Always a Scoundrel

by Suzanne Enoch

  So intent was he that at first he didn’t hear the voices in the hallway. The door rattled, and his keen sense of self-preservation took over. Pulling her sleeve back up her shoulder, he pushed Rosamund backward to sit on the couch, and then vaulted over the back of it.

  The door shoved open. “Rose! Lord Bramwell! What do you—”

  Bram straightened onto his knees, clutching the back of the couch with one hand while he madly pulled and tugged at the front of his trousers with the other, trying to settle his raging arousal. “Lord Abernathy,” he said calmly, and ducked down again. “I don’t see it, Lady Rosamund,” he continued. “Not that I’d recognize an embroidery needle if I stabbed myself with it.”

  Beneath the legs of the couch he made out the mother’s shoes crowding in behind the earl’s. They had every right to be wary of having him under their roof, especially unchaperoned and in their daughter’s company, but they’d waited long enough before they’d barged in that he could well have made off with her and half their belongings.

  “It’s silver in color, and curved,” Rosamund’s unsteady voice took up.

  Good girl, he applauded silently. She had wits, and knew precisely how and when to best apply them. “Are you certain it’s not stuck into the upholstery somewhere?” Finally feeling—and looking—a bit more composed, Bram made a show of climbing to his feet and dusting off his poor, abused trousers. “I think you’ll have to give in and purchase a new one.”

  “Yes, I suppose I shall.”

  Walking around the couch, Bram offered his hand to Abernathy. “I apologize for calling without Lester present,” he drawled as they shook hands, “but I thought he and I were to go to Tattersall’s together.”

  “And when you realized he wasn’t here, you thought what, that Rose might join you instead?” the countess suggested.

  So it was the Davies females who had the larger measure of intelligence. He would remember that. “Since I was already here, I invited Lady Rosamund and your son to join me for dinner with Lord Quence,” he returned.

  “And then I mentioned that I’d lost a needle in here somewhere, and Lord Bram said that he has the senses of a foxhound, and here we are,” Rosamund finished, climbing to her own feet.

  Abernathy looked from one of them to the other. “No harm done then, I suppose. Lord Bramwell, a word with you before you leave?”

  Bloody splendid. He sent a last glance at Rosamund, not willing to risk taking her hand. “Of course. I’d best be off now, anyway. I’ll come by for you and Lester at twenty before seven.” Sketching a bow, he left the room to wait for the earl in the hallway.

  A moment later Abernathy appeared to lead the way to his office. “Your father and I are friends,” he said, once they had some privacy.

  “I’m aware of that. I shan’t hold it against you.” Except for the near burglary, but he hadn’t gone through with that, so it didn’t count. The sale of the earl’s daughter to Cosgrove, though, was another matter entirely.

  “I only inform you so that you understand that that friendship is the only reason I didn’t just toss you out on your arse. I assume you’re aware both of James’s debt and of the arrangement I’ve made with Lord Cosgrove to settle it.”

  Torn between whether to point out that any attempt to throw him anywhere would likely lead to bloodshed and scoffing at the earl’s idea of an “arrangement,” Bram settled for nodding. “I’m aware of it.”

  “Then whether your presence is on Cosgrove’s behest or your own, you are to leave Rose be until such time as her welfare and reputation are no longer in my hands. I won’t have you further mucking up an already unpleasant matter.”

  Bram took a slow breath. “As her welfare will only be in your hands for another three weeks, I will assume that you realize allowing her to make friends among Cosgrove’s circle can only benefit her. I’ve asked her and Lester to join me for dinner with Viscount Quence and his family. Surely you have no objection to your daughter dining at the house of a man of such impeccable reputation as William Bromley.”

  “No, I don’t suppose I do. But watch yourself, sir, for I shall certainly be doing so.”

  And you’ve been tremendously effective with that, Bram thought, but only nodded again. He’d gotten what he wanted for the moment—dinner with Rosamund. After that, he supposed he’d best come to his senses before Abernathy or Cosgrove cut off his balls.

