Read Online When You're Desired by Tamara Lejeune - Free Book Online Page A

Everyone had heard, but they pretended they had not. They were all afraid of him. She lifted her chin and glared at Simon, her eyes blazing. “How dare you,” she gasped.
    â€œDid he insult you, Miss St. Lys?” cried Tom West. “If I were not on my knees at present, I would defend you.”
    â€œIt is very rude to eavesdrop, Mr. West,” she told him, rapping him smartly on the buttocks with her fan.
    â€œSorry, Miss St. Lys!”
    â€œI only want to talk to you,” Simon said.
    â€œYou can go to blazes,” she hissed at him.
    â€œDon’t be a fool, Celia,” he advised her. “It is in your best interest to hear what I have to say. Take a turn about the room with me and hear me out. Then you can go back to ruining yourself and everyone around you.”
    â€œI don’t wish to take a turn about the room with you,” she declared, her voice a little unsteady. “I don’t wish to know you, or see you, or hear you, or smell you. If you persist in bothering me, I shall have no choice but to appeal to the management for relief. Since there are no men here to defend my honor,” she added fiercely, glaring around the table.
    â€œBut Miss St. Lys—”
    â€œShut up, Tom!” she snapped. To Simon she said coldly, “ Rouge ou noir, monsieur ?”
    â€œI beg your pardon?”
    â€œChoose,” she said, holding up her last marker. “Red or black? If you win, I will take a turn about the room with you. Lose, and you must go away. That’s fair, isn’t it?”
    â€œBlack.”
    â€œOf course.” She placed her chip on the board. As the ivory ball dropped onto the track, she gazed up at him steadily.
    â€œTwenty-seven,” the croupier announced presently. “Red.”
    Bursting into immoderate laughter, she clapped her hands in delight. She had not won much money, to be sure, but she had won her freedom from an odious man, and that was not an inconsiderable prize.
    â€œDid you win?” asked Fitzclarence, returning to the table at that moment with champagne.
    â€œYes, I did,” said Celia, snatching the glass from his hand. “Good-bye, Lord Simon,” she added, fluttering her fingers at him. “Parting is such sweet—”
    She broke off abruptly, gasping. “Juliet!” she cried, jumping to her feet. “Dear God—the play! Oh, I must get home at once! Oh, Clare! You promised .”
    â€œI will take you,” Simon said neatly. “We can talk on the way.”
    â€œYou lost, my lord,” she reminded him.
    â€œI said I’d go. We can go together.”
    Celia frowned at him, but before she could speak, a small, thin creature in yellow satin darted forward to seize Simon by the sleeve.
    â€œFine gen’leman you are!” bawled the creature, a Cockney under a cloud of bushy black hair. “I done what you wanted. Now pie me what you owes me!”
    Laughter erupted around the room, but Celia could only stare in mute astonishment.
    â€œAnd you call yourself a gen’leman,” Lord Simon’s friend grumbled, drawing more laughter from onlookers. “’Ere, what are you laughing at?” she demanded angrily. “I earned that money, I did!”
    They only laughed harder.
    â€œDo you know this person, Lord Simon?” Celia asked incredulously.
    â€œCertainly not,” he said coldly.
    â€œShe certainly seems to know you ,” Celia observed. “For shame, my lord! Why, she’s hardly more than a child!”
    Simon glared at Eliza. “I told you to wait outside, girl. Here—take your money and go, before I lose my temper.” So saying, he flung a handful of coins at her.
    With a howl, the girl fell to her knees to retrieve the money. Some others, thinking it a good joke, began to toss coins at the girl, too, to her delight. Celia thought it a disgusting spectacle. “Stop it!” she said angrily.