“Aria,” Sybil chided. Bending, she retrieved the skate and dropped it atop her bed. “Hannah,” she called after the servant. Her maid turned slowly back, still not meeting her eyes. “It is not your fault,” she said quietly, at last offering that belated but deserved forgiveness. As a bluestocking, nearly thirty years of age, Sybil was not oblivious to the plight all women faced. For those outside of the nobility, their fates were even more fickle and precarious. Hadn’t Rosaleen reminded Sybil of that very fact on the eve of her wedding to stodgy Lord Hamilton with his deep pockets and stern countenance?
“Thank you, miss,” Hannah’s breathless words barely reached across the room.
As soon as she’d gone, Aria turned to Sybil. “Mother is looking for you. Some such nonsense about rooms that still need reviewing.”
She sighed. This was to be her life. The stolen pleasures to be had in the pages of her books, and during the day…this. Mistress of her mother’s household and helper of her father’s books.
Her sister wandered over to the bed and picked up that precious skate, turning it over in her hands. “She asked why you’d not gathered the books from the library yet, for our travels.”
Sybil cocked her head. “Mother asked that?” Of all the things their mother had worried after over the years—of which there were many—the impressive stack of leather volumes Sybil often carted about had never been at the top of any proverbial list.
“Indeed,” Aria concurred. “That was my very thought. But you really should go there, you know. To the library,” she clarified. “Mustn’t leave behind the only happiness you’ll ever know, forgotten.”
Her heart cracked. How humbling to know her sixteen-year-old sister had been right about life, love, and laughter, all along. “I’ll see to it shortly,” she managed past a thick tongue.
“Sybil.”
Oh, blast.
They looked as one. Mother stood framed in the doorway. Eyes still red, the viscountess was not, at present, weeping, which was a vast improvement these two days. “We are very nearly ready to depart. Have you seen to the final preparations?”
“I have,” she replied automatically, finding some small relief that this exchange with her sad-eyed mama hadn’t included the ‘Ruined. Ruuined. Ruuuuined’ nonsense.
“The library?” her mother demanded.
“Enough with the bloody library,” Sybil cried. She tossed her hands into the air. “I am tired of seeing to your household and being dutiful and being bloody proper.” I want to be who I was those five glorious days with Nolan. Laughing. Teasing. Happy. His visage slid forward, sharpening the pain. “I will gather my blasted books before we leave. But for the love of all that is holy, please, do not ask me again.”
Shock rounded out the eyes and mouths of the Cunning women.
“And it is a dreadful name,” Sybil shouted, feeling invigorated for yelling and cursing and simply being alive…if even just to rail at the dreary life she’d lived these past thirty years.
“Well,” the viscountess snapped, patting the back of her elegant coiffure. “Mark my words, Sybil Holly Cunning, you will owe me an apology.”
In a remarkable contradictory show of disloyalty, Aria gave an enthusiastic nod. “You will,” she silently mouthed.
Yes, later. But for now, she wanted to be alone and away from the questions and demands. From all of it.
With her mother and sister left gaping at her, Sybil stalked past them, out into the hall. By servants hurrying about with valises and trunks. “The bloody library,” she muttered as she reached that much talked about room. “As though I give a jot about what damned books I’ve forgotten or might forget.” She pushed the door open. “I…” The words trailed off and she cocked her head. She’d spent these past two days so often thinking of him and dreaming of him, that she’d surely conjured him. Sybil blinked several times. But no matter how many times, the sight remained. Gloriously blond and tall like that golden angel Michael, who’d cast the darkest sinner outside the gates of heaven Nolan stared back.
“Sybil,” he murmured, that husky baritone washing over her, warming her when she’d been so very cold these two days.
“Nolan,” she whispered, glancing around. “What—?” He withdrew a sack from his sapphire jacket and her heart lurched.
“This is yours.”
