A Regency Duo

by Carole Mortimer

  Emma was barely aware of her friend’s departure. Her gaze continued to be held by Adam’s as he strode across the ballroom. He totally ignored any and all who tried to greet him or engage him in conversation.

  He came to a halt in front of her. “Emma.”

  “Adam,” she returned a little shyly at the memory of their shared intimacy this afternoon.

  “Would you do me the honor of dancing this waltz with me?”

  “Yes.” She placed her hand in the one he held out to her as they stepped onto the dance floor together and Adam took her into his arms.

  “You are looking particularly beautiful this evening,” he remarked evenly.

  “As you are looking very handsome.”

  His mouth twitched humorously. “Pleasantries covered, I have several things I wish to discuss with you.”

  This pronouncement was so typically Hawkwood that Emma could not help but smile.

  He nodded. “Firstly, Lord Millbrook has decided that he and his wife shall return to their country estate for the rest of this Season, and possibly the next, if his lady is not fully recovered from her…hysteria,” he added grimly.

  Emma sobered. “Poor Lord Millbrook. He must be heartbroken to be parted from his beloved bees.”

  Adam mouth quirked upward with rueful humor. “He apparently has more hives to keep him busy in Derbyshire.”

  Emma chuckled. “Of course he does.”

  Adam sobered. “Secondly, I wish to reiterate that the clause in my father’s will has absolutely nothing to do with my having made an offer of marriage to you.”

  “I believe you.” Now that Emma was fully over her shock in having learned of that clause in the way that she had, she did not doubt Adam’s claim.

  He had been out and about in Society for almost as long as she had been alive, and although his father had died ten years ago, and Adam must have known of the existence of that clause in the will for the same amount of time, he had made no effort to take a wife before now.

  She still had no idea why Adam should have offered for her, of all women, but she believed him absolutely when he assured her his father’s will had not influenced that decision.

  “Thirdly…” Adam came to a halt in the middle of the dance floor, continuing to hold her hand as he stepped back and then moved down onto one knee in front of her.

  Emma was not the only one to gasp at his unexpected move. The other couples who were dancing slowly came to a halt to turn and look at them curiously. The rest of the guests, becoming aware that something unusual was happening in their midst, all fell silent and also turned to look at the two of them. Even the musicians ceased playing as there were no longer any couples dancing.

  The room had grown deathly silent.

  “Miss Emma Harris.” Adam made no effort to lower his voice as he gazed up at her. “I have admired you for several weeks now, and latterly I have come to love you, and I would deem it the highest honor if you would consent to become my wife.”

  This was so much more than a proposal of marriage, Emma realized breathlessly. It was a grand gesture of an unforgettable kind for all to see the aristocratic Duke of Hawkwood down on his knees proposing marriage to a young woman whose lack of fortune caused most in Society to have previously deemed her as being unmarriageable.

  And had Adam really said that he loved her?

  “Not enough?” he murmured at her silence, one dark brow raised questioningly. “You are the epitome of all that a wife should be,” he continued in the same modulated tone as before. “Beautiful. Gracious. Fiery,” he added with an approving glitter in his eyes. “Passionate and true. But most of all, you are the woman I love beyond what mere words could ever convey.” He kissed the back of her gloved hand. “The only woman I love and shall continue to love for the rest of our lives.”

  She had not imagined it, then. Adam had truly made love to her earlier today. And he was now offering her a happiness she could never have imagined by telling all in Society of the love he felt for her.

  “Marry me, Emma,” he pressed more urgently. “Be my wife, the mother of our children, and make me the happiest and proudest man who has ever lived.”

  The tears of happiness came so readily to Emma’s eyes, she was having trouble focusing on his dearly loved face. “Yes,” she breathed softly. “A hundred times, yes!” She stepped into his open arms as he rose to his feet. “I love you so very much, my darling Adam,” she murmured for him alone to hear, his eyes glittering his pleasure as he lowered her head and claimed her lips in a long and lingering kiss.

