Read Online A Fool Again by Eloisa James - Free Book Online

rise in her cheeks. “Ah, but I have a remarkable memory,” he said.
    That slow smile of his ought to be banned! Genevieve seemed to be powerless to look away. He had her hand again and was raising it to his lips. “I seem to remember . . . everything about you.”
    â€œIt was black currants, not blackberries,” Genevieve said, and was horrified to find that her voice came out a husky whisper.
    â€œWhy would you ever wish to change your hair?” His eyes seemed genuinely puzzled. “It’s the most beautiful stuff I’ve seen in my life. India is full of silks, but I never saw anything to rival this.” He touched a curl with one finger.
    Genevieve swallowed. It had been a perfectly reasonable attempt to replace her streaked hair with a rippling shade of black. But when Tobias Darby looked at her hair, she couldn’t imagine why she’d ever wanted black hair.
    â€œSurely you remember,” he said, his voice a mere whisper of sound. “Your hair—in the carriage? I don’t seem to be able to forget, no matter how many years pass.”
    A shiver ran down Genevieve’s back. He had been enchanted by her curls, nuzzled them, kissed them, draped her hair over his body and hers, and all the time the carriage had rocked on toward Gretna Green, where he was to make her his wife.
    But that had never happened.
    She drew herself up and snatched her hand away. “If you will excuse me, Mr. Darby,” she said with spurious politeness. “While it is always interesting to discuss childhood memories, I believe my fiancé is waiting for me.”
    And then she marched over to Felton, her slim back indignant. But Tobias grinned after her. She remembered, all right.

Chapter 6
Bartholomew Fair
    G enevieve dressed for her afternoon appointment with Tobias Darby full of misgivings. Why on earth was she allowing him to escort her? He was clearly just as wild as he ever was. Honesty compelled her to admit that she had a strange susceptibility to his charms, even given that he wasn’t nearly as handsome as Felton, and he had none of Felton’s cultured charm. Felton merely had to look at her with a glimmer of approval and Genevieve felt as if he’d given her all her Christmas presents rolled into one smile. Whereas Tobias never looked at her with approval, only with lust. He’d been out of place in the village when they’d been growing up, and now he was desperately out of place in London: too large, too fast-moving, too lustful. Really, it was exhausting even being around him. A woman had to be constantly on her guard, or he would have her flat on her back in the public gardens.
    Well, that wasn’t going to happen again, Genevieve told herself. She was not that type of woman. No, she was Lucius Felton’s intended wife. He had asked for her hand in a placid, urbane fashion of which she utterly approved. So why was she wasting her time with Tobias Darby?
    Precisely at two o’clock Genevieve traipsed down the stairs, wearing a walking dress of pale, pale blue muslin, trimmed with white lace. It was as demure as it was docile, especially with a matching cloak in blue sarsenet. She carried a lace parasol that came to a sharp point (excellent for warding off men with lascivious intentions). From the tips of her blue slippers to the ribbons plaited into her hair, there was nothing about her that would inspire a man’s lust.
    So there was no explanation for the slow burn that danced in Tobias’s eyes. That darkening shade of blue made her feel uneasy and happy, all at once. He’s a blackguard, Genevieve reminded herself. The man is so lascivious that he even ogles ladies whose necklines approach their ears.
    â€œI trust this will be a quite brief outing,” she said, walking down the front steps toward his carriage with her parasol opened and pointed in his direction in case he intended to lunge at her. “I must return to dress for