Vera withdrew her hand, her mouth pulling into a tight line. When she finally looked to Owen, tears swam in her eyes. “I thought it meant nothing. When I first walked into your tent here, you were so dismissive.”
He reached forward, brushing the tears away with the back of his hand. “How could I ever forget you, love? Christ, I wanted...” He stopped himself from admitting he wanted to marry her just then. “Tom told me you were engaged to another last spring. I thought it best...”
“I was, but my fiancé died from the Russian flu.” She placed her free hand over his. “He was very kind, very supportive of my attending Girton. But Owen, it’s always been you,” she whispered. “Even when I was with him, I wanted you. But what choice did you give me? You left without a word.”
He stood, sweeping her up in his arms. In a few long strides, he had them in the privacy in the empty conservatory room. He kissed her nose, then feathered more along her cheek, before his mouth sought hers in a hungry, desperate kiss.
When they broke for air, she smiled up at him, her eyes still teary. “All this time, I thought it was nothing—I meant nothing.”
He shook his head. All this time, she had meant everything, and he was too damn afraid to admit it to himself. She deserved the world and Owen was determined to be the man who provided her with it. He wouldn’t be far from her again.
“What’s going to happen when we get back to England, Owen?”
“I’m working that out myself, lass.” He kissed her forehead. “Come on,” he said, kicking the door open with his boot. “I plan on making good use of us traveling under the assumption we’re husband and wife.”
Chapter Thirteen
Three Months Later
London, England
Polite applause erupted in the crowded auditorium. Vera gripped the pedestal, drawing in a breath as she nodded to the audience in thanks. In three months, she had toured England, delivering speeches about the Congo Free State and systemic labor enforced by King Leopold. She was organizing for local women to help the cause. The papers adored her, celebrating her survival of the shipwreck that claimed other countrymen.
Since arriving home, she had granted interviews and spoke to large crowds. Last night, she even received word that her previously declined paper on the working woman was accepted to be published in spring edition of The Strand Magazine.
Years of fighting for recognition suddenly came to her, raising her to public fame in such a short span of time. It was happening so fast, it was overwhelming.
“Miss Attwater?”
She looked up, quickly scanning the hall for familiar faces. The bright lights made it difficult to see for sure. Besides, three months had passed without a letter. As there were no consequences of their coupling while on the ship, she hadn’t sent word either. Not that she would have known where to send it in the first place. He was good as a ghost once he got off that ship. It was best this way, wasn’t it? He had told her before they parted that he would be back, that they were far from over, but even Vera knew she hardly compared to the Crown as a mistress.
“Oh, Mrs. Ellish, how kind of you to come tonight.” She shook her professor’s hand, nodding politely as she continued the conversation.
But her attention was elsewhere. It usually was.
Except in this moment, there was good reason. Standing casually in the door at the back of the room was Owen. Well-dressed and freshly shaved, he appeared a new man, all except how his body possessed that lupine prowess. That was all too familiar. She swallowed, fighting back a smile.
She thanked her professor again, then excused herself, limping slightly as she slowly made her way through the departing crowd. He pushed off from the doorway, his stride devouring the great distance between them. It took all of her control not to throw her arms around him. Instead, she smiled, and folded her hands in front of her dress.
“Thank you for coming, Mr. MacKenna.”
He raised an eyebrow, his mouth stretched in a crooked smile. “Of course. It was very informative, Miss Attwater.” He held out a package for her. “I know it might not be proper, but I thought you might appreciate this.”
Her fingers lingered over his as she grabbed the package, her eyes meeting his. “Thank you.”
With a trembling hand, she unwrapped a corner, fighting back a laugh as she recognized the object.
“So you don’t continue to drink mine, you see,” he said in a low voice.
“Well, it’s kind of you to bring a bottle of gin, Mr. MacKenna, but I don’t think we will have the occasion to share a drink again.”
He stepped closer, his hand boldly reaching for her. “No?”
Her response fell from her lips. It was impossible to deny him. Oh, but the man was lovely.
“I returned from Spain this morning. I heard you were speaking and needed to come.”
She rubbed her forehead, nodding. Of course he had been in Spain. The Spanish were at war with America. “I’m glad to see you well.”
“We don’t have to do this, lass.” His low burr wrapped around her, providing warmth in the drafty room on a cold December night.
“Which part?”
“Marry me, Vera Attwater.”
Vera gasped, dropping the bottle of gin at her feet. It teetered on the ground, spinning in a slow circle.
“I should have asked you years ago when we first met. Maybe it was stupidity—”
“Or stubbornness,” she interjected.
