In Search of Scandal (London Explorers #1)

by Susanne Lord

  Will woke as nature intended, without a trace of fatigue. How long had it been since his eyes opened this easily? He couldn’t remember a morning when he’d woken with a mind this clear. His surroundings were almost crystalline in their clarity: a shaft of sunlight streamed across the counterpane; outside the window, the clarion trill of birdsong; in his arms, clinging warmly, her cheek on his chest, Charlotte.

  Damn me. Charlotte. His wife for the next three months by law. In practice, only for the next twenty-four hours or so. He’d tell her of his departure at luncheon, with her brother and Ben in attendance. Something told him to wait until he had reinforcements in place.

  They would help Charlotte see the sense of his speedy removal to London. If she behaved as expected.

  But when had she ever?

  Her breathing was even. Still asleep. Carefully, he moved his hand to touch the silk of her hair. So incredibly soft. His body was coming to an awareness of all the other bits of her. In particular, her round breasts pressed against his stomach. He’d always been especially partial to those.

  His wife. His gorgeous wife with a body designed for a man’s pleasure, separated from him by a thin layer of fabric. And he wasn’t allowed to make love to her.

  The smile on his face must be a horrible sight.

  Carefully, so as not to wake her, he rested his cheek on her head, closed his eyes, and reveled in the warm, womanly body, the light perfume of her hair. This was nice, he had to admit. Nicer than he ever imagined—or hoped.

  Yes, he could have done very well without a morning like this to remember.

  His cock twitched, lascivious and uncaring of her innocent sleep. A few minutes more and he’d have to release her or his erection would prod her awake.

  She stirred and, feigning sleep, he let her wake in his arms to see what she’d do. Her supple muscles flexed as she stretched in his arms, her yawn was a warm puff of air, the tilt of her head disturbed his resting cheek from her hair.

  “Good morning,” she whispered.

  And then her mouth puckered against his, soft and wet. The kiss startled his eyes open and he was staring into the smiling, delphinium blue of hers. Again the blood rushed to his cock. Again he was first to look away.

  “You’re on my side of the bed.” The scold might be more convincing if he could take his hands off her.

  “Isn’t this cozy?” She nestled closer. “I cannot recall when I have ever slept this soundly. Did you sleep well?” She pushed up on his chest, her eyes widening. “You did not have a nightmare, did you? Marriage may cure you of them. Or perhaps having a bed partner. Have you slept with many women since your return? What was the state of your sleep on those nights?”

  He’d not been awake two minutes and already the woman was confusing him. “No. No dream.” He unwrapped his arms from around her and rolled onto his back.

  “But that’s wonderful. Twice you have slept with me and twice, no dreams. What about the other times?”

  “Other times?” He was careful not to look in the region of her breasts. Or her face. Or any other part of her.

  “The other times you shared a bed with women.”

  “I’ve not slept with other women.”

  “You cannot expect me to believe that.”

  He dared a glance and regretted it, assailed by the pink of her cheeks, the satiny look of her lips, the tendrils of hair escaping so fetchingly from the braid and gilded by the sunlight. How could a woman be so adorable and seductive at once?

  Beaten, he closed his eyes, pretending tiredness but still seeing her face. “Do you imagine me some sort of Casanova?”

  Charlotte was plucking idly at the neck of his nightshirt and he stiffened with each brush of her fingers against his skin. “You are charming when of a mind to be.”

  “I strike you as charming?”

  “Are you avoiding my question?”

  “Which one?”

  “The women you have slept with. There must have been a number because in the hermitage you displayed skills—”

  A breathy sigh interrupted Charlotte’s words, and his eyes flew open to look at her. The sound hadn’t come from her. Disappointingly.

  A more forceful grunt. Another moan. It seemed to come from the other side of the wall. “What is that?”

  “Nothing.” Charlotte buried her face into her pillow, her ears bright pink. “You mustn’t listen.”

