Read Online A Most Improper Rumor by Emma Wildes - Free Book Online

still an hour away from the position of the hands on the ormolu clock on the mantel.
    The symbolism of the dream did not escape him. It wasn’t that he fancied himself a philosopher, but no particular genius was needed to decipher that panicked sensation of sudden loss, of the swift and utter abandonment, of the desolation of solitude.
    Angelina had her demons and so did he. That hers were obvious to the world and his were not made no difference.
    Kindred souls. Yes, he thought she was the most gloriously lovely woman he’d ever seen, and he desired her beyond rational thought, beyond propriety, beyond anything he valued in his life; but he also found music in her laugh, a singular enchantment when he looked into her silver eyes, and, most important, peace in her presence, even when they were both silent and absorbed in other tasks.
    And he very much longed for peace.
    How unjust was it that he’d found the right woman and couldn’t have her? Oh, he’d had her in a literal sense, many times, with heated desire, with slow tenderness, with feverish need . . . but he wanted to keep her. Not own her, never that, but to make her his in every way possible, so that instead of sharing her with the world, they shared the world together.
    Poetic, he thought in cynical humor at his own romantic musings, one shoulder braced against the window frame and his brooding gaze fastened on the rooftops as the sun came up.
    A busy day lay ahead. He was meeting with the king’s advisers to discuss a construction project, the designs for which were not quite complete. Since it seemed unlikely he’d go back to sleep, he might as well get dressed and go downstairs to his study.
    A mere two hours later, when Christopher was finishing his first cup of coffee, the Earl of Heathton was announced by his scandalized butler. True, the hour was appallingly early by the standards of their class, but he didn’t care about that as he’d been up since before the first hint of daylight. It was more they didn’t know each other all that well and the call that startled him was unprecedented.
    When his lordship strolled in, Christopher abandoned his diagrams and estimates and rose to indicate a seat. “Heathton. Please sit down.”
    “Thank you.” Benjamin Wallace unerringly chose the best chair, sank into it, and negligently crossed his booted feet. “Forgive the unorthodox hour, but I knew you would be up.”
    Considering the slightness of their acquaintance, that was a surprising assumption, but before he could ask why his unexpected guest presumed that, Heathton silenced him with the question, “Why is it you are so assured that Lady DeBrooke is not a bloodthirsty creature who poisons her husbands?”
    So Heathton understands not only my morning habits but knows of the affair I haven’t mentioned to a single soul?
    Admittedly at a loss for a moment, Christopher looked at the man sitting so nonchalantly across from him and weighed his answer. The earl seemed content to wait, his expression unfathomable, his tall body relaxed.
    He finally chose a noncommittal reply. “In court, in front of a magistrate of some renown, they failed to convince him that she did. Why, pray tell, do you ask me?”
    “You are her lover, and you wish to marry her. Taking that into consideration, I must also consider that you are a man of some intelligence and wonder why you are so convinced she is not a threat. Others don’t agree. I am still musing over the matter but am inclined to take your side. To that end, give me your reasons as long as they are not solely based upon passion.”
    Passion. Yes, he and Angelina did have that. The first time he’d seen her in that drawing room, her chin high but her magnificent eyes slightly downcast, he had not known who she was. All he’d seen was the single most compelling beauty yet in his twenty-seven years, her figure gracefully elegant, her gown modest, her lustrous hair simply done because she really needed no ornament.