Read To All the Rakes I've Loved Before (A Honeycote Novella) for Free Online Page B

than… amused.
    “You flatter me. And if you are feeling well enough to flirt—”
    Was that what he’d been doing?
    “—you should be well enough to answer my questions.”
    The skin between his shoulder blades prickled, but he leaned back and propped his arms on the back of the settee. “Fair enough. Ask me anything you like.”
    “It didn’t seem proper to interrogate you while you were battered and bedridden, but now I must satisfy my curiosity.” She moistened her lips, inclined her head. “Who did this to you? What happened the night you came here?”
    Stephen let out a long, slow breath. Silence stretched out as he considered how best to answer. She watched him expectantly and serenely, as though she had all the time in the world. As though she wouldn’t settle for anything but the truth.
    His brother didn’t know the trouble he was in, nor did his closest friends. It was no secret he played deep, but everyone assumed he had the blunt in his coffers to cover his losses. He’d worked damned hard to cultivate his carefree, reckless reputation, and for what? It didn’t seem to impress Amelia.
    He could concoct a story about a young lady’s jealous beau seeking revenge over a stolen kiss. It would be easiest. But somehow he knew Amelia would be disappointed—not with his supposed rakish behavior, but with his dishonesty.
    Promise you won’t pretend with me.
    He was tired of pretending. It would be a relief to tell someone, and yet it didn’t seem right to share this burden with her.
    Raking a hand through his hair, he said, “The truth is rather ugly. You might not like me very much after I tell you.”
    “I will think well of you for telling the truth,” she said simply. Just as he’d suspected.
    A huge knot in his throat held back the words at first, but he swallowed and pressed on, his decision made. “I borrowed money that I couldn’t pay back.”
    “I see.”
    But he could tell by her puzzled frown that she didn’t. “My creditor”—it seemed such a civilized word for the coarse owner of the gaming hell on King Street—“grew impatient. He sent out a few of his employees to ‘remind’ me to pay my debt.”
    “But that’s… awful. No one deserves to be beaten like that. And for something so trivial as a late payment? They could have killed you.” Her cheeks pinkened with indignation on his behalf, warming something long frozen inside him.
    “My creditor isn’t exactly a shopkeeper on Bond Street, Amelia. I knew the risk I was taking.”
    “Have you no means to pay it back? Surely your brother would—”
    “No. I turned to him once before. If he has some small scrap of faith in me still, I cannot jeopardize it.”
    “I understand, but what will you do if… when the men come back?”
    With confidence he didn’t feel, he said, “I have two weeks. I’ll think of something.”
    “How much do you owe?”
    He knew Amelia was something of a recluse, but even she must know that no one discussed money. It was entirely off-limits in polite conversation. Next she’d be sipping tea, asking about his favorite sexual position, or how many times a week he pleasured himself. Good God.
    “A lot of money—let’s leave it at that.”
    “Why? We promised to be honest with each other. You’re sitting here wearing my father’s robe, for goodness’ sake. And while we’re on the subject, where did you get those slippers?”
    “From your butler. He had a spare pair.”
    “Which only proves my point. We needn’t stand on ceremony.”
    True. He supposed that if he didn’t mind wearing Giles’s cast off slippers, he could endure a crass conversation about money. “Two hundred fifty pounds, initially. Now, it’s one thousand.”
    “One thousand pounds.” Amelia repeated. “Four hundred percent interest is steep.”
    He shrugged. “As I said, I knew the risks. I’ll deal with the consequences.”
    “The consequences are all over your face and body.” Amelia rose and began to pace