Our Wicked Mistake Read Online Free

choice, but perhaps it is so popular because it is so effective.”
    “Yes.” Lord Fitch had been taunting her . . . enjoying it. She could still hear his oily voice. So, Lady Brewer, is it true you once, at the opera, behind a curtain, let your husband lift your skirts and . . .
    It had been impossible to reason with the gloating old goat, and certainly appealing to his nonexistent sense of honor hadn’t been effective.
    “When a request for him to return the journal didn’t work, I offered him money for it. He merely laughed at me and said it was far too entertaining and wasn’t for sale.” Her voice was low and dull, but the awfulness of the evening had begun to take its toll. “I pointed out that it was mine in the first place, and returning it was the least any gentleman would do. He refused and continued to make the most disgusting, insulting suggestions you can think of.”
    “My imagination is excellent,” Luke said in a tone that was pleasant, yet it sent a shiver up her spine. “For instance, I would have chosen a much more painful manner of execution for this piece of refuse right now soiling a perfectly good rug. Finish the story.”
    “He threatened to publish it.”
    Damn it all. Another tear ran down her cheek and she swiped it away with the back of her hand, like a child might. While the last thing she wanted to do was weep in front of Luke Daudet, of all people, in the light of this current disaster, she didn’t care all that much.
    “So you conked him with a poker. Excellent decision.”
    “I didn’t conk him with a poker, as you put it,” Madeline said defensively, “just because of that, though I was appalled. Men settle things with violence. Women are more civilized.”
    With irritating logic, he pointed out, “Ah, perhaps, but I am not the one with a dead man in my study.”
    Ignoring that comment, she explained haltingly, “I—I had by then realized any further discussion was useless and disliked the way he looked at me, so I got up to go fetch Hubert to escort the man out. When I came around the desk, Lord Fitch . . . he, well, grabbed me and whispered an extremely repulsive suggestion. He’d obviously been drinking, for his breath reeked. I was close to the fireplace, and as I struggled to get away, I must have grabbed the poker, for next I knew he was lying on the floor.”
    “Clearly self-defense.” Luke reached into the pocket of his perfectly tailored jacket and took out a snowy handkerchief embroidered with his initials in one corner and handed it to her.
    “Thank you.” She wiped away another wayward tear.
    Luke knelt by the body and took up one limp arm. “He’s still warm, so I take it you sent for me immedi ately. Where’s his carriage?”
    “That’s the one blessing in all this. He must have walked, as he lives only a block or so away.”
    “What did you tell your staff? Obviously everyone is in bed.”
    “That his lordship dropped off due to too much drink and that I sent for you to see him home.”
    “Good thinking.” He frowned, his handsome face in profile showing the first true expression of chagrin of the evening. “Only we have one enormous problem, my dear.”
    One? She’d just killed an earl in her husband’s study. She had countless troubles ahead, as far as she could tell.
    “The bastard is still alive.”
    “What? There’s so much blood!” Madeline stared, not sure if she even believed him, crumpling the fine piece of linen in her hand. “He wasn’t breathing—I’d swear it. I checked.”
    “You were understandably distraught, I am going to suspect, but I can feel a pulse. I’m no physician, but as irksome as it might be, it seems quite strong and steady. Head wounds, also, bleed with notorious profusion. I saw my fair share during the war.”
    She experienced a wash of relief so acute her knees nearly buckled. “Thank God. While I am not an ad mirer of Lord Fitch, I did not wish to be the cause of his death.”
    “You are kinder