  Chapter 7

  “I’ve brought Cosgrove back with me, Rose,” James stated, strolling into the upstairs sitting room. “I mentioned that you weren’t happy about marrying a fellow you didn’t know well, and he said that wouldn’t do.”

  Before Rose could curse at James, the marquis entered the room. She climbed hurriedly to her feet. Despite the abrupt panic pushing at her, she tried to remind herself that she knew what to expect now. If he kissed her, lips or…tongue, she wouldn’t be shocked. She knew what it felt like and what his reasoning was, thanks to Bram. Perhaps a show of inner strength and courage on her part might convince Kingston Gore that she was not to be trifled with. At the least he might treat her with a bit more respect the next time they met—and after they married.

  If she could avoid it, she didn’t want a war. Particularly not with an opponent who had much more experience than she did. While it was true she’d already been gathering information, she didn’t want him to know that. And this strategy, of course, had absolutely nothing to do with the surprising fact that she liked kissing, and being kissed by, Bram Johns—and that she absolutely needed to keep that fact a secret.

  “Good afternoon, my lord,” she said, offering a smile and a curtsy.

  Cosgrove inclined his head. If circumstances hadn’t caused him to be introduced to her as a villain, his appearance would have placed him firmly in the role of a potential beau. Golden hair, light blue eyes, a smile angels must envy—at first glance his looks belied everything she knew about him. Only his pale, almost translucent skin and the…deadness behind his eyes spoke about his true nature. Unless he had a reason—a very good reason—for his previous nastiness, she was not about to let her guard down in his presence. Oh, thank goodness her father had at least gotten her a month to prepare for this.

  “I know we’re not well acquainted,” he drawled, gesturing her to sit and taking a seat on the couch directly beside her, “but we should make every effort to become so before our engagement is made public, don’t you think?”

  Hm. Was this a test of her spirit and fortitude, or her memory? She wanted him to be conciliatory and honorable, certainly, but she also wanted him to realize that she was not a fool. “I think we could become friends,” she said slowly, “if individually we can manage to keep civil tongues in our heads. Our own heads.”

  He smiled. “James, go sit over there and give us a little privacy.” As he spoke he gestured at the far side of the room.

  Immediately her brother moved to the doorway and sat down, then stood and grabbed a book off a shelf and took his seat again. The mere act of James voluntarily touching pages with writing on them said a great deal about Cosgrove’s influence over him. Generally all she had to do to escape her brother’s prattling was walk into the library.

  “So you want me to keep my tongue to myself, Rose?”

  “Yes, I do. I’ve done nothing to you to cause you to treat me with anything less than respect and kindness.”

  “Indeed. And are you willing to show me the same respect and kindness?”

  Unexpected hope pushed at her. It didn’t seem likely at all, but perhaps Lord Cosgrove was…merely awkward around females. Very awkward. “Of course I am. I might have wished for a…a love match, but I have no illusions. I understand my father’s inability to otherwise repay as substantial a debt as my brother’s foolishness has caused us to owe you. And I’ve always done my duty by my family.”

  “Very well said. I might be offended by the idea that if you had a choice in the matter you wouldn’t have chosen to marry me, but knowing that you mean to make the best
of this arrangement truly pleases me.”

  “I am very glad to hear that, Lord Cosgrove.”

  “I mean to say that you please me,” he continued, placing his hand over hers where it rested on her knee. “I battered at your pride, and you decided it was a test, that if you showed strength and compassion, or turned the other cheek, as it were, that I would also make an effort to be kinder.”

  “Has it worked, then?” she ventured.

  His smile deepened. “On our wedding night I mean to put you on all fours and mount you as a dog mounts a bitch. And you will remain on your hands and knees until such time as I permit you to rise. Do you not appreciate my new willingness to be forthright with you?”

  Rose stared at him, her entire body turning to ice. “I see no need for you to say such shocking things to me.” No wonder Bram had scoffed when she’d dismissed the ability of words to cause pain. She’d had no idea. No idea at all.

