Scandal Wears Satin (34 page)

“It about killed me.”

She slid back down and into his arms. “A
big
reward,” she said. “There’s just one thing.” She stroked over his chest and downward.

“Anything,” he said.

“No One,” she said, “Must Ever Know.”

Acknowledgments

This book was made possible by the support of:

My insightful and inspiring editor, May Chen;

My indefatigable agent, Nancy Yost;

My witty and fashion-wise friend and blogging partner Isabella Bradford, aka Susan Holloway Scott;

My patient French advisor, Valerie Kerxhalli;

My loyal, funny, and crazy sisters, Cynthia, Vivian, and Kathy;

And, most especially,

My brainy and brave husband, Walter, a hero every single day.

If you love Loretta Chase and are looking for

more heart-stopping historical romance, don’t miss the latest from

New York Times
bestselling author

SOPHIE JORDAN.

Keep reading for a peek at Jordan’s

Lessons from a Scandalous Bride

Coming August 2012

“H
ave I said how lovely you look tonight, my dear?”

Staring into the earl’s rheumy gaze, Cleo couldn’t help wondering whether he could actually see her clearly. “Thank you, my lord.”

Lord Thrumgoodie lifted a shaky, beringed hand and unerringly confiscated her gloved hand. Not too blind, she supposed. She watched in dread as he pressed his chalky-dry lips to the back of it.

Cleo smiled thinly. “You are really too kind, my lord.”

Beyond the earl’s shoulder, his great-nephew glared. It was simple enough to read the contempt in Hamilton’s stare. She quickly averted her gaze and turned her attention to Lord Thrumgoodie, vowing to ignore the wretch.

As the earl’s heir, Mr. Hamilton often accompanied them. Fortunately, he primarily occupied himself at his estate outside Town. When he did visit, he at least feigned to like her in front of the earl and others. The contemptuous glances were for her eyes only.

The earl patted her hand with his trembling one, still clinging to it. “I speak only the truth, my dear.”

Cleo stifled her cringe. If she was going to marry the man, she really needed to learn to abide his touch. It wasn’t often that he made overtures—and she knew on good authority that the old earl’s nether parts were not in working order. She wasn’t above listening to servants’ gossip, and her maid had turned out to be most garrulous. With no prodding, Berthe had become well acquainted with the earl’s servants, gleaning all she could about the man Cleo was considering marrying.

That Thrumgoodie had fathered only one child with his first wife nearly fifty years ago was common enough knowledge. Since then there had been four more wives, all unable to produce offspring. Two of those wives even had children from previous marriages. All of which pointed to the earl’s inability to sire further children. Less common knowledge was that in recent years the old earl had attempted to ravish a few maids in his employ. All to no success. Berthe had put it crudely:
The ol’ man’s canon is busted.

As far as Cleo was concerned, he was the perfect candidate for matrimony. The last thing she wanted was some young, virile male to inflict upon her all the misery her mother had endured.

Thanks to Jack Hadley’s newfound interest in his daughters, she had a dowry to rival Croesus himself. Yet in exchange she was expected to wed someone titled. Someone to help elevate her father’s social standing among the
ton
. That was the trade-off.

After her half sister Grier married the Prince of Maldania, Cleo had thought Jack’s ambitions for her might lessen somewhat. One of his daughters had married a prince, after all. But she wasn’t off the hook. Her father still wanted an English nobleman for a son-in-law.

“I’m so excited.” Lady Libba bounced her generous frame upon the theater seat.

Cleo glanced down at the program in her hand, nodding. “Yes. I’ve heard several good things about the score.”

Libba slapped her with her fan. “Not the opera, you silly hen. McKinney.” She quickly glanced around as if uttering the name alone might set the hounds of hell upon them.

Cleo blinked. “Who?”

“Oh, Cleo! Have you been living under a rock?” She inched her chair closer, bouncing even more as she did so. “McKinney will soon be joining us.”

Cleo glanced at the two remaining seats, still vacant. Presumably the mysterious McKinney would occupy one. “I thought a Mr. and Mrs. Blackwell were invited to join us.” She’d overheard Hamilton mention that he’d invited his old school friend.

Libba bobbed her head in agreement. “They were, but Mr. Hamilton sent a letter around explaining that Mrs. Blackwell was not feeling quite the thing, so his brother-in-law, Lord McKinney, is joining us.”

“I see.” Cleo stared at Libba, seeing nothing at all. Apparently this McKinney should be known to her—at least in reputation.

Libba fluttered her fan as if suddenly overheated. “I’ve been fairly panting to meet him. He’s all everyone is talking about—ever since he drew a sword and sliced Lady Chesterfeld’s gown to ribbons.” Libba made a motion across her dress that looked as though she were fending off bees. “Left her stark naked on the ballroom floor. He’s a perfect savage.” Her eyes danced with delight, attesting that this was not a mark against him.

A perfect savage. Cleo’s lips twisted in a sardonic smile. Seemed rather a contradiction to her but she didn’t bother pointing that out. Instead, she said most soberly, “If that were true-”

“Oh it is!” Libba stared crossly at her, evidently resenting that her tale should be doubted.

“I’m sure it didn’t happen quite like that. He would have been tossed in gaol, certainly, and not about to join us in an opera box.”

Libba readjusted her plump figure on the chair with a sniff. “You shall see.”

With an indulgent smile, Cleo lifted her opera glasses and eyed the crowd pouring into their seats below. She was so engrossed in appreciating the ladies in all their finery—and musing how much her mother would love to witness such a sight—that she did not take heed of the newcomers entering their box until Libba slapped her with her fan again.

“Come now, stop your woolgathering,” Libba called out in an overly loud voice. “We’ve company!”

Cleo resisted the urge to rub her bare arm where the fan struck her. Libba really could be an annoying creature. The girl nodded her head meaningfully toward the back of the box where two gentlemen stood, exchanging greetings with Hamilton.

She assessed the new arrivals, her gaze sliding over a nice-looking fellow with sandy-brown hair and smiling eyes. When her attention turned to the man a step behind him, her breath caught in her throat.

There was no mistaking him. Libba’s perfect savage had arrived.

About the Author

LORETTA CHASE has worked in academe, retail, and the visual arts, as well as on the streets—as a meter maid—and in video, as a scriptwriter. She might have developed an excitingly checkered career had her spouse not nagged her into writing fiction. Her bestselling historical romances, set in the Regency and Romantic eras of the early nineteenth century, have won a number of awards, including the Romance Writers of America’s RITA®.

For more about her past, her books, and what she does and doesn’t do on social media, please visit her website at www.LorettaChase.com.

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By Loretta Chase

Scandal Wears Satin

Silk Is for Seduction

Last Night’s Scandal

Don’t Tempt Me

Your Scandalous Ways

Not Quite A Lady

The Last Hellion

Lord of Scoundrels

Captives of the Night

The Lion’s Daughter

Copyright

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Excerpt from
Lessons from a Scandalous Bride
copyright © 2012 by Sharie Kohler

SCANDAL WEARS SATIN
. Copyright © 2012 by Loretta Chekani. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

EPub Edition JULY 2012 ISBN: 9780062098245

Print Edition ISBN: 9780062100313

FIRST EDITION

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