  Another sigh. An answering gasp. A muffled giggle mingling with a low, pleading rumble of—

  “Is that Ben? And—” your sister? “Oh.”

  Charlotte launched atop him and cupped her hands over his ears, her face blushing furiously. “You must not listen.”

  She looked so pained, he couldn’t help teasing her. Just a little. Stifling his smile, he pulled her hands from his head to his chest and angled his ear to the wall.

  “Will!” she squeaked.

  “Hush.”

  “You look like a ridiculous schoolboy.”

  “Quiet, Charlotte, I can’t—” A thump of the headboard against the wall and he goggled his eyes at her. “Didn’t the woman just give birth? Not that…I suppose she could do things to him—”

  She tilted her head in question.

  “Never mind.”

  “That is my sister.” A series of moans floated through the wall and Charlotte’s mouth turned down in a pout. “And you’ll get used to it.”

  He roared with laughter.

  “Stop laughing.”

  “What? I’m impressed.”

  “They love each other very much.”

  Oh Jesus. He laughed harder.

  “Oh, honestly, their passion is hardly surprising.” She covered his mouth with her hands, her generous breasts pooling on his chest, and his amusement was giving way to a passion of his own.

  His shoulders trembled with his effort not to laugh. “How do you sit across from them at the breakfast table?”

  Charlotte frowned uncertainly. “They take breakfast in their rooms.”

  Will guffawed, unable to restrain himself. He hadn’t laughed this well in years.

  Charlotte pushed a pillow into his face. “You are a child.”

  Will removed the pillow to see her pad across the bedroom into her sitting room.

  But he didn’t miss the smile on her face.

  * * *

  After an invigorating climb to the hunting tower, Will returned to find Charlotte had ordered a hot bath and shave for him—though he sent the valet right off—plus a plate of rolls, cheese, and fruit to tide him over to noonday.

  So this was what was meant by wifely comforts. He devoured a slice of cheddar. Best he not get used to them.

  Still…he’d never slept so well as he had last night.

  No. One more night and he was to London. Two hundred miles should be ample distance between them. Charlotte could get back to her life, and as for him, there was no more time for distractions. Five hundred was still needed for his expedition and he’d not find those funds in Derbyshire.

  Not sure where he might work and keep out of the family’s way, he brought his ledgers and maps to a small parlor near the kitchen. It was there Ben found him.

  “Morning, Will.”

  “Good morning.” Will struggled to conceal the smile that quirked his lips remembering the entertainment the man’s intimate sounds had provided him and Charlotte. Those were sounds he needed to forget. And fast.

  Ben eyed him, his tone suspicious. “How did you sleep?”

  “Best sleep I’ve had in months.”

  “And uh…Charlotte slept well?”

  Will narrowed his eyes in question. “I believe so.”

  “So…you both slept well?”

  He sighed, but refrained from rolling his eyes. “Yes, we both slept well. I was too tired to chase Charlotte around the bed and she was spared the exertion of fending off my lecherous advances.”

  Ben had the grace to frown. “Sorry, Will. I know this isn’t easy.”

  “I
return to London in the morning anyway. I would have left today but the horses needed a day’s rest.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “I’ve much to do in the City. Harlowe’s investment is gone now that I’ve stolen his daughter-in-law. And you’ll not credit how long it took Buss-Sykes to deliver my new hydrometer—”

  “Will…to leave tomorrow, Charlotte won’t like it. She planned to stay a fortnight, at least.”

  Will looked at his ledger to hide his guilt. “Yes. Well. She’s not coming with me.”

  “You expect to leave her here?”

  “It’s for the best.”

  Ben’s normally genial face hardened. “The ton will think her abandoned.”

  “There are two million people in the city. I doubt my return will be noticed.”

  “You don’t understand. There are no secrets in Society. Someone will see you and all will know by nightfall. You can’t go back without her.”

  Damn right, a primal voice in his head growled. Keep her.

