Reckless - By Anne Stuart Page 0,66

since Charles Edward, in France, fifteen years ago. Of course, he refused to allow himself to care about anyone outside his family, and his mother and four sisters, all tended to give birth easily, without the dangers usually inherent. He already had seven nieces and nephews, and while he'd been intemperate enough to adore them, he was cheered by the fact that they were incredibly healthy little monsters.

Even so, he did his best to keep his distance from his sisters and their families He could just say to hell with Etienne, take off, and by the time he found out it would be too late to talk him out of it. But that smacked of cowardice,

and Adrian had never shied away from a challenge in his life.

Besides, the nervy bastard would probably just follow him out to the country. Why Etienne seemed so intent on his company was an absolute mystery. When he'd first appeared on the London scene and attached himself to Adrian he'd been flattered by the older man's attention, not to mention completely in favor of the dangerous excesses he exposed him to.

But the delight had definitely begun to wane.

He rose, sauntering over to the faro table where Etienne seemed to have grown roots. "I find Fm unaccountably tired," he murmured. "I'm heading for an early night. Shall I see you at the ridotto tomorrow night?"

Etienne's small frown turned approving. "It will be my pleasure. Though I would think we'd find more... specialized entertainment elsewhere than Ranelagh Gardens. Things tend to be so English there."

Once again the irritation rose. "You're in England, Etienne. What do you expect?"

Another night of boredom, Adrian thought as he strolled the few blocks from the gambling club to the small house on Curzon Street he'd bought for a mistress several years ago and then moved into once she'd moved on to greener pastures. The night was cool and clear, (he recent rain having washed the stink from the streets, and he was reminded of the night air in Sussex. The chapel that Monty had had constructed, the Portal of Venus.

He slashed his ebony walking stick in the air, annoyed with himself And continued determinedly Miss Charlotte Spenser sat in a large, comfortable chair in the solarium in Evangelina, the Countess of Whitmore's mansion. The greenery was abundant, the air moist and warm, and the scent of fresh spring flowers filled the air. She was drinking a cup of tea. Not the wretched stuff that Lina had been forcing down her throat by the gallons, but nice strong, black, English tea, with a little milk and a great deal of sugar. So far it was easier on the stomach than that evil brew.

It had been three weeks since the Revels of the Heavenly Host. Her twisted ankle had healed nicely, the scrapes and bruises from her tumble down the embankment were almost gone. It should have been hard to believe any of it had ever happened. It was only when her mind started to drift that the feel of his hands, his mouth his.. .cock, he'd called it. She could almost feel everything again, and she wanted to weep.

Charlotte Spenser wasn’t a weakling. This was hardly that traumatic—no one had to know anything about it.

But she found herself looking at hands. Lina had any number of callers, but for some reason she'd stayed home recently, and no one had spent the night with her. The gentlemen came, and she looted for hands as beautiful as Rohan's. With long, artist's fingers, deft and elegant, and narrow palms.

Clever, beautiful hands.

She'd known she'd never find a man with a face that pleased her as much as Rohan's. And no one had that lithe, agile body, that almost feline grace.

But she'd hoped she'd find comparable hands.

There weren't any. The men of the ton had hands that were pale, well kept. But either their fingers were too short or their palms too squat, their fingers stubby.

She sighed. It was impossible, and she knew it.

The more time passed, the easier things would be, she promised herself. For the first week she did nothing but weep, something that alarmed poor Lina, who'd seldom seen her stalwart best friend shed a tear, much less become a total watering pot. It hadn't taken Meggie long to ferret out the truth of how she'd spent the time in Sussex— Charlotte was unused to lying, unused to secrets and feeling too miserable to resist Meggie's efforts, and from then on Lina knew everything. It