He tugged her close. “Aye, I reckon that too. The point is, I’ll burn the world down to be by your side for the rest of my life. Say yes and you won’t regret it a day of your life.”
“Yes” sat heavy on her tongue as her mind warred with her heart. He could be logical and determined, but she was always going to need to understand why.
“You might as well be a fishing proposing to a bird. I’ll be left behind as you travel. I’ll always wonder after you, always worry. It might be best…”
“I’ll take a new post and we’ll settle in the city so you can continue your work. We’ll figure it out. Together.”
“Together?”
He gazed down at her with those golden eyes of his, and she was breathless. He reached out, his thumb tracing her bottom lip as he nodded. “Always and a day, darling.”
She jumped, throwing her arms around his neck, not caring who noticed. “Yes,” she whispered against his ear. “I’m yours, Owen.”
And there, in the emptying lecture hall, Vera kissed a spy of her own, the love of her life. The one man who showed her that the world would lay at her feet if she found the strength to fight and live another day.
About the Author
Rebecca Paula writes smart, emotional contemporary and historical romances about flawed characters brave enough to live outside the lines and embrace the messy and complicated bits of life and love. Also, there’s kissing.
She’s a champion of Byronic heroes, a wanderlust connoisseur, a hopeless romantic, and is epically losing the battle of conquering her TBR pile (okay, TBR closet). Rebecca lives in New Hampshire with a cat who thinks she’s a dog, and her YouTube famous husband.
When not writing or reading, she loves ghost hunting shows, singing along to ‘Hamilton,’ or scouring stores for a cute dress with pockets.
Please stay in touch! You can connect with Rebecca on Facebook or join her special Reader Group: Rebecca’s Romance Rebels. Sign up for her newsletter to receive the latest news on upcoming releases, read exclusive excerpts, and giveaways.
Books by Rebecca Paula
Contemporary Romance
Everly After
* * *
Sutton College Series:
Between Everything and Us
Anything More Than Now
* * *
Historical Romance
Winter Hearts: A Victorian Christmas novella
* * *
Ravensdale Family Saga:
Etiquette with the Devil
A Proper Scandal
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Social Graces (Coming Summer 2017)
Tempting the Scoundrel
Book V of The Seven Curses of London Series
Lana Williams
Copyright © 2017 by Lana Williams
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Title Page
Tempting the Scoundrel
By Lana Williams
Labeled as a wicked scoundrel by Society, Elliott Walker, the Earl of Aberland, does nothing to deny the outrageous rumors that blacken his reputation. In truth, he leads a double life, working for British Intelligence both in London and abroad. He returns home from a lengthy mission to find an unexpected addition to his household, upsetting the careful balance of his secret life and tempting him in ways he never dreamed possible.
Sophia Markham, the daughter of an impoverished viscount whose wastrel ways broke her mother’s heart, was raised by her bitter spinster aunt. Sophia knows there are grave consequences to trusting men, especially rogues. When her aunt dies, Sophia finds a position as a companion in London, determined to avoid marriage at all costs.
While Elliott would grant any wish to the grandmother he loves so dearly, he has no choice but to frighten away her beguiling new companion by playing the scoundrel. Having a set of beautiful hazel eyes watching his every move puts his hidden identity at risk.
Sophia is shocked at her attraction to the handsome earl, the exact type of man she’s been taught not to trust. But she can’t ignore the evidence—or her heart—that suggests there’s more to Elliott than meets the eye. Dare she trust him and his kisses? Or are his secrets deadlier than she could ever imagine?
Other books in The Seven Curses of London series
TRUSTING THE WOLFE, a novella, Book .5
LOVING THE HAWKE, Book 1
CHARMING THE SCHOLAR, Book 2
RESCUING THE EARL, Book 5
DANCING UNDER THE MISTLETOE, Book 4, a Novella
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Chapter One
London, April 1871
Elliott Walker, the Earl of Aberland, gave a sigh of relief as the hansom cab drew to a halt before his Mayfair residence. He paused after alighting, his gaze taking in the impressive entrance with its white fluted pillars and marble steps that he was fortunate enough to call home.
Each trip abroad made him more grateful to return to the peace he found within its walls. His secret position with the British Intelligence Office forced him to travel far more than he preferred.
This last visit to the Continent had been especially trying, causing him to question how much longer he wanted to continue. Playing the role of scoundrel to gather intelligence had become exhausting, and he was weary to the bone.
For the moment, he intended to put all his questions and doubts aside and enjoy time at home. The house was filled with pleasant memories, but even better, his beloved grandmother resided here. He smiled in anticipation of seeing her.