  It was only when the clapping started, and then became louder still, that Emma realized what a spectacle they were making of themselves.

  Not that she cared.

  Now that she knew Adam loved her, she cared for no one else’s opinion but his.

  Adam loved her.

  As she loved him.

  For the rest of their lives.

  Once the kiss had ended Adam easily lifted her up into his arms and carried her from the ballroom. The buzz of conversation started as soon as the two of them were out of the room.

  Emma’s arms were about Adam’s neck as she looked at him with glowing eyes. “Now that was the sort of marriage proposal all women should receive.”

  Adam threw back his head and laughed long and happily.

  As Emma had no doubt the two of them would continue to laugh together and love each other through all their long and happy years together.

  For news on upcoming releases in the Regency Lovers, Dragon Hearts, Regency Sinners, Regency Unlaced, Knight Security, and Alpha Series please sign up to my monthly mailing list/newsletter: http://www.eepurl.com/2rfzz

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  If you have enjoyed reading INDECENT, please don’t forget to leave a review of this book. Your reviews matter!

  About The Author

  Carole Mortimer is a USA Today Bestselling Author and recipient of the RWA Nora Roberts Lifetime Achievement Award 2015, a Pioneer for Romance Romantic Times Award in 2014. She was recognized by Queen Elizabeth II in 2012 for her ‘outstanding service to literature’. Carole has written over 235 contemporary, paranormal and Regency novels.

  She is happily married to Peter. They have 6 sons, and live on the beautiful Isle of Man. She also loves to hear from Readers!

  Other books by Carole Mortimer

  Regency Sinners Series:

  Wicked Torment (Regency Sinners 1)

  Wicked Surrender (Regency Sinners 2)

  Wicked Scandal (Regency Sinners 3)

  Wicked Deception (Regency Sinners 4)

  Wicked Captive (Regency Sinners 5)

  Wicked Temptation (Regency Sinners 6)

  Wicked Sinners (Regency Sinners 7)

  Wicked Christmas (Regency Sinners 8)

  Dragon Hearts – Contemporary paranormal

  Nathaniel (Dragon Hearts 1)

  Deryk (Dragon Hearts 2)

  Bryn (Dragon Hearts 3)

  Dylan (Dragon Hearts 4)

  Grigor (Dragon Hearts 5)

  Garrett (Dragon Hearts 6)

  Aeran & Rhys (Dragon Hearts 7)

  Dragon Christmas (Dragon Hearts 8)

  Regency Unlaced Series:

  The Duke’s Mistress (Book 1)

  Claimed by the Marquis (Book 2)

  Taken by the Earl (Book 3)

  Pursued by the Viscount (Book 4)

  Desired by a Lord (Book 5)

  Captured by a Gentleman (Book 6)

  Pleasured by a Duke (Book 7)

  Seduced by a Marquis (Book 8)

  Tamed by the Earl (Book 9)

  Series is now complete

  Knight Security Series: Spin-off to ALPHA series

  Resisting Alexandre (Knight Security 0.5)

  Defying Asher (Knight Securit
y 1)

  Challenging Gabriel (Knight Security 2)

  Capturing Caleb (Knight Security 3)

  Tempting Zander (Knight Security 4)

  Enticing Ian (Knight Security 5)

  Seducing Ethan (Knight Security 6)

  Series now complete

  ALPHA Series:

  Christmas Alpha (Alpha 1)

  Dark Alpha (Alpha 2)

  Shadow Alpha (Alpha 3) Author’s 200th Book

  Midnight Alpha (Alpha 4) – Gregori Markovic’s story

  Renegade Alpha (Alpha 5)

  Warrior Alpha (Alpha 6) – Nikolai Volkov’s story

  Rogue Alpha (Alpha 7)

  Savage Alpha (Alpha 8)

  Series is now complete

  Seduced by Scandal 1

  PRINCE OF SCANDAL

  By

  Angelique Armae

  National Bestselling Author

  DEDICATIONS

  To Dave, the best royal wedding commentator ever.

