“You needn’t be concerned, Miss Harriman,” he said smoothly. “My men can handle things. ” He turned and made a gesture behind him, and for a moment she could see his face.
It was a handsome face, or it would have been, if not for the scar running from eyebrow to mouth on one side, giving him a faintly sinister look, quirking his lips up in a parody of a smile. He was dressed exquisitely, and he’d doffed his hat to expose unpowdered tawny hair. For a moment she couldn’t move. This must be the devil they talked about, and for the first time she could understand the lure.
“Miss Harriman?” he said gently, and she shook herself out of her abstraction.
“You’re very kind,” she said, racking her brains for his title. All the ones she could remember were vastly insulting. She backed out of the way and he followed her into the shabby little house, and she mentally thanked God she was already up and dressed. Nanny was bus
tling around, clucking like an agitated hen, clutching her robe around her plump frame.
He took her arm with the finesse of a prince. “Why don’t we get out of their way and leave them to take care of things? Your housekeeper can show the footmen where to put her. ”
“That’s Nanny Maude,” she blurted out as he drew her into the tiny front room with its sullen excuse for a fire. It was a ridiculous thing to say, but she didn’t want Nanny relegated to the role of servant when she was so much more.
He smiled, the move jerking his smile up so that he looked even more ruthless. “Nanny’s got things well in hand,” he said smoothly. “And I’ve been remiss—I haven’t introduced myself. ”
“I know who you are, my lord,” she said. Finally his name came to her. “You’re the Comte de Giverney. ” She was determined not to show any fear. “Apparently you consort with the devil, have orgies and drink the blood of virgins. According to gossip you’re sin itself. ”
The smile, which had been oddly pleasant and even comforting despite the scar, turned cool. “Sorry to disappoint you, Miss Harriman. I realize I look like the very devil, but in fact I’m nothing more than an untitled gentleman with an ugly face and empty pockets. Charles Reading, at your service. ”
She could feel the color flood her face. “You’re not the demon king?”
“I’m afraid not. ” He shook his head. “No, he’s busy entertaining your sister. ”
5
For a moment Lydia didn’t move. “You’re not ugly,” she said. Before he could respond to that she went on. “And what’s the comte going to do with my sister? I presume the stories are just that—stories made up to scare children into behaving. ”
“Do they work? Are you properly terrified?”
“I left my childhood behind years ago, Mr. Reading. ” At that moment they were interrupted by the procession of people carrying her mother into the house. She was struggling, swearing and spitting, her waif-thin body unnaturally strong, and one of the men carrying her cursed when she managed to land a blow. A moment later they disappeared into the bedroom, Nanny Maude following them and closing the door behind her.
Author: Anne Stuart
She turned to look back at Reading. He had dark eyes, and he was watching her with curiosity and no pity whatsoever. “How long has your mother had the pox?”
“I don’t know,” she said, unable to pull her gaze away from him. For a penniless gentleman he was quite elegant, from his high cheekbones to the glossy boots he wore. The left side of his face had an almost unearthly beauty; the scar on the right had healed badly, turning that beauty into a travesty.
“A duel,” he said.
She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“You’re wondering what caused the scar. Don’t be embarrassed. It’s what everyone thinks when they see me. ”
“I’m not embarrassed…because in fact I wasn’t thinking about that at all. I was worried about my sister. ”
“I stand humbled and corrected. Though in fact I’d prefer not to stand. I had no intention of riding in the coach with your mother casting up her accounts all over the place, so I rode, and I’m quite tired. However, I can’t sit down until you invite me to do so and sit down yourself, and since you don’t seem about to I thought I might offer a little hint. ”
“Please, sit,” she said, rattled, taking the small, hard chair and leaving the more comfortable one near the fire for him.
He shook his head. “Not likely. Change seats and I will. ”
“I’m fine where I am…” Before she realized what he was doing he’d tossed his hat onto the small table, clamped his gloved hands on her arms and lifted her, dropping her into the seat by the fire as if she weighed no more than a bird.
He must have thought as much. He frowned. “Have you been eating properly?”
She thought about the thin soup Nanny had managed to stretch for the week with the careful addition of more and more water, and her stomach knotted. “Of course,” she said.
“Because you don’t weigh more than a child. ”