She nodded. “What do your instincts tell you?”
“Oh, no. Don’t get me involved in your matchmaking schemes.” He laughed and raked his fingers through his hair. “My instincts are telling me to forget the tea and carry you back to our bedchamber where I can explore your delectable body for uninterrupted hours on end. You’re frowning at me, so I see that I have spoken out of turn. Well, you asked me. I can’t help it if my beautiful wife stirs my low brain lust.”
“Belle,” she quietly blurted as they were about to walk into Lady Dayne’s parlor and mingle with her other guests. “It must be Belle.”
“You’re suddenly certain?”
“The feeling just came over me.” She scanned the crowd in search of her cousin but did not see her. “Oh, Romulus. Something’s going to happen. My body’s tingling, and the air feels charged.”
“Here? Now?” He grinned. “I could make another stupid comment about my low brain and carry you home. Just say the word.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, I see Lady Withnall.”
He gave a mock sigh. “Ah, there she is, eyeing us both with her beady, weasel eyes from across the room.”
Violet slapped him lightly on the shoulder and laughed. “Be nice to her, you wicked man! Oh, there’s your cousin, Finn. I’m so glad he accepted Lady Dayne’s invitation. He looks well, doesn’t he? He isn’t even wearing a sling on his arm. I’m so relieved.”
Romulus escorted her through the crowded parlor. “Let’s greet our hostess and then we can chat with Finn. Unless you’d rather find your cousins first.” He looked around the room. “I see Honey, but I don’t see Belle.”
“She must be somewhere around. I know she’s here. Probably in a quiet corner. She’s shy. I would have heard if she wasn’t feeling well and had decided to stay home. She was in the pink of health when I saw her this morning. Looking quite lovely, actually.”
They greeted Lady Dayne and Lady Withnall.
Romulus stifled a grin as Violet impulsively reached out and gave the tiny termagant a sincere hug. “Thank you again, Lady Withnall,” she whispered. “Thank you again and again with all my heart.”
To his surprise, the old woman’s features crumbled, and she appeared genuinely touched, almost as though she was about to cry. “I’m glad to see you both so happy, my dear. But it is the bees who must be thanked for bringing you and your scandalously gorgeous husband together.”
Whatever Violet meant to say was cut short when Charles and Innes tore into the room. “Captain Brayden,” Innes said breathlessly, his eyes once again wide. “Something’s happened.”
The boy tugged at his hand, but Romulus held him back a moment. “What is it, Innes?”
“It’s your cousin, Finn, and Mrs. Brayden’s cousin, Belle.”
He groaned. “Oh, no. What happened?”
No, no, no. It can’t be. It’s just a book.
He cast a glance at Violet who clearly looked confused, horrified, and perhaps gleeful. Was that a matchmaking glint in her eyes?
By this time, the boys were gathering a crowd. Mostly Farthingales, but there were other guests present. Lady Withnall’s nose was twitching like a rabbit’s and her ears were wiggling. This could not be good. “Innes. Charles. You ought to tell me what happened in private.”
“There isn’t time,” young Charles said, hopping on one leg. “They’re in the garden. Belle touched him like this…” Charles slid his hand up and down himself, directly over his little crotch.
John Farthingale had just taken a sip of his tea and now sprayed it out of his mouth. His wife pounded him on his back as he began to cough. “Oh, John. Surely, it’s all an innocent misunderstanding,” Sophie crooned, but her words did nothing to soothe John’s mounting ire.
“Then Finn grabbed her in his arms, because she started making strange sounds,” Innes added unhelpfully.
“What sounds?” Violet asked before Romulus could stop her. Despite being married to him, a low brain cad who could not get enough of her in a primal, carnal way, she was still remarkably innocent.
“Um, she was breathing heavily,” Innes replied.
“This kind of sound.” Charles began to moan.
“More like this,” Innes corrected and made suggestive sounding gasps.
“Brayden, I’m going to kill your cousin,” John muttered.
