Simply Wicked. Kate Pearce

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Simply Wicked - Kate  Pearce

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it was all her fault.

      After the obligatory twenty minutes, Marguerite stood up, kissed Lady Lockwood on the cheek and headed slowly down the wide staircase. Now she understood why her mama-in-law had treated her so kindly. She had become as unnecessary as her deceased husband, with no further part to play in the Lockwood dynastic ambitions. With a child on the way, it seemed that even the old resentments could be let go.

      As she emerged from the grand mansion, a light drizzle caught at her face and made her blink. Did that make her obligation to remember and honor Justin less valid? No, she would never forget him. But perhaps it gave her the opportunity to move on without the oppressive weight of the Lockwood family’s ruined expectations on her shoulders.

      She nodded to the driver and stepped into the cab. Maybe her meeting with Lord Anthony Sokorvsky would be more interesting than she’d thought.

      By the time the dainty clock on her mantelpiece chimed four times, Marguerite’s nerves had not only returned but multiplied. Why exactly had she let the twins tell her what to do again? She couldn’t understand it. Somehow they seemed to undermine her defenses without even trying. She smoothed down the silk skirts of her favorite blue dress and walked back to the window.

      A carriage had appeared outside. She recognized Christian’s fair head as he removed his hat and stepped through the front door. Another unknown man followed him in. Mon Dieu. What on earth was she doing even contemplating going out into society again? She hurried to sit by the fire and picked up her embroidery.

      The twins entered without ceremony, followed by a tall man fashionably attired in a chestnut brown coat, black breeches and shining top boots. His cravat was neither too modish nor too plain; his black hair was short and showed a tendency to curl at the ends.

      “Good afternoon, Marguerite. Are you embroidering? I thought you hated sewing.” Lisette gestured at the man beside her. “Look, we’ve brought him!”

      Lisette’s playful remark made Marguerite wince. She stuffed her embroidery down the side of her chair and looked up into the dark blue eyes of Lord Anthony Sokorvsky. She realized he was as embarrassed as she was. With a slight frown at Lisette, she got to her feet and held out her hand.

      “Good afternoon, my lord.”

      He bowed, brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.

      “Good afternoon, my lady. I hope you are having a pleasant day?”

      His voice was low and held a hint of laughter. Was he amused by her? Was this whole thing a big joke? She motioned him to the seat opposite her and he sat down, stretching his long legs out toward the fire.

      Lisette took a seat on the couch and then immediately jumped up.

      “Shall I ring for some tea?”

      “Why not? You treat this place as if it’s your house anyway.” Marguerite continued to smile through her teeth as Lisette laughed at her.

      “Your siblings seem to have the ability to bamboozle us poor mortals into doing whatever they want.”

      Marguerite glanced across at Lord Anthony as he spoke.

      “You’ve noticed that, have you?”

      “Yes, I suspect that’s the main reason I find myself here today.”

      Heat rose in Marguerite’s cheeks. “There is no need for you to be here at all. You are quite free to leave.”

      He smiled and shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. It is just entertaining to see the twins having the same effect on someone else as they do on me.”

      Goodness, he was attractive when he smiled: his generous mouth relaxed, and his blue eyes lit with humor and warmth. Why would a man who looked like that be willing to squire her around town?

      Christian cleared his throat. “Lisette and I have to go. We have another appointment.” He looked at Lord Anthony. “Will you be all right to get back to your home?”

      “I’ll be fine.”

      “Good.” Christian bowed and took Lisette’s hand. “We’ll come and see you tomorrow, Marguerite!”

      When the door slammed behind the twins, Marguerite sighed. As a widow, was it appropriate for her to entertain a single man alone? She suspected her mama-in-law would disapprove. Should she call her reluctant chaperone down from her room?

      “Can I help you with something?”

      Lord Anthony was staring at her, a quizzical smile on his lips. She subsided back into her chair.

      “I was just wondering about the propriety of your visit. Are widows allowed to entertain unmarried men at home?”

      “Allowed? I should imagine they are encouraged to do so.”

      She blinked at him. “Are you jesting, sir?”

      “Of course I am.” He sat forward, hands clasped together. “At least the twins’ unconventional behavior has allowed us to move on from the dreary boundaries of polite conversation and actually get to know each other a little.”

      Marguerite gave a reluctant laugh. “I suppose that’s true. They are annoying, aren’t they?” She hesitated, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “You can leave if you want to. I won’t be offended.”

      He smiled. “If I swear that I have no intention of leaping across the room and dishonoring you, may I stay for tea?”

      “Why would you want to do that?”

      “Because you intrigue me.”

      She shrugged. “I’m not worthy of such interest, sir.”

      “I think you are. Why would a woman as beautiful as you need an escort for the Season?”

      “I don’t need an escort.”

      He raised an eyebrow. “That’s not what the twins told me, and you did agree to this meeting.”

      “I agreed to it to stop them bothering me, surely you can understand that.”

      He frowned. “Of course I can, but it doesn’t explain why I’ve never met you before, why you don’t go out into society.”

      “I doubt you frequent ton parties, my lord. Apparently you would be besieged by matchmaking mothers. How would you know if you’d met me?”

      He held her gaze. “Because you are beautiful?”

      “That is a ridiculous thing to say.”

      “Why? Because you don’t think you are?” He smiled. “Surely beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

      “Then you obviously need spectacles.”

      His smile widened. “My eyesight is considered superior, madame, and you are blushing.”

      Marguerite was saved from answering by the arrival of the tea tray. She busied herself setting things out, her mind awhirl.

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