  He sank in his seat, shutting his ears to that selfish, baiting voice. He hadn’t considered…would he be more newsworthy now that he’d married? But then…he’d married the most beautiful woman in London. Ah…hell.

  “I’ll stay out of sight in Richmond,” Will said, thinking aloud. “Conduct my business by messenger.”

  “Many of Charlotte’s circle have homes in Richmond.”

  Damn. He scrubbed his jaw and began to pace. Damn, damn, damn. “What am I to do with her?” he muttered, more to himself than Ben.

  “What do you mean?”

  “A room in my parents’ house won’t do for Charlotte. I suppose I could lease a house. Hire servants. Not the full staff she’s used to, but I might manage a maid and cook.”

  Ben waved that off. “Everyone assumed you would stay at our house in Mayfair.”

  “Goodness, there you are. I have upset the house looking for you.” Charlotte entered the parlor, coming to stand beside him as if that’s where she belonged.

  God help him. He was really going to live with her.

  “Why were you speaking of the London house?”

  “I’ll let Will explain.” With a pointed stare of warning, Ben left the room.

  She glided to her seat, her eyes huge with curiosity. With her skirts pooled around her, she was an angel atop her cloud of violet silk.

  What a bastard he was.

  * * *

  Charlotte grew uneasy at Will’s grave countenance. She had hoped his happy mood would continue after their morning.

  Will had laughed and that was a sight never seen. Ever. He had been laughing at her, of course, but she could bear it for his amusement.

  Now, though, he would not look at her. “I am interrupting your work.”

  “No, I was—” He shook his head, and consulted the ceiling.

  She had been giddy all day, thinking how wonderful it would be to wake each morning and laugh with him. To stroke his jaw, rough with whiskers. To see to his comfort. Her good-morning kiss still left her tingling, even if she had sneaked it upon a defenseless, sleeping man. But she would not dwell on the impropriety of that behavior.

  “I return to London tomorrow,” he said.

  “Tomorrow?”

  “There are matters I must attend to and to take you from your family, with the new baby…”

  The realization of what he was saying slammed into her stomach. “You mean to leave me here.”

  “I thought—”

  “I thought your planning was done?”

  “Yes, somewhat, but—”

  “We are married a matter of hours and you would abandon me?”

  “I’m not abandoning you. It’s not as if we’re truly married.”

  She gasped. “Not—” Well, she could not argue with that. She stood, but the way she wished to march was blocked by Will. He eyed her warily, as if she were some hissing goose that might fly at his head. “Why leave?”

  He dropped his gaze and a horrible thought occurred to her. “Do you plan to see a…a fille de joie?” Her voice sank to a whisper on the last, vile words.

  “A what?”

  “You heard me—a courtesan. I know there are places men go and I forbid it. You may not touch another woman. That is my fourth demand. You are my husband and—”

  “Charlotte—”

  “You are my husband.” A strange panic was tightening her chest and she rushed on. “And I will not allow you to treat me with so little respect. It is true we had not discussed my rights—my proprietary rights—to your male parts—”

  “My what?”

  “—but it should have been understood your attentions be exclusive to me as mine are to you. If you require…that, I will see to your needs.”

  He gaped at her, blinking with confusion. “My male parts?”

  Her cheeks must be aflame but she held his dumbfounded stare.

  “No, Charlotte…why would—? I don’t have all the money I need to return to Asia. It will be easier in the City to meet with prospects.”

  Relief pierced her, followed by shame. “Oh.”

  Why, why, did she mention a courtesan?

  She walked with as much dignity as she could muster to the door. “Then I will see to our bags.” She smoothed the waist of her skirt, her stomach roiling beneath her hands. “Are we…are we to go by carriage or rail?”

  At his lost expression, she regretted everything she had said, everything she had done to keep him next to her. It was humiliating. Is this what love would subject her to? Was she to be such a burden?

  “Will?”

  “Yes, right. I’d arranged a carriage.”

