Page 21 of Lord Ashley's Beautiful Alibi
“Yes, lax,” she purred. “Eager. You would be, too.”
He was already.
“Needy and urgent to have all the pleasures of life.” She made a moue of such charm, his cock stood straight up. “To have them now without delay, because tomorrow you may be gone to the darkest hell.”
He flinched.
She saw it. “I know. You English do not torture each other. Not like we do.” She took a long drink of her wine and gazed out upon the partiers with a disdain he knew they should not see in her. Wisely, she shook it off.
“Do you think of yourself as French?” he asked her for diversion from his raging need to capture her words as they left her tongue. Damn, he was grateful that this frock coat covered his flies. That she did not notice was his blessing.
She waved her crystal flute before her. “Half. I am a bastard.”
He startled. “I’m sorry, I don’t—”
“I shocked you. I do apologize. Tell me you do not know my life story.”
As a challenge, it was a good one. He would not lie. It would not benefit him one iota. “I do know you are twenty-one. You came to Paris when you were five.”
“Very good. Your British informants are accurate. I am honored to be among those who matter to the government. Do you know more?”
“You returned to your home and your parents in ’92.”
“Hmmm.” She sipped her own wine. “Aunt Cecily sent me to London at the start of Robespierre’s Terror. Do you know my parents?”
“No.” That was the truth. He’d never met any of the Boltons who were related to the dukes of Wharton. Infamous rakes, all.
“Keep it that way, do. You will be better for it. They were—theyareno better than many of Robespierre’s ghouls. To answer your question, I like to think of myself as French. But, of course, my birth certificate says I belong in the parish of St. George’s in Mayfair. I am a creature of my surroundings. I belong to no one but myself. I belong wherever I am. A creature of every place and no place. Of everyone’s and no one’s.” She whirled toward him. “Tell me you don’t know this.”
“I learned the facts, not your feelings…until now.”
“You are bold to be honest,” she said.
He knew she said it as truth and as praise. “I should like to be bolder. Will you be honest?”
“Try me,” she said in that mellow tone, her lips caressing the words that could lure a villain to surrender to her charms.
“Why are you here?”
With the arch of one dark brow, she said, “It is my aunt’s house.”
Point avoided.“And talking to me?”
Her gaze grew warm, and the charm was as real as her evasion. “Because you are my aunt’s guest.”
Point deflected.“Of course.” He lifted his glass, done with the direct approach. “Tell me about the group there. The men.” He indicated those who played with the saucy female trio.
“Men of the Bourse. Would you like to meet them?”
The bankers. “Should I do that here?”
“I think it would behoove you.”
“Why?”
“Don’t you need to know everyone to better understand your chances of success? After all, in your previous endeavors, were you not…shall we say, focused on privacy? Now you need to count on your sociability.”
He gave a laugh. “I hope you do not think I am sent here with my so-called previous endeavor as my blank paper to do as I will?”
