Barbara Metzger by The Wicked Ways of a True Hero (prc) Page A

environs to do his hell raking. McCanns Club entertained men with lesser titles and fortunes than Whites or Boodles. It also had women dealers, women patrons, women allowed in private rooms upstairs.
     
     
Stamfield wasnt a seducer of innocents, not that she ever heard. Corie would have heard, too, because there was nothing servants loved as much as gossip about their betters acting like beasts. Nor was his name linked to any highborn wives or willing widows, the way so many so-called gentlemens were. No, his name was dragged through bordellos, not the boudoirs of the beau monde. Did that make him worse or better than other men? Corie did not know or care. It made no difference, anyway. All men were fools.
     
     
Yet Lady Cora thought her son was nearly perfect. A mothers love truly must be blind.
     
     
Corie thought of her own mother, resting in peace or not these many years, and how Cories life might have been far different had her mother lived. Or not. Mrs. Abbott did not have the backbone of a Lady Cora. Mama believed it was a womans lot to suffer, ever since the Garden of Eden in her precious Bible. A female was a husbands property, his vassal, his inferior. A wife should not complain, either, for it was a mans right to rule his kingdom. Mama had tried to teach her daughter to be accepting of her place in life, just as Mrs. Squire Abbott accepted dying of neglect and a broken heart.
     
     
Corie could not do it, meekly follow her fathers dictates. She could not marry the sick old man her father had chosen for her just so shed be a widow soon, and hed have control of her rich inheritance. She could not accept someone like Mrs. Rivendale as her stepmother, becoming nursemaid to another womans infants. She could not, would not, let Daniel Stamfield steal this chance for a better life.
     
     
Resolved, Corie decided to go to bed, to be ready to face the next day and whatever came. She thought she would take her cup upstairs with her, refilled with lukewarm tea and a dash of brandy, in case she could not fall asleep.
     
     
So there she was, barefoot and gloveless, with her hair trailing down her back, her gown disordered, and one hand holding a brandy decanter. Which was, of course, when Nemesis knocked.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Six

 
D aniel did not knock. The door was open, and he was coming in only to wish his mother good night. Instead of his mother or his sister, he found Miss Abbott, alone, and looking like the wanton she was. He almost looked around to see if she had a mana footman or a groom, evenhidden in the window seat or behind the sofa. He couldnt take his eyes off her, though. He couldnt think straight. Hell, he could hardly breathe, but he had to say something, or shed know him for the great looby he was.
     
     
I see you are making yourself at home, he said, which was possibly the worst he could have uttered, other than Please take off the rest of your clothes so I can die a happy man.
     
     
Corie set down the bottle. Her chin came up. Lady Cora said I might.
     
     
Damn, that was not what he meant, not entirely. Of course. Guest and all. Her goddaughter. I, uh, meant no offense.
     
     
Maybe not this time, Corie told herself, but his continued stare was insult enough, as if he was mentally undressing the rest of her. She cursed at herself for removing the lace filling from her neckline, right where he was gawking, then cursed at him for not being a gentleman. She couldnt do anything about her hair, her shoes, or the missing fichu, but she still wore layers of firmly laced fabric, thank heavens. She did try to hide her bare hands in her skirts. I thought you were out, she said, as if that explained her dishabille in the drawing room.
     
     
I needed to write a few letters myself.
     
     
Hed unknotted his neckcloth, too, so it was draped around his broad shoulders. His hair was mussed as if hed drawn his fingers through it in concentration, leading Corie to wonder if the dolt could