Wicked in Your Arms by Sophie Jordan Page A

looked invigorated after a night spent with the aristocrats among whose ranks he so badly wanted to be counted. She grimaced. Enough so that he suddenly decided his illegitimate offspring were worth acknowledging.
    Grier glanced at her half sister. If either of them could gain him access to that glittering world through marriage, then they were suddenly worth something in his eyes.
    Grier was no fool. She didn’t look to the older man seated across from her and anticipate he would harbor a soft spot for her. Essentially he bought her presence in his life. He hadn’t been struck with sudden tender feelings for the daughters he never knew. She accepted that. She, in turn, would never hold a warm place for him in her heart, either. His love was not something she had spent her life missing. She’d had a father. The man her mother married after Jack Hadley tossed her aside. The man she had called Papa. He’d comforted her and shielded her as best he could from the cruel world that would punish a child for being illegitimate.
    Her mother’s husband had taught her to ride and fish and shoot. He’d never treated her like another man’s daughter. He’d treated her like his own.
    She rubbed fiercely at the center of her chest, feeling a pang there at the memory of Papa. He’d been gone almost three years, but she still missed him. If he was still alive, she was certain she would not find herself here, sitting in a carriage with Jack Hadley, complicit in his scheme to see her wedded to some blueblood and convinced that was the answer to all her troubles.
    â€œWell?” Jack prompted. “Tell me. Who did you charm this night?” He rubbed his thick hands together as if she had already succeeded in snaring an aristocrat.
    Grier turned at the sound of Cleo’s sigh. She managed a wan smile for Grier as she slumped against the side of the carriage, waiting for Grier to take the lead, as she usually did with their father.
    In the month they’d resided with Jack it had been a constant whirlwind of routs, balls, fittings with the modiste, and nights at the opera. They’d scarcely had time to breathe between each event.
    Jack, too, was apparently waiting on her. He said her name with heavy emphasis, “Grier? Have you nothing to report about tonight?”
    He’d made his expectations clearly felt. As the oldest, she should wed first.
    â€œThe evening went well,” she lied.
    â€œWell?” Jack’s lips puckered around the word as if it were something distasteful.
    â€œYes. Very . . . fine,” she amended.
    â€œFine?” Jack frowned, spitting the word out. “Merely . . . fine? That doesn’t sound very heartening. Did you win no hearts tonight? I thought you wanted to snare a husband, my girl. A fine evening doesn’t sound like you were working toward gaining a proposal.”
    Grier looked helplessly at her sister. Cleo arched an eyebrow as if to say, You did spend a good portion of the night hiding behind a fern.
    Moistening her lips, Grier finally said, “It’s not as easy as you think. Most members of the ton find our lineage less than impressive.”
    Jack waved a thick, meaty paw. “Nonsense. I’ve made it clear the extent of the dowry placed on each of your heads.” Your heads . Like they were scurrilous outlaws.
    â€œSince your sister Marguerite married that partner of mine, I’ve withheld her share, so there’s more for the two of you. I’ve made that known as well. Trust me. There’s plenty of interest out there. Just make yourself obliging and you’ll have a proposal within the fortnight.” His eyes narrowed ruthlessly and she was reminded of what her father was. He’d made his wealth through crime and upon the misery of others. “Unless you aren’t obliging. Unless you don’t want to be here—”
    â€œI’ll be obliging,” she replied, feeling