Read Online Ruthless by Anne Stuart - Free Book Online Page B

“You’re the Comte de Giverney.” She was determined not to show any fear. “Apparently you consort with the devil, have orgies and drink the blood of virgins. According to gossip you’re sin itself.”
    The smile, which had been oddly pleasant and evencomforting despite the scar, turned cool. “Sorry to disappoint you, Miss Harriman. I realize I look like the very devil, but in fact I’m nothing more than an untitled gentleman with an ugly face and empty pockets. Charles Reading, at your service.”
    She could feel the color flood her face. “You’re not the demon king?”
    â€œI’m afraid not.” He shook his head. “No, he’s busy entertaining your sister.”

5
    F or a moment Lydia didn’t move. “You’re not ugly,” she said. Before he could respond to that she went on. “And what’s the comte going to do with my sister? I presume the stories are just that—stories made up to scare children into behaving.”
    â€œDo they work? Are you properly terrified?”
    â€œI left my childhood behind years ago, Mr. Reading.” At that moment they were interrupted by the procession of people carrying her mother into the house. She was struggling, swearing and spitting, her waif-thin body unnaturally strong, and one of the men carrying her cursed when she managed to land a blow. A moment later they disappeared into the bedroom, Nanny Maude following them and closing the door behind her.
    She turned to look back at Reading. He had dark eyes, and he was watching her with curiosity and no pity whatsoever. “How long has your mother had the pox?”
    â€œI don’t know,” she said, unable to pull her gazeaway from him. For a penniless gentleman he was quite elegant, from his high cheekbones to the glossy boots he wore. The left side of his face had an almost unearthly beauty; the scar on the right had healed badly, turning that beauty into a travesty.
    â€œA duel,” he said.
    She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
    â€œYou’re wondering what caused the scar. Don’t be embarrassed. It’s what everyone thinks when they see me.”
    â€œI’m not embarrassed…because in fact I wasn’t thinking about that at all. I was worried about my sister.”
    â€œI stand humbled and corrected. Though in fact I’d prefer not to stand. I had no intention of riding in the coach with your mother casting up her accounts all over the place, so I rode, and I’m quite tired. However, I can’t sit down until you invite me to do so and sit down yourself, and since you don’t seem about to I thought I might offer a little hint.”
    â€œPlease, sit,” she said, rattled, taking the small, hard chair and leaving the more comfortable one near the fire for him.
    He shook his head. “Not likely. Change seats and I will.”
    â€œI’m fine where I am…” Before she realized what he was doing he’d tossed his hat onto the small table, clamped his gloved hands on her arms and lifted her, dropping her into the seat by the fire as if she weighed no more than a bird.
    He must have thought as much. He frowned. “Have you been eating properly?”
    She thought about the thin soup Nanny had managed to stretch for the week with the careful addition of more and more water, and her stomach knotted. “Of course,” she said.
    â€œBecause you don’t weigh more than a child.”
    â€œHow many children are you in the habit of picking up, Mr. Reading?” she responded. “Oh, I forgot, the devil sacrifices babies, does he not?”
    â€œHe doesn’t…” He stopped protesting. “You’re teasing me, are you, Miss Harriman?”
    â€œJust a little bit,” she allowed. “I shouldn’t—things are hardly humorous right now, but since I’ve seen the difference between gossip and reality firsthand I have little