The Naked Prince by Sally Mackenzie Page A

chance. Maria must be planning to trick a proposal out of Stephen—how she thought she’d manage that was a mystery—and by having witnesses, she’d either claim breach of promise or shame Stephen into standing by his offer. A ridiculous scheme, but if she’d managed to get Stephen drunk—a feat in itself—it might work. Stephen was honorable to a fault.
    He had to do something, but what? He couldn’t risk ruining Miss Atworthy’s reputation. If he—
    â€œWhy the hell do we n-need to go to the l-library now, Maria?”
    Damn it all, that was Stephen’s voice. They were in the corridor.
    â€œWe have to save Mr. Parker-Roth,” Miss Atworthy whispered suddenly.
    â€œYes, but—”
    She didn’t wait to hear his thoughts; she grabbed the candlestick from him and stepped out from behind the curtain.

    Jo was lighting the candle in the fireplace when Lady Noughton dragged Mr. Parker-Roth through the library door.
    Lady Noughton stopped abruptly and glared. “What are you doing here?”
    Jo raised her chin. “Looking for a book.” She wasn’t going to let this sneaky, unprincipled snake intimidate her. “This is a library, you know.”
    Mr. Parker-Roth laughed. “V-very true. Girl’s got you there.” His speech was slurred. He must be exceedingly drunk. “F-frankly, I don’t know why we’re here. D-didn’t think you wanted to read, Maria.”
    â€œNo, of course I don’t want to read.” Lady Noughton patted Mr. Parker-Roth on the arm. “Remember, I wish to show you—”
    â€œSurprise!” Lady Greyham popped up from behind the sofa back, her hair tumbled over her shoulders, her bodice drooping alarmingly low.
    â€œI say, it’s a party.” Lord Greyham appeared next to her. “And look, here’s Kenderly as well.”
    In the confusion, Lord Kenderly must have slipped out of the room. It looked as if he were just entering the library now.
    â€œHelp yourself to some brandy; decanter’s on the table.” Lord Greyham wrapped his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “I have to get back to what I was doing.”
    Lady Greyham giggled as her husband pulled her down and, blessedly, out of sight.
    â€œYou looking for a book, too, D-Damian?” Mr. Parker-Roth wavered a little on his feet. “Should be looking for a l-lady instead.” The man winked. “A w-wet and willing woman will help you sleep much better than some dry Latin text.”
    â€œAnd you should be in bed, Stephen”—Lord Kenderly glared at Lady Noughton—“your own bed.”
    Suddenly the couch started creaking in an alarming way; odd, breathy pants and grunts emanated from the other side, where Lord and Lady Greyham were obviously engaged in some strenuous activity.
    â€œIt is a bit crowded here, isn’t it?” Mr. Parker-Roth executed a wobbly bow to Lady Noughton. “’Fraid my f-friend’s right. Not feeling quite the thing. Excuse me?”
    Lady Noughton almost growled. “No, I—”
    â€œOh, oh, oh! ” Lady Greyham’s voice rose, tight and vaguely desperate. There was something intense about her tone that made Jo feel extremely unsettled and, well, hot .
    â€œThat’s it. That’s the way.” Lord Greyham might have been urging on his hounds. His voice was strained, too. “Come on, old girl. Come on.”
    â€œOh, oh . . . y-yes! ” Lady Greyham screamed. “Oh, God, Pookie!”
    The couch shook more violently in sharp, hard jerks; Lord Greyham grunted . . . and then roared. “Huzzah!”
    Jo’s entire body flushed.
    She glanced at Lord Kenderly; he was grimacing in what looked like pain. Then his eyes met hers, and her temperature shot up another hundred degrees.
    A very embarrassing area of her person throbbed, wet and empty.
    Dear heavens, was she like a dog in heat—could he smell