Nell gave them another quick whirl and then buried her face in Emma’s soft little neck, smacking it with kisses.
“Mama!” Emma cried with glee, dissolving into giggles.
Her daughter’s laughter was one of the best sounds Nell had ever heard. She finished singing and took one more whirl before pausing, breathless, when she noticed Jack standing on the threshold. There was so much love in his eyes that she had to swallow against a rush of her own emotion.
A brilliant burst of love erupted in her heart.
Love for this man, for their baby girl, for the new life they had begun together. Contentedness, too, for their fresh start.
Her lips twitched with the effort to contain her smile. “How long have you been standing there watching us, Papa?”
He grinned as he sauntered into the nursery, closing the distance between them. “Long enough to know you are dreadful at singing Tristan und Isolde.”
She laughed. “Rotten man. You know very well that was Lohengrin.”
“Was it?” He reached Nell and Emma, drawing his arm around Nell’s waist and bringing them close. “I dare say I could not tell.”
Dressed informally in his shirtsleeves and waistcoat and trousers, the shade of his whiskers darkening his jaw, he looked nothing short of delicious. She could not suppress the tug of desire she felt for him. Nell slid an arm around him as well, and, ignoring his good-natured teasing about her singing, she finished the chorus.
“Brava, my darling,” he said when she was done, leaning in for a hasty kiss. “That was the song you were singing the night I returned. Do you recall that night?”
Her cheeks went hot, and she turned her attention to Emma, who was still smiling, her rosy cheeks and golden curls making her resemble nothing so much as a little cherub.
“Of course I remember that night,” she told her husband. “I was dancing on the table.”
“And I caught you when you would have fallen and done yourself grievous harm.” He pressed a kiss to her brow. “Thank God I arrived when I did.”
“I am grateful you did as well.” Indeed, had he not, and had her life instead turned out the way she had been so convinced it must, with her as Tom’s wife one day…
Why, she could not even bear to think of it now, with their darling in her arms and Jack surrounding them in his loving, protective embrace.
“You are happy, Nellie?” he asked solemnly, studying her with his intense regard.
It was a question he asked her from time to time. Her answer was always the same.
“Happier than I could have ever imagined, my love,” she said, smiling through the prick of tears in her eyes.
“Good.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Why are you turning into a watering pot?”
Of course he saw her tears, drat him. Jack always saw everything. He knew her better than she knew herself, it seemed.
“Because my heart is filled.” She kissed Emma’s velvet-soft cheek, inhaling her sweet baby scent. “And when my heart is filled, I turn into a watering pot.”
“You also turn into a watering pot for another reason. The same reason that has you taking afternoon naps and feeling bilious every morning.” Jack kissed Emma’s other cheek, but his emerald gaze remained intense upon Nell. “When were you supposing to tell me, Nellie?”
He had already known.
She scrunched up her nose at him. “I wanted to be certain. And now, you have spoiled our surprise, Papa. Emma and I were going to tell you that you shall be a papa again.”
“Forgive me.” He winked, and then he released them and turned and walked back to the door, walking through it and closing it at his back.
“Papa!” Emma cried.
Nell felt as bemused as her daughter. She kissed Emma’s nose. “What can Papa be doing, I wonder? What do you think, Emma poppet?”
A knock sounded at the nursery door.
“Papa,” Emma said again.
She suspected her daughter was right. “Come in,” she called.
The door opened, and Jack strode back into the nursery, offering an elegant bow. “My Lady Needham, Lady Emma.”
Compressing her lips to keep a bubble of joyful laughter from bursting forth, Nell dipped into a curtsy with Emma. “My Lord Needham.”
“Papa, if you please.” He grinned. “That is the title I wear with the most pride. Papa and husband, of course.”
Her mirth could no longer be contained. “What are you doing, Papa?”
“Starting over again.” He gave her another wink. “Seeing as how I ruined it the first time with my oafish ways. Fortunately, I know from experience that the redux often proves far better than the original attempt.”
“We are living proof of that, my love.” Another wave of tears welled in her eyes. Her love for him was so intense, so strong. Stronger now than it had ever been.
Though she still regretted their years apart, she had learned to view that time of hardship and hurt as a gift. Losing him had made her realize how much he meant to her. Restoring their love made her profoundly grateful. She knew she appreciated him more now than she could have before. From their struggles had come great reward.
“Yes we are.” He met her gaze, and she was startled to find a sheen of tears in his eyes as well. “I am so thankful for that, Nellie. For you and Emma. For our family. Now, tell me your news before I turn into a watering pot too, if you please.”
She laughed again, and it was laughter mixed with tears of joy. One slid down her cheek.
“Mama,” Emma said, smiling and showing off her new teeth.
All the clever words she had planned dissipated.
“Emma is going to have a new brother or sister by next summer,” she said. “And you shall be a papa once more.”
A tear broke free, rolling down her cheek. A tear of gratitude, happiness, and love. So much love.
Jack’s arms went around her again as she blinked her rapidly welling eyes.
