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The Prince of Pleasure (Notorious 5)

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Snatching up the reins then, Julienne ordered the ostler to stand back. When he complied, she sent the grays forward at a brisk trot.

She could almost sense Dare's stupefaction as she drove out of the yard. When he shouted after her, she permitted herself a brief smile. After surrendering so witlessly to his passionate kiss, she needed to show their observers that she was still a match for him.

What she had done-appropriating his curricle and stranding him at a tavern-was no more outrageous than Dare's usual antics. He would eventually be able to hire some sort of equipage to take poor Fanny Upcott back to London. And someone had to follow Riddingham and try to soothe his ruffled feathers. Perhaps, Julienne reflected, she could use the opportunity to discover what the viscount knew about the murdered companion.

It was likely that Dare feared for his horses, but she wouldn't let them come to any harm. She could tool a curricle more expertly than most women, since one of her beaux in York had taught her. And the grays needed to be cooled down in any case, for their coats were well lathered after their courageous exertions.

But let Dare fret, Julienne thought with more than a hint of defiance. It was time she taught him a lesson.

The arrogant Dare North would learn that he might best most of his opponents, but he wouldn't win the battle with her.

Chapter Nine

When Julienne returned Dare's curricle that afternoon to his home at Cavendish Square, his august butler gave her a severe glance of disapproval before summoning his lordship.

Dare appeared almost immediately. She could sense his simmering anger as he swiftly descended the front steps to the street in order to inspect the condition of his horses.

Julienne watched as he carefully ran his hands over their legs and backs to assure himself the grays were unharmed.

"I promise I didn't ruin them," she said blandly. "Indeed, I took the liberty of having them unharnessed and groomed while I was having dinner at the Primrose Inn with a certain mutual acquaintance of ours."

With a sharp glance at her, Dare ordered a footman to have the horses driven around to the stables. Then he grasped Julienne lightly but firmly by the arm.

"Before I have someone see you home, Miss Laurent, I hope you will do me the honor of taking a glass of sherry with me," he said, his silken tone brooking no refusal.

"But of course, my lord," Julienne agreed, keeping her smile to herself.

His mansion, what little she could see of it, was magnificent. She scarcely had time to glance around the vast entryway, which was tastefully adorned with statuary and tapestries and paintings in oils, before Dare ushered her into a spacious salon.

"I trust you have an explanation for stealing my horses," he said tersely as soon as he shut the door.

"I am so relieved you managed to find your way safely home," Julienne answered, deliberately taunting him.

She saw a muscle flex in his jaw, but he apparently thought better of giving vent to his anger and playing into her hands. Instead his mouth curved in a reluctant half smile. "I presume you will divulge your reasons in your own good time, my lovely Jewel?"

"You promised me a glass of wine, did you not? I declare I am parched. This spy business is arduous work."

His gaze narrowed at her cryptic words, but he went to the sideboard and poured her some sherry. When he returned to hand her the glass, Julienne stepped back out of range, on the chance that Dare might try to kiss her again. Turning, she settled on a brocade sofa.

"I was endeavoring to seduce Riddingham's secrets from him," she said finally.

She saw some hot emotion flare in Dare's eyes, but he merely moved to stand before the cold hearth and clasped his hands behind his back, as if striving to control himself.

"Happily I had no need to lure him to my bed," Julienne added in a pleasant tone.

"Did you never stop to think," Dare snapped, "that if Riddingham truly is a killer, you could have been in grave danger?"

"Perhaps, but I seriously doubt he is a killer. In fact, I think it can be proved that he isn't. At least in the case of that poor girl, Alice Watson."

His expression remained enigmatic. "Do tell.

"

"My initial intent, when I followed Riddingham this afternoon, was to reduce his rancor toward you. But then I realized I had the perfect opportunity to question him by asking him to dine with me. He was very angry with you, naturally, Dare. I pretended to sympathize with him."

"To what end?"

"To discover his whereabouts when Alice Watson was killed."



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