Dev stared in horror at the scene before him. Was that Wickham proposing?
Something slammed through him. Something that felt like rage and tasted of bile.
Tildy was his woman. No man would have her.
He fisted his hands and, without thinking, strode across the ballroom and whipped her into his arms. To hell with acting like a civilized man. To hell with his reputation and his honor and his stupid, stupid title.
Wickham could not have her.
“Tildy,” he said with a nod of his head. “Shall we go for a turn on the terrace?”
He did not give her a chance to say no, but wove his way through the crowd toward the French doors, the hem of her voluminous gown trailing behind.
In his wake, he heard the rising whispers, twined with Wickham’s outraged, “I say,” but he ignored them all. He did not care.
The night was cool, despite it being the height of summer. It caressed his brow but did nothing to calm the raging fire within. He glared at the men standing around smoking cheroots, and they all quickly stubbed them out and hied indoors.
He set her down by the balustrade and glared at her.
“You cannot marry him,” he said.
He didn’t know from where the words came, except from the well of his soul. He was lucky the command did not emerge as a wail. Because it felt like a wail. A desperate, feral wail.
To his dismay, she did not immediately agree. She set her hands on her hips and glared at him. “You told me you were a soldier.”
“I am.”
“You are also an earl. Somehow you neglected to share that fact.”
“I just assumed the title.”
“A likely story!”
His eyes boggled. A vein throbbed in his temple. “One that is easily confirmed.” He waved a manic hand at the ballroom where there was, no doubt, a coterie of avid eavesdroppers. “Ask anyone.”
“That is hardly the point.”
“What is the point?”
Her lips flapped. Her furor deflated. “You didn’t tell me the truth.”
“I most certainly did.” He leaned closer, so he could hiss, so none of the listening ears could hear. “Everything I told you was the truth.”
“Including the fact that you have no use for a wife?”
The question hit him hard. Of all the things that had changed in the past week, that was the most earth-shattering. It had nothing to do with his inheritance and everything to do with her. Her smile. Her laugh. The feel of her breath on his chest as she slept. Her scent…
“Well? Why do you care whom I marry?”
“You are not marrying him.” A snarl.
“He is perfectly acceptable.”
“Why, thank you.” Wickham’s dry response floated on the air.
Dev turned to find both Wickham and Paddington on the terrace, their arms crossed, observing this tawdry scene. He turned his back on them and faced Tildy, preparing to say the most difficult words he’d ever uttered. “I have no use for a wife…” he began but then faltered when her beautiful face crumpled. “Not unless she is you.”
She stilled. Glanced up at him. The tears on her lashes gored him in the heart. “What?”
“I think you heard me. I would like you to be my wife, Tildy.”
“I say. Are you proposing to my fiancée right in front of me?” Wickham said in a petulant tone, though he hardly seemed devastated. “That’s rather rude, you know.”
“Then leave,” Dev tossed over his shoulder.
“Oh, I think not.” His friend huffed a laugh. “This is far too intriguing.”
Dev ignored him. “Will you, Tildy? Will you marry me?”
He was relieved to see her truculent expression soften. She tapped her lip. “I don’t know. Wickham’s proposal was far more romantic. Granted, he did not profess his undying devotion, but he did go down on one knee.”
“Do you want me to go down on one knee?” He would. In a heartbeat.
“I’d rather have the other thing.” Finally. Finally a smile. Never before had such a simple gift made him so happy.
Her smile.
It was all it took.
“Matilda Paddington. I do adore you. I love your smile. Your laugh. Your sharp wit.”
“And my kisses?”
“I especially love those.”
A disgruntled grunt rose behind him. “You know,” Paddington said, “I am beginning to suspect this is not the first time they’ve met.”
“Oh, do leave off,” Dev snarled.
Tildy waved her hand at them. “Yes, do. I’d like some time alone with my fiancé.”
“I thought I was your fiancé,” Wickham said, with an undeniable humor.
“Sorry, old bean,” Paddington said. “It looks like she’s chosen another.”
“I am crushed.”