He looked down at her, his expression tender and filled with love. “I could not be happier, Nellie. God, I love you.”
His lips met hers in a swift, quick kiss. It was a kiss of love, of promise, of hope for the future.
“I love you too, Jack,” she told him when he raised his head.
“Mama!” Emma said happily, clapping her chubby hands together. “Papa!”
“I believe you two owe me this dance,” Jack said with mock formality.
Nell’s heart swelled with love. “You may have this dance and every other.”
“I shall hold you to that promise, my love.” Slowly, he began guiding them about the nursery, whirling them as one in time to a waltz.
Nell smiled through her tears. Emma giggled and clapped. Jack held them tight, spinning them about the room.
Like their love, it was a promise Nell intended to keep.
The End
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading Her Missing Marquess! Special thank you to all the readers who have reached out to me, asking for Nell’s story. I hope you enjoyed this latest installment in the Wicked Husbands series, and that Nell and Jack’s long-awaited happily ever after brought you as much happiness as it brought me to write.
I’m thrilled to announce the beginning of a new series featuring feisty, independent ladies! If you’d like a sneak peek at book one in the Notorious Ladies of London series, Lady Ruthless, do read on!
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Until next time,
Scarlett
Lady Ruthless
Notorious Ladies of London Book One
By
Scarlett Scott
Lady Calliope Manning is determined to punish the man she holds responsible for her beloved brother’s
death. She will do anything in her power to destroy him. When rumors swirl that the Earl of Sinclair requires a wealthy bride to rescue himself from dire financial straits, she seizes the opportunity to ruin him at last.
Justin “Sin” Vaughn, Earl of Sinclair, needs to marry an heiress, and he needs to marry one now. But the sudden, anonymous publication of salacious memoirs rumored to be his obliterates his chances. With polite society convinced he is a murderer, he has only one choice: find the person behind his supposed memoirs and get his revenge.
Callie never expected Lord Sinclair to discover she wrote Confessions of a Sinful Earl. Or to abduct her and demand restitution in the form of her own hand in marriage. She definitely did not expect to find him so difficult to resist…
Sin is about to teach the beautiful, perfidious Lady Callie a lesson in ruthlessness. One scorching-hot kiss at a time.
Chapter One
Lady Calliope Manning, sister to the Duke of Westmorland, social darling, and one cunning, vicious harridan, was about to learn that when a man had nothing left to lose, he was bloody well dangerous.
She was also about to learn that her efforts in chasing off all his future marital prospects had been for naught.
And that telling the world the Earl of Sinclair had killed the previous Duke of Westmorland and his former countess both came with ramifications. Dire ones.
Sin waited in the shadows as Lady Calliope left her publisher’s office and moved toward her waiting carriage. She was so accustomed to running wild all over Town and doing whatever she pleased, she did not even bother to cast a glance around her. If she had, mayhap she would have seen him watching.
Mayhap she would have known how much trouble she would soon find herself mired in. Or, at least, she may have had an inkling. But because the self-absorbed chit had never had to worry a day in her life about how she would afford her silk Worth gowns fresh from Paris or her lavish balls or live with a roof over her damned head that was not leaking, she never looked.
She never saw him coming.
Nor did she appear to take note that her driver had been replaced with a man he trusted. A man who had been paid with what little funds Sin had remaining at his disposal to drive them to the country. Her driver would have come to by now, suffering from the very devil of a headache in a nearby alleyway thanks to Brinton’s left hook.
Sin strode forward, timing his every action with utmost care. One false step, one precipitous move, and all his plans—and indeed, his only chance at saving himself—would be dashed. She was nearly within the carriage now, her back to him, foot on the step. Sin caught her waist in his hands, his grip firm, and shoved her inside.
She made a startled cry as she heaved forward in a mess of skirts and petticoats, sprawling over the Moroccan leather squabs. Sin joined her in the carriage and slammed the door, then knocked on the roof. He sat on the bench opposite her as the conveyance swung into motion.
Just in time for her to scramble around, terror on her pretty, treacherous face. The fear was chased quite neatly by recognition. Her lips parted on a gasp.
“Lord Sinclair? What the devil do you think you are doing in my carriage?” she demanded.
“I am abducting you,” he told her with a sangfroid that was owed partly to the whisky he had swallowed to fortify him just prior to this mission of desperation. And partly to his desire to make the alarm return to her features.
She scoffed. “You cannot abduct me, my lord.”
So much for her alarm. But there was plenty of time to draw blood. The journey ahead was long.
Sin held up his hands, gesturing to the interior of the carriage. “Observe, Lady Calliope.”
She raised a dark, elegant brow. “All I see before me is an interloper in my carriage. What are you doing here, Lord Sinclair? Do you not have an innocent to debauch? Some opium to eat? Another murder to plot?”
He was going to enjoy destroying this despicable creature.
Sin gave her his most feral smile. “You have been paying attention to my reputation, my lady. I am all aflutter.”
“I hardly pay you any attention at all.” She frowned at him, her dark eyes flashing with defiant fire. “You are beneath my notice.”
