Read Online My Wicked Marquess by Gaelen Foley - Free Book Online

black-haired stranger out her mind for the moment. The time had come for their long-awaited confrontation.
    Still a few yards off through the crowd, Albert narrowed his eyes threateningly at the sunny-tempered Jonathon, looking him over in disdain.
    â€œI say!” Jono murmured, but to Daphne, the menacing look at her best friend only ignited her ire.
    â€œJonathon, dear, would you mind fetching me a cup of punch?” she ground out, staring at her jilted suitor.
    â€œStar, I’m not afraid of—”
    â€œGo. I don’t want you getting drawn into this.”
    â€œI’ll not leave you—”
    â€œI can handle him. He can’t challenge me to a duel.”
    â€œDuel?” Jonathon echoed with a gulp, turning to her, wide-eyed. “Do you really think—”
    â€œI’d really like some punch. Now .”
    He hesitated. “Well, as much as I adore you, old girl, I-I do rather value my life.”
    â€œJust go!”
    He bobbed his head in a sheepish nod and disappeared without further insistence. Daphne was glad.
    The last thing she needed was Albert and his brothers making a target out of innocent, harmless Jonathon. Her fashionable friend was no warrior, and besides, he had had nothing to do with all this.
    Her gloved fists clenched by her sides, the sharp words she had prepared for Albert sizzling on the tip of her tongue, she waited for him to reach her, eager to give the cad a piece of her mind at last.
    But then, all of a sudden, just a few feet ahead, her rescuerfrom yesterday stepped between them, heading crosswise into the Carew brothers’ path.
    Without warning, and seemingly by accident, he rammed Albert hard with his shoulder, causing his drink to slosh. “Oh, pardon, frightfully sorry,” he apologized at once in a lavish, velvet tone.
    â€œWatch where you’re going!”
    Daphne sucked in her breath and stared. Zounds, he’s at it again!
    Albert turned on him in outrage, flicking wine off his hand. “Are you blind, you fool?”
    â€œNo harm intended, my good fellow, do forgive me,” the man soothed, his voice low-pitched and urbane.
    She detected a hint of treachery in his silken words.
    â€œI was just on my way to meet a friend,” he said. “But—wait.” The stranger halted, studying him with a keen stare. “Don’t I know you?”
    â€œWhat?” Albert muttered, giving him a contemptuous glance. “No. I don’t believe so.”
    Daphne watched in fascination, though impatient for her turn to vent her wrath on her former suitor.
    â€œYes, of course,” the stranger said all of a sudden. “You are Lord Albert Carew, are you not?”
    â€œYes. Why, yes, I am.” Albert drew himself up, looking exceedingly proud of this fact, though he was not quite tall enough to meet the stranger eye to eye.
    â€œYou all three are sons of the late Duke of Holyfield if I am not mistaken?” He glanced around at the Carew brothers.
    Daphne sensed trouble.
    â€œIndeed, we are,” Richard, the youngest, declared.
    â€œAnd you are?” Albert prompted with a haughty air.
    â€œCome, don’t you recognize me?” the stranger countered with a knowing smile. “Look into my eyes. It was a long time ago…Think. It will come back to you, I’m very sure.”
    Daphne barely realized she had been holding her breath. She had no idea what all this was about, but she felt more going on here than met the eye. In any case, their meeting right in front of her gave her the furtive chance to study herrescuer at closer range.
    The overall expression of his very masculine, rectangular face was one of intensity and precision. His chiseled features were well-formed, his nose and chin both large and definite, balanced by his knife-hilt cheekbones, angular jaw, and thick, dark, feathery eyebrows.
    His black lashes, short and thick, rimmed his gray-green eyes. Albert stared for a