SubmittingtotheRake by Em Brown Page A

whereas Heloise had entertained but one in
recent years. But the dearth of suitors had not diminished her ability to
observe humankind, and she knew a rogue when she saw one. People had a tendency
to overlook the shortcomings in a man such as Sebastian Cadwell because of his
title, wealth and breeding.
    When it had become clear that her disapproval of Josephine’s
choice of company was having the unintended consequence of making her cousin
even more attached to Sebastian, Heloise had attempted to reason with the earl
himself. She had requested an audience with him on numerous occasions, but he
had refused all of her attempts to engage him in conversation until she had
managed one evening to accost him as he emerged from his box at the theater.
     
    “I would have a word with you, Your Lordship,” Heloise
had said hastily before he could turn to ignore her.
    He had stared down at her with brown eyes so dark they
appeared black. With dark hair waving over a wide brow, the firm, square jaw of
a man who knows what he wants and a subtle cleft of the chin to denote a masculinity
matured, the earl was more imposing than she remembered. His stylish hat sat at
smart attention upon his head. His double-breasted coat with matching high
collar fit him snugly, emphasizing his broad shoulders and tall frame. Lord
Cadwell had always been considered a swell of the first stare.
    “You have not responded to my written requests to speak
with you,” she added, trying not to be intimidated by his height. He seemed to
command more space than his body actually occupied. “I think it rather discourteous
of you not to have granted me an audience.”
    He smiled—an unnerving curl of the lips. Sensuous lips.
Heloise snapped her attention to the matter at hand. Gracious, why was she
staring at the man’s lips?
    “You would find me more discourteous, I assure you, had I
accepted your request, Miss Merrill.”
    At her surprised pause, he continued, “I know what it is
you intend to speak to me of, and I had thought to spare us both from the
conclusion you would draw of me upon hearing my response.”
    His words took her breath away.
    “Ah, I was right,” he noted. “I can tell at this moment
you think me audacious and arrogant.”
    She flushed, perturbed that he should have correctly
guessed her thoughts.
    “Let us now part ways,” he suggested, “before I offend
you further.”
    Heloise attempted to grab at words, to form some manner
of coherent retort, but failed. Worse still, she had not realized her mouth
hung open until he curled his forefinger gently beneath her chin and closed her
lips. Horrified, she was only too glad when he tipped his hat and took his
leave. Her heart was pounding madly—she wished from anger alone but had to
admit it was his touch that had unsettled her more. A warm wave had rushed over
her body, and she understood for the first time how Josephine could be
captivated by this man. A man she had hitherto disdained. And now considered
more dangerous than ever.
     
    There would be no mouth dumbly agape this time, Heloise
promised herself as the Château Follet loomed before her. She intended to
provide Sebastian Cadwell the set-down he deserved. This time she was prepared
to do battle and emerge the victor. If she did not, she would have risked her
cousin’s affection for naught. For hours after discovering the letter from the
earl, Heloise had struggled with the idea of reasoning with Josephine again.
Surely Josephine knew that the earl would merely use her for the pleasures of
the flesh, then cast her aside as he had done with so many women before her?
But the numerous suitors that Josephine had entertained must have engendered
many a romantic notion in her young head.
    Or worse, perhaps Josephine would not care.
    This was the only way, Heloise affirmed to herself as she
alighted from the carriage. Waiting at the steps of the château, an abigail
named Annabelle greeted her quietly and gently.
    “I will show you