Lying witch.
“Indeed, Lady Calliope?” He reached into his coat and calmly extracted the blade he had secreted there for just this purpose. For her. He tested the point at the tip with his thumb, watching her.
Her gaze had fallen to the blade. Beneath her hat, which had been knocked askew when he had shoved her into the carriage, her skin paled.
“Why do you have a weapon?” she asked.
“Perhaps I am plotting your murder,” he suggested, slowly running his thumb down the length of the blade. “Since I have already killed your brother.”
She stiffened. “If you think to do me harm, my lord—”
“Has no one informed you it is poor form to threaten the fellow with the knife?” he interrupted. “Tut, tut, Lady Calliope.”
“I daresay no one has ever wielded a knife in my presence,” she snapped. “What is this about, Lord Sinclair? I have other calls to make today, and you are wasting my time with your nonsense.”
How she deluded herself.
“There will be no other calls.” He stroked his thumb back down the blade, this time with too much force.
He knew a quick sting in the fleshy pad, followed by the wetness of his blood. What irony. The first blood he had drawn was his own.
“You cut yourself,” she gasped. “You are bleeding everywhere.”
So he had, and so he was.
“It is a minor scratch,” he said, unconcerned. “It will stop. This knife is very sharp, Lady Calliope. I would hate to have to use it upon your tender flesh, to cut you.”
“You are attempting to frighten me,” she countered, her eyes narrowing. “I do not know what you want or why, but surely you must realize this is madness and it needs to end at once.” She rapped at the ceiling then. “Lewis! Stop this carriage.”
He laughed, the sound bitter. “Do you truly think I would be stupid enough to abduct you with your own driver?”
Confusion stole over her expressive face.
It was a pity he hated her so much, because Lady Calliope Manning was one of the most stunning women he had ever beheld. Stunning and deceitful and reckless. He would crush her before this war she had begun was over between them.
“What have you done with Lewis?” she asked, fear making her voice tremble.
All her bravado leached away.
Good. Perhaps she was beginning to realize the gravity of her situation.
“Perhaps I killed him, like the others,” he growled. “Like my wife. Your brother. That is what you think, is it not, my lady? That is what you wrote for all the world to read and believe, pretending to be me.”
She went paler still. “I do not know what you are speaking of.”
“The false memoirs you have been writing and publishing in regular, despicable little serials,” he elaborated, bringing his cut thumb to his mouth and sucking the blood clean. Copper flooded his tongue. “Confessions of a Sinful Earl, I believe you titled the deceitful tripe. Not terribly clever of you, but then, your sole intention was to make certain everyone had no question in their minds that your vicious fictions were about me, is that not right?”
“I read the memoirs along with the rest of London, but I am not the author, my lord,” she denied.
He had known she would not confess her sins easily. He was prepared to refute her claims. He had been waiting. Watching. Preparing. Lord knew he had nothing else to do since all the doors in London had been closed to him.
“And yet, I just caught you paying your weekly call to the offices of J.M. White and Sons, the same publisher of Confessions,” he countered.
“J.M. White and Sons publishes pamphlets for the Lady’s Suffrage Society.” Her response was quick. “That is the reason I pay calls there regularly.”
He smiled. “An excelle
nt excuse for your trips, is it not? But how do you explain the manuscripts in your bedchamber at Westmorland House, Lady Calliope?”
Her eyes widened. And an expression stole over her face then, one he imagined mirrored that of a wild beast staring down its hunter. “How would you know what is in my chamber?”
His smile deepened, along with his triumph. “Because I was there. I saw it myself.”
But his triumph was short-lived. Because in the next breath, the virago launched herself at him.
Want more? Get Lady Ruthless here!
Don’t miss Scarlett’s other romances!
(Listed by Series)
Complete Book List
HISTORICAL ROMANCE
Heart’s Temptation
A Mad Passion (Book One)
Rebel Love (Book Two)
Reckless Need (Book Three)
Sweet Scandal (Book Four)
Restless Rake (Book Five)
Darling Duke (Book Six)
The Night Before Scandal (Book Seven)
Wicked Husbands
Her Errant Earl (Book One)
Her Lovestruck Lord (Book Two)
Her Reformed Rake (Book Three)
Her Deceptive Duke (Book Four)
Her Missing Marquess (Book Five)
League of Dukes
Nobody’s Duke (Book One)
Heartless Duke (Book Two)
Dangerous Duke (Book Three)
Shameless Duke (Book Four)
Scandalous Duke (Book Five)
Fearless Duke (Book Six)
Notorious Ladies of London
Lady Ruthless (Book One)
Sins and Scoundrels
Duke of Depravity (Book One)
Prince of Persuasion (Book Two)
Marquess of Mayhem (Book Three)
Earl of Every Sin (Book Four)
The Wicked Winters
Wicked in Winter (Book One)
Wedded in Winter (Book Two)
Wanton in Winter (Book Three)
Willful in Winter (Book Four)
Wagered in Winter (Book Five)
Her Missing Marquess Page 25