The door opened and two liveried footmen hurried out, greeting him with a bow before tending to his luggage.
Codwell, his longtime butler, waited by the door, smiling broadly as Elliott walked up the steps. “Welcome home, my lord.”
“Thank you, Codwell. I trust all has been well in my absence?”
“Indeed.”
If it weren’t for his special training and natural instincts, Elliott might have missed the hesitancy in Codwell’s manner. His thoughts flew to his grandmother. “Is all well with the countess?”
“Yes. She is most anxious to see you.”
Guilt speared through Elliott. He’d been gone nearly four weeks, leaving his grandmother alone. He had the utmost faith in Codwell and the rest of the staff to keep watch over her safety, but she needed more than that. “I hope she’s enjoying the beginning of the Season.”
“Actually, I’d venture to say she’s reveling in it.”
“Oh?” Elliott stepped into the foyer, glancing about as though he might spot what caused his unease. Codwell’s words sank in, returning his focus to the older man who’d been with his family since he was a young boy. “Reveling, you say?”
That wasn’t like his grandmother. While she normally enjoyed attending a few events, he wouldn’t have described her participation in previous years as “reveling.”
The butler cleared his throat, shifting away his gaze briefly. “We have a new addition to the household.”
“Who would that be?” Anger slid into Elliott, tightening his chest. Codwell knew a few details of Elliott’s double life, so he understood why this news would not be welcome.
“With your long absence, your uncle feared the countess might be lonely, so he hired a companion for her, a Miss Sophia Markham.”
The footmen entered with his bags, forcing Elliott to wait to have his questions answered. And he had many. While he detested the idea of his grandmother being lonely, he equally detested the idea of a stranger living in his house.
He imagined a nosy, elderly spinster who refused to mind her own business. The idea of the sanctuary of his home breached by a stranger was impossible. He took care to hide his activities from the staff, with the exception of the butler and his grandmother, but he had no desire to evade another set of watchful eyes.
No. It simply wasn’t bearable.
The butler turned to direct the footmen to take care with his belongings, and Elliott opened the door of his library only to stop short, startled to find a woman there, perusing the bookshelves. His bookshelves.
As though feeling the weight of his regard, the young lady turned to face him, her eyes widening in surprise. Lovely hazel eyes set in an attractive face. But none of that mattered. She was in his library, the one place he depended on as his refuge.
“My lord, may I introduce Miss Sophia Markham, your grandmother’s new companion?” Codwell asked.
No, you may not. He bit his tongue to keep the words from slipping out, yet he saw nothing but complications when he looked at this woman.
Where was the elderly spinster who would be better suited for his grandmother? This young lady was the very opposite of what he’d expected. Dark curls framed her face, as though refusing to be tamed. Her alabaster skin begged to be touched, and one dark brow rose, as if already questioning him.
“Good day.” He knew his tone was churlish and less than polite but couldn’t seem to help himself.
She opened her mouth to respond then quickly closed it, instead dipping into a low curtsy. “My lord.”
The surprise in her expression at his presence gave him a small measure of satisfaction. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one feeling off balance.
He scowled. Why did she have to be so lovely? He would’ve much preferred the aging spinster he’d imagined.
She rose from her graceful curtsy in her plain grey gown and clasped her hands before her. “I’m terribly sor
ry to intrude in your library.” Did she have the ability to read minds? “I was searching for a new book to read to the countess.”
A likely story. His gaze swung toward his desk. But of course the polished mahogany was empty except for his grandfather’s gold clock on its gleaming surface. He hadn’t left any clues for an inquisitive guest to find, nor had any arrived in his absence.
The idea of having to guard against a nosy stranger who made herself at home in his library made him even wearier. He couldn’t do it. Not only did his grandmother reside in his house, he spent a significant amount of time with her when he was home. That meant he’d be in contact with this young lady frequently. Far too frequently.
But before he did anything rash, such as send her packing, he would speak with his grandmother. If this woman was here at his uncle’s behest, surely his grandmother wouldn’t miss her company. Elliott would be rid of her in no time.
“I hope you found something of interest,” he said at last.
She turned to pluck a slim leather-bound volume from a shelf. “This will do until the books we ordered arrive.”
“What books would those be?” He was curious as to what his grandmother had been up to in his absence.
“The Mystery of Edwin Drood by Charles Dickens and The Seven Curses of London by James Greenwood.” She lifted her chin, as though expecting him to question the choices. “Have you read either?”
“I can’t say I have. The Seven Curses?”
Her Majesty’s Scoundrels Page 38