Wicked Intentions by Elizabeth Hoyt

Author:Elizabeth Hoyt
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: American Light Romantic Fiction, Fiction - Romance, Historical fiction, Romance - Historical, Fiction, Romance, Romance: Historical, General, Historical, American Historical Fiction, Widows, Love stories
ISBN: 9780446558945
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2010-08-15T07:00:00+00:00

ST. JOHN WAS in his study the next morning, frowning over a speech by Cicero, when Molder cleared his throat phlegmily at the door. “Lord Caire to see you, sir.”

He would’ve perhaps claimed to not be home, but Caire, damn him, was right behind the butler. St. John clenched his jaw, set down his pen, and waved Caire in.

Caire strolled in carrying a huge bouquet of daisies. “You won’t credit who I met in St. Giles last night.”

“A whore?” St. John asked acidly.

“No. Well, yes.” Caire scratched his chin. “At least I assume they were whores, but that is nothing new. No, I made the acquaintance of the infamous Ghost of St. Giles.”

“Did you, now?” St. John busied himself rearranging the papers on his desk.

When he glanced up again, Caire was looking at him thoughtfully. He placed his posy on a table. “A man in a harlequin’s tunic, a floppy hat with a scarlet feather, and a black half-mask. Oh, and he was brandishing both a long and a short sword. Rather overly flamboyant, in my opinion.”

St. John snorted. “As if you’re one to critique the flamboyance of others.”

Caire ignored him. “I think it was the scarlet feather that was too much.”

St. John sighed. “And what was the Ghost doing?”

“Saving my hide, if you must know.”

“What?”

“I was attacked by five thugs last night. The ghost rather fortuitously intervened.”

“Was Mrs. Dews with you?” St. John asked softly.

Caire turned and looked at him silently.

“Damn it!” St. John pushed away from the desk. “Why do you persist in pursuing that lady? You’re placing her in danger.”

“I dislike that fact as much as you. I’ve decided that I can no longer take her into St. Giles without a guard of some sort.” He shook his head. “I haven’t yet decided how to continue my inquiries with her.”

“You should leave her be entirely.”

Caire’s mouth twisted humorlessly. “I find I cannot.”

“Why?” St. John shook his head. “She isn’t even your type.”

“What is my type?”

St. John glanced away. They both knew well enough the kind of women Caire favored.

“Whores?” Caire asked softly. “Women who can be bought by jewels?”

St. John looked at him helplessly.

Caire was pacing the room. “Perhaps I tire of my type. Perhaps I wish to be in the company of a different sort of woman.”

St. John sat forward, his voice low and intense. “Then why her? There are innumerable ladies of our own social rank, intelligent, witty, and beautiful, who would be more than happy to have you call upon them.”

“And each would be mentally assessing my annual income and my ancestry.” Caire smiled a bit sadly. “Perhaps I want a woman who cares naught for either. Perhaps I want a woman who, when she looks at me, sees nothing but a man.”

St. John stared.

“There’s something about her,” Caire said in a low voice. “She cares for everyone about her, yet neglects herself. I want to be the one who cares for her.”

“You’ll ruin her,” St. John said.

“Will I? The lady is not unwilling no matter your protests.

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