  Prologue

  1785

  City of Landon

  Kingdom of Countavia

  It was with great pleasure that King Bertram II, better known as Bertie to his closest confidants, beamed at the newly born son resting in his arms. Frederick made number seven. Seven glorious boys all born to him and his beautiful Queen Charlotte. God had been good to him, unlike how He’d been to his brother, saddling the poor man with three daughters. And triplets at that!

  But he needn’t worry about the hassles of raising a brood of young women. Sons were far easier to bring up.

  All he had to do was provide for them, see to it they lived to adulthood, give them the best education, and then marry them off so they could sire heirs to continue the family lineage.

  And what could be so difficult in that? It wasn’t like royal princes needed to concern themselves with the trials of ever being ruined. Scandal, gossip, and ruination were the labors of women. Not men.

  No. He needn’t worry about any of that…

  Chapter 1

  1807

  Baine Palace

  City of Landon, Kingdom of Countavia

  Frederick Arthur Louis David was a prince with a problem. Specifically, a brown haired, brown eyed, curvy problem that presented itself in the form of one, Lady Eliza Littlefield.

  His gaze lingered at the enchantress reclining at the bottom of the bed. No female should look that enticing in men’s clothing. Then again, Lizzie wasn’t your typical woman. “We can’t do this anymore.”

  A frown settled on Eliza’s luscious, pink lips. “But we haven’t caught our man, yet.”

  The thief they’d been chasing wasn’t really hers to catch, if he were to be honest with himself, which his blasted conscience had finally insisted he do. Nasty little thing.

  Their game had to end tonight, as the Crown’s problems were not Lizzie’s to bear. “This is the eve of your twentieth birthday. I can’t keep you my best friend forever.”

  “So, you’re casting me out? Just like that. And for what? For getting old?”

  Old wasn’t exactly how he’d put it. Better suited words would be dangerous, beautiful, tempting, and every other fucking adjective that would likely put him in moral peril. One more of these secret ventures spent with Eliza, one more night spent with that damn shapely body of hers slammed up against his, her perfect arse shimmying against his groin every time she’d get excited at spotting their target or thinking she had, that raspy voice of hers whispering her finds, the scent of her violet perfume fanning his nose, the puckering of her rosy nipples just one shift layer away from his mouth, and he’d be facing the freakin’ chopping block, Earl Archibald Littlefield wielding the axe above.

  Bloody hell. Why did she do this to him? Of all the women in the world, and there were many who would give up everything to be his, the only one who rendered his senses uncontrollable, was Eliza. He shifted his legs and adjusted his trousers, his shameless dick acting all on its bloody, fucking own. Again.

  No. It had to end tonight. He had to let Eliza go. And not because she wouldn’t make the perfect wife, but she simply didn’t belong in his world. She was too innocent, too good a soul to get tangled up in his covert operations that had, since his country’s last battle with that despicable Little Corsican, enticed their own Northern enemies to start testing the strains of the two kingdoms’ borders.

  Maybe had he been born the first son, or even the sixth, he’d have more to offer. But he hadn’t been above the fold in the birth order. He was unlucky number seven, the son born below the cut off for counting in the royal pecking order. He was the expendable one. The one who didn’t even need the king’s permission to marry. Putting himself on the front line in war and or in the blatant face of death in the espionage battle, was the rightful place for himself. He was the son his father would never feel pain over losing, would never grieve over.

  “I’m sorry Lizzie.”

  His little seductress scooted off the bed, an angered huff falling from her mouth. “That’s Eliza, to you now. Lady Eliza.” She shucked her boots, then unbuttoned the flap of her trousers and let the pants fall to a pool of gray fabric at her feet. She stepped out of them, her bare toes scrunching against the pale blue carpet.