“Come along.” The two turned and headed back to the ballroom. The crowd fogging up the windows scattered. “We can find you another.”
“Your aunt is quite lovely…”
Paddington gave a growl. “Someone besides her.”
Dev watched until they disappeared and then he focused all of his attention on his beautiful lover. “They’re gone.”
“I see that.”
“We can have a proper discussion.”
“Of course.”
“I meant what I said.”
“Did you?”
“Every word. I was devastated when you left me.”
“We agreed on one night.” One night of sin.
“One night will never be enough, Tildy Mine. But would you be happy with me? I am rough around the edges, you know.”
She set her palm on his cheek and stroked him with her thumb. “Nothing would make me happier, Dev, than spending every night with you. But I think I miss the beard. Tell me you will grow it back.”
He heard the first part and ignored the second. “So you do love me too?”
To his consternation, she shrugged. “I suppose.”
“You suppose?” A bellow.
“You may have to seduce me again. You know. So I can make up my mind.”
Exhilaration and annoyance and determination raked him and for the second time that night, he whipped her into his arms and began to march away.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked, rather calmly, given the circumstances.
“To my house.”
“My brother will have apoplexy.”
“I don’t care. It’s been too long since I’ve kissed you.”
“You could kiss me here.”
“You know what I mean.” He needed to see her bare against the sheets of his bed. He needed her cries to drown out that infernal peacock. He needed her warmth to sustain him for the rest of his life, for as long as they both should live.
But she took his cheeks in her hands, distracting him, and he had to stop storming off so he wouldn’t stumble. She kissed him then and it was heart-wrenchingly sweet.
And then, she said, “Hurry, my darling.”
And he did.
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York, is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of hot, humorous stories for smart and sexy readers. Her titles range from sweet & sexy to scorching romance. Visit her webpage at www.sabrinayork.com to check out her books, excerpts and contests.
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ONE SCANDALOUS NIGHT Maggi Andersen
Can one night with a rake be enough for a lifetime?
Miss Bella Lacey desires to accomplish two things before settling into an unfulfilling marriage to the man her father has chosen. First, she intends to inveigle a goodly amount of money for her orphans from a man of means, and second, to have one night of passion to help her endure the dreary years ahead.
When Derrick, Lord Eaglestone, a wealthy viscount with a scandalous reputation, agrees to donate to Miss Lacey’s charity, he has only seduction in mind. Little does he suspect that Miss Lacey has already chosen him to debauch her before she weds another. The lady has virtually fallen into his lap, but much to his annoyance, he finds himself reluctant to oblige her.
One Scandalous Night
By Maggi Andersen
Copyright © 2016 by Maggi Andersen.
Edited by: Devin Govaere
By payment of required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book. 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 hereinafter invented without the express written permission of copyright owner.
Please Note: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead is coincidental and are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the author.
DEDICATION
To my husband, I owe him so much.
CHAPTER ONE
London, 1878.
HEADS TURNED when a tall man entered Lord Maudling’s drawing room. Bella studied him with interest. Lord Eaglestone had a rather harsh, intelligent face, observant amber eyes, a blade of a nose, and an angled jawline. His dark hair was longer than was fashionable and curled over his collar, a sign of a rebellious streak perhaps. He was known to snub his nose at society.
“Why, in the name of Queen Victoria, did you invite that man?” her father muttered to his host.
“Barely sociably acceptable, I admit, Sir Randolph, but a good man to consult about investments,” Lord Maudling said. “I’ve heard an attempt has been made on his life. I want to seek his advice while I can.”
Bella shivered at the cold, humorless statement. The viscount was the man she’d particularly wished to see. Imposing in a black tailcoat and trousers, a crimson waistcoat, and white necktie, he weaved his way across the ruby-toned rug through the crowded reception room. One or two men hailed him but most stepped aside for him.
Eaglestone reached Lord Maudling, where he stood drinking champagne with her parents. It wasn’t merely his six-foot-plus height or the impressive breadth of his shoulders but also his manner that made him intimidating. His very carriage made one aware how little he cared for opinion. Perhaps it was because his Lincolnshire family seat of Eaglestone appeared in the Doomsday Book. Perhaps it was because he’d had to fight so hard to keep it.
