Tempted by the Roguish Lord

by Mary Brendan

  ‘I don’t want your letter, Emma,’ he interrupted her gently. He moved his hand from the mantel and slid it beneath a fall of silky raven hair to straddle her nape and urge her closer. ‘I have decided I don’t want any more mistresses...although I have been in sore need of one for a while,’ he added ruefully.

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘It means that I have always been faithful to you during my courting.’

  She gazed up at him with huge unblinking eyes, gleaming with disbelief.

  ‘It’s true!’ he protested. ‘I know it’s hard to believe. But I swear I haven’t been with another woman since I met you,’ he said solemnly.

  ‘Why don’t you want my letter, then?’ she whispered. ‘Do you fear I will cling or plead to stay when it is my time to go? I promise to try not to, or to be a disappointment.’

  ‘You would be if you’d give me up so easily. I’d fight to the death for you.’

  His blazing blue gaze roved every inch of her face in a leisurely caress. ‘I love you, Emma Waverley, and what I want and need is you as my wife.’ He dipped his head, touching her face with his lips. ‘And I want a daughter with black hair and brandy eyes who will wrap me round her finger in the way her mother does. Those are my rules.’

  Emma searched for a hint of playfulness in his face, but there was none. Adoration and desire were there and she wondered why she’d never interpreted that intense look as love before.

  ‘Do you want me on my knees? I will grovel if you wish it. I know I deserve to... Don’t cry...’ he said softly as the gathering dew on her lashes spilled to her cheeks. ‘Do you love me? Just a little bit would do,’ he groaned before capturing her sweet soft lips in a persuasive kiss.

  ‘Aha! I knew it!’ Bernard ambled into the room, waving his gun. ‘You thought to get me out of the way to seduce my daughter, you rogue. Well, I can hold my drink better than you think. You might have done us all a great service, but you’ll not have my Emma in payment. She is too precious to me.’

  Lance dropped his forehead to rest on Emma’s shoulder and groaned an oath. ‘Perhaps I should now drop to my knees.’

  ‘You can come away from him now, my dear. Your papa is here to save you. I found a bullet in the drawer and put it in my gun.’ Bernard shuffled over on stockinged feet, jabbing the pistol.

  ‘Put the gun down, Papa.’ Emma turned around and approached her father, pulling Lance by the hand. ‘He hasn’t seduced me, I promise, he has asked me to be his wife.’

  Bernard lowered the gun a fraction, squinting suspiciously. ‘Are you sure that’s what he meant? You know what these rakes are like.’

  ‘Yes... I’m sure. He loves me. Lance wants to ask you for my hand in marriage, Papa.’

  ‘Oh...so will you have him, my dear?’

  ‘Yes... I will.’ Her eyes glowed with serenity as she turned to look at Lance and, father present or not, pressed her lips lightly to his. ‘Because I love him.’

  ‘Capital!’ Bernard boomed. ‘I’ll get the port to celebrate.’

  Emma flung her arms about Lance, resting her cheek on his chest. ‘You can’t get out of it now. If you try to, he’ll shoot you.’ She started to laugh as he lifted her off the ground and spun them both about.

  ‘I haven’t yet an engagement ring to give you, but I have a gift...something I think you’ll like.’ He used the back of a finger to stroke her face, then withdrew from his pocket her gold locket and held it out to her.

  ‘How on earth did you get it?’ she exclaimed.

  ‘Gresham had it. He claimed you left it in his bed.’

  Emma’s eyes widened in shock. ‘I left it at Solomon Pope’s pawnbroker’s shop and the villain promised me he would keep it safe for me to redeem it.’ She took the precious gold. ‘You didn’t believe such a stupid tale from him?’

  ‘Of course not... I knew he was lying,’ Lance said gently. ‘Gresham was in Cheapside the same day you were. I saw him enter his solicitor’s office. He must have watched you go into the pawnbroker’s and gone in afterwards and bought it. Besides, you had been wearing it after he said he had it from you. I felt it against your breast the first time I kissed you, in my sister’s garden.’

  As she blushed, he took the locket, fastening it about her neck, then placed his lips to her nape before dusky curls swayed back into place.

  Bernard came into the room with the decanter and glasses. He poured them all a drink. After a single gulp of his he put down his glass. ‘Now I must stay sober and go out and see Roland. I hope he will still be my friend. I was mean to him, but there’s no time for pussy-footing. This news won’t wait.’ He kissed his daughter’s cheek, then patted his future son-in law on the arm before hurrying towards the door. ‘You may speak to me, my lord, about your worthiness to have my Emma on another occasion. I believe you are in luck and I shall give my consent.’

  ‘He is the happiest he has been in an age and it is all because of you,’ Emma said huskily.

  ‘I’m glad,’ Lance said. ‘Are you happy now, Emma?’

  ‘More than I thought it was possible to be,’ she answered, her eyes aglitter with blissful tears. ‘And you, Lance?’

  ‘I feel blessed and overjoyed, but I’ll be happier when you’re my wife.’ He groaned and kissed her hungrily.

