Scoundrel Ever After (Secrets and Scandals)

by Darcy Burke

  His own private lending library. Books were one of the things Ethan had missed most since his father’s death. Ethan possessed a passion for reading, but when his mother had sold the house Lockwood had purchased for her, she’d also sold the books. Ethan read when he could, but the life of a master criminal hadn’t allowed him such luxury. That’s one thing he would do when he regained his life as Ethan Lockwood: He’d have his own goddamned library.

  He strolled to the bookshelf and ran his finger along the spines. He inhaled deeply, trying to catch the whiff of parchment and ink, of knowledge and joy. “How did you manage all of this? You inferred that before you married Miranda, you were in financial difficulty. Yet, you managed to keep two estates running and support,” he turned to look at Fox, “how many children?”

  “It varies, but we currently house forty-nine. We’ve been able to take in more since I married Miranda. She insisted.”

  “She now shares your dedication?”

  “Vociferously. Hell’s teeth, you should’ve seen her when she was first forced to work here as penance for her scandalous behavior.” Fox’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “She was completely out of her element. Still, she bewitched me from the start.”

  Ethan turned back to the books, picked up a thick volume, and flipped through the pages, relishing the weight of the tome in his palm. He glanced up at Fox. “This is your whole life then? The orphanage?” A noble enterprise.

  “And our own family. You haven’t yet met Alexander—our son. He’s only a year old.” Fox gave his head a shake. “He already has everyone wrapped around his finger, just like his mother. He’ll be here later this morning, I imagine.”

  Ethan looked up again, once again surprised. “He spends time here with the orphans?”

  Fox’s answering stare was cool. “Yes. I grew up with the orphans, and I consider myself the better for it.”

  Ethan snapped the book shut. “I meant no offense. I was merely startled to hear that you would allow your son to mingle with them. Most gentlemen would not.”

  Fox inclined his head and seemed to relax slightly. “I’m not most gentlemen. I’m barely a gentleman at all. Remember, I’m just Montgomery Foxcroft, farmer and orphanage owner. Who happened to marry the daughter of a duke.”

  A vision of Ethan in such a life flashed before him. Could he settle into a situation where he was a country gentleman with a wife and retainers, people who depended upon him? He had underlings who worked for him, but it wasn’t the same. On several occasions, they’d turned against him or simply left his employ for a better offer. There was a degree of loyalty, but money and the promise of power always won out. Ethan imagined it was different in Fox’s experience. “You’ve built quite a life for yourself here. It’s enviable.”

  “You hope to do the same in America?” Fox turned toward him and leaned his shoulder against the bookshelf. “Forgive me, but I’m curious as to why you would elope in the first place. Did her parents refuse your suit because of your parentage?” Fox’s lip curled in distaste.

  Ethan appreciated the other man’s compassion, but he wasn’t going to divulge any information he didn’t have to. “Audrey and I prefer to start our life somewhere new. She’s long wanted to go to America.” That part, at least, was true. Surprisingly so. Ethan could still scarcely believe she’d tried to run off with a blacksmith’s son. She was either terribly adventurous or exceedingly foolhardy. Ethan recognized those qualities in himself. They were why he’d become a successful criminal—one had to possess a bit of both if one wanted to reap the greatest rewards.

  Fox was quiet a moment, perhaps trying to decide whether he would press Ethan for a better answer. Ethan gave him an unwavering stare, daring him to question him further.

  With a subtle nod, Fox pushed away from the bookshelf. “If you want to confide in me about anything, I promise you the utmost discretion. America is an awfully long way to go, but I suppose the opportunities there are incomparable—for the right people. I hope you and Miss Cheswick are the right people.” He straightened. “Come, there’s more to see, if you’re interested. You can take the book if you want.”

  He did. “Thank you.” Ethan tucked the book under his arm and accompanied Fox from the library. Fox’s words bounced around his brain—America was an awfully long way to go. Could he and Audrey start over somewhere closer? Somewhere that would allow him to at least see his brother from time to time?

