Read Online Sweet as the Devil by Susan Johnson - Free Book Online

you were in Paris. The one with those pretty little rosebuds on the décolletage,” Rosalind coaxed, shifting from threats to cajolery, hoping to better persuade her reluctant companion.
    Sofia lifted one brow. “Now you’re telling me what to wear?”
    “Yes, as a matter of fact,” Rosalind said with a grin. “I know what’s best. The low décolletage will distract from your acid tongue.”
    “And my sharp claws.”
    “Exactly.” Rosalind waved a half-eaten scone in Sofia’s direction. “I want you to beguile and bamboozle like any other self-respecting female.”
    Sofia laughed. “I still should say no.”
    “Oz wagered me you wouldn’t come.”
    “He did, did he? How much?”
    “You know Oz. I’m not as extravagant. We settled on three hundred.”
    Sofia leaned back in her chair and smiled. “Surely we can’t let a man win now, can we?”
    “That’s what I was thinking.”
    “Manipulative schemer.”
    “I believe the phrase is I’m doing it for your own good ,” Rosalind sportively countered. “Now remember, the Worth gown.” Then she quickly changed the subject, having successfully accomplished her mission. It wasn’t that she was seriously matchmaking. Sofia was beyond such foolishness. Rather, Rosalind felt that Dex would offer her dearest friend the kind of informal relationship she preferred. Sexual, unpredictable, spirited. Also, anyone who had put up with Helene for so many years was either indifferent to his wife or eligible for sainthood. Neither exactly the style of man Sofia fancied, but Dex was also incredibly handsome, charming, and most important, according to Fitz, a favorite with the ladies who were partial to sexual amusements.
     
     
    A FTER ARRIVING IN London, Jamie took a cab directly from the station to Ernst’s home in Belgravia, and jumping down from the carriage, crossed the pavement and greeted the two guards at the front door. The men were in uniform and heavily armed. “Ernst must be expecting trouble. How many of you came to London?”
    “Twenty,” his cousin Douglas replied.
    “Stationed?”
    “Front door and back, at the garden gate, two at the stables. The others are resting between watches.”
    “How is he?”
    “The same.” Another cousin shrugged. “You wouldn’t know anything had happened—no surprise there. You arrived just in time. He’s about to go out.”
    “We’ll talk later.” Jamie lifted the knocker, let it fall, and shoved the door open.
    “Ah, there you are.” The prince was in the entrance hall putting on his gloves. “You made excellent time.” Stripping off his gloves, he handed them to a servant and shrugged out of his coat. As a flunkey took his coat, he waved Jamie forward. “We’ll go into my study.”
    Moments later, Jamie closed the study door behind him. “My condolences, sir.”
    “Thank you,” Ernst replied with his usual composure, his grey gaze blank, his tall, lean form motionless, his pale hair vivid in the dimly lit room.
    “I would have liked to have come to the funeral.” With nearly ten years separating them in age, Rupert had been Jamie’s shadow growing up.
    “There was no need. The boy was gone. Whiskey?” Abruptly turning away, Ernst moved toward the liquor table.
    Picking up a decanter and glasses, he waved Jamie to two leather club chairs by the window and poured them drinks. Handing Jamie his, he switched on a table lamp and took his seat. “I didn’t mean to be curt. I appreciate your sympathy. But Rupert was murdered. Out of pure greed,” he bitterly added.
    Jamie’s shock was plain. “Are you sure? He didn’t have an enemy in the world.”
    “He was garroted; the marks were plain.”
    “Jesus,” Jamie whispered, trying to make sense of such gross violence. “Could it have been some heinous mistake?”
    “No. Von Welden wants Dalmia,” Ernst replied without a trace of emotion, his grief having given way to an icy vengeance.
    “Did he say why?” Von Welden was not someone one