  Emma heard her father call out his goodbyes, then the door banged shut. She went to the window and watched him set off along the road in a sprightly, if meandering, manner, barely relying on his stick. Her thoughts turned to Dawn.

  ‘My friend has not seen Jack Valance for a while.’ She turned to give him an arch look.

  ‘Acquit me of scheming in that.’ Lance gestured surrender. ‘My only hand in it was to loan him my landau. The rest was all his own doing.’

  ‘She likes him.’

  ‘He likes her.’

  ‘But he cannot afford a wife,’ Emma said on a sigh.

  ‘I haven’t seen him myself for a week. He’s gone out of town. I believe his aim is to improve his prospects before he returns.’

  Emma gazed out into the sunny afternoon, thinking the azure sky seemed bluer than ever she remembered it to be, the verdant buds on the lime trees greener than they had been yesterday.

  ‘I’ve offered to help him financially, but he turned me down. When it comes to something as serious as taking a wife there are some things that a man must do for himself if he is to keep his pride.’ Lance slipped his arm about her waist, drawing her back against him and kissing her neck.

  Emma leaned into him, revelling in his touch. ‘I agree and so would Dawn, I’m sure.’ She turned about and looked up at him with shy directness. ‘Alone at last...so what would you like to do, my lord?’

  ‘Is that a trick question?’

  ‘No, it isn’t.’ Taking his hand, she led him to the door and across the hall to the stairs. She started up them, tugging him behind.

  ‘What about your rules?’

  ‘There are no rules Lance, other than that you love me...’

  * * *

  If you enjoyed this story

  don’t miss these other great reads

  by Mary Brendan

  The Rake’s Ruined Lady

  Tarnished, Tempted and Tamed

  Compromising the Duke’s Daughter

  Rescued by the Forbidden Rake

  Keep reading for an excerpt from The Earl’s Inconvenient Wife by Julia Justiss.

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  The Earl’s Inconvenient Wife

  by Julia Justiss

  Chapter One

  London—early April, 1833

  ‘You’re certain you won’t come with me?’ Temperance Lattimar’s twin sister asked as she looked up from the trunk into which she’d just laid the last tissue-wrapped gown. ‘I know Bath isn’t the centre of society it used to be, but there will be balls and musicales and soirées to attend. And, with luck, attend without whispers of Mama’s latest escapade following us everywhere.’

  Temperance jumped up from the window seat overlooking the tiny garden of Lord Vraux’s Brook Street town house and walked over to give Prudence a hug. ‘Much as I will miss you, darling Pru, I have no intention of leaving London. I won’t let the rumour-mongers chase me away. But I do very much hope that Bath will treat you kindly—’ though I doubt it, London gossips being sure to keep their Bath counterparts updated about the latest scandal ʻ—and that you will find that gentleman to love you and give you the normal family you’ve always wanted.’ Letting her sister go, Temper laughed. ‘Although, growing up in this family, I’m not sure you’ll recognise “normal” even if you find it.’

  ‘You mean,’ Prudence asked, irony—and anger—in her voice, ‘not everyone grows up with a father who won’t touch them, a mother with lovers tripping up and down the stairs every day and rumours that only their oldest brother is really the son of their father?’

  ‘Remember when we were little—how much we enjoyed having all those handsome young men bring us hair ribbons and sweets?’ Temper said, trying to tease her sister out of her pique.

  Pru stopped folding the tissue paper she was inserting to cushion the gowns and sent Temper a look her twin had no trouble interpreting.

  ‘I suppose it’s only us, the lucky “Vraux Miscellany”, who fit that sorry description,’ Temper said, changing tack, torn between sympathy for the distress of her twin and a smouldering anger for the way society had treated their mother. ‘Gregory, the anointed heir, then you and me and Christopher, the...add-ons. Heavens, what would Papa have done had Gregory not survived? He might have had to go near Mama again.’

  ‘Maybe if he had, they’d have reconciled, whatever difficulty lay between them, and we would have ended up being a normal family.’

  Temper sighed. ‘Is there such a thing? Although, to be fair, you have to admit that Mama has fulfilled the promise she made to us on our sixteenth birthday. She’s conducted herself with much more restraint these last six years.’

  ‘Maybe so, but by then, the damage was already done,’ Pru said bitterly. ‘How wonderful, at your first event with your hair up and your skirts down, to walk into the drawing room and hear someone whisper, “There they are—the Scandal Sisters”. Besides, as this latest incident shows, Mama’s reputation is such that she doesn’t have to do anything now to create a furore.’

  ‘Not when there are always blockheaded men around to do it for her,’ Temper said acidly. ‘Well, nothing we can do about that.’

  After helping her twin hold down the lid of the trunk and latch it, she gave Pru another hug. ‘Done, then! Aunt Gussie collects you this morning, doesn’t she? So take yourself off to Bath, find that worthy gentleman and create the warm, happy, normal family you so desire. No one could be more deserving of a happy ending than you, my sweet sister!’