This is why he’d come. He may as well have slapped her for the sting of pain that lanced her heart. Lifting her palms, she warded off that damned sack. “It is yours. As is the thousand pounds,” she said, the words coming as though they belonged to another. “I…” I cannot say hired. Not when it would sully what they’d shared. “It was wrong of me to ask you to,” she scrabbled with her skirts, “help, but help me you did.” And showed me more happiness in those handful of days.
He rocked on his elegant black heels. “I wanted to thank you.”
“Thank me?” she echoed dumbly.
“For instilling in me the courage to speak with my siblings about my,” he touched the back of his head. “About my injury. My brother and I have spent the past two days examining business ventures. Lucrative ones.”
Nolan looked at her. What did he expect of her here? Something was expected but through the tumult of her emotions, she couldn’t puzzle it out. She dampened her lips. “Indeed?”
He nodded.
After years of cloaking himself in guilt and shutting out all, including his siblings, he’d let them inside. This is why he’d come. To thank her for that. She drew in a shuddery breath, feeling petty and selfish for this not being enough. But she was grateful just the same because she’d brought something positive and good to his life.
“We will struggle,” he went on. “Creditors will continue to come…but in time…”
Sybil let her hands fall to her side. “I am so happy for you, Nolan.” For he’d found peace and there was nothing more important than that. Other than love…
“Would you please sit, Miss Cunning?”
Miss Cunning? Her heart ripped. That polite address stripped away all of the tender warmth shared between them.
He gestured to the leather button sofa closest to him. “Will you please?”
That entreaty brought movement back to her limbs, only stopping when she’d reached the indicated seat. Sybil searched his face but found no hint of emotion.
“You are a woman of logic and reason.” He looked at her.
She wetted her lips. “I was.” Until you.
“You know precisely what you want and how you will live your life.”
I thought I did. You showed me I know far less. Unable to humble herself with that truth, she remained silent.
“As you are logical and practical, Miss Cunning.” He reached down and picked up a thick sheet of vellum on the table beside him. “You know all the reasons I would make you a rotted husband.” He discarded that sheet, setting it down on the rose-inlaid table beside him.
She froze. And then it made sense. “This is why you’re here,” she said flatly. He’d come not only to share about his healing with his family but also to convince her that she was better off without him. She wasn’t. Her life was fuller with him in it. “I’m not looking for you to marry me,” she said, proud of that even deliverance when, inside, she was breaking.
Nolan nodded somberly. “I feared as much.” He picked up another sheet. “However, I would be remiss, if I did not at least provide you every reason you should marry me. Or, at the very least, consider it.”
At that romantic request, a shuddery gasp broke from her lips and she buried it in her fingertips. Love for this man filled her as she looked between him and that page.
Then, like the most skilled governesses who’d held her riveted with their scholarly lessons, he carried on. “We laugh when we are together. We aren’t afraid to tease one another, Miss Cunning. Which means we would never have one of those dull, formal affairs where we referred to one another by our titles. Unless you wish to refer to one another by proper title.”
He grinned. “Splendid. May I continue?”
“Please,” she whispered. Her love for him swelled all the more.
He swiftly handed her over that page. She took it with shaking fingers and read the words inked there. Nolan grabbed another sheet. “You’ll never have to give up your scholarly pursuits. I would only ask that you include me when you’re conducting your studies.” He handed over the sheet.
Tears flooded her eyes. She blinked them back, alternating her blurred gaze between Nolan and those beautiful words.
“I’ll teach you how to ride a horse because, well, you really should know how to ride a horse.”
She took that inked promise and lovingly stroked the pledge he’d made there.
“And swimming. Egads, Sybil, you really must swim again and naked,” he carried on, startling a laugh from her. “But only with me. Also naked, of course.” He followed that with a wink.
A shocked gasp filtered into the room from the hallway, momentarily distracting them. They looked to the door.
“Come away, Lady Lovell.”
“But, Lord Lovell, he said…”
Sybil’s father ducked his flushed faced inside the room. “Uh, you must forgive me. You know your mother.” He hastily pulled the door closed behind them.
