Read Online Don't Tempt Me by Loretta Chase - Free Book Online Page B

everyone in the club tried to be subtle. They were all wild to learn the truth of what had happened at Lexham House, but none dared to ask him outright. Instead they all probed, oh so delicately.
    All, that is, except his mad aunt Sophronia.
    In a logical universe, she would be firmly excluded from Almack’s. But mental imbalance was not necessarily a disqualification. In Lady Sophronia de Grey’s case, it was quite the opposite. The patronesses couldn’t have kept her out if they tried, and they were too terrified of her to even think of trying.
    Tonight, as always, she wore black: an evening dress trimmed with all the magnificent excess of fashionable grief. As always, too, she was swimming in diamonds. He didn’t know which of her swains had given them to her or when or why. Aunt Sophronia’s past was a mystery he wasn’t sure he wanted to solve.
    He’d danced with one after another lady dying of curiosity about his visit to Lexham House, and he’d amused himself by deflecting the unsubtle interrogations with his customary wit. The assembly was approaching its final stage when Lady Sophronia at last noticed him and/or remembered who he was. She raised a black-gloved, diamond-studded hand and beckoned.
    He excused himself from the group of ladies trying in vain to get a decisive answer from him and moved to where his aunt presided, black plumes bobbing atopher faded blonde hair. About her stood an assortment of ladies of various ages, diplomats, poets, cabinet ministers, and rakes. All wore the bewildered expression usually observed in those who found themselves in Lady Sophronia de Grey’s orbit.
    When he neared, she waved them away, employing the same gesture he’d used to eject the fellow from his favorite chair at White’s.
    â€œYou, sir,” she said.
    He bowed. “Yes, Auntie,” he said. “It is I. Your nephew Marchmont.”
    â€œI know who you are, absurd boy. What’s this I hear about your marrying a snake charmer?”
    â€œI think not,” said he.
    He could hear whispers from those straining to hear the conversation: I think not would be making its way swiftly to the other end of the ballroom.
    â€œNo Duke of Marchmont ever married a snake charmer,” she said. “And I never thought of you as revolutionary. We may have been French once, but it was a very long time ago, and would we still have our heads, is the question? Quite unnecessary. Only consider the Americans. They shot and stabbed and hanged us like proper gentlemen. Have you met the American ambassador? A pleasant man, but confused.”
    Most people became that way when attempting discourse with Lady Sophronia.
    â€œShe is not from America, is she?” his aunt went on. “They are agreeable enough girls.” She looked about her. “I saw one of them a minute ago. Quite pretty. But I can’t help thinking they’re not English. And then I wonder, ‘Who put it into their heads notto be English?’ Well, then, who is it, young Lucien? If it isn’t a snake charmer, it must be somebody else.”
    â€œYour logic, as always, is irrefutable,” he said. “It is not only somebody else but something else entirely.”
    He didn’t know where or how the rumor of his marrying Zoe had started, but it didn’t surprise him. Members of the ton received much of their gossip via servants. The version that reached aristocratic ears tended to bear small resemblance to the original.
    Some of Lexham’s servants must have heard Zoe’s marriage proposal or had heard there was a proposal. This being exciting news, they’d wasted no time in passing it on.
    He saw no harm in letting the rumor drift for a time through the Beau Monde. Society would find itself viewing Zoe not as the Harem Girl but as, possibly, the future Duchess of Marchmont. Once they pictured her in that way, it would be difficult to wrench their minds back to Harem