The Lady's Wicked Proposition (Wicked Liaisons series) by Vivienne Westlake Page A

motivation? Would he find it amusing? Salacious? It was rather funny. The first thing she wanted to be rid of—now that she was as rich as Croesus—was her most prized possession.
    What use was her virginity now that she never needed to marry?
    She whispered, “I did come to Town in search of a man, but I have no interest in marriage. To my mind, women marry for security, and I am convinced that whatever security I have will vanish the moment I take a husband. My fortune will no longer be my own, and I intend to enjoy every shilling before I die.”
    Motioning for another card, she looked at her sorry hand and prayed for a ten. He slid an eight to her and she bit her lip to keep from smiling. There was still a chance. The next card would either be her salvation or her downfall.
    “Do you plan to spend it all in a grand fashion?” His wide smile set her heart to racing, and she felt a distinct heat that had nothing to do with the alcohol.
    “No. There is more than I could spend, though if I continue to play cards with you every week, I should surely lose most of it.”
    As he passed her the last card, his fingers brushed hers. What would it be like to feel those fingers everywhere? The idea conjured provocative images of him stroking her bare skin. Could he be the one? Chevalier was unattached, in no need of a fortune, and his reputation promised delicious amusements of the most illicit kind.
    “Tell me, what did you come to find?” he asked.
    Giddy from the champagne, the thrill of his attention sent her flying. Of course, she should stop before she revealed too much, but Dina felt too free, too easy with Chevalier. Once she’d said it, maybe she’d have the courage to carry it through.
    “I have come to find a rake.”
    Eyebrows raised, he set his cards on the table and leaned forward. “A rake?” When he smiled, his blue-green eyes turned as dark as sapphires. “To what purpose, Miss Merriweather?”
    The words cascaded from her lips before she could stop them. “I need a rake to do what he does best. I have a…uh… situation that needs,” she cleared her throat, “a remedy.”
    “And what sort of man will meet the requirements?”
    The heat in his voice lanced through her, white hot and unforgiving, and there was nowhere to hide. Even her toes burned.
    Glancing away, knowing he saw the flush of her skin, she covered her nervousness with a jumble of worthless chatter. “Oh, any handsome and experienced gentleman will suffice. So long as he is discreet.”
    “Discreet.”
    “Yes, of course he needs to be able to keep whatever we…discuss…private. A pleasant countenance is also essential. I could hardly relax if he were ill-featured or had boorish manners.”
    Looking at him was a mistake. Chevalier’s face was partly cast in shadow from a potted plant situated in the corner behind him. He sat still as a lion, who acknowledged his prey with the mere movement of his eyes. Dina downed the glass of champagne in one shot, causing her chair to tip back and teeter on one leg. Before she could react, Chevalier reached across the table and pushed her chair back in place.
    He took her glass and motioned for a servant to retrieve it. When the footman held out another glass of champagne, Chevalier shook his head and waved the man away.
    Just when she thought she’d be spared any more embarrassment, he asked. “Is there anything else you require?”
    Dina was a terrible liar, so she blurted out the truth before she thought better of it. “Well, the rest should be somewhat obvious. He must possess the skill to make the experience enjoyable, or the entire matter would be pointless.”
    “I see. You seek a man of discretion, who has a pleasant demeanor and some skill with pleasing a lady. Where do you expect to find this gentleman?”
    “Perhaps I already have.”
     
    ***
     
    Miss Merriweather was too deep into her cups to have any notion of what she said or did. If she’d been a widow, he would have taken