My kind of scoundrel, p.25
My Kind of Scoundrel, page 25
He studied her, drinking in the gorgeous sight. “Marry me. Let me take care of you. Let me love you for all eternity.”
Tears filled her eyes. “I belong to you, Theo. I felt it the first time you accompanied Delphine to her fitting. I called her back a week early, hoping to see you again.”
“Aramis offered to escort her, but I paid to take his place.”
Her eyes brightened. “You did?”
“I might have made my intentions clear, but Delphine spoke of your blossoming friendship, and I couldn’t take that away from her.”
“Your love for your sister only enhanced your appeal.” To show how attracted she was to him, she came up on her knees and sank slowly back down. “I love you. I feel like I’ve always loved you.”
He reached into his pocket and gave her the velvet ring box. “I hope you like it. It should fit. I measured your finger with string while you were sleeping.”
She chuckled. “What else do you do while I’m sleeping?”
“Watch you.” And count himself amongst the luckiest of men.
She opened the box, joy evident in her eyes. “Theo, it’s beautiful. It’s exactly what I would have picked for myself.”
“You’re beautiful.” He drew the ring from the box and placed it on her finger. “You’re the love of my life, Eleanor.”
She examined the ring before pouring everything of herself into a kiss that curled his toes and had his cock swelling inside her.
As always, their passion overwhelmed them, and they took their lovemaking to the floor.
“We’ll revisit this position later, when we’re less encumbered.” He held her hands above her head, interlacing their fingers, and drove deep. “Though you’re wearing my ring, you’ve still not said you’ll marry me.”
A mix of a giggle and a pleasurable moan escaped her. “I love you. Of course I’ll marry you. How can I not? You’ve aroused me to the point of madness, and there’s not a plum pie in sight.”
Fortune’s Den
Aldgate Street
Four weeks later
“Did I not say you’d be married by the autumn?” Aramis grinned and thrust his outstretched hand at Theo. “You owe me a hundred pounds, but consider it a wedding gift.” He glanced at Eleanor, busy talking to Delphine and Miss Lovelace in the drawing room—when she wasn’t looking Theo’s way. “Your bride looks at you like you’re a hog on a roasting spit, and she’s waiting to devour you whole.”
Theo laughed. He couldn’t stop staring at her, either.
The last month had been glorious. They’d been married for two hours, yet it was the happiest two hours of his life. As they’d not spent a night apart since his proposal at the theatre, he would lay odds Eleanor was already with child.
Delphine noticed them looking and joined them. “Remind me not to leave town for the next three months. I believe my husband placed a bet on Aaron being married before Twelfth Night.”
Aaron had retired to his study to talk privately with Lucius Daventry and so they did not need to speak in whispers.
“I fear your husband must put his hand in his pocket,” Christian said. “We all knew of Theo’s attraction to Eleanor. With Aaron, it’s much more complicated.”
“I’m not so sure.” Delphine checked over her shoulder, then stepped closer. “Miss Lovelace called him a prized ape last week and could have sworn she saw him smile. Have you ever known Aaron smile at a woman?”
“I’ve never known him smile at anyone,” Theo said.
Aramis offered another snippet of gossip. “Sigmund said Aaron has been training in the basement every night for the last month. There’s to be a fight soon. Brutes coming from as far afield as Manchester.”
“He’s hoping they’ll thrash Miss Lovelace from his mind.” Theo feared his brother was on a downward spiral. His fists had got them out of a predicament when they were children. Perhaps Aaron prayed the same would be true now.
“He’s doing it to make her hate him,” Delphine offered. “Wait until he hears of her new plan.” She paused for dramatic effect. “Miss Lovelace is to open the club to gentlemen every Thursday. He’ll be furious.”
Theo was glad he would miss the family meeting tomorrow. “She’ll never manage a club full of men. Not on her own.”
Delphine raised her hands, signalling the next words to leave her mouth would be shocking. “She’s opening the club to men and women and has planned a host of themed evenings.”
“The lady is courting trouble,” Aramis said. “She’ll attract nothing but scoundrels out to rid her wallflowers of more than their pin money.”
“I believe that’s the plan. She’s keen to play matchmaker.”
“Good grief. Has she lost her mind?” Christian countered.
“Has who lost their mind?” Aaron said, joining them. The man moved with a panther’s silent grace.
“Eleanor,” Theo was quick to say. He’d explain all to his wife later. “She was considering hiring Anna Franklin when she settles into new premises.” It was not a lie.
Not wanting to work in New Bridge Street, she had given notice. The upstairs apartments were too small for a married couple, and so Theo had purchased a house on The Strand.
“Personally, I wouldn’t trust a woman who had stolen from me,” Aaron said. “But Eleanor’s heart is as huge as yours. I suspect she’ll give Miss Franklin an opportunity to prove her worth.”
