Read Online Improper English by Katie MacAlister - Free Book Online

turned her way, but his eyes passed unseeing over her.
    “Sirrah, you have dishonored a lady. For that you will die upon the morrow,” Sir Thomas bellowed as he came to a stop before Raoul, throwing his glove at the duke.
    Lord Raoul’s ebony brows rose in mock surprise. “Youannoy me, Cholmondley-Featherstonehough, you really do. Begone, puppy.”
    “You refuse to give me satisfaction?”
    Lady Rowena pushed forward between two matrons, the better to witness the scene. She was thrilled to death that dear, sweet Thomas—her childhood friend—had taken her seduction by the manly-thighed Raoul as a slight against her honor, but truthfully she didn’t want him hurt. Not seriously, anyway. Perhaps just a romantic dueling scar or two, although there was no doubt Raoul would be the victor should Thomas successfully call him out.
    “I refuse.”
    “Coward!”
    Raoul took one long step forward and picked the baronet up by his neckcloth. “No man calls me that and lives to tell about it!”
    “Then accept the challenge, damn you!” croaked Sir Thomas. Rowena gasped again, clutching her lace handkerchief to her mouth. Would he? Could he? Would her dashing Lord Raoul risk his life on her account?
    Raoul tossed Sir Thomas across the room with a flick of his manly wrists. “I’ve dishonored no lady. Begone! You bore me.”
    “You’ve taken Lady Rowena—”
    “Rowena is no lady!” Raoul growled, and without a glance at her, he turned on his heel and strode from the room. Rowena tried very, very hard to faint.
    “Ow!”
    “ Peste! If you’d just sit still, that wouldn’t happen.”
    I rubbed my ear, looking with dismay at the spot of blood on my fingers.
    “It’s just a tiny little nick, nothing to fuss over.”
    I rubbed my ear again and glared in the mirror at Manuel. “I had to get the next chapter out of my bag. You want to find out what happens to Rowena, don’t you?”
    “Oh, certainly, certainly. But you can read and sit still, yes?”
    “Fine. What do you think of it so far?”
    Manuel paused in combing my wet hair and tipped his head to the side while he considered my reflection in the mirror. He pursed his lips. He tugged on his earlobe. He made a rude body noise, flagged his hands in the air while muttering an apology, and then said, “It’s too slow, too boring. Bland, you know, tame, just like your hair when you came in here—that awful blunt cut! Not you, darling, just not you. What you need is something exciting and adventurous. I think you should have a mysterious Spaniard, you know, something gothic, like Rebecca —that’s all the rage now! Now, that was a movie, and the clothes! Oh, God, the clothes were to die for!”
    “Gothic? You think I should add mystery to my book?” I looked down at the manuscript pages in my hands, wondering whether he thought I should add excitement and adventure to my life, my hair, or my story. Probably all three. “I suppose I could add a touch of mystery, if you think it will pick the story up.”
    “Oh, yes! Yes! Definitely. Sit back, would you? No, head up, darling. Yes, a bit of mystery, that always makes a story just sing, don’t you think? A mysterious Spanish lover—now, that’s just a grand idea. Something exotic and unexpected, you know, always brings interest to an audience. I always try to bring the exotic and unexpected to my shows. Bully, bring me that mousse, will you? No,not that one, the industrial-strength one. No, no! Oh, hell, I’ll get it, you’ll never find it as long as you’re wearing those ridiculous purple glasses.” Manuel patted me on the shoulder. “You just sit tight, chica, and I’ll be back in two tickety-boos.”
    “Alex was right,” I grumbled as the famed Manuel Sorby-Ruiz waggled off to get the industrial-strength mousse.
    “What was he right about?”
    I glanced over to where Isabella was sitting in the chair next to mine, flipping through a fashion magazine. “He said that some things sound silly when