Read Online An Imperfect Proposal by Hayley Ann Solomon - Free Book Online Page B

“take.” For all her acceptable lineage, she was an antidote.
    No one— no one —had said anything about her being an entrancing beauty with lashes that she, Eugenia Ponteforth Luttlow, would have personally killed for. She might have scratched Amaryllis’s eyes out if she’d had the opportunity. Since she had not, she had spent the first weeks of this annoying marriage endeavoring to make the new countess a laughingstock. Now, she made her first grave mistake. She passed an uncomplimentary comment about Amaryllis to Stephen’s face, never dreaming that he would be offended.
    â€œHow is your little wallflower? How terribly dreary for you to have to marry such a creature!” Lady Luttlow tittered seductively and fanned herself with an ivory creation topped with seven curling plumes in seven dashing colors. Stephen, who had been about to explore Lady Luttlow’s scant bodice, now straightened himself up coldly.
    â€œI will not have you speak that way of my wife.”
    A trilling laugh greeted this comment.
    â€œOh, but how perfectly sweet! The . . . countess . . . has a gallant at her disposal. So medieval, don’t you think?”
    The earl, who had not missed the hesitation over “countess” nor the veiled hint that Amaryllis needed a defender, closed his eyes.
    He was unused to such waves of anger as he was experiencing. It had obviously not for a moment struck Lady Luttlow that he might actually like his wife. That his paramour should feel patronizing was simply too much for him. Suddenly, he found her scent more than just overpowering—it was nauseating, and he could not help but notice the fine lines that creased her forehead and eyelids, but were penciled over in alabaster paint. None of these details had ever concerned him, but even her buxom advantages seemed to have lost their thrall.
    Perhaps because he was comparing them with soft, shy, rounded curves . . . but he must not think thus! He opened his eyes and stood up coldly.
    â€œMy lady, I think you and I have reached the end of our acquaintance. You will find I am not ungenerous if you call upon my banker, Hargreaves and Fireston on the morrow.”
    Lady Luttlow paled. Her veiled threats had been meant as a taunt, not to be taken at face value! Stephen was every courtesan’s dream—generous, handsome and seasoned enough not to be a tiresome greenhorn. There was every advantage to maintaining the alliance,
    The only other men on her horizon was Lord Fortesque, who no one—simply no one—could compare with Stephen, and Mr. Gregory Dacks, who was a skinflint. She seethed, but was careful enough not to show Stephen her extreme displeasure. Instead, she leaned over very calculatedly, so his view of her charms was really first-rate. She tried a childish giggle at his silly humor, but when that wouldn’t fadge, she became cloyingly seductive so that Stephen had to literally hold her at arm’s length, his masculine strength obvious with every tensed muscle.
    This galvanized Lady Luttlow into even more panic at her loss. Unfortunately, it also caused her to forget that jealousy was not a particularly enticing trait. She fought to narrow the gap between them challengingly. Then, in a low voice, she spat out her fury.
    â€œWhat? So leg-shackled to that . . . that . . . creature that you cannot see the advantages of experience over youth? It is not as if she is a diamond of the first water! Far from it! She failed to take this Season and if it were not for your intervention she would very likely be packed off to Bath with no more hope of a match than . . .”
    â€œThan yourself?” Stephen’s tone was smooth and belied his sudden desire to catch Lady Luttlow at her jeweled throat and throttle her. He did not, of course, but Eugenia was in no doubt about his restraint.
    Seething at the insult, she threw a pot at Stephen. It was made of the finest porcelain from Sevres and inlaid