“Without Miss Franklin, we wouldn’t have known about Wrotham’s treachery,” Theo reminded him.
“Wrotham is dead,” Aaron blurted. “He succumbed to his injuries last night. They’ll not transport Franklin for forgery but hang him for murder.”
They all fell silent. While they lived to punish their estranged family, they were not heartless men. Mrs Dunwoody had received the lesser sentence of seven years transportation and loss of her assets.
“Forgive me,” Aaron said, his gaze sliding to Eleanor and Miss Lovelace. “It’s your wedding day. It’s a time to celebrate the future, not dwell on the past.”
“Good.” Aramis gripped Aaron’s shoulder. “You may as well know, Naomi is with child. You’ll be an uncle in the spring.”
The muscle in Aaron’s cheek twitched. “Someone fetch me a brandy? On second thoughts, bring the decanter.”
Everyone laughed but Aaron.
Keen to join the revelry, Eleanor approached with Miss Lovelace. “What’s so amusing?”
Theo reached for her hand. “We were discussing how quickly our family has grown.” He turned to Miss Lovelace, who was dressed in a fetching turquoise ensemble. “Do you think you’ll ever marry?”
“Me?” The lady pressed her hand to her chest and chuckled. The girlish laugh sparked a light in Aaron’s dark eyes. “Heavens no. I have enough to deal with managing the club.”
Aaron couldn’t wait to offer his opinion. “If you married well, your husband would provide for you.”
“You mean if I marry for money.”
“What other reason is there?”
The lady scanned Aaron’s broad shoulders and impeccable attire. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand. I wouldn’t settle for anything less than a man who’d wait hours in the rain just to spend a minute in my company.”
Aaron snorted. “I doubt such a man exists.”
Theo begged to differ but remained silent.
“Which is why I’m happy to remain a spinster.”
“I thought you were a wallflower.”
Miss Lovelace shrugged. “Some women are hard to define.”
The air thrummed with palpable tension. Aaron would probably beat his sparring partner to a pulp tonight.
Theo caught Eleanor’s covert jerk of the head, meaning she wanted to speak to him alone upstairs.
He cleared his throat. “Would you excuse us for a moment?” He turned to the alluring lady who he prayed had the means to overthrow his brother. “Did you know Aaron has an interest in medieval history?” He wanted her to know his brother had brains and brawn.
“Early, High or Late Middle Ages?” Miss Lovelace asked as Theo took Eleanor’s hand and made a quick retreat.
They raced upstairs, keen to spend a private moment together.
“I’m glad we’re staying in a suite at Mivart’s Hotel tonight,” he said, cupping her cheeks and kissing her wildly. “Aaron will be like a bear with a thorn in his paw once he learns of Miss Lovelace’s plans.”
“Theo, we must help them.” Eleanor was so excited she could barely stand still, and it had nothing to do with his fervent kisses. “Miss Lovelace admitted she likes riling his temper, and you know what that means.”
“What does it mean?”
“That she wants his attention.” Eleanor hugged herself and laughed. “If she didn’t care, she would ignore him. She would refuse his assistance, refuse to enter this house.”
No man wanted to dash his bride’s hopes on their wedding day, but they’d vowed to be honest. “Aaron will do everything in his power to push her away. She’s not strong enough to withstand his harsh temperament.”
He could not imagine Aaron holding a woman tenderly, kissing her, and making love to her like she was life’s most precious gift. All was lost. Unless Daventry had something special in his box of tricks.
“Never underestimate a woman on a mission,” his wife reminded him. “Admit I caught you off guard when I stormed into your theatre box.”
He smiled at the cherished memory. “You knocked me sideways. Kissing you was a means of bolstering my defences, though it left me wanting. I left the theatre determined to have you.”
She straightened and braced her hands on her hips. “You sound rather sure of yourself. Perhaps my desire came from desperation.”
He laughed, capturing her chin. “I’m the King of Hearts. No other man could make you ache like I do. No other man knows the secret door to your heart. I’m a scoundrel who’s in love with one woman. A scoundrel who’ll love you until your dying day.”
She smiled as she kissed him, giving everything of herself. “You’re my kind of scoundrel.” She ran her hands over his chest. “What say we leave our guests waiting and put those questionable morals to the test?”
I hope you enjoyed reading My Kind of Scoundrel.
Is Miss Lovelace courting trouble by welcoming men into her club? Will the ghosts of the past haunt Aaron now he’s living alone at Fortune’s Den?
Find out in …
The Last Chance
Rogues of Fortune’s Den - Book 5
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This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. All characters are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be copied or reproduced in any manner without the author’s permission. Distributing electronic copies of this book constitutes copyright infringement.
My Kind of Scoundrel
Copyright © 2024 Adele Clee
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13: 978-1-915354-36-5
Cover by Dar Albert at Wicked Smart Designs
Adele Clee, My Kind of Scoundrel