  He loved her toes. She had the most delicate feet. And wrists. Even neck. God, but he loved that neck of hers, with its smooth skin and small birthmark. Often he’d imagined running his lips and tongue over that small, deep pinkish-red heart-shaped patch of skin between her collarbone and throat. Of course had he ever acted on that impulse, he’d land in trouble. His tongue probably wasn’t stoppable when it came to Lizzie. He’d start at her neck and work his way down. Too far down for comfort considering the current state of their platonic relationship.

  Friendship was for fools.

  Eliza sauntered across the room and came to a full stop right in front of the massive stone hearth. She couldn’t have picked a worse place to turn and face him again. Thanks to the freakin’ fire crackling behind her, every last inch of that curvy body of hers was visible almost as if she wasn’t even wearing that damn, thin shift. “You’re a hard one, Frederick.”

  Oh, God, if only she knew how true that was.

  “Soft one second, hard the next.”

  His dick twitched. “Eliza…”

  She glared at him.

  “Lady Eliza, please know I am doing this for your own good.”

  “Spoken like a true cad. It’s always for the woman’s good, isn’t it? More like for the bastard’s good, letting go of a perfectly fine specimen of the female sex for some tart or other inappropriate woman. But I guess such women make for better bed partners, don’t they?”

  He huffed. “It’s just getting too dangerous.”

  She raised one brown eyebrow.

  “The Wharf,” he said. “Our joint ventures of saving the pickpockets.”

  “Oh, right.” She paused, bit her bottom lip, stared at the carpet then back up at him. “It has always been too dangerous, Freddie. But you didn’t mind me tagging along for the last two years, catching all those young scoundrels, teaching them lessons, threatening to turn them in if they didn’t rehabilitate themselves. Do you know how many lives we’ve changed?”

  He hadn’t kept specific numbers, but he’d imagined they’d saved at least a dozen and probably curbed the habits of many, many more, making The Wharf at least a somewhat better environment. At least in the day. And that had to help some of the residents who had no choice but to live there. But these last few missions they’d run into some pretty rough blokes, a new wave of older, and more ruthless thieves. “Things have changed. I believe The Wharf is no longer a place that can be turned around.”

  Eliza rounded the bed and slipped her feet into the pair of pale pink slippers she’d always leave there before they went out. She plucked her red cape off the nearby chair. “Don’t ever speak to me again, Prince Frederick. In fact, if we ever meet at a ball, a dinner, a house party, even cross paths on the street, don’t acknow
ledge me.”

  He hated that she hated him.

  “Especially in the city,” she continued, fastening the button on her cape, the one just below that stupidly oversized hood.

  How he loved the way her long, thin fingers moved.

  Another twitch went off at his groin.

  Her fingers weren’t helping his situation.

  She stared him square in the eyes. “And…if ever you see me walking in the heart of Landon, I want you to cross the street.”

  “Lizzie…”

  She raised her hand and waved her finger. “No. I will not hear any more of your stories, Frederick. We had a good thing and you’re now tossing it away.”

  She really was way more upset than he ever imagined she’d be at ending their stupid little nighttime charity trips. Why the hell did they mean so much to her?

  Eliza headed for the door, her hands balled into tight fists.

  “Lizzie….”

  “Don’t talk to me.”

  He let out a deep breath, brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose. And pinched. Hard. “You can’t go out that way.”

  Eliza froze. A slight huff emanated from her mouth. She spun around, head held high, nose in the air, shoulders back and straight. “I knew that, thank you very much.”

  “Of course you did.”

  She ignored him.

  He patted the mattress as he watched her stomp back across the bedroom. “Why don’t you just come up here and wait until the staff retires for the night. Then I can get you safely out of the palace without anyone seeing you.”

  She shook her head, a ringlet of curls falling free from her previously neat bun coiled at her nape and escaping her cape’s hood. “I’ll just take the window, Your Royal Highness. After all, it is the proper way for lowly commoner such as myself to flee the palace.”