“Boys, there must be some mistake.” Blessed saints! Was Finn…what the hell was he doing to Belle?
Lady Withnall’s nose was now madly twitching.
Romulus had to get to his cousin before anyone saw whatever the idiot was doing to Belle. Only Finn wasn’t an idiot. He was one of the smartest men in London, but perhaps not when it came to women. “Where are they?”
“In the garden,” Innes said. “They toppled on the grass. She was still moaning when we ran inside to tell you.”
Romulus tore out of the house, Violet on his heels. “Finn! Are you insane?” His cousin had his hand on Belle’s chest and was pressing down on it. At the same time, he had his mouth on Belle’s mouth. There was a logical explanation, of course.
The damn Book of Love.
Finn looked up, shocked to see the crowd gathering around them. “She can’t catch her breath. Where’s her sister? She’ll know what to do.”
As Honey raced forward, Romulus drew Violet back. “This explains her heavy breathing. But…why was she touching him?”
Violet’s eyes were still wide in horror, confusion, and yes, glee. “I don’t know.” She turned in dismay to Lady Withnall who was now hovering close to Finn as he took guidance from Belle’s sister while he lifted Belle into his arms.
“Why are your pants wet?” Lady Withnall asked Finn. “Did you spill tea all over yourself?”
Finn merely scowled at the incorrigible snoop.
Belle appeared to be over the worst of her attack, her breathing less erratic now.
“Put your arms around my neck,” Finn told her, now carrying her toward Lady Dayne’s parlor.
Romulus remained in the garden with Violet as the small crowd followed Finn back inside. “Did you have to give her that book before the tea?”
Violet’s mouth gaped open. “I’m so sorry, Romulus. It was just sitting there on our bureau, and I suddenly felt compelled to bring it over to Belle.” She stared at him. “Do you think…?”
“No. It can’t be.” Even though he had been thinking the same thing himself only a moment ago. “It’s just a damn book. An old book. Faded red cover.” He ran a hand through his hair in consternation. “Lady Withnall saw it all.”
Violet gave a laughing groan. “There’s also the Chipping Way curse. Poor Finn. He didn’t stand a chance. If the book didn’t get him, the bachelor curse of this street did. I’ll talk to Lady Withnall. I’ll explain about Belle’s difficulty breathing. Those attacks can be frightening when they occur, and there’s rarely any warning when they do. Should we follow them in? Finn might need your help.”
“No, love. Too late. Nothing to do but hope they’ll be as happy as we are in wedded bliss.” He took Violet in his arms. “Lord, I’m going to miss you. The lavender scent of your body. The silky warmth of your skin. Your spectacular violet eyes.”
“My singing,” she teased.
“I love your voice. I love you, my beautiful songbird.” He scooped her into his arms.
She gasped. “What are you doing? People are watching.”
“No, they’re not. All eyes are on my addle-pated cousin. Oh, Lady Miranda will be happy as a lark when she learns Finn’s going to marry.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Belle will not agree to it.”
“You weren’t inclined either. Look where it got you?” He kissed her on the lips. “Got you into my bed, that’s for sure. And I’m not complaining.” He started to carry her out of the garden.
“Romulus! We can’t leave.”
“Of course we can, love. No one gives a rat’s arse about us now. But I care. I’m going to enjoy my wife until the moment I ha
ve to leave for Cornwall. Your aunt will bring Innes home once the tea is over. You’ll have all day tomorrow to find out what happened after we left. I love you, Violet. Don’t deprive me of the pleasure of having you in my arms.”
She sighed and rested her head against his shoulder. “I won’t, my love.”
He kissed her again. “Bollocks, I’m going to miss you.”
Violet did not think it was possible to already miss someone when that person was still beside her, but she did. “I’ll miss you desperately, too.”
She was going to miss young Innes as well. The boy absorbed affection like a sponge, but it twisted her heart to know how badly he’d been deprived of it. He could have done with a little more time in a loving home. Perhaps this would be one of her next projects, learning more about the Duke of Buchan and his feelings for his son.