Sybil stifled the mortified laugh on her lips. “They knew.”
He nodded.
She giggled again. So that was the reason for Mother’s insistence. The viscountess had been correct. “I really must apologize to—” She gasped.
Nolan sank to a knee. “If I were a better man, that interruption from your parents would have bothered me. But I’m not. I’m just a man hopelessly and helplessly in love with you. Asking you to marry me. I—”
She hurled herself into his arms, knocking him back. He collided with the table and Nolan grunted as they came down hard on the floor. “There are more reasons, love,” he said hoarsely, as he levered them up.
“Yes,” she rasped, taking his face between her hands.
“Yes, you’d hear more reasons or yes you’ll marry—?”
She leaned up and kissed him, willing him to feel all the love she carried for him. Nolan drew her close. So much emotion spilled from his eyes, her chest swelled. “I love you,” she whispered.
All hint of teasing and his composed self were gone. He cupped her cheek in his warm palm and she leaned into that touch. When he spoke, his words emerged hoarse. “Again, if I were a better man, I would show you the other list.” He shot an arm out and dragged those pages over. “I would remind you of all the reasons why you should never be with me. But I am not. So I come and ask you to be with me, not just for a winter, but forever.”
Sybil yanked those offending sheets from his fingers. Wadding them in her hands, she tossed the sloppy, haphazard ball aside. “I don’t want a man who is perfect. I want a man who is real and, more, a man who loves me as I am.”
Nolan dropped his brow atop hers. “I would have you no other way.”
Her lower lip quivered. “Nor I you, Noel Pratt. Nor I you.”
“Then, let us seal this bargain with a kiss, love.”
And that was just what they did.
The End
Coming Soon
Book 2 in the Sinful Brides Series
The Scoundrel’s Honor
London, 1822.
Thanks to her older siblings, Lady Penelope Tidemore is no stranger to scandal. In order for her to make a good match, her secret longings for intrigue and romance must be quelled. Yet it is through terrible mischance that Penelope is caught in a compromising position—however innocent—with the darkly enigmatic viscount Ryker Black.
Mr. Black is no gentleman. Raised from the streets and proprietor of the most notorious gaming hell in London, Black lives in a world filled with debauchery and danger. Taking a Society wife from the very ton he despises is not part of his plan, even if the innocent Penelope turns his blood hot with desire.
But Penelope isn’t afraid of Mr. Black, and she soon discovers that his reputation as a scoundrel may be designed to hide a surprising vulnerability. As this unlikely husband and wife grow closer, they learn that what started as chance could end up sealing their fates.
The Scoundrel’s Honor
Other Books by Christi Caldwell
“To Redeem a Rake”
Book 11 in the “Heart of a Duke” Series by Christi Caldwell
He’s spent years scandalizing society.
Now, this rake must change his ways.
Society’s most infamous scoundrel, Daniel Winterbourne, the Earl of Montfort, has been promised a small fortune if he can relinquish his wayward, carousing lifestyle. And behaving means he must also help find a respectable companion for his youngest sister—someone who will guide her and whom she can emulate. However, Daniel knows no such woman. But when he encounters a childhood friend, Daniel believes she may just be the answer to all of his problems.
Having been secretly humiliated by an unscrupulous blackguard years earlier, Miss Daphne Smith dreams of finding work at Ladies of Hope, an institution that provides an education for disabled women. With her sordid past and a disfigured leg, few opportunities arise for a woman such as she. Knowing Daniel’s history, she wishes to avoid him, but working for his sister is exactly the stepping stone she needs.
Their attraction intensifies as Daniel and Daphne grow closer, preparing his sister for the London Season. But Daniel must resist his desire for a woman tarnished by scandal while Daphne is reminded of the boy she once knew. Can society’s most notorious rake redeem his reputation and become the man Daphne deserves?
“To Woo a Widow”
Book 10 in the “Heart of a Duke” Series by Christi Caldwell
They see a brokenhearted widow.
She’s far from shattered.
