“No, indeed. I recall finding each one of those objects after some of the happiest moments of my life. Except for the blue ribbon. You can keep that one.” He reached for the box.
She tugged it back, a laugh slipping past the sob still waiting to come out. “I’m keeping them all. They were my moments, too.”
“Tell you what, I’ll give you each one of those items in exchange for lessons.”
She eyed him, affronted. “Do you think I’m still in need of lessons?”
“No. But I am,” he said, his gaze earnest, tender. “I want to continue my studies with the most exceptional tutor an unlearned man could ever know. You see, you’ve been giving me lessons all along. You’ve been teaching me how to fall in love, how love should truly be. I never understood it before I met you.”
Stunned into stillness, she let him take the box from her and set it down. “Are you saying that you . . .”
“Love you,” he finished for her. Then, just in case he wasn’t perfectly clear, he said it again. “I never stood a chance, you know. How could I resist falling in love with a carriage appropriator, creator of cup of chocolate kisses, born matchmaker, secret scone baker, and fish catcher? And now, I cannot imagine a life without you. I had a glimpse of it these past few days and I couldn’t bear it. That’s why I need the lessons.”
“I think you’re doing remarkably well on your own,” she said, breathless and smiling.
“Do you?” He took her hands, threading his fingers with hers. “I was hoping that each object in that box would provide payment for a decade’s worth of lessons. The hairpins alone would give me fifty years, add in the stocking and the—oof!”
She launched herself across the carriage at him, scattering kisses all over his face, and taking special care to nuzzle the nook of his nose. “Yes, I’ll be your tutor. I’ll teach you how to fall in love, and how to be loved in return every single day. I’ll be the best tutor you’ve ever had. It will cause a scandal, of course—with you coming to the agency all the time for your lessons. But I’m willing to live with it.”
He drew back, his expression serious. “Briar, you know that I’m asking you to marry me.”
“Marry you? I couldn’t possibly. I’m already married to my work as a matchmaker. In addition to that, I’ve just acquired a new position as tutor to an irredeemable rake. I’ll be quite busy for the next few decades.”
“If that’s how you want it, then reach into my pocket and throw the special license out the window,” he said as he began to nibble on her throat, ignoring her gasp. “I’ll just hold on to my grandmother’s ring. And, of course, we’ll have to drop by the church to tell Temperance to stop scattering rose petals on the steps. We’ll send the harpist home. Your sister and uncle were due to arrive as well. The wedding breakfast will go to waste . . .”
She cupped his face, staring down at him in wonder. “You arranged all that?”
His shy nod was so sweet her heart nearly burst from too much love. “I wanted to save you from needing to invent a perfect scenario.”
Nicholas was the only one who understood her wild heart. And she knew with utter certainty that he would cherish and protect it, the same way she would his. All the days of their lives. “I think I’m still in need of lessons from you.”
“Tell you what,” he began, his momentary shyness giving way to his rakish grin, “for every kiss you give me, I’ll give you something in return.”
“Hmm . . . a most irresistible proposal.”
And so she kissed him.
Epilogue
“He had made his fortune, bought his house, and obtained his wife; and was beginning a new period of existence, with every probability of greater happiness than in any yet passed through.”
Jane Austen, Emma
Four years later
Nicholas glanced to the rosewood clock in his study and frowned, expecting Briar home by now. “Any sign of her, Delham?”
“Nothing yet, my lord,” the butler said, his usual monotone strained with concern. “Wait a moment . . . yes. I believe I see her ladyship’s carriage now.”
It never failed. Whenever Nicholas heard those words, his lungs expanded on a heady rush of joy, his heart drumming faster. He usually met her at the door or even on the pavement, anticipation always getting the better of him, but today, he had to keep to his chair.
Everything had to be perfect.
Picking up the paper, he got into position, but found an errant rose petal on his desk. Damn, he’d missed one. Snatching it from the blotter, he tucked it into his waistcoat pocket. And just in time.