  Alarms pealed in his brain. What the hell was he doing planning anything with Audrey in mind? It was all a lie, a fabrication they’d told the Foxcrofts to explain their being here. They had no future, no relationship, no reason to be together. The sooner he got away from her, the better. For everyone.

  Chapter Eight

  AUDREY WASN’T AN early riser by any account, but she’d slept rather late that morning. The fresh clothes the maid had left were of the construction that allowed Audrey to dress herself. A boon, because she was eager to see Ethan as soon as possible. Though she hurried through her toilet, dealing with her hair without assistance was a particular chore. When she finally decided she was presentable, she made her way—achingly thanks to several days in the saddle—downstairs. Her haste had been for naught however, when she found the breakfast room empty save for Miranda sitting on the floor with her young son.

  Miranda smiled up at her. “Good morning, I trust you slept well.”

  Panic rooted in Audrey’s gut and made her feel shaky. She didn’t want to make small talk. “Yes, thank you. Has Mr. Locke come down yet?” She practically held her breath waiting for the answer. He wouldn’t have left without saying good-bye . . .

  “He and Fox are at Stipple’s End. If you’d like, we can go for a visit. Just let me take Alexander up to the nurse for his nap.”

  Audrey recalled that Stipple’s End was the orphanage they operated. If Ethan was there, Audrey definitely wanted to go. “That would be lovely. I’ll have a quick breakfast.”

  Miranda scooped her son into her arms and brought him to Audrey. “Say hello to Miss Cheswick, Alex.”

  He held his hand out toward her, his fingers splayed. “Ba!”

  Audrey couldn’t help but grin at him in return. “Ba!”

  His lips spread to reveal two teeth peeking from the bottom of his mouth. “Ba!”

  Audrey moved her head forward so he could touch her cheek. Instead, he grabbed at her hair and pulled a curl free. “Ba!”

  Miranda laughed. “We could play this game all day, but you probably want to eat and Alex needs to sleep. Help yourself to the sideboard and ring the bellpull if you need anything—one of the footmen or maids will attend you.”

  Audrey nodded as they left and went to serve herself. Her mind immediately returned to Ethan and what they were going to do next.

  They.

  They weren’t going to do anything. He was going to leave her here and she was going to what, return to London? She had to convince him to take her with him. At the very least, she wasn’t ready for her adventure to end. At the very most, she’d persuade him to trust her and she’d find a way to help him with his Bow Street problem.

  While she ate, Audrey pondered how she might get through to Ethan. She also wondered if he’d appropriately cared for his wounds. She’d given him the jar of ointment last night, but had no idea if he’d actually applied it.

  As she was finishing up, Miranda returned carrying bonnets for both of them. She handed one to Audrey.

  “Thank you for lending me the dress and this bonnet.” She set it atop her head, grateful to have something to contain her wayward hair, and tied the ribbons beneath her chin.

  “It’s no trouble. That dress is from when I was carrying Alexander. I thought the larger bodice might fit you a bit better, though I’m sorry it’s so short. But then you’re quite tall.”

  “It’s lovely.” Audrey ran her hand along the soft cotton day dress. It was pretty, and most importantly, serviceable.

  Miranda chuckled. “Not quite what we’d wear in
London, is it? I’m a far cry from the young woman who gadded about London without a care for her reputation. Motherhood changes a person drastically. And I suppose my first taste of it came when I worked at Stipple’s End two years ago during the summer I was banished from London.”

  “I remember that. You’d been caught on the Dark Walk at Vauxhall?”

  Miranda tied the ribbons of her bonnet. “People weren’t supposed to know.”

  Audrey stood from the table and joined her in leaving the breakfast room. “Lady Lydia Prewitt is my dearest friend. I’m afraid I know many things that people aren’t supposed to know.” Lydia had spent the last several years as one of the ton’s premier gossips, at the behest of her chaperone, London’s premier gossip, her harridan great-aunt.

