Read Online A Tale of Two Lovers by Maya Rodale - Free Book Online

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    Handsome. Mysterious. Brilliant. No wonder Annabelle sighed every time he walked into the room. And with his arm in a sling—thanks to the bullet he took in the duel—he was even rougher, more dashing.
    Julianna couldn’t look away from the white linen sling. It was a stark contrast against his dark gray jacket. At the sight of him injured, she felt her stomach ache. Yet she had to admit he wore it well. The pride with which he displayed his wounded arm was obvious; he had fought for his paper, and had walked away with his life, and everyone knew it.
    Annabelle sighed upon seeing him, as she always did. Hopeless infatuation didn’t even begin to describe her feelings for him.
    “Ladies first,” he said, grinning, and beginning this meeting as all others. That small measure of normalcy was much needed to slice through the tension.
    When it was her turn, Julianna watched Mr. Knightly’s reaction carefully as she said, “Roxbury has demanded again that I print an apology and a retraction.”
    Roxbury could demand whatever he wanted, she thought, but that did not mean she would provide it. The room hushed, awaiting Mr. Knightly’s reply.
    “This ongoing battle between papers and the scandal with Roxbury has been great for sales,” Knightly remarked.
    “Scandal equals sales,” they all chanted in unison, although without their usual enthusiasm, because scandal had gotten someone shot. It was practically Knightly’s personal motto, and definitely that of the paper.
    “Aye,” Mr. Knightly said with a grin.
    That was all the permission she needed to write whatever she wished about the great rake, Lord Roxbury.
    At the thought of him, she pressed her fingertips to her lips, as if she might still feel his own mouth there. That kiss . . . like Roxbury, it was dangerous to her sanity, her equilibrium, and her place in the world. It could not happen again, and she knew just how to ensure that it would not.

Chapter 9
     
    The apartment of Jocelyn Kemble, actress
    A few days later
     
    “O h, good morning, Roxbury,” Jocelyn purred. She sat in bed, under the pale blue covers and resting against large fluffy pillows. Her golden hair fell in waves around her pretty face. She wore a cinnamon-colored silk wrapper, and Lord only knew what else underneath. Had he not been in such a temper, Roxbury would have tried to find out.
    “It is not a good morning,” he corrected and then tossed that morning’s issue of The Weekly onto her lap.
    Every word the damned Lady of Distinction printed was worse than the last. He wouldn’t really give a damn, either, except for that ultimatum. His father had sent a letter—to his club—in which he wrote that he dared not anticipate which lady’s or lord’s bedchamber he was in, but scandal notwithstanding he still expected a marriage in three weeks’ time or access to family funds would cease.
    Three weeks!
    That letter was doused in brandy and tossed in the fireplace.
    Something had to be done. Roxbury was not a man to stand idly by. He was beginning to understand why Edward had quit high society, his station, and his family obligations. Roxbury could always join the army, but he was rather fond of comforts and women.
    Leaning against one of the mahogany posts at the foot of Jocelyn’s massive bed, he listened as she read the Lady of Distinction’s offensive and belittling words aloud.
    “Lord R—insists that I owe him an apology and a retraction! As I am an obliging, kind-hearted Lady of Distinction, I shall offer the irate rake that which he desires. I’m so very sorry that my idle chatter has led the ton to the conclusion he insists is false.”
    Jocelyn giggled upon reading it, then recalling his presence, quickly schooled her features into an appropriately concerned and consoling expression.
    “That is horrible,” she said gravely. The corners of her mouth twitched, no doubt with suppressed laughter. He wished he could have a sense of humor about this whole