The Tempting of a Devilish Lord (The Lords of Scandal Row Book 2)

by Samantha Holt

  “Now I think you might be right about being adventurous,” she said quietly. “If I had known I would end up dying in a well at six-and-twenty...”

  “There will be time for adventures,” he assured her. “Did I tell you of the time I climbed Grossglockner and nearly froze to death?”

  “I do not want to think about freezing to death.”

  “It had a good ending. I got caught in an awful snowstorm and ended up climbing the wrong way. It took me far longer than it should have done to make my way back to camp. It took me nearly six months for my toes to cease being numb.”

  “You are lucky you did not lose your toes!” She shuddered, and he pressed himself as close as humanly possible into her.

  Neither of them had much heat left to preserve, but it made him feel better having her tucked against his chest and hopefully it helped her too.

  “I nearly did,” he admitted. “But the point is, I survived that, and a damned well, will not be the end of us.”

  “My mother does not approve of your adventures.” She gave a weak laugh. “She thinks it irresponsible for a titled gentleman to risk his health like that.”

  “Your mother does not approve, or you do not?”

  “Well, it is a little reckless...” She sniffed, the sound loud in the confines of the well and he hoped to God she was just cold and not crying.

  “It’s nice to know you have been talking of me at least.”

  “I was not talking of you,” she protested. “But you have been the gossip of the town since your arrival and you cannot expect otherwise, surely? One of the Lords of Scandal Row in our midst? It is certainly more diverting for most than talks of the weather.”

  He allowed himself a grin. “Do you find it diverting to talk of me?”

  “That is not what I meant!”

  “I rather like the thought of you gossiping about me, Lucy.”

  He heard her struggle for an answer and felt her body sag in defeat. Which meant she had been talking of him and he most certainly liked that fact. However, he needed to keep her occupied until he could figure a way out of here or someone came along. With all the visitors to the area, surely someone would happen upon them eventually?

  “Why do you do it?” she asked abruptly.

  “Do what?”

  “Behave as you do. A-all rakish and adventurous and whatnot. Mama said you were in the Alps for Christmas.”

  “As I said, one never knows when life will end.”

  “In a well,” she added miserably.

  Alex eased out a breath. He hardly felt like talking about it, but he suspected it would be the best way to distract her. Women were forever begging him to share all of his woes with them. He would wager Lucy was no different.

  Also, some odd part of him wished to be honest with her and spill all his secrets. There weren’t many but nevertheless he wanted to share them with her.

  “My wife died abruptly and at a young age,” he said swiftly.

  “I had heard. I am sorry, but I thought—”

  “That I did not care. That I had no love for her.” He was well aware his plunge into numerous love affairs meant the newspapers and gossipers cast him as an unfeeling man, happy to be free from his arranged marriage.

  She paused a moment. “Well, yes.”

  “I scarcely knew Eliza, but she was a sweet woman and I anticipated us working well together. She was an excellent wife.”

  “That does not sound like love.”

  “It was not but I didn’t know better at the time.”

  “That you wanted love?”

  He scowled. Love had never come into it. He didn’t need love then and he still did not, even if his marriage seemed a little cold and awful when he thought back now. “Love is not something a marquis can expect.”

  “That seems a shame.”

  “She had my admiration and respect.”

  “Did she not want love?”

  “I...” He let his frown deepen. “I have no idea.” He cleared his throat. He’d tried not to think too hard on Eliza’s death over the years. It had brought him far too close to the reality that life could be snuffed out in an instant and he refused to let himself be dragged down by the thought.

  “Are you a secret romantic?” he asked.

  “Goodness, no. Never.”

  He smiled at her defensive tone. There really was much more to Lucy than a determination to adhere to the strict rules of society. “You seem quite determined that one should have love in a marriage which, you must admit, is not the most common reason for marriage amongst our peers.”

  “My parents love one another. It simply seems a much better way to live.”

  “Have you ever loved?”

  “No,” she replied quietly, almost sadly.

  A strange pang vibrated in his chest. He certainly could not let her die here without having experienced such an emotion.

  A few moments of silence passed before she asked, “How did your wife die?”

  “She died unexpectedly and far too young,” he explained perfunctorily. “I never really found out why. The physician suspected she had some underlying problem of the heart and she died in her sleep.”

  “That must have been quite a shock.”

  “Well, indeed, and it made me realize life could end in but a moment, and I was certainly not going to vegetate away doing nothing.”

  “I-I suppose that makes sense.” She sighed deeply. “I am sorry you went through that, Alex, and that you had no one to aid you in understanding your grief.”

  “Now you are just being ridiculous. I am perfectly fine.”

  “Apart from being trapped in a well.” Lucy laughed but it sounded forced.

  “What of you? Why do you pretend you do not like castles or my fast driving or romantic notions? I know there is a deeper reason than simply losing interest.”

  The silence lasted so long his gut tightened in fear that she had lost consciousness. “Lucy?” he pressed.

  “I suppose it would not hurt to admit it. Especially as we are probably going to die here.”

  “We are not going to die,” he said forcefully.

  “Nearly ten years ago, I was—”

  “Coo-ee!” A voice came from above them.