However, she set aside thoughts of everyone but Romulus as her spectacularly gorgeous husband carried her upstairs to make scandalous love to her in the afternoon.
Good heavens, he was naughty!
But she supposed, when it came to Romulus, so was she.
Chapter Twenty-Two
London, England
September 1820
Violet was hosting a tea party at home when Romulus and Innes surprised everyone by tromping into the parlor to the cheers and greetings of the guests. They looked travel-worn and dusty, but Violet was too happy to see them to care about ruining her gown with their road dirt. She set down her teacup and ran into Romulus’s outstretched arms. “Romulus!” she shouted for joy, her heart ready to burst with happiness.
“It’s good to be home, love.” He swept her into his arms and kissed her thoroughly, his rough growth of beard scratching her cheek as they embraced each other. He reluctantly released her, no doubt realizing friends and family were coughing and giggling at his show of affection.
Blushing, Violet turned to greet Innes.
“We didn’t expect you until tomorrow,” she said, giving the boy a heartfelt hug and ruffling his hair. “Look how big you’ve grown.” The lad was as tall as she was now. “Did you enjoy your time at sea?”
Innes nodded. “Mostly it was quiet, but sometimes we fought pirates.”
Violet studied both of them closely, relieved they appeared unharmed. She would learn more from Romulus later. “Innes, I’m glad you came a day early. There’s someone here who would like to see you. I know you must be tired and hungry, but indulge me a moment and go wait for me in the study.”
He nodded. “Is it Charles? Is he here?”
“Yes, he’s here, and you shall see him in a moment. But there’s someone else I’d like you to see first.”
The boy obediently trotted off.
Romulus frowned. “What’s going on, love?”
She sighed. “Don’t be angry with me, but I’ve been meddling.”
He arched an eyebrow, looking quite wickedly rugged and immensely appealing. “What? A Farthingale meddle? Unheard of.”
She grinned. “The Duke of Buchan is here. I wrote to him.”
Romulus groaned. “Violet, why?”
“I couldn’t bear to see Innes so poorly treated…well, it’s done. He paid a call on me when he arrived in town last week. He came alone, without wife number three. The woman is awful. I think the duke is regretting the marriage, but that’s between the two of them. He wants to see his son. He loves the boy, and I cannot tell you how relieved he was to know Innes had been placed in your care. He was also most appreciative that we took the lad into our home. He’s been waiting for your return, hoping Innes won’t hate him for sending him off as brusquely as he did.”
She eased out of Romulus’s arms. “Let me introduce him to you, and then we must give him time alone with his son.”
The duke had been standing beside Lady Dayne and Lady Withnall. He appeared eager to meet Romulus, so Violet left their side to allow the two men a moment of privacy. “Innes and I will await you in the study. Join us whenever you are ready, Your Grace.”
Romulus and the duke strode in very soon afterward. Violet was just about to ask the boy if he was thirsty, but held off when the men walked in. She could feel his youthful excitement and apprehension. His little heart was surely beating wildly. “Father…”
“Innes.” Tears formed in the duke’s eyes as he opened his arms to his son. The boy ran to him. Soon, both father and son were hugging and crying.
Violet had tears in her eyes as she and Romulus slipped out of the room. When he remained silent a long moment, Violet took the opportunity to tell him of her exchange of letters with Sister Ursula and the plans for repair of the orphanage. “And I’ve also been giving weekly recitals at the war homes and local hospitals.”
Romulus took her hand in his and gave it a light squeeze. “You’ve been quite busy.”
“Never too busy to miss you. I’m so glad you’re home. How long will I have you all to myself?”
“I don’t know yet. But let’s not think of it now. I missed you so very much. I went on deck every evening at sunset and watched the golden light fade over the water. I heard your song carried on the wind. It was as though you were standing beside me, smiling up at me.” He grinned. “Singing to me. Yes, singing. Because even though you think I detest music, the truth is I love you.”