  He wouldn’t meet her eye. He had meant to leave her. That was why he was so lighthearted this morning, imagining he would be unburdened of her.

  She lowered her eyes to hide her sadness. This was the choice she had made. A one-sided love. What had she expected? That Will would set aside his maps and pencils and plans to indulge her stupid fantasies and play the husband?

  The only husband she would ever have…

  She drew a steadying breath. “You ought not treat me with so little courtesy. I am your wife until the annulment and you should not forget it.”

  Without a backward glance, she swept out of the room.

  She would pretend.

  Let him try to stop her.

  Sixteen

  The two-day ride to London should have afforded Will ample hours to devise a contingency plan for the unexpected development of a wife returning with him to London, but the journey was too full of Charlotte. Too full of her conversation, her perfume, her smile. Too full of her absorbing the scenery out the window while he absorbed the sight of her.

  But he was out of time. They’d entered the city and in the shadowy interior of the carriage, he studied his bride. At present, she was slumbering with her head upon his lap. He had to give her credit—she was an excellent sleeper, with an unerring instinct for surfaces affording optimal comfort in less-than-ideal environments. She’d closed her eyes leaning against the wall of the carriage but once asleep, she had, immediately and unconsciously, commandeered his lap as her personal pillow.

  Not that he minded. If she had commanded him to trot alongside the carriage, he would have. Thankfully, Charlotte seemed to have forgiven him for planning to return without her. He had expected her to sulk or ignore him for most of the journey, but instead she’d sat beside him, sometimes quiet, sometimes sharing her stories, even drawing out his stories—the stories he could tell. Always with a smile on her lips and a glow in her eye, as if a carriage ride was a great adventure.

  She had traveled this way before, of course. Numberless times, most likely. How could this tedious ride with him be an adventure?

  But it had been nice. Even fun.

  He smoothed a tendril of hair off her cheek. Her skin glowed, flawless as a pearl. He’d thought her a living doll…

  No doll—a soft, warm, bloody complicated woman. And a passionate one.


  One point of contention in this marriage was clear. He could not share her bed. Not when he strongly suspected Charlotte—curious as she was—desired to make love purely for the experience. Male parts, for God’s sake.

  He had no choice but to renege on their agreement. Not that he would tell her outright. He’d resort to subterfuge, keeping such irregular sleeping hours that Charlotte would not look for him to join her in bed. Once she’d gone to bed, he could steal away to a guest chamber. Not the surest plan, but the best he could manage.

  Avoidance did strike him as the coward’s way, but there was only so much temptation a man could take. This morning at the inn in Daventry, he’d almost had an apoplexy restraining himself. He’d woken, clinging tight to his slumbering wife, his cock fully at attention and aching for release. He nearly fell from the bed in his haste to escape the heated sheets.

  She’d offered to see to “his needs.” Chuckling humorlessly, he butted his head against the squabs—but lightly, so as not to disturb her.

  Six years without the comfort of a woman. Six years, Charlotte!

  He felt a powerful urge to push her off his lap.

  The woman had no idea the extent of his needs where she was concerned. To bring her pleasure, though. To see her writhing with passion again. Would that be wrong? As long as he was careful, her virginity would stay intact.

  He smoothed a tendril of hair off her cheek. She was so soft. Even inside…

  He clenched his body against the memory.

  The carriage wheels rolled differently. Cobbled streets. They’d entered the better end of the city. Soon enough, Charlotte could sleep in her bed and he could put this long day behind him.

  The carriage slowed and he nudged her awake. “We’re here, Charlotte.”

  “Good…so tired.”

  He lifted her to sit upright, only to have her flop bonelessly against him. He dipped his head to look into her sleeping face. The woman did not come awake easily.

  A lantern approached and the carriage door opened. Jamie peered in, curious as to why the passengers hadn’t disembarked.

  “Miss Baker is just now rousing,” Will said. “We’ll need a moment.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Repton,” mumbled Charlotte.

  “What’s that?” He tugged her cloak under her chin.