Never Trust a Rogue by Olivia Drake Page B

to the door, she had the discomfitting sense of his eyes boring into her back.
    For the umpteenth time, Edith Crompton twitched back the lace curtains of her sitting room and peered down at the cobbled street. People strolled the concentric walkways of the square, mostly fine ladies and gentlemen, out taking the air despite the overcast skies.
    On any other afternoon, she would feel a righteous sense of superiority that
she
occupied the fine stone mansion at one end of Berkeley Square, while the aristocrats had to settle for the smaller row houses. Having once been a nameless girl in service, Edith had clawed and scraped her way into her current high position in society. Two qualities commanded respect from the nobility: bloodline and wealth. Edith could never claim the first, so she’d made certain she possessed more money than any of them.
    But today she was preoccupied. Her sharp eyes scoured the pedestrians in a vain search. Hearing the click of the door opening behind her, she let the curtain drop and spun on her heel to face her husband.
    “Where
is
that wayward girl?” she demanded. “She and Kasi departed two hours ago.”
    George Crompton ran his fingers through his sparse brown hair, and his weathered features wore a frown. He looked more annoyed with Edith than with their middle daughter. “Is
that
why you summoned me from my account books? Lindsey went for a stroll. There’s no harm in that.”
    “No harm?” Edith felt about to burst with pent-up frustration. She paced back and forth, the elegant rose-stripedgown swishing around her girlishly slender figure. “Lord Wrayford came to call in her absence. I had to listen to him ramble about the superiority of his hunting hounds for nearly an hour, all in the hopes that she would return promptly. Now he’s gone and Lindsey has missed a prime opportunity to encourage his courtship.”
    George planted his hands on his hips, pushing back his coffee brown coat and revealing the paunch around his waist. “If the man has a serious interest in her, he won’t give up so easily. Besides, are you certain she even wishes to marry him? I’ve never heard her say so, and he seems a rather havey-cavey sort of fellow to me, anyway.”
    “All young gentlemen enjoy their amusements. He’ll settle down once they’re wed.” She took a step toward George. “As a matter of fact, I was hoping you would have a word with her.”
    “A word? About what?”
    “Remind her that Wrayford is eminently suitable. With the death of his elder brother, he’s now heir to the Duke of Sylvester. The old man won’t last much longer, and then Lindsey will be a duchess.” The fantasy buoyed Edith’s spirits. “Just think, George, our grandchild could be heir to a dukedom!”
    His face darkened. He took hold of her shoulders and gave her a hard shake. “You and your blasted ambitions! Did you learn nothing from the near disaster last year with Portia? Nothing at all?”
    The previous season, their eldest daughter had been courted by the stately Duke of Albright, the match promoted and guided by Edith. But from the start, Portia had rejected his advances in favor of the notorious Viscount Ratcliffe. There had been a dreadful scandal with Portia running off with Ratcliffe, then Ratcliffe being thrown into prison for killing the duke in a duel. The resultinggossip and disgrace was something Edith hoped never to endure again.
    And she wouldn’t, if things went as planned this time.
    Realizing she’d stepped over the line, she forced a conciliatory smile. George might be a malleable man, yet he had an iron streak that accounted for his incredible success in the business world. Since he controlled the purse strings, it wouldn’t do for her to antagonize him.
    She cradled his weathered cheeks in her palms. “Pray don’t be angry with me, darling. I’m quite happy with the way things have turned out for dear Portia. Just think, we’ll be holding our first grandchild in a few short