Lady Philippa Winston is never marrying again. After her late husband’s cruelty that she kept so well hidden, she has no desire to search for love.
Years ago, Miles Brookfield, the Marquess of Guilford, made a frivolous vow he never thought would come to fruition—he promised to marry his mother’s goddaughter if he was unwed by the age of thirty. Now, to his dismay, he’s faced with honoring that pledge. But when he encounters the beautiful and intriguing Lady Philippa, Miles knows his true path in life. It’s up to him to break down every belief Philippa carries about gentlemen, proving that not only is love real, but that he is the man deserving of her sheltered heart.
Will Philippa let down her guard and allow Miles to woo a widow in desperate need of his love?
“The Lure of a Rake”
Book 9 in the “Heart of a Duke” Series by Christi Caldwell
A Lady Dreaming of Love
Lady Genevieve Farendale has a scandalous past. Jilted at the altar years earlier and exiled by her family, she’s now returned to London to prove she can be a proper lady. Even though she’s not given up on the hope of marrying for love, she’s wary of trusting again. Then she meets Cedric Falcot, the Marquess of St. Albans whose seductive ways set her heart aflutter. But with her sordid history, Genevieve knows a rake can also easily destroy her.
An Unlikely Pairing
What begins as a chance encounter between Cedric and Genevieve becomes something more. As they continue to meet, passions stir. But with Genevieve’s hope for true love, she fears Cedric will be unable to give up his wayward lifestyle. After all, Cedric has spent years protecting his heart, and keeping everyone out. Slowly, she chips away at all the walls he’s built, but when he falters, Genevieve can’t offer him redemption. Now, it’s up to Cedric to prove to Genevieve that the love of a man is far more powerful than the lure of a rake.
“To Trust a Rogue”
Book 8 in the “Heart of a Duke” Series by Christi Caldwell
A rogue
Marcus, the Viscount Wessex has carefully crafted the image of rogue and charmer for Polite Society. Under that façade, however, dwells a man whose
dreams were shattered almost eight years earlier by a young lady who captured his heart, pledged her love, and then left him, with nothing more than a curt note.
A widow
Eight years earlier, faced with no other choice, Mrs. Eleanor Collins, fled London and the only man she ever loved, Marcus, Viscount Wessex. She has now returned to serve as a companion for her elderly aunt with a daughter in tow. Even though they’re next door neighbors, there is little reason for her to move in the same circles as Marcus, just in case, she vows to avoid him, for he reminds her of all she lost when she left.
Reunited
As their paths continue to cross, Marcus finds his desire for Eleanor just as strong, but he learned long ago she’s not to be trusted. He will offer her a place in his bed, but not anything more. Only, Eleanor has no interest in this new, roguish man. The more time they spend together, the protective wall they’ve constructed to keep the other out, begin to break. With all the betrayals and secrets between them, Marcus has to open his heart again. And Eleanor must decide if it’s ever safe to trust a rogue.
“To Wed His Christmas Lady”
Book 7 in the “Heart of a Duke” Series by Christi Caldwell
She’s longing to be loved:
Lady Cara Falcot has only served one purpose to her loathsome father—to increase his power through a marriage to the future Duke of Billingsley. As such, she’s built protective walls about her heart, and presents an icy facade to the world around her. Journeying home from her finishing school for the Christmas holidays, Cara’s carriage is stranded during a winter storm. She’s forced to tarry at a ramshackle inn, where she immediately antagonizes another patron—William.
He’s avoiding his duty in favor of one last adventure:
William Hargrove, the Marquess of Grafton has wanted only one thing in life—to avoid the future match his parents would have him make to a cold, duke’s daughter. He’s returning home from a blissful eight years of traveling the world to see to his responsibilities. But when a winter storm interrupts his trip and lands him at a falling-down inn, he’s forced to share company with a commanding Lady Cara who initially reminds him exactly of the woman he so desperately wants to avoid.
One Winter With A Baron (The Heart of A Duke #12) Page 12