Read Wicked Intentions 1 for Free Online

me—terrible or not—and besides, I’ve brought the pistol.”
    Nell moaned. “He’s not like other gentlemen, ma’am.”
    Temperance hefted the soft bag that concealed the pistol. “You’ve made these mysterious hints before. Tell me now—in what way is Lord Caire different from other men?”
    Nell bit her lip, stood on one foot and then the other, and finally squeezed her eyes shut and said quickly, “His bedsport.”
    Temperance waited, but no other explanation was forthcoming from the maidservant. Finally she sighed, keeping a firm rein on the part of her that had leapt at the word bedsport. “The home is in danger of closing. I can’t let what Lord Caire does in his bedchamber keep me from using his assistance.”
    Nell’s eyes popped wide in alarm. “But, ma’am—”
    Temperance opened the back door. “Remember: If Winter asks, I’ve gone to bed early. And if he presses, tell him it’s a female matter. That’ll stop any questions.”
    “Be careful, ma’am!” Nell called as Temperance pulled the door closed behind her.
    A blast of wind whistled around the corner. Temperance shivered and pulled her cloak tighter, turning to go down the alley. A broad male chest loomed suddenly in front of her.
    “Oh!”
    “Good evening, Mrs. Dews,” Lord Caire drawled in his dark, ominous manner. His cloak swirled about his legs in the wind.
    “Please don’t do that,” Temperance said, rather too sharply.
    But he only looked amused. “Do what?”
    “Pop out at me like a footpad.” She glared up at him, watching as his wide mouth curled at the corner. She had a ridiculous urge to smile back at him, but she suppressed it ruthlessly. Tonight his silver hair was contained in a queue under a black cocked hat. Her belly trembled and she couldn’t help but wonder in exactly what way Lord Caire was different in the bedroom.
    But he’d turned and begun striding down the alley. “I do assure you that I’m no footpad, ma’am.” He glanced over his shoulder, and she saw the flash of his blue eyes as she hurried to catch up. “If I had been, you’d be dead by now.”
    “You’re not giving me any encouragement to come with you,” Temperance muttered.
    He stopped suddenly and she nearly ran into him again. “You’re here, are you not?”
    Wretched man! “Yes, I am.”
    He bowed extravagantly, his silver-tipped walking stick in his outstretched hand, his black cloak sweeping the filthy ground. “Then lead on, fair lady.”
    “Humph.” Temperance faced forward and began trotting down the alley, aware that he followed close behind her, a large dark presence.
    “Where will you take me tonight?”
    Was it her imagination or did she feel his hot breath on the back of her neck?
    “It was rather hard to decide, since you refused to tell me much of anything about who it is you’re looking for.”
    She waited for an explanation, but he didn’t comment.
    Temperance sighed. “You said only that you were searching for someone, which, I must tell you, my lord, was no help at all.”
    “Yet I sense you still have a destination in mind,” Lord Caire murmured.
    “I do.” They’d come to the end of the alley, and she ducked through a crumbling archway into an even narrower alley.
    “And that is?” There was a trace of amusement in Lord Caire’s voice.
    “Right here,” she said with some satisfaction. Really she was rather pleased with herself for coming up with a source for him on such little information.
    They stood in front of a building without any windows. Only a swinging wooden sign with a painted candle on it indicated that this was a chandler’s shop. Temperance pushed open the door. Inside, the shop was tiny. A counter ran along one side. The goods were displayed here and there, in heaps and piles and hanging on the walls. Candles, tea, tin cups, salt and flour, string, lard, a few knives, a ragged fan, some new brooms, buttons, one little plum tart, and, of course, gin. At the far end of the