Read Online Utterly Devoted by Regina Scott - Free Book Online Page A

already considered the matter, she felt herself blushing. “If we are questioned, we will simply say that you offended me at Almack’s and seek now to assure me of your utter devotion. You are utterly devoted, are you not?”
    “I am your abject servant,” he gritted out, though his gaze continued to assess the street before them.
    “Then I am certain this test will not present a problem for you,” she replied with a smile. “Will you try my test or are you willing to admit that you are not so changed after all?”
    He turned his gaze on her then, and she felt the heat of it. “I have changed, Eloise. If this is what it takes to prove it to you, then I accept.”
    She should have been disappointed that he did not give up right away, but instead she felt an absurd sense of pleasure. “Very well, then. Down you go.”
    He knelt on the pavement. His light-blue trousers strained against the muscles of his legs and outlined his powerful thighs. Flustered that she had noticed, Eloise whirled and started off down St. James’s. Immediately he called out.
    “Not so fast, blast it! You never said this was a race.”
    She slowed, biting back a smile. If he wanted to prolong his torture, who was she to argue?
    She schooled her steps to a saunter and opened her lace-edged blue parasol to shield her from the sun. To her immense satisfaction, people began to stare. She did not have to glance back at him to know he was there. The looks of those passing assured her that he was a sight. When the crowd and carriages thinned momentarily, she even heard the shuffle of his boots as he dragged them along.
    “You had better pick up your knees, Mr. Darby,” she called back. “Your valet will have apoplexy if you ruin the shine of your boots.”
    “I have no valet,” he informed her testily.
    “Just as well,” she replied, giving her parasol a twirl, “as I expect the knees of your trousers will not survive either. I would not want to give the poor man reason to leave you when you return home in rags.”
    His response was a disgusted grunt.
    They continued down the street. Some people grinned when they saw her shadow. Others raised a brow or scowled in censure at such a display. Eloise kept her head up. Well did she remember similar looks on the faces of her schoolmates when she had been brought to the headmistress’ office.
    Cleo had felt compelled to confess what she had seen in the hayloft. Now Eloise knew her friend had been trying to help, but then she had only felt betrayed yet again. Cleo thought Miss Martingale would understand Eloise’s predicament, perhaps even insist that Jareth Darby do right by her. Eloise would never forget the headmistress’ words.
    “I am very disappointed in you, Miss Watkin. I expected better.”
    She felt her smile slipping now at the memory and forced it back into place. She had survived the humiliation that was the consequence of her choice. Now it was Jareth’s turn.
    And humiliation it was. Ladies of quality crossed the street to avoid being seen near him. Gentlemen refused to meet his gaze. The street vendors pointed and laughed. Some went so far as to stop traffic for her as they crossed King Street. A daring urchin threw a half-eaten apple. Eloise did not turn to look at Jareth, but she knew he must be mortified.
    Yet as they continued down St. James, she began to notice different expressions on those they met. Ladies’ faces puckered. Gentlemen looked thoughtful. Street vendors sobered, and urchins sighed. She could not imagine what they saw in him until she heard Jareth’s voice.
    “Alms! Alms for the poor!”
    She whirled, nearly colliding with him. He had his top hat in one hand and already it rattled with coins. Somewhere along the route he had found charcoal or soot, for he’d smeared it across his forehead and cheeks until he looked like chimney sweep. His coat was dusty, his shirt tail hung out in damp folds, and he’d gone through one knee of his trousers to show cool skin