  ‘Thank you, Temper,’ Pru said as her sister crossed to the door. ‘I shall certainly try my hardest to make it so. But...are you still so determined not to marry? I know you’ve insisted that practically since we were sixteen, but...

  Shock, his suffocating weight, searing pain... Sucking in a breath, Temper forced the awful memories away, delaying her reply until she could be sure her voice was steady. ‘You really think I would give up my freedom, put myself legally and financially under the thumb of some man who can ignore me or beat me or spend my entire dowry without my being able to do a thing to prevent it?’

  ‘I know we haven’t been witness to a...very hopeful example, but not all marriages are disasters. Look at Christopher and Ellie.’

  ‘They are fortunate.’

  ‘Christopher’s friends seem to be equally fortunate—Lyndlington with his Maggie, David Smith with his duchess, Ben Tawny with Lady Alyssa,’ Pru pointed out.

  Temper shifted uncomfortably. If she were truly honest, she had to admit a niggle of envy for the sort of radiant happiness her brother Christopher and his friends had found with the women they’d chosen as wives.

  But the possibility of finding happiness in marriage wasn’t worth the certainty of having to face a trauma she’d never been able to master—or the cost of revealing it to anyone else.

  ‘Besides,’ Pru pressed her point, ‘it’s the character of the husband that will determine how fairly and kindly the wife is treated. And we both know there are fair, kind, admirable men in London. Look at Gregory—or Gifford!’

  Gifford Newell. Her brother’s best friend and carousing buddy, who’d acted as another older brother, tease and friend since she was in leading strings. Although lately, something seemed to have shifted between them...some sort of wordless tension that telegraphed between them when they were together, edgy, exciting...and threatening.

  She might be inexperienced, but, with a mother like theirs, Temper knew where that sort of tension led. And she wanted none of it.

  ‘Very well, I grant you that there are some upstanding gentlemen in England, and some of them actually find the happy unions they deserve. I... I just don’t think marriage is for me.’ Squeezing her sister’s hand, she crossed to the doorway. ‘Don’t forget to come say goodbye before you leave! Now, you’d better find where your maid has disappeared to with the rest of your bonnets before Aunt Gussie arrives. You know she hates to be kept waiting.’

  Pru gave her a troubled look, but to Temper’s relief did not question her any further. She kept very few secrets from her sister, but this one she simply couldn’t share.

  Tacitly accepting Temper’s change of subject, Pru said, ‘Of course I’ll bid everyone goodbye. And you’re correct, Aunt Gussie will be anxious to get started. Anyway, since you can’t be presented this year, what do you mean to do in London?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Temper replied, looking back at her from the doorway. ‘Maybe I’ll create some scandals of my own!’

  * * *

  Trying to dispel the forlorn feeling caused by the imminent departure of the twin who had been her constant companion and confidante her entire life, Temper closed the door to the chamber they shared, then hesitated.

  Maybe she should gather her cloak, find her maid and drag the long-suffering girl with her for a brisk walk in Hyde Park. With it being already mid-morning, it was too late to indulge in riding at a gallop and, as restless and out of sorts as she was this morning, she wouldn’t be able to abide confining herself to a decorous trot. While she hesitated, considering, she heard the
close of the hall door downstairs and a murmur of voices going into the front parlour.

  One voice sounded like Christopher’s. Delighted that the younger of her two brothers might be paying them a visit, Temper ran lightly down the stairs and into the room.

  ‘Christopher, it is you!’ she cried, spying her brother. ‘But you didn’t bring Ellie?’

  ‘No, my wife’s at her school this morning,’ Christopher said, walking over to give her a hug. ‘Newell caught me as we were leaving Parliament and, learning I meant to visit you and Gregory, insisted on tagging along.’

  Belatedly, Temper turned to curtsy to the gentleman lounging at the mantel beside her older brother Gregory. ‘Giff, sorry! I heard Christopher’s voice, but not yours. How are you?’

  ‘Very well, Temper. And you are looking beautiful, as always.’

  The intensity of the appreciative look in the green eyes of her brother’s friend sent a little frisson of...something through her. Temper squelched the feeling. What was wrong with her? This was Giff, whom she’d known for ever.

  ‘Blonde, blue-eyed and wanton—the very image of Mama, right?’ she retorted, hiding, as she often did, vulnerability behind a mask of bravado. ‘I suppose you’ve heard all about the latest contretemps.’

  ‘That was the main reason I came,’ Christopher said, motioning her to a seat beside him on the sofa. ‘To see if there was anything I could do. And to apologise.’

  ‘Heavens, Christopher, you’ve nothing to apologise for! Ellie is a darling! We would have disowned you if you hadn’t married her.’

  Her brother smiled warmly. ‘Of course I think so. I’ve been humbled and gratified by the support of my family and closest friends, but there’s no hope that society will ever receive us. And wedding a woman who spent ten years as a courtesan wasn’t very helpful to the marital prospects of my maiden twin sisters, who already had their mother’s reputation to deal with.’