  “Too true,” he replied. “I might have kept my intentions from you until we recited our vows—me to cherish, and you to obey. But I want you to anticipate that night as much as I do.” The marquis took a deep breath. “In fact, just telling you about it brings me pleasure.” Tightening his grip on her hand, he lifted it from her knee and drew it toward his own lap. “Allow me to demonstrate to you the degree of pleasure I am feeling at this very moment.”

  She jerked her hand free. “Do not touch me,” she hissed, climbing gracelessly to her feet.

  “I shan’t touch you again until the next time I do so,” he said in a low voice, rising when she did. “And while I don’t doubt that you’ve somehow managed to catch Bram Johns’s interest, I will warn you that he only enjoys trouble and strife as long as he’s the one causing it. At the first whisper of his own comfort and ease being disturbed, he will walk away without a backward glance. I have seen it. And now I trust that you have no illusions.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And I do not bid you good day, because I only want you to be gone.” With that, she hurried out of the room, and didn’t stop until she reached the relative safety of her own bedchamber.

  Every time Cosgrove said a word to her, her future became more dire. For a long time Rose paced back and forth as swiftly as she could. Only when she was out of breath and her heart raced from exertion rather than from panic did she let herself collapse on the bed.

  It abruptly occurred to her that his words weren’t rendering her future more dire; they merely gave her a clearer idea of what he’d already planned. And she knew enough about war to be fairly certain that one side didn’t tell the other its plans. He’d made a mistake, both by talking and by admitting that her fear increased his own enjoyment.

  Bram had called Cosgrove a monster. For the first time she realized that he was absolutely correct. And the worst of it was that though her perception might have been altered so that she could now see the road ahead more clearly, the road itself still led to precisely the same place—marriage to the Marquis of Cosgrove.

  An hour later, James stuck his head around the library door. “Elbon said you was looking for me. I was only trying to help by having King stop by, you know.”

  “I know.” Setting aside her book and trying to steady her still shaky nerves, Rose motioned at him to come into the room. “I need to ask you something.”

  His expression wary, as though he expected the tomes in the room to fly off the shelves and hit him, her brother walked over to sit in the chair opposite her. “By the by, I won thirty quid off Cosgrove and his cronies today. Bram knows how to play cards, even if he does play for peanuts with children.”

  Wonderful. She didn’t suppose James would be willing to put his thirty pounds toward reducing the debt to Cosgrove, but asking him would only set his back up, and she did want to talk to him. “I meant to tell you earlier, Bram asked us to join him for dinner again this evening. With Lord Quence and his family.”

  Her brother grinned. “Sterling. I’ll have another go at learning some of his wagering skills.”

  Good. If James didn’t wish to attend, then she couldn’t very well do so. She could contemplate why she wanted to see Bram again so keenly, though, later. “Tell me about Lord Cosgrove.”

  He sank back, scowling. “I don’t want to. He’s my friend, and I know you and Father and Mother don’t like him. Even if I hadn’t known that before, the way you ran off when he tried to flirt with you made that clear enough.”

  Rose stifled an unsettled breath. If that was how he flirted, she likely wouldn’t survive their first married encounter. And that might be a good thing. “Perhaps you should try telling me about some of his positive qualities. Tell me why you consider him a friend. Something drew you together.”

  “You’re bamming me, ain’t you?”

  “No, I’m not.” She set her book onto the chair beside her. “You made some mistakes, James,” she began. “The re—”

  “Oh, you see?” Her brother shot to his feet. “Father already told me that I’m a half-witted nickninny. I don’t need you to chew my ear off, as well.”

  “I’m not chewing your ear off! I wanted to say that the result of your…friendship is that I’m to be married.” Rose grabbed her brother’s hand, pulling him back down into the chair. “I’m frightened, James. Please, please understand that this is important for me. It’s my life, forever. And I want you to tell me that Lord Cosgrove’s reputation has been exaggerated. Tell me that he’s hurt and bitter and strikes out without thinking, but has a good heart and only needs the love of a good woman to return him to propriety.”

