Read When She Was Wicked for Free Online

servant. And she was much too philosophical for this godforsaken hour of the morning. “Nonsense. That’s a lie people tell themselves to easetheir guilt. I suppose you’re going to say you had a good reason for extorting money from me.”
    “My mother’s very ill.”
    He shifted on the bench. As reasons went, it was good. Of course, he had no way of knowing if it was true. “I’m sorry.”
    “The forty pounds would have paid for the doctor’s visits, her medicine, and our rent. At least for a few months.”
    The bundle of coins weighed heavily in his pocket. To him, forty pounds was just a new jacket and a pair of boots. But it was the principle of the thing. She’d threatened to ruin his sister. “Why was it left to you to raise the money? Do you have a father or siblings?”
    “My father is dead.” Her voice cracked on the final word. “My sister and I take care of our mother.”
    “Surely you had other options. Besides extortion.”
    She snorted. “I could have tucked up my skirts and hung about Covent Garden.”
    “I meant you could have sought gainful employment.”
    “I
have
a respectable job. At least, I did until today. But my salary didn’t begin to cover the cost of Mama’s care.”
    Owen wasn’t sure why he believed this woman when she had every reason to lie. All he knew was that the whole exchange had left him feeling depressed. And confused.
    “I assume you possess a skill for something other than writing demand notes.”
    “Yes,” she said.
    “But if I were to release you”—she looked up at him, gray eyes full of hope—“you’d still be in dire need of money. You might turn to extortion again.”
    “I would do whatever I needed to do to take care of my family,” she said unapologetically.
    And there it was—the familiar, haughty look. A ray of sunshine, pure as the morning, penetrated the canopy of trees and illuminated her face. And in that moment, he was almost certain of her identity. Upon meeting her, the proud tilt of her chin had struck him as completely incongruous with her drab clothes and ill-fitting spectacles. Given her demeanor and appearance, the seamstress’s name had, at first, seemed ironic. Upon further inspection, however, he’d noticed that beneath the godawful cap she wore, there were golden streaks in her hair. They started at her temples and traveled obediently to the bun at the back of her head. And then he’d thought her name suited her after all.
    “Oh, here.” He pulled the spectacles from his pocket and handed them to her.
    One lens was cracked, and the wire was badly bent. She attempted, unsuccessfully, to twist them into their proper shape before putting them on.
    The oversized spectacles perched on her sloping nose, in combination with her ridiculous cap, confirmed his suspicion.
    “I admire your devotion to your family,
Miss Honeycote
.”
    She gasped.
    He leaned forward until only a breath separated them. “And I believe I have a proposition for you.”
    The duke’s smug smile raised the hairs on the back of Anabelle’s neck.
    Although her left lens was cracked, she could see him clearly through the right. His bloodshot eyes suggested he’d had even less sleep than she, and his burgundy jacketwith contrasting velvet trim looked like… well, it looked like he’d spent the night curled up under a bridge. Even so, he was handsome as sin.
    She’d never spoken so frankly with a man before. Heavens, she’d even alluded to prostitution. But she was in the frightening—and yet oddly liberating—position of having absolutely nothing to lose.
    “What, precisely, do you propose?” She managed a calm, matter-of-fact tone. As though she were not utterly and completely at his mercy.
    “You say you need money to support your family.”
    “I
do
.” She prickled at the suggestion that she would lie about such a thing.
    “And you work at Mrs. Smallwood’s dress shop.”
    She thought longingly of the projects waiting for her in the cozy back