Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
“The best we can hope for is a good match with a man who eventually becomes a friend.”
“That’s not entirely true.” Rose sniffed, then ran her fingers under her eyes, wiping away any smeared makeup. “We could also wish for our husbands to die in mysterious circumstances young enough so we can still marry again, maybe not for love, but certainly for lust. I hear pool boys are the to-kill-for accessory for widows this season.”
Her dark sense of humor caught me off guard, and I stared at her for a moment before we both broke down in giggles.
Rose was on a roll. “You really are dressed like a femme fatale, ready to kill a man if he dares forget to open a door. Maybe you can save on the fee and be your own hit woman?”
We were both laughing when Sarah returned to inform us that Mr. Manwarring was downstairs waiting with his sisters to escort us to the opera.
“We will be down in a moment.” I moved back to the vanity to check my makeup.
Deciding my eyeliner wasn’t dramatic enough, I lengthened the wings until I really looked like a Bond girl trying to channel Loki. What was that Taylor Swift line? Eyeliner sharp enough to kill a man.
“Ready, Bitchy-Galore?”
“Alvays, dahling,” I said in a terrible accent as I slipped my shoes on and grabbed my purse.
I stopped for a moment. Watching Rose reapplying gloss, I noticed how she matched my room. Whereas I was suffocating under my mother’s thumb, my sister seemed to flourish under it. Or at least feign she was, better than I ever had.
I hoped she could forget her brief infatuation with this gardener before it could change all of that. If she dared stray not only before wedlock but with someone outside of our social circle, the horror my mother would rain down on her would be terrible. She would also go after the gardener, his family, and anyone else in the household she could. It would be intense.
Maybe by that time I could convince Mr. Manchild to let us have a spare room for Rose at our place, wherever that was going to be.
He wasn’t afraid of my mother.
If how he’d conducted himself at the cancelled wedding was any indication, he reveled in her indignation.
Maybe I could use that to provide my sister with a safe haven. Would she be safe under the same roof as him? Wealthy men did not have the same expectation of fidelity as women did. Could I keep her safe in my own home? I just wasn’t sure yet.
“Okay, let’s go. I don’t actually want to be late,” I said, not liking the direction my mind was taking.
“Yes, I can’t wait for the show,” Rose agreed, and then added, “The opera should be good, too.”
“What show do you mean?”
“Mother’s face when she sees you.” She gave me an angelic smile and ran out the door.
I was more worried about his reaction.
With a deep breath, I followed her.
I saw him immediately. The black tuxedo he wore was perfectly tailored to his lean body. Combined with a black shirt underneath and a red tie, the effect was mouthwatering and sinful.
Even if I would never say it out loud, especially within his earshot, I had to admit he was strikingly handsome.
He looked up from where he stood inside the door to where I was still poised on the staircase, practically feeling his gaze as it traveled up and down my body slowly, then back up, meeting mine.
The heat from his regard burned my exposed skin, and there was much for him to fume over. His nostrils flared, and a little bit of red colored the tops of his cheeks, the muscles in his jaw all tightening.
I instantly knew I had pushed him too far.
“Mr. Manwarring, lovely to see you tonight. Shall we go?” I said, coming down the last few stairs and stopping in front of him.
I tried to usher him outside, where there would be more witnesses to keep me safe from the threats and dark promises dancing in his eyes.
He leaned in, and I could smell his cologne.
It was dark, spicy, and commanding, and did something to me that made me regret not wearing underwear. He brought his hand to my hip, then slid it down to where the slit in my dress exposed my upper thigh.
He whispered in my ear, “What the fuck do you think you’re wearing?”
CHAPTER 9
LUC
The fucking audacity of this woman!
She had no idea who she was messing with.
If Amelia fucking Astrid thought for a second that I’d let my future wife, my woman, go out in public looking like a common whore, she was about to learn a painful lesson.
She was supposed to be ready to go to the opera, not walk a red carpet like a trashy Hollywood starlet.