  James looked at her, his expression slowly going from defiant and defensive to troubled and very, very young. “You’ll…you’ll suit well, Rose. He’s very intelligent, and I’ve heard him laugh at, well, at things. You like to laugh.”

  Oh, dear. If even jovial James couldn’t conjure anything pleasant about his dear friend, things were even worse than she’d been imagining over the past hour. She shivered a little. “Have you seen how he treats women?” she pursued, desperation edging at her voice. “Does he like to dance? Has he ever courted anyone?”

  “Gads, no. He says dancing is for dandies who can’t play cards. And as for…” He trailed off, then leaned forward and put his hands on her knees. “Like I said, Bram’s been showing me some of his tricks, and my game’s shockingly improved. With his help, I may be able to win back the blunt I owe Cosgrove. Then you’ll have nothing to worry over.”

  Bram had been showing her some of his tricks, as well. She hoped they would serve her better than the card tricks were likely to aid James’s efforts, though they both seemed beyond assistance. “Don’t make it worse,” she said quietly. “Our parents don’t have the means to erase another ten-thousand-pound debt.”

  After he escaped the library, Rose opened her book again. Reading, though, remained an impossibility. Slowly she touched her fingers to her lips. If—when—Cosgrove next approached her, she would have to restrain her instinct to hit him and flee. She would have to listen, and to learn everything she could about what he meant to do.

  Perhaps if she could use some of the so-called tricks to which Bram had introduced her, she could exert a little influence on her future husband. As much as Cosgrove’s overtures had frightened and sickened her, Bram’s caresses had left her weak in the knees. Had it been that way for him?

  She shook herself. The important question was whether she could positively affect Cosgrove—not Bram. If she could somehow convince the marquis not to wager with James any longer, that would be something. For some reason Cosgrove did find her interesting. Enough so to insinuate himself into her life and attempt to control it. The more…persuasive she could be, the better for her, and her brother, and anyone else with whom Cosgrove might choose to toy.

  And now she had one more thing to think about. If every moment of her marriage was going to be a hideous nightmare, she wanted something pleasant to remember. And kissing, being kissed by, Bram Johns was very pleasant, indeed.
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  At the same time, she had to wonder what Lord Bramwell Lowry Johns was getting out of this little exchange. He’d several times declared himself to be self-absorbed and self-serving, and Cosgrove said the same thing. He had to be enjoying kissing her, or he wouldn’t have done it. Aside from the logic of that, she wasn’t blind. As he’d pushed her onto the couch she’d very clearly seen the evidence of his interest.

  Of course, being Bram Johns, he’d most likely been interested in more women than she could count. Great beauties of the age, exotic, forbidden women, females who knew all the secrets of the bedchamber. She wasn’t any of those things, and yet he’d kissed her a second time. Heavens, he’d practically rendered her naked. Just as interesting, he’d protected her reputation when her parents had barged into the room. She somehow doubted that Cosgrove would have bothered to do that.

  She knew what she wanted from Bram, and she very much believed that he would do it if she asked. It would give her an advantage in her dealings with Cosgrove, and at the least it would be a revenge for the awful plots about which the marquis had already informed her. This was no longer about being told how much a punch would hurt before she experienced a blow. This was about being able to remember a caress from one man while she was being threatened and bullied by another.

  But there was another difficulty in this path, and it belonged entirely to her. Because even after just a week, she was becoming very fond of the Duke of Levonzy’s second son. The question became whether she was willing to risk a possible broken heart in order to save her soul.

  Bramwell descended his main staircase to the foyer. Uncharacteristically he was early, but he’d debated whether to pace his drawing room or that of Davies House, and the Davies’s floorboards had lost.

  He needed to stop this obsession with Rosamund Davies. Aside from the fact that there would be no reward at the end of the chase, what with his one rule regarding virgins, every time he set eyes on her she made his life more complicated. He detested anything complicated when it applied to him. Dinner tonight, and perhaps one more kiss, and he would move on.