At breakfast that morning, Bella’s father had thrown down The Times newspaper and complained to her mother about Eaglestone’s influence on the ’Change. Father’s stocks had apparently plummeted. Her attention caught, Bella put down her teacup. Anything concerning his lordship fascinated her, ever since he’d held her in his strong arms and waltzed her over Lady Byrne’s ballroom floor six weeks ago.
The viscount kissed her mother’s hand, and a flush rose up her throat. Bella doubted any woman would be impervious to Lord Eaglestone. Men, on the other hand, may not admire him quite so much. Her father positively glowered at him.
She should thank Lord Eaglestone for distracting Father from his favorite topic. Her.
Her father, for reasons of his own, quickly recovered his manners. “My lord, I believe you’ve met my daughter, Miss Lacey?”
“Indeed. At Lady Byrne’s ball.” Lord Eaglestone took her hand in his large one. His unusual tawny eyes looked into hers. The smile that lifted his well-shaped mouth seemed to suggest something far more intimate than a mere waltz had taken place between them.
His eyes made her think of sunshine on stone, a glimmer within of something hard and unbending while, at the same time, compelling. She wouldn’t care to oppose him. He could scatter her thoughts with one determined glance. But his mouth… That was another matter entirely. Those sculptured lips spoke of a tempestuous, passionate nature. It made her warm all over to think of his mouth. On her.
“My lord.” Bella rose from a curtsey wondering what it would be like to kiss him and whether she’d get the opportunity.
Eaglestone’s smile broadened. Might he have read her thoughts? He would be well able to assess his business rivals. Her expressive face often gave her away. She resisted employing her fan to cool her cheeks and took a sip of chilled champagne, relieved that the gentlemen had turned the conversation to financial matters. When Eaglestone spoke, a hush settled around them. Men listened. Where most aristocrats had inherited their fortunes, and many were busy spending them, his lordship had amassed his through sheer business acumen.
It had taken one dance with him weeks ago to decide that he was the one. Since then, she’d made a detailed, if surreptitious, study of him whenever the opportunity arose. She admired a man with strong opinions, although it could make her plan more difficult. He might not be so easily persuaded to her view. Few gentlemen were as attractive as Lord Eaglestone was, however. And even fewer as wealthy. He must be the one. If he agreed, he would serve her well in both her endeavors. Convinced she was equal to the challenge, she did her best to ignore the warning prickle up her spine whe
n his assessing gaze met hers.
When a lull came in the conversation, Bella seized her opportunity. Eaglestone had turned from the assembled group to remove a flute of champagne from a footman’s tray. “I’d like a moment of your time after supper, if you would be so good, Lord Eaglestone. I wish to discuss my charity with you,” she said, with an eye on her father who was discussing politics with Lord Maudling.
“Of course, Miss Lacey. You shall have my undivided attention.” His warm glance embraced her, roaming from her face to her waist and back to her mouth. Was there an implied message in his response, or had her imagination galloped ahead to the intimacy she planned to share with him?
She lowered her lashes at the delicious quiver rushing through her. Her one night of sin. Breathing deeply, Bella discreetly engaged the lady at her elbow in conversation. While they spoke of the beautiful gowns on display, she studied Eaglestone’s effect on the assembled gathering. Most of the ladies turned to follow his progress through the room. Men who sought his advice were met with a perfectly cordial, yet cool, response. No one openly cut him, despite the scandalous rumors attached to him. Perhaps they, like Lord Maudling, hoped a little of his luck and undeniable talent would rub off on them.
London had been abuzz with rumors about Eaglestone for years: that he’d indulged in a very public and scandalous affair with the wife of another peer and that he had shot the husband in a duel. She’d overheard one of her father’s associates express doubts that all of Eaglestone’s business dealings were aboveboard. That had given her pause, but as nothing had been proven, Bella put the remark down to envy.
Seven Nights of Sin: Seven Sensuous Stories by Bestselling Historical Romance Authors Page 8