He took a deep breath and caressed her check. “I’ll love you forever, no matter where in this world fate and fortune take my ship. You will always be with me, my love. My sweet, beautiful Violet. How did I exist without you?”
“You managed quite well, I’m sure,” she teased.
But his expression remained serious and achingly tender. “No, never. I still cannot believe my good fortune. You are so special to me. You are the sweet song of my heart.”
“Does this mean you wish me to sing to you?”
He groaned.
“Because I know how much you love it, especially in the morning. Before you’ve had your morning coffee.” She was still teasing him, wanting to coax a smile to his lips.
He shook his head and laughed. Then he bent his head and gave her an exquisitely bone-melting kiss. “How fast can we get rid of our guests? My low brain is in a spawning frenzy.”
She blushed and eased away, putting a hand over her stomach. “Speaking of spawning…Romulus, my love. I have something quite wonderful to tell you.”
The End
BOOK OF LOVE SERIES
The Look of Love
The Touch of Love
The Taste of Love
The Song of Love
The Scent of Love
The Kiss of Love
The Chance of Love
The Gift of Love
The Heart of Love
The Hope of Love (novella)
About the Author
Meara Platt is an award winning, USA TODAY bestselling author and an Amazon UK All-Star. Her favorite place in all the world is England’s Lake District, which may not come as a surprise since many of her stories are set in that idyllic landscape, including her paranormal romance Dark Gardens series. Learn more about the Dark Gardens and Meara’s lighthearted and humorous Regency romances in her Farthingale series and Book of Love series, or her warmhearted Regency romances in her Braydens series by visiting her website at www.mearaplatt.com.
The Viscount’s Sinful Bargain
The Dukes’ Pact Series
Book One – Cassandra
Kate Archer
Prologue
White’s, London 1816
The six dukes gravely sipped their port. Or, in the case of the Duke of Wentworth, gulped it. That particular duke stared glumly at his bandaged foot, which was just now elevated on a stool. He was eternally gouty and though his physician blamed it on port, the duke was equally certain port was the only thing that soothed that blasted appendage.
The six gentlemen had entered the realms of late middle age, that time period when a reliable body begins to betray in surprising and unwelcome ways. Youth had fled and they had resigne
d themselves to it. At their time of life, they looked forward to doting on grandchildren. Specifically, a male grandchild born of their eldest son, and a spare for good measure. A man could not be satisfied to consider departing the world until his line was secure for generations to come.
Though they looked forward to that blessed state of finding grandsons all round, it seemed always to be far ahead of them. Not a one of their rogue sons had managed to marry. In truth, every damn one of them had studiously avoided the state.
“Gentlemen,” the Duke of Gravesley said, “while we are grateful beyond measure that we still have sons to carry on for us, the war is over. A new war, a more personal war, is set to begin.”
“Hear, hear,” the gentlemen murmured.
“If we do not force these scoundrels to marry,” His Grace continued, “we are in danger of never setting eyes on a grandchild.”
“Dash it!” the Duke of Dembly exclaimed, as if the idea had just occurred to him. This drew various looks from the others, as the matter had been the subject of their discussions for some months.
“We did our duty in producing these scoundrels,” the Duke of Carlisle said, “and now it is time for them to do their duty.”
At the mention of duty, which was an idea that greatly stirred the dukes’ hearts, there was a gentle stamping of feet in approbation. Even the Duke of Wentworth stamped his good foot.
“The time has come, my friends, to take steps,” the Duke of Gravesley said. “Dire steps.”
One by one, the men nodded. They had debated for weeks on the correct course, now it was time to act.
“We are agreed,” His Grace said. “We enter into a formal pact and swear that none of us will fold under misplaced affection.”
And so, the six dukes took dire steps to secure their respective lines for generations to come.
Regency for all Seasons: A Regency Romance Collection Page 92