Read Online Confessions of a Scoundrel by Karen Hawkins - Free Book Online Page A

breathless.
    James’s gaze narrowed. “And?”
    â€œAnd what?” she asked, her cheeks suddenly hot. “That’s all.”
    â€œHm.” James regarded her shrewdly. “I see. What are you going to do with that bank draft if you don’t mean to make good on it?”
    She tilted her head to one side and considered all the possibilities. “Perhaps I should frame it and put it on display.” She walked across the room and held the draft against the corner of the glass mirror that hung over the mantel. “Right here. That way no one who comes into this room can fail to see it.”
    â€œYou wouldn’t!”
    â€œOr perhaps…” She went to the front window. “I could have it hung here, so that the light will illuminate his signature, not to mention that it can be seen from the street below.”
    â€œYou are going to cause a scandal.”
    She shrugged. “So? I’m not a part of polite society; what would I care?”
    â€œBut Brandon St. John is. You think to humiliate him.”
    â€œI think to teach him a lesson. A very badly needed one.”
    James laughed reluctantly. “Lud, Ver! I’m beginning to feel sorry for the man.”
    â€œYou should. I intend to bring him to his knees.” That was a pretty picture, indeed—Brandon St. John, crawling on his knees, begging her to…to what? To kiss him again? “Hm. Maybe I should hold a dinner party in honor of the great St. John’s munificence. It would be rather humorous if oneor two people knew of his visit today. It is an amusing tale.”
    He grinned. “You should be careful about teasing St. John. You will draw the ire of the entire family if you aren’t careful.”
    â€œI already have. But this…” She pulled the check through her fingers and smiled, thinking of Brandon St. John’s face when he discovered that he was being ridiculed.
    There were always those among the demimonde who were marginally accepted by the ton . If she could invite the right people, the story would spread quickly indeed. “My next dinner party is next Tuesday. I shall invite just ten or twelve people. But ten or twelve very talkative people.”
    â€œAgossip fest.” James sent her a shrewd glance. “Are you certain St. John didn’t do something else to heat your temper? Something more than just offering you this money? You seem vindictive; a woman scorned.”
    â€œI’ve never been scorned in my life.” Scoffed at, perhaps, and thought to be “that kind” of woman. But never scorned.
    James raised his brows. “Remember when you were ten and you thought I was the one who’d stolen your new shoes? You snuck into my room and glued all of my shoes to the floor.”
    â€œThat was years ago,” Verena said loftily. She’d progressed far beyond that. Now when she wanted revenge, she made sure it poked the person in the right places.
    James quirked a brow. “Do you want a more recent example? What about the day before youmarried Westforth? You accused me of stealing the two rather expensive bottles of wine you were saving for—”
    â€œIt wasn’t wine, it was port. And you did steal them. I found the empty bottles in your room.”
    â€œYou enacted the most horrible revenge.”
    She grinned. “Ants.” That had been one of her better days.
    He didn’t smile. “They bite, you know.”
    â€œThey do not! Not that kind, anyway. It was all your imagination.” She chuckled. “You should have seen yourself! Running across the churchyard, tearing off your breeches right in front of poor Lady Birlington. She screamed loud enough to wake the dead, though I noticed she didn’t bother to look away.”
    James gave a reluctant grin. “She still writes to me, you know.”
    â€œI’m not surprised. I thought she was going to jump into that pond after