“Good evening, Delham.”
Briar’s soft voice reached Nicholas and an automatic grin tugged at his mouth as he posed again, rustling the paper.
“And to you as well, my lady. The children are with Mrs. Cartwright,” Delham said, uncharacteristically verbose, before clearing his throat. “Pleasant day at the agency?”
Hold it together, man. Don’t give us away, Nicholas thought. While the butler possessed the countenance of a gargoyle, he was pure pudding inside, especially when it came to Briar.
“It was an exceptionally good day,” she said brightly. “Is my husband in his study?”
No sooner had she asked the question, then Nicholas heard the hastened patter of her slippers over the stone floor.
“I’m home, my love,” she said, skirting around his desk in a rustle of blue and pressing a velvety kiss to his cheek. “Did you not hear?”
Nicholas drew in a pleased breath, filling his lungs with her scent. It took every ounce of control to keep the paper in place and not turn his head and take the kiss he’d been craving since she left this morning.
Feigning absorption in the latest news, he turned the page, his grip tightening, his knuckles white-edged. “Good day at the agency?”
“Hmm . . . strange. Delham asked me the same thing.”
“I don’t see what’s odd about that.” Nicholas clenched his jaw. Hang it all, Delham, she’s on to us! He lowered a corner of the paper and watched her discreet attempts of searching the desk. “What are you looking for?”
She closed the last drawer, a frown tucked into the corners of her mouth. “Oh, nothing. I just thought you’d have a flower for me. You usually do when I come home with the news that I’ve made another match.”
“Have you? Well, that’s capital.” He folded the paper and set it aside before pulling her onto his lap, his pulse thrumming contentedly.
She sighed, absently plucking at his waistcoat buttons. “And you really don’t have a flower for me?”
“If you’d like one, I’ll pick a rose from the garden right this instant.”
“No, it’s fine. I suppose I shouldn’t expect one every time I make a match, not even if today happened to be my one hundredth success.”
“I thought it was one hundred last time.”
“No.”
He shrugged, trying like hell not to grin, but she was so pretty when she pouted. “Well, that’s a milestone, isn’t it? You definitely deserve a flower for that. Perhaps even two.”
“You gave me an entire bouquet of roses when it was fifty.”
“Did I?”
“Nicholas, you know you did. And I’m certain you could not forget what we did with the petals,” she said in a whisper, her cheeks tinged pink.
“Ah yes. And the silk ribbons.” He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist, her fluttering pulse meeting his lips at the shared memory. “Perhaps we can try that again this evening. Do you want to be tied up, love? While I do all sorts of wicked things . . .”
Her breath caught and she swayed for a moment, the curves of her body molding against him.
Then she pulled her hand free and stood up, smoothing her skirts. “No. I think I’ll just drive over to my brother’s house and pick up the children. Temperance will surely be excited about my achievement.”
“I’m afraid she’ll be disappointed because I gave her leave to k
eep them overnight.”
On the opposite side of the desk, Briar stopped, pivoting on her heels as twin spheres of cornflower blue narrowed in thorough scrutiny. “Whyever would you do that?”
“Because Henry asked if he could, and you know how fond he is of his cousin,” he said offhandedly. “Why, he and George are like brothers. And since Teense doesn’t yet have a girl of her own, she loves to dote on little Heloise.”
To his own ears, the excuse sounded believable and he thought he might have fooled her. But then, the unmistakable strain of a violin being tuned drifted in through the window. He tensed. The string quartet should have already finished with that by now.
“What was that noise?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
But he could see by the knowing glint in her eyes that she was on to him. Clasping her hands, she left the study. “Delham, did you hear something?”
Nicholas followed and caught sight of color rising to his butler’s cheeks.
“Hear, did you say? I’m afraid I’m deaf as a turnip, my lady.”