  A shadow darted overhead, and Alex looked up. The silhouette of a face appeared at the top of the well and Alex’s heart gave a leap.

  “Mary-Anne?” Lucy said, craning her neck.

  “Whatever are you two doing down there?” she called.

  “Do not lean too far over,” Lucy warned.

  “We fell and are stuck,” Alex said. “Did you see the buggy? Not far from the foot of the hill?”

  “Yes,” said Mary-Anne. “I came up here because I thought it was yours.”

  “Go to it and fetch the rope from it. There’s usually some stored under the seat. You’ll have to find something to tie it to then send it down. We need to get your sister out of here.”

  “How on earth did this happen?” Mary-Anne asked.

  “Mary-Anne,” he said tightly.

  “Oh, yes, get the rope, I know. I’m going.” She vanished and then peered back over briefly. “Do not enjoy being with the marquis too much, Lucinda!”

  “I might well strangle her,” Lucy bit out through chattering teeth.

  ∞∞∞

  THE WORST PART of this whole ordeal was not when Lucinda had plunged into the water or realized they were trapped. No, it had to be when she was alone. After Alex bound the rope tightly about her waist, he began his climb.

  She watched his progress, clinging to the rough rope with numb fingers while her breaths came in stuttering puffs. She forced her attention to remain on Alex. If she focused on the gloom surrounding her and the deep, black water, she was not certain she would be able to take her next breath.

  Though the rope kept her from sinking into the endless depths, she missed his arms about her, his chest against her back, offering a safety that she had known could not last forever but
reassured her regardless.

  He moved swiftly, as though he had not spent what she imagined must have been nearly an hour in the frigid water. She supposed if one must fall down a well it was no bad thing for one to be stuck with someone who climbed mountains on a regular basis.

  When he vanished briefly over the top the ridiculous thought that maybe he and her sister would leave her struck. However, he had vowed he would get her to safety and goodness knew, she believed him. He had taken her face in his hands and offered her endless promises before climbing, though she could not quite recall what they were now. Either way, she did not doubt he would rescue her.

  He looked over the edge again, and she eased out a breath.

  “I’m going to pull you up now, Lucy. Use your feet to stop yourself bumping into the side if you can.”

  Unable to form any words, she nodded, even though there was no chance he saw the movement. The rope squeezed about her waist and she held on tight. The numbness in her body almost masked the pain of the rope pulling at her arms, but she could not bring herself to care if she would end up with bruises, regardless.

  Focusing on Alex, she tried not to think about what would happen if she plunged to the bottom again. Bile rose in the back of her throat at the image, so she forced her attention to Alex’s determined expression. Daylight grew closer. The scent of the air changed. He moved fast and latched his hands under her arms to haul her out and away from the well.

  “Goodness, Lucy, you are practically gray!” Mary-Anne exclaimed.

  “We need to get her warm. “Alex rubbed his hands up and down her arms.

  “What of you?” she managed to murmur.

  “I’m practically dry.”

  Alex swept a hand under her legs, making her squeak in surprise, and picked his way down the hill before she could so much as summon a response to his obvious lie. She felt the damp of his shirt under her fingertips.

  He had to be cold and exhausted, but he moved swiftly, lifting her onto the buggy, and flinging a blanket about her shoulders. When Alex sat next to her and wrapped an arm about her shoulders, she swore she felt him shudder.

  Mary-Anne squeezed onto the seat next to her, removed her gloves and hat and awkwardly put them on Lucinda. Her sister burrowed close and Lucinda could not help but sink into the warmth the blanket and the two bodies offered.

  “Do not fall asleep, Lucy,” Mary-Anne said. “You still need to scold me.”

  “Where did you go anyway?”

  “To the stone circle. It’s only a mile from here.”

  “Stone circle?” Lucinda repeated, aware of the breathy quality of her voice.

  “Mrs. Gleeson said if you go at sunrise you can see fairies dancing nude between the stones.”

  Beside her, Alex chuckled.

  “Fairies? You are a little too old to believe in them.”

  “I knew you would say that,” Mary-Anne said triumphantly. “That is why I did not ask you.” She gave Lucinda’s arm a squeeze. “I am sorry, though.”

  Lucinda did not have the energy to scold her. She vaguely watched the scenery pass by and then straightened when she realized where they were going. “This is the road to Eastwick Hall.”

  Alex nodded. “It is closer than your lodgings. We can get you warm and Mary-Anne can fetch you a change of clothes.”

  “But...but it’s not proper.”

  He shook his head. “You are a woman in distress—I do not think anyone can complain about me offering my aid. In fact, Mrs. Jones would have my head if I did not.”

  “I am not in distress,” she protested.

  At least not anymore. And she would have been in much, much more distress had he not fallen into that well with her.

  He wasted no time in having Mary-Anne driven back to their lodgings by one of the grooms and bundling her inside whilst a concerned Mrs. Jones fussed over her.

  “Why do you men always seem to wind up getting wet?” muttered the housekeeper. “First Leo, now you.”

  “Leo?” Alex asked.

