Read Online To Catch a Lady by Pamela Labud - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Pamela Labud
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her breathless and trembling with anxious anticipation.
Deep within her, alarm bells started ringing. What the devil was happening to her now?
“How dare you!” she started to shout at him, but her new wave of anger was quickly crushed by his mouth upon hers, as he literally kissed her into silence.
When he drew away, fear, confusion, anger, and disbelief swirled like a dervish in her brain.
“I don’t understand,” she started, but left the thought unfinished.
“You will,” he said, nodding and pointedly looking down at their attire. “There is no choice about it,” he started.
Suddenly, Caro realized just what he meant to do. By the heavens! She was trapped as surely as a fox held fast by the hound. Her humiliation would be complete. For the second time in her life she’d be ruined. The only difference? She was at least partly to blame.
She could have stopped him.
She should have stopped him.
Anger and fear lit a fire in her belly as Caro followed his gaze. She gasped when she saw the state of her clothes. Her gown had been destroyed, torn in half; her corset, flung to the side, now hung askew on the arm of the settee.
Seconds passed and it seemed as if time stopped. Barely a breath could be heard. Not knowing what else to do, Caro tried to scramble from his grasp, but her efforts were rewarded by more of her clothing falling away.
To her embarrassment, the room filled with voices again—the ribald jokes, appalled gasps, and bursts of laughter nearly deafened her. It seemed that all of London society filled the hall outside the parlor.
“Stay still,” he whispered in a harsh tone, as he eased away from her and pulled his trousers up.
Caro shot him an angry expression, her face burning with embarrassment, hot tears springing from her eyes. Surely she would die on the spot.
How could she have been so ninny-headed?
Beatrice rushed into the room. “Oh, Caro, dear. Let me help you!”
Gathering the remnants of Caro’s clothing, she knelt beside the settee. Caro saw Beatrice daintily drop her pale yellow calling card into the duke’s right suit pocket.
“You have ruined my sister,” she whispered. “There’s only one thing you can do to save her now.”
The older woman stepped forward. “Michael,” she called to the tall blond man beside her, “clear the room.”
Bowing, the man began herding the crowd from the doorway.
“You heard Her Grace: Everyone please return to the ballroom,” he said, laughing as he grabbed hold of the double doors and pushed them back.
“Ruined,” Caro said, as the full weight of her predicament pressed in on her. She caught her sister’s hand. “Bea, I’m so sorry! I’ve ruined you, too! Now you’ll never be able to make a good match.”
“Here, now—” The duke cleared his throat. “Let’s not give in to panic.”
“Panic?” Caro snapped. “It’s too late for that, Your Grace. There’s no way to keep our liaison a secret now, is there?”
“No, I suppose not.”
Caro huffed. “You can go back to your party, your newly chosen wife, and live a full life. My sister and I will likely end up in a workhouse. No one will dare offer us positions now.” Unable to stop, she hiccupped, “And my mother will be sent to Bedlam for sure!”
“What?” Ash sat back on his heels, quickly tucking in his shirt. “Miss Hawkins, I do believe you are babbling.” Standing up, he clapped his hands loudly. “Everyone, your attention, please.”
Michael nearly had the door closed when he stopped and turned back. All of the onlookers turned as if they were a single beast and pressed forward into the room once again.
“Ashton?” the older woman spoke, Caro’s corset over one arm, the other helping Beatrice to hold the edges of Caro’s gown together.
“My aunt Amelia,” he whispered to Caro, and then turned back to the gathering. “I have an announcement to make.” He turned back to the crowd. “My aunt and I have done an exhaustive review of
Deep within her, alarm bells started ringing. What the devil was happening to her now?
“How dare you!” she started to shout at him, but her new wave of anger was quickly crushed by his mouth upon hers, as he literally kissed her into silence.
When he drew away, fear, confusion, anger, and disbelief swirled like a dervish in her brain.
“I don’t understand,” she started, but left the thought unfinished.
“You will,” he said, nodding and pointedly looking down at their attire. “There is no choice about it,” he started.
Suddenly, Caro realized just what he meant to do. By the heavens! She was trapped as surely as a fox held fast by the hound. Her humiliation would be complete. For the second time in her life she’d be ruined. The only difference? She was at least partly to blame.
She could have stopped him.
She should have stopped him.
Anger and fear lit a fire in her belly as Caro followed his gaze. She gasped when she saw the state of her clothes. Her gown had been destroyed, torn in half; her corset, flung to the side, now hung askew on the arm of the settee.
Seconds passed and it seemed as if time stopped. Barely a breath could be heard. Not knowing what else to do, Caro tried to scramble from his grasp, but her efforts were rewarded by more of her clothing falling away.
To her embarrassment, the room filled with voices again—the ribald jokes, appalled gasps, and bursts of laughter nearly deafened her. It seemed that all of London society filled the hall outside the parlor.
“Stay still,” he whispered in a harsh tone, as he eased away from her and pulled his trousers up.
Caro shot him an angry expression, her face burning with embarrassment, hot tears springing from her eyes. Surely she would die on the spot.
How could she have been so ninny-headed?
Beatrice rushed into the room. “Oh, Caro, dear. Let me help you!”
Gathering the remnants of Caro’s clothing, she knelt beside the settee. Caro saw Beatrice daintily drop her pale yellow calling card into the duke’s right suit pocket.
“You have ruined my sister,” she whispered. “There’s only one thing you can do to save her now.”
The older woman stepped forward. “Michael,” she called to the tall blond man beside her, “clear the room.”
Bowing, the man began herding the crowd from the doorway.
“You heard Her Grace: Everyone please return to the ballroom,” he said, laughing as he grabbed hold of the double doors and pushed them back.
“Ruined,” Caro said, as the full weight of her predicament pressed in on her. She caught her sister’s hand. “Bea, I’m so sorry! I’ve ruined you, too! Now you’ll never be able to make a good match.”
“Here, now—” The duke cleared his throat. “Let’s not give in to panic.”
“Panic?” Caro snapped. “It’s too late for that, Your Grace. There’s no way to keep our liaison a secret now, is there?”
“No, I suppose not.”
Caro huffed. “You can go back to your party, your newly chosen wife, and live a full life. My sister and I will likely end up in a workhouse. No one will dare offer us positions now.” Unable to stop, she hiccupped, “And my mother will be sent to Bedlam for sure!”
“What?” Ash sat back on his heels, quickly tucking in his shirt. “Miss Hawkins, I do believe you are babbling.” Standing up, he clapped his hands loudly. “Everyone, your attention, please.”
Michael nearly had the door closed when he stopped and turned back. All of the onlookers turned as if they were a single beast and pressed forward into the room once again.
“Ashton?” the older woman spoke, Caro’s corset over one arm, the other helping Beatrice to hold the edges of Caro’s gown together.
“My aunt Amelia,” he whispered to Caro, and then turned back to the gathering. “I have an announcement to make.” He turned back to the crowd. “My aunt and I have done an exhaustive review of
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