss Mirabeau, we have not yet had the pleasure. But we share a mutual acquaintance—the Duke of Essex.”
Evangeline’s eyes narrowed. “Oh? And how did you come to meet His Grace?” She spit out her words with all the friendliness of a viper. The duke had burned this lovely bridge and Blankenship would benefit from the destruction.
“He and I crossed paths when he stole something that belongs to me.”
She laughed harshly. “His Grace, steal? Impossible,Monsieur. Whatever he wants, he acquires, either by charm or money. Steal?Mais non.”
“Ahh, but he has changed, Miss Mirabeau. What he stole from me is the reason I have come to see you.”
Evangeline lifted a hand to idly gaze at her nails, but the faintest blush in her cheeks revealed her interest. “Moi? Pourquoi? I have not been with His Grace for the last six months. What has he stolen from you,Monsieur?”
“A young lady.”
Essex’s ex-mistress started.
“He has stolen a young lady from me.”
“A young lady?”
“Yes. Her name is Emily Parr, and her uncle is in debt to me, as well as His Grace. Essex decided toabduct Miss Parr from her uncle, who has refused to pay him. Since she is my property, I want her back.”
She moved to rest her hand on her hip, smoothing the silk as she did so.
“How do you know he stole this girl?”
“He wrote her uncle a note.” Blankenship approached her and passed her a piece of paper, which she studied.
“This is Godric’s handwriting, written in his left hand. A school boy trick.”
“Yes. I took the magistrate to his estate, but we were unable to find her. They must have hidden her.”
“They?” Evangeline raised an eyebrow.
“He had his League—” he choked back the urge to spit “—with him.”
“Did he? Then it is no surprise. Those men are stubbornly loyal to one another.” Her derisive tone and the flare of bitterness in her eyes was a pleasant surprise.
She would be an excellent ally.
“What do you want from me,Monsieur?”
“I would like to employ you in a scheme that would return Miss Parr to me, and perhaps give you the chance to win Essex back.”
