Read the Art of Ruining a Rake Online Free
He wants her…
Practiced rake Roman Alexander never meant to seduce his all-time friend's sister. He certainly never intends to do it once again. The handsome scoundrel has never felt more compelled to exist a improve man. But the damage has been done, for his buttoned-upwardly spinster refuses to marry a bounder like him—and maddeningly, she doesn't seem to
like
him. Nevertheless, he can't seem to forget her, or her passionate response to his kisses. How much danger could there be in i more try?
She wants revenge
Practical headmistress Lucy Lancester naively believes her charming rogue has moved on to his side by side conquest, leaving her free to cherish their ane nighttime together for the residuum of her bluestocking days. Until the afternoon he arrives at her school intent on proving their one dark together wasn't enough—and this time, the scandal can't exist independent. Well, two can play at that. How difficult can it be to ruin a rake?
Don't miss the extended prologue found in the bonus short story,
A Game of Persuasion
A dark she'll never forget…
Miss Lucy Lancester has loved her brother's best friend, Roman Alexander, for every bit long as she tin remember. So devotedly, she's vowed never to marry anyone else. But her beloved libertine is inappreciably aware of her beingness, and non the to the lowest degree deserving of her affection. Deciding her cause is lost, she makes plans to open a girls' school in Bathroom. In that location's just one thing she needs to practice before she confirms her spinsterhood forever: spend one blissful night in Roman's arms. But her handsome rogue isn't set to have the tables turned. It will have more than a coquettish grinning to turn his head. She must play a game…of persuasion.
The Naughty Girls
Book Four
For my brother Luke,
who inspired so many of Roman's best qualities.
Don't let that distract you, Mom.
Prologue
Jan, 1806
Brixcombe-on-the-Bay, Devon
A DOOR SLAMMED in a higher place stairs. A piercing screech of frustration followed by a bloodcurdling wail penetrated the sleepless night. Lucy tugged her coverlet higher. While the blanket made her feel protected in the darkness, information technology did nothing to drown the ghastly sounds of her mother's fit.
Her bedchamber door opened on silent hinges. A seam of candlelight savage across the plush carpeting as her sister tiptoed into her room.
"Are you awake, dearest?" Delilah asked, sliding into bed beside Lucy. She pulled the coverlet over their heads, then settled her arm beyond Lucy'due south waist. "You must be."
Lucy turned to confront her sis. Equally she snuggled closer, Delilah's icy toes met Lucy's warm ones at the lesser of the bed.
"You're cold," Lucy said accusingly, reaching for Delilah'due south easily. She rubbed warmth into Delilah'south fingers, the way she'd done since they were children in the plant nursery. "You ought to have stayed in your own bed."
Above them, glass shattered. "I
hate
you lot!" Female parent shouted. Another crash shook the empty halls. "I want you lot to
dice
!"
Lucy tightened her grip on her sister'due south hands.
Please, please don't say such things about him,
she silently begged her female parent.
He's our father.
The cacophony stopped without warning, as if Female parent had heeded Lucy's plea. Only the sounds of Lucy and Delilah's rapid breathing cut the stillness.
Lucy'south tension began to release.
"They told me!" Mother shrieked suddenly, causing both sisters to startle. "I didn't listen! I never listen! How
could
you lot?"
Delilah swallowed audibly. In a loud whisper, she asked Lucy, "Who practise you remember 'they' are?"
Lucy rubbed her sister's easily again. She didn't want to answer. Mother spoke to few people apart from the demons who lurked in her mind.
"Lucy?" Delilah prodded. In the darkness, she looked far older than her 15 years.
Lucy reminded herself that Delilah, her foundation, was three years her junior, not the other way around. Her sister looked to her to give reason to their mother's madness, and to provide stability in a home where none could be found.
"Yes?" Lucy answered, kissing her sister's knuckles.
Delilah shifted closer, her cotton fiber dark rail ethereal in the tent of the coverlet. "I wish Ashlin were at habitation." But Ashlin Lancester, heir to their male parent's estate, was miles away at university.
"Amend Father," Lucy said, unable to keep her cloy hidden, even from Delilah. Though Female parent railed as if he could hear her, Father was away in London, as he'd been for most of Lucy'due south life.
"You shouldn't say such things," Delilah chided her. "Surely information technology
is
best for him to be gone, when Female parent is in one of her—"
"I want him dead!"
Mother screeched, oblivious to the servants who must be cowering, or her own 2 children huddled just ane floor below.
The enraged pounding of Mother's fists against her bedchamber door thumped through the ceiling, reverberating through Lucy's bedchamber and her heart.
"That scurrilous blackguard!" Mother shouted, her voice clear though her mind wasn't. "How
dare
he leave me hither. How cartel he go to
her
."
Lucy swallowed thickly. If only her dear papa hadn't been so quick to abandon his unsteady wife. If only her older brother wasn't at schoolhouse, unaware of the rapid progression of their female parent'due south illness.
"What should nosotros do?" Delilah asked as a loud
thunk
hit the floorboards above them. Wracking sobs followed, as though Mother had crumpled into an incoherent heap of sorrow confronting the carpet.
Lucy clutched her sis's hand tighter. In truth, she had no notion of the course required to restore her mother's sanity, a fact that frightened her across measure, for she despaired of one day meeting the same, terrifying fate.
A hot tear threatened to leak. Lucy squeezed her optics shut, willing herself to at-home. Surely there were doctors who could help. Someone, somewhere must know what to do.
If only Ashlin
were
here. She'd written to her brother at Cambridge, every bit he'd asked her to do after their female parent's last violent episode. Perhaps this time, a solution might be found. Nevertheless, it would accept days for Lucy's letter to achieve her brother, and then he must travel home.
Meanwhile, their father cavorted in London with his mistresses—at the untried age of 16, she had become aware of her father's reputation for dalliance. She craved tales from Town, most especially descriptions of the dashing immature marquis whose family endemic the neighboring estate, and pored over the gossip columns daily in the hopes of learning some tidbit about her handsome rogue.
But reading the news from Town presented a risk she'd come up to dread. For every bit she impatiently skimmed the papers for talk of Roman Alexander, Lord Montborne, she was equally like to turn up an accounting of her male parent's sordid assignations as she was 1 of Roman'southward flirtatious interludes. Reading such accounts made her sick.
Lucy sucked in a jiff as some other vibration indicated movement on the flooring above. If only Mother didn't know of his infidelities. She always discovered a way to have the scandal sheets delivered to her manus, despite their household'due south best efforts to keep them abroad. A poor report from London meant days of despondency, followed by rage, followed past madness.
"You tiny-cocked dissolute!" The floorboard squeaked as Mother rose to her feet. A door banged open up, and heavy footfalls sounded above. The business firm seemed to rattle as Mother charged downwardly the hallway. "Skirt-chaser! Lecher! I'll find you… you lot philandering
coward
!"
Lucy bit her lip. She hugged Delilah close.
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