Pathetic, Nicholas thought, rolling his eyes to the ceiling as Delham slinked out of the foyer.
Briar turned, a knowing grin on her lips as she poked him in the center of his chest. “You do have a surprise for me, don’t you?”
Only thousands of rose petals poised to rain down on her over the terrace, a candlelit dinner, dancing, and whatever else her heart desired.
He smiled. “Well it isn’t every day when London’s finest matchmaker can claim one hundred matches.”
“What is it? No, don’t tell me. I just want to bask in this moment and say that I could not possibly love you more.” She launched herself into his arms and he spun her in a circle, getting drunk on the sound of her laugh. Then, when he set her on her feet, her expression turned playfully serious. “Though, I should be cross with you for teasing me.”
“Is that so?”
She nodded, her warm gaze resting on his mouth. “You owe me recompense.”
His blood quickened. This was one of their favorite games. “Shall I settle up now, or after your surprise?”
Briar grinned and took him by the hand, leading him toward the stairs. “Yes, Nicholas.”
Acknowledgments
This book would not have been possible without the support of some truly wonderful people.
Thank you to the readers, for giving my books a chance and for inviting the characters to spend time with you. I feel blessed and honored to have found a place in your e-readers and on your shelves.
Thank you to my editor, Nicole, for all your hard work and especially for adding smiley faces and “lol”s in the margins just when I need them most. And to my agent, Stefanie, for being my sounding board and support team whenever the need arises.
And thank you to Lisa Filipe for your insight, words of wisdom, and eternal love for Jack Marlowe.
Misadventures in Matchmaking
Ainsley Bourne loves running the business side of the Bourne Matrimonial Agency from their St. James’s townhouse. She does not like the unsavory, scandalous things that occur at the gaming hell and boxing club across the street. And she absolutely loathes Reed Sterling, the huge, handsome former prizefighter who owns it.
She thinks he’s a devilish brute. He thinks she’s an uptight spinster. Neither is willing to admit their constant arguments simmer with unrequited attraction.
Let the games begin . . .
The Rogue to Ruin
The final Misadventures in Matchmaking novel
Coming Summer 2019!
And be sure to grab Jacinda and Crispin’s story . . .
How to Forget a Duke
Available now!
About the Author
USA Today bestselling author Vivienne Lorret transforms copious amounts of tea into words. She is an Avon Books author of works including the Wallflower Wedding series, the Rakes of Fallow Hall series, the Season’s Original series, and the Misadventures in Matchmaking series. For more information on her books, sign up for her newsletter at www.vivlorret.net.
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By Vivienne Lorret
The Misadventures in Matchmaking Series
How to Forget a Duke
Ten Kisses to Scandal
The Season’s Original Series
“The Duke’s Christmas Wish” (in All I Want for Christmas Is a Duke and A Christmas to Remember)
The Debutante Is Mine
This Earl is on Fire
When a Marquess Loves a Woman
Just Another Viscount in Love (novella)
The Rakes of Fallow Hall Series
The Elusive Lord Everhart
The Devilish Mr. Danvers
The Maddening Lord Montwood
The Wallflower Wedding Series
Tempting Mr. Weatherstone (novella)
Daring Miss Danvers
Winning Miss Wakefield
Finding Miss McFarland
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ten kisses to scandal. Copyright © 2019 by Vivienne Lorret. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins Publishers. For information, address HarperCollins Publishers, 195 Broadway, New York, NY 10007.
Digital Edition JANUARY 2019 ISBN: 978-0-06-268551-3
Print Edition ISBN: 978-0-06-268550-6
Cover illustration by Jon Paul Ferrara
Design by Amy Halperin
Avon, Avon & logo, and Avon Books & logo are registered trademarks of HarperCollins Publishers in the United States of America and other countries.
HarperCollins is a registered trademark of HarperCollins Publishers in the United States of America and other countries.
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Ten Kisses to Scandal (Misadventures in Matchmaking) Page 33