  The housekeeper made a noise in the back of her throat but didn’t answer his question, then vanished to arrange for Lucinda’s care. She found herself swiftly installed on a sofa, wrapped in blankets, with a fire lit in the parlor room that was no doubt small for Eastwick standards. Before long, a cup of tea was pressed into her hands, and she heard Mrs. Jones say something about sending for soup before disappearing once more.

  The warmth seeped back into her fingertips. She sipped the tea slowly and then scowled at Alex who watched her with a furrow on his brow.

  “I am not going to die, you know.”

  He chuckled and nodded. “I know.”

  “You should get warm.” She nodded to his sodden breeches, only now aware he had no boots or jacket anymore.

  “I’m fine.” He plucked at his shirt. “Practically dry now.”

  “Have some tea.” She offered out her drink.

  “Actually I think I’m in need of something stronger.” He moved over to a tall mahogany cabinet and opened the top two doors, revealing decanters and crystal glasses. “Would you like one?”

  No should have been her first response. Strong liquor with a marquis whilst alone in his drawing room? But she had nearly died after all.

  She nodded.

  He poured two glasses full and brought them over. When he sat next to her, his weight on the sofa made her slide a little toward him, and their arms brushed. She drained her cup of tea and he took it from her, swapping it for the tumbler of amber liquid.

  “Thank you,” she said hoarsely.

  His gaze locked to hers.

  She had nearly died today. No matter how much he tried to tell her otherwise, there was no denying if Mary-Anne had not discovered them, they might well have drowned in that well.

  He knew it too. She could tell from the way he looked at her.

  Her heart pounded fiercely, her breaths seemed loud in her ears. The world faded to dark, leaving only Alex with his damp, curling hair and the shirt that stuck to his muscular body.

  Lucinda shifted forward quickly before she could change her mind and pressed a hard, swift kiss to his lips.

  Alex’s brows lifted. “What did you do that for?”

  “Well, I did nearly die.”

  A slow smile spread across his face. “I think that was far worse than nearly falling off a rock.”

  “So I should kiss you more then?”

  He nodded, his grin widening. “Most certainly.”

  It was utter scandal. Completely shocking. Entirely unlike her too. However, she could not resist. All she could think on was that if she had died in that well, she would not have known what it would be like to be kissed by a man like him.

  Or more to the point—by Alex.

  He set aside his glass, curved a hand gently about her face and eyed her, his gaze searching hers for a few heartbeats before pressing his lips to hers. She sank into the kiss, following his lead, and slowly opening her mouth to his, a sound escaping the back of her throat at the thrill of it all.

  He kissed her deeper, sweeping his tongue over hers, his hand cradling her face so perfectly. Any idea of being cold vanished, and she curled her free arm around his neck to move closer. A swirl of heat and excitement combined low in her stomach.

  The clearing of a throat made them spring apart, and Lucinda stared at the glass in her hand when Mrs. Jones entered the room, her cheeks so hot she feared she might be at the point of overheating now.

  “Miss Evans’s sister has arrived with her garments, my lord,” the housekeeper said, her tone betraying nothing. “Shall I take her to one of the bedrooms to change?”

  Alex’s throat bobbed and he nodded. “Yes, thank you, Mrs. Jones.”

  Lucinda’s stomach sank. She could not believe it. Ten years of nearly perfect behavior and she had ruined it all. And if Mrs. Jones was a gossip, she might well have ruined herself all over again.

  Chapter Ten

  “We need to discuss Leo.” Adam p
aused in the doorway to the study and smirked. “And whatever is happening here it seems.” He gestured broadly at the desk in front of Alex.

  Alex set down the quill and leaned back in his chair. Across the desk, unfinished and unread letters were spread over the surface. He usually had estate business down to a fine art, especially considering he hired only the best to aid him with it, leaving him enough time to escape the duties of a marquis at a moment’s notice. Today, however...and well, yesterday and the day before and he supposed the day before that, he had struggled to even finish a letter discussing issues as simple as cows.

  He grimaced. He had struggled ever since kissing Lucy.

  “What about Leo?” Alex asked.

  Adam strode into the study, glanced outside the door and shut it swiftly. “He’s acting strange. You must have noticed he keeps slipping off after dinner to goodness knows where.”

  Alex pinched the bridge of his nose. “A woman?”

  Adam lifted his shoulders and snatched the chair by the window, dragging it across the floor with a screech that made Alex wince. “What else could it be?”

  “I wonder if Mrs. Jones has noticed.”

  “Think she’s spying for Mother?” Adam dropped into the chair, made a space amongst the debris on the desk and lifted his feet onto it, leaning nonchalantly back in the chair.

  “Could be.”

  In which case, Alex’s promise to his mother had already been broken. She would know of the kiss Mrs. Jones had interrupted. She might also know Lucy had fled immediately after said kiss, all flustered and utterly unwilling to talk.

  He ground his teeth together. Whilst Mrs. Jones might be willing to inform their mother of all their comings and goings, she was no gossip, and she would certainly never ruin a lady’s future over a simple kiss. If that was the case, she’d have had all of them married off as boys because they certainly did their share of kissing when they were younger.