Read Online To Taste Temptation by Elizabeth Hoyt - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Elizabeth Hoyt
Tags: Fiction, General, Romance, Historical, Regency, Man-Woman Relationships, Love Stories, Single Women, Nobility, Americans - England, England - Social Life and Customs - 18th Century
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Find if there was a reason for so many to have died that fall day six years ago. And when he found the man responsible, maybe then he could reclaim his soul, reclaim the life he’d lost at Spinner’s Falls.
Was Vale the right man? The viscount had been in debt to Clemmons, and Clemmons had died in the massacre. But Vale had fought bravely, gallantly, at Spinner’s Falls. Could such a brave officer murder an entire regiment just to get rid of one man? Wouldn’t he be marked? Wouldn’t he bear the scars of his depravity on his face? Or would he, six years later, be sitting contentedly in his library reading a book?
Sam shook his head. The officer he thought he’d known six years ago would never have done such a thing. But he’d only been with the 28th for a little over a month. Maybe he’d never really known Vale. His instinct was to confront Vale, here and now, but he would get no answers that way. Better to approach him obliquely at a social gathering. That was why he’d sought the services of Lady Emeline. On the thought of that lady, Sam withdrew, making his way back through the dark garden. What would Lady Emeline think if she found out his true reason for asking for her help? She still grieved for her brother, but would she want to upset her social standing to accuse a peer? He grimaced as he went over the mews wall again.
Somehow he thought that Lady Emeline would not be happy with the course he’d set.
“No! No! No!” Emeline exclaimed the next morning.
Rebecca froze, her foot half lifted, her expression terrified. They were in Emeline’s town house ballroom where she was attempting to teach the American girl a few of the newer dance steps. Tante Cristelle assisted at the harpsichord, which had been especially carried into the room by two burly footmen. The ballroom floor was parquet, polished to a high gleam, and mirrors lined one entire wall. Rebecca, with her raised foot and terrified expression, was reflected countlessly in the mirrors. Emeline took a deep breath and tried to modify her own expression, pasting on a smile.
Rebecca didn’t look reassured.
Emeline sighed. “You must move easily. Gracefully. Not like a...a...” She searched for a phrase that would not involve the word elephant.
“Drunken sailor.” Samuel Hartley’s voice echoed in her ballroom. He sounded amused.
Rebecca lowered her foot with a thump and glared at her brother. “Thank you very much!”
Mr. Hartley shrugged and strolled into the room. He was neatly turned out in brown and black, but the bruise on his chin was turning yellowy-green, and he had dark circles beneath his eyes.
Emeline narrowed her own eyes. What activities were keeping the colonial from sleeping at night? “Was there something you needed, Mr. Hartley?”
“Indeed,” he replied. “I find I have an urgent need to come supervise my sister’s dancing lesson.”
Rebecca harrumphed at his words, but a shy smile crept over her lips. She was obviously pleased at her brother’s attention.
Emeline was not. Merely the presence of the man in her ballroom disrupted her concentration. “We are very busy here, Mr. Hartley. There are only two days remaining before Rebecca’s first ball.”
“Ah.” He bowed with ironic precision. “I understand the gravity of the situation.”
“Do you?”
“Ahem!” Tante cleared her throat with a horrible grinding noise. Both Emeline and Mr. Hartley turned to stare at her. “The child and I need a short rest from our exertions. A walk about the garden, perhaps? Come, ma petite, I will instruct you on elegant conversations when strolling in so boring a garden.” She held out her hand to Rebecca.
“Oh, thank you, ma’am,” Rebecca replied weakly as she followed the older lady.
Emeline waited, her foot tapping, as her aunt and Rebecca walked to the door and exited the room; then she whirled on Mr. Hartley. “You’ve interrupted this morning’s lesson. What are you doing here?”
He raised his
Was Vale the right man? The viscount had been in debt to Clemmons, and Clemmons had died in the massacre. But Vale had fought bravely, gallantly, at Spinner’s Falls. Could such a brave officer murder an entire regiment just to get rid of one man? Wouldn’t he be marked? Wouldn’t he bear the scars of his depravity on his face? Or would he, six years later, be sitting contentedly in his library reading a book?
Sam shook his head. The officer he thought he’d known six years ago would never have done such a thing. But he’d only been with the 28th for a little over a month. Maybe he’d never really known Vale. His instinct was to confront Vale, here and now, but he would get no answers that way. Better to approach him obliquely at a social gathering. That was why he’d sought the services of Lady Emeline. On the thought of that lady, Sam withdrew, making his way back through the dark garden. What would Lady Emeline think if she found out his true reason for asking for her help? She still grieved for her brother, but would she want to upset her social standing to accuse a peer? He grimaced as he went over the mews wall again.
Somehow he thought that Lady Emeline would not be happy with the course he’d set.
“No! No! No!” Emeline exclaimed the next morning.
Rebecca froze, her foot half lifted, her expression terrified. They were in Emeline’s town house ballroom where she was attempting to teach the American girl a few of the newer dance steps. Tante Cristelle assisted at the harpsichord, which had been especially carried into the room by two burly footmen. The ballroom floor was parquet, polished to a high gleam, and mirrors lined one entire wall. Rebecca, with her raised foot and terrified expression, was reflected countlessly in the mirrors. Emeline took a deep breath and tried to modify her own expression, pasting on a smile.
Rebecca didn’t look reassured.
Emeline sighed. “You must move easily. Gracefully. Not like a...a...” She searched for a phrase that would not involve the word elephant.
“Drunken sailor.” Samuel Hartley’s voice echoed in her ballroom. He sounded amused.
Rebecca lowered her foot with a thump and glared at her brother. “Thank you very much!”
Mr. Hartley shrugged and strolled into the room. He was neatly turned out in brown and black, but the bruise on his chin was turning yellowy-green, and he had dark circles beneath his eyes.
Emeline narrowed her own eyes. What activities were keeping the colonial from sleeping at night? “Was there something you needed, Mr. Hartley?”
“Indeed,” he replied. “I find I have an urgent need to come supervise my sister’s dancing lesson.”
Rebecca harrumphed at his words, but a shy smile crept over her lips. She was obviously pleased at her brother’s attention.
Emeline was not. Merely the presence of the man in her ballroom disrupted her concentration. “We are very busy here, Mr. Hartley. There are only two days remaining before Rebecca’s first ball.”
“Ah.” He bowed with ironic precision. “I understand the gravity of the situation.”
“Do you?”
“Ahem!” Tante cleared her throat with a horrible grinding noise. Both Emeline and Mr. Hartley turned to stare at her. “The child and I need a short rest from our exertions. A walk about the garden, perhaps? Come, ma petite, I will instruct you on elegant conversations when strolling in so boring a garden.” She held out her hand to Rebecca.
“Oh, thank you, ma’am,” Rebecca replied weakly as she followed the older lady.
Emeline waited, her foot tapping, as her aunt and Rebecca walked to the door and exited the room; then she whirled on Mr. Hartley. “You’ve interrupted this morning’s lesson. What are you doing here?”
He raised his
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