Read Online Reckless Viscount by Amy Sandas - Free Book Online Page B

He could so easily imagine her naked, her pale limbs spread out on yards of emerald-green velvet, her hair a cloud of subtle fire around her head and her eyes staring up at him with heat and anticipation swirling in their depths.
    Leif stuffed his hands down deeper into the pockets of his coat in an attempt to control the lust that flashed through his body. One of his fists punched right through the seam of the worn pocket with a great tearing sound.
    He growled his sudden frustration out loud, causing a strolling couple to glance at him nervously as they passed by him on the sidewalk. He just quickened his steps, hoping his club would offer up at least one lamb vulnerable to a fleecing. His financial situation was once again teetering on the edge of desperation.

Chapter Seven
    Following the Carmichael ball dozens of calling cards and invitations to routs and soirees arrived at the Blackbourne townhouse. After leaving Lord Riley in the darkened hallway, Abbigael had proceeded through the evening with a renewed sense of purpose. She danced and laughed and charmed all who came into contact with her.
    It had been exhausting but successful. And since then, Abbigael had been out nearly every night. She finally understood why Lady Blackbourne had insisted upon having additional gowns made upon their arrival in town.
    Tonight she and the countess attended another ball with the earl graciously playing escort. It was nearly midnight. Early by London standards. The Season was in almost in full swing and every London hostess vied to claim ownership of the not-to-be-missed event of the year, so this ball was even grander and more ostentatious than the last.
    Within minutes of their arrival, suitors began vying for a place on Abbigael’s dancing card. After a few hours, several promising gentlemen had taken to gathering around her whenever she was not dancing. Abbigael should have been delighted in the success of her launch into London society, but she could not shake the wary perception that the attention was too superficial. She worried that even after a couple of weeks she had yet to garner more concrete interest from any of the young men beyond curious flirtation.
    Of course, news of her fortune had certainly cast a wide net, but she had to believe some of her suitors might have a genuine interest in her beyond her hefty dowry. She could be passably charming when she chose to be, she was a politician’s daughter after all. And these aristocratic peers didn’t seem to be put off by her freckles or the slight brogue in her voice. She had in fact become quite popular.
    But she hadn’t encountered anyone who seemed to be the match she sought.
    And it worried her.
    Perhaps she had set her sights too high in hoping for a sincere connection of friendship at least, if not something involving more romantic feelings. Had she been foolish to think she might find love in the dazzling ballrooms of London?
    Even as she laughed and danced and engaged in the acceptable forms of flirtatious conversation, she felt as if she were treading across a thin layer of ice that could shatter beneath her at any moment. She tried to convince herself that she was letting unfounded fear cloud reality. She told herself she had earned her liberation and that this was just a glimpse of what her life could be going forward. Bright, glittering. Full of gaiety.
    Unfortunately, the years of her life since adolescence did not lend strength to such a cheerful vision. She knew well how quickly things could take a dreadful turn. And tonight, she couldn’t shake the sense that there was something malevolent coiled up, waiting to strike. In the midst of her success, as she waltzed around the ballrooms and traded witty quips and warm smiles with eligible bachelors, her ears remained pricked for the faint hiss of venomous whispers. And every once in a while, she scanned the ballroom as if seeking out a skulking enemy.
    So when she first caught sight of Lord Atwood standing