Page 9 of A Scoundrel in the Making

Elana sipped her champagne. “Oh, indeed. Lady Tate is quite proud of the mansion, and rightfully so. Have you seen much of it?”

“I haven’t had that pleasure,” Lord Reade said.

Elana smiled. “Then you are fortunate to have run into me. I know the home quite well. There is one room, in particular, that is a favorite of mine. A modest parlor decorated strictly with French furniture from the era of King Louis XIV. Lady Tate swears that all the furniture is authentic.” Elana leaned forward and whispered, “Of course, no one would dare challenge her fantasies.”

Lord Reade laughed. “I imagine, for some, keeping silent is rather difficult.”

Elana’s eyes twinkled. “You have no idea, sir. In any case, would you care to see the room?”

“Who wouldn’t want to see a room furnished with furniture from Louis XIV’s own home?” he said.

“Good.” Elana looked at Abigail. “And you, Lady Buchman, would you care to see the room?”

“As Lord Reade has pointed out, who could possibly resist?”

Elana nodded toward the hallway on the far side of the room. “I will go on ahead. Meet me in the hallway there.” Without waiting for an answer, she strolled away.

Lord Reade grasped Abigail’s hand, slipped it into the crook of his arm, and smiled. “Are you in the mood for a little adventure, my lady?”

Adventure? He couldn’t be. Was this man her pretend lover?