Read Online Somewhat Scandalous (Brambridge Novel 1) by Pearl Darling - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Pearl Darling
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical, Adult, series, Regency, England, Military, romantic suspense, 19th century, Bachelor, Victorian, Britain, Experiments, Forever Love, Single Woman, Hearts Desire, London Society, Brambridge, British Government, Scandalous Activities, Spymaster, Foreign Agent
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Colthaven’s affair by themselves at Lady Foxtone’s ball with strict instructions to Agatha to not indulge in the scientific side of her nature.
“Be careful out there.” Granwich tapped on his desk. “I hear we are in for a storm tonight, with extremely high winds.”
Henry nodded. His stomach grumbled again. It was time to make sure that Victoria and Agatha were still in one piece, and more importantly, find some dinner.
CHAPTER 9
Glancing up and down the deserted corridor, Agatha pushed open the door and crept in. Thank goodness Victoria was due any moment. If she and Charles were discovered together then her reputation would be ruined. For a brief second she gazed at the back of her hand and shook her head. She didn’t have much time.
“Charles,” she whispered. “You need to leave.”
Charles turned and looked Agatha up and down. His lips pouted, turning down at the edges, and his dark hair was swept back as though he had just been grooming himself in the mirror.
He took a step into the middle of the room. “I knew you were different, Agatha. I’ve just been waiting for you to acknowledge it.”
Agatha frowned and took a deep breath. The back of her hand itched. It was strange, the idea of Charles was actually rather better than the physical specimen. With quick steps she walked towards the rug in front of the fire and picked up the glass of champagne. Balancing the full flute in her hand, she turned slowly back towards the door to leave. Next to her, the fire blazed higher and higher, fueled by a packet of papers, their band of black ribbon falling out of the grate.
“Er, thank you, I think.” Agatha stepped carefully over the edge of the rug on the fire hearth. Goodness, to have come all this way and spilled a drop. She gasped as a hand closed tightly round her upper arm.
“I know that you don’t want a glass of champagne. I have seen the way you’ve looked at me, as if you want to devour me,” Charles whispered in her ear.
“Really?” Agatha tried to pull away, but she was locked immobile, her arm beginning to turn an alarming white. She really had miscalculated on this side of human nature. She’d never factored in looking at herself in any of her experiments.
Charles lowered his head and crushed his lips against Agatha’s. In shock she struggled, her arms flailing madly, the champagne she had so carefully carried flying across the room. With no warning, his right hand urgently ripped at her bodice, and, pulling away the ruffles, he grabbed at her chest, bruising her.
She could not scream, or turn her head, her lips suffocating under his marauding mouth. The champagne glass dropped from her numb fingers to the floor, the glass head breaking against the hearth with a tinkle. Wildly she tried to overbalance him, arching backwards. Seeing the broken champagne glass stem just behind her, she reached out with her free arm, and, grasping it, drew it back like a dagger.
But she didn’t have time to thrust it down. The door opened, the flames of the fire flaring higher as Henry strode into the room, pushing the low tables out of the way. Immediately Agatha fell limp in relief, the champagne stem falling to her side. She’d never call him Horrible Henry again, she’d find a far better name, Helpful Henry—no, that didn’t work, Hangelic Henry, good grief no…
She waited limply but Henry did not try to pull her out of Charles’ arms. He stopped, and folded his arms, a very strange twist to his lips. Agatha tried to pull herself back into an upright position but Charles held her in a vice-like grip.
She caught sight of herself in the oval mirror on the wall opposite and a cold shiver shot down her spine. Arched over backwards in a wanton position, her bodice was torn, and the curve of her breast welled up between the torn material. Her lips were puffy as if she had been thoroughly kissed, as if she had wanted to end up in this state. She shook her head rapidly from side to
“Be careful out there.” Granwich tapped on his desk. “I hear we are in for a storm tonight, with extremely high winds.”
Henry nodded. His stomach grumbled again. It was time to make sure that Victoria and Agatha were still in one piece, and more importantly, find some dinner.
CHAPTER 9
Glancing up and down the deserted corridor, Agatha pushed open the door and crept in. Thank goodness Victoria was due any moment. If she and Charles were discovered together then her reputation would be ruined. For a brief second she gazed at the back of her hand and shook her head. She didn’t have much time.
“Charles,” she whispered. “You need to leave.”
Charles turned and looked Agatha up and down. His lips pouted, turning down at the edges, and his dark hair was swept back as though he had just been grooming himself in the mirror.
He took a step into the middle of the room. “I knew you were different, Agatha. I’ve just been waiting for you to acknowledge it.”
Agatha frowned and took a deep breath. The back of her hand itched. It was strange, the idea of Charles was actually rather better than the physical specimen. With quick steps she walked towards the rug in front of the fire and picked up the glass of champagne. Balancing the full flute in her hand, she turned slowly back towards the door to leave. Next to her, the fire blazed higher and higher, fueled by a packet of papers, their band of black ribbon falling out of the grate.
“Er, thank you, I think.” Agatha stepped carefully over the edge of the rug on the fire hearth. Goodness, to have come all this way and spilled a drop. She gasped as a hand closed tightly round her upper arm.
“I know that you don’t want a glass of champagne. I have seen the way you’ve looked at me, as if you want to devour me,” Charles whispered in her ear.
“Really?” Agatha tried to pull away, but she was locked immobile, her arm beginning to turn an alarming white. She really had miscalculated on this side of human nature. She’d never factored in looking at herself in any of her experiments.
Charles lowered his head and crushed his lips against Agatha’s. In shock she struggled, her arms flailing madly, the champagne she had so carefully carried flying across the room. With no warning, his right hand urgently ripped at her bodice, and, pulling away the ruffles, he grabbed at her chest, bruising her.
She could not scream, or turn her head, her lips suffocating under his marauding mouth. The champagne glass dropped from her numb fingers to the floor, the glass head breaking against the hearth with a tinkle. Wildly she tried to overbalance him, arching backwards. Seeing the broken champagne glass stem just behind her, she reached out with her free arm, and, grasping it, drew it back like a dagger.
But she didn’t have time to thrust it down. The door opened, the flames of the fire flaring higher as Henry strode into the room, pushing the low tables out of the way. Immediately Agatha fell limp in relief, the champagne stem falling to her side. She’d never call him Horrible Henry again, she’d find a far better name, Helpful Henry—no, that didn’t work, Hangelic Henry, good grief no…
She waited limply but Henry did not try to pull her out of Charles’ arms. He stopped, and folded his arms, a very strange twist to his lips. Agatha tried to pull herself back into an upright position but Charles held her in a vice-like grip.
She caught sight of herself in the oval mirror on the wall opposite and a cold shiver shot down her spine. Arched over backwards in a wanton position, her bodice was torn, and the curve of her breast welled up between the torn material. Her lips were puffy as if she had been thoroughly kissed, as if she had wanted to end up in this state. She shook her head rapidly from side to
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