  “I see.” Miranda’s lips pursed, and Audrey had the sense that Miranda didn’t perhaps care for Lydia. But then many people didn’t. However, they didn’t know the real Lydia who was kind and witty and the most supportive friend Audrey could ask for. Perhaps now that Lydia was out from under her aunt’s control and had decided to build a future with Jason Lockwood, people would see her for who she really was.

  “Lydia isn’t a bad person. She was the victim of terrible circumstances because of her family. Surely you can understand that?” Audrey knew that Miranda’s father, the Duke of Holborn, was a cold and fearsome autocrat. Miranda’s sister-in-law, Olivia Sinclair, was a friend of Audrey’s, and Audrey had heard a tale or two about the duke’s cruelty to his children.

  Miranda eyed her cautiously. “I can. And I value second chances. The people here gave me one. They taught me what was truly important in life. Coming here—being exiled—was the best thing that could’ve happened to me. I thank God every day that I was foolish enough to be sent to the country. It’s funny how a poor decision can turn out to be the very thing that makes everything fall into place.”

  Audrey acknowledged that her decision to accompany Ethan hadn’t been well thought out, and only time would tell if any good would come of it. She’d wanted an adventure, something that would fill her with excitement and purpose, instead of detachment and ennui. She blinked. It was already exciting. And she’d felt great purpose in taking care of Ethan’s wounds, in helping him to escape, even if she hadn’t realized that was what she’d been doing. If he would only trust her, she would do everything in her power to help him. She knew in her heart that he wasn’t the monster he purported to be, that he was trying to change. Why else would he have been trying to establish himself in Society?

  “Audrey, however did you meet Mr. Locke?”

  “Through Lydia, actually. She and Lord Lockwood will be announcing their engagement shortly, I imagine.” If they hadn’t already. Lydia had planned to tell Lockwood that she loved him and propose marriage to him, if necessary. He’d already asked her—quite publicly—but she’d frozen amidst the stares and expectation of the entire ton, and hadn’t responded. She regretted her silence, and his humiliation, to her very bones. Audrey was certain she would make it up to him. They made a surprisingly perfect couple.

  Miranda paused a moment as they strolled into the large entry hall. “Indeed? I’m shocked to hear Lockwood is going to marry. What about his vice parties?”

  “He’s giving them up.”

  Miranda laughed. “That will disappoint a good number of gentlemen.”

  “Probably.” Audrey averted her gaze and continued toward the front door. She knew far more than most about those parties. With the exception of Lady Philippa Sevrin, Audrey was the only young, unmarried woman to ever attend one. In actuality, she’d attended four, including one on the night she’d left London with Ethan.

  “So, Lydia has found love with England’s most scandalous rogue, and you’ve found it with his illegitimate brother?” Miranda shot her an amused glance. “Why did London have to get so interesting after I left?”

  Audrey couldn’t contain a laugh, but then Miranda was laughing too. Though a sobering thought was at the back of Audrey’s mind—she hadn’t found love with Ethan. What, then, had she found?

  Miranda opened the door—Audrey had learned from the maid the previous evening that they didn’t have a butler, just a housekeeper, a cook, a small complement of maids who performed various tasks, and only a few footmen who also worked in other capacities such that a retainer was rarely stationed at the entry—and led Audrey into the late morning sunshine.

  “What a marvelous day,” Miranda said, looking up at the blue sky, marred by just a few drifting clouds. She turned to Audrey expectantly. “Now, you must tell me why you’re eloping. Is it because Mr. Locke is illegitimate?”

  It was an easy explanation. But would her parents really care? Audrey was nearly four and twenty. They might be happy to marry her off to a bastard. After all, he was the son of a viscount and that was certainly better than a blacksmith’s son. “Yes. They’re disappointed in my choice.”

  The coachman drove toward them and brought the vehicle to a halt. He opened the door and assisted first Miranda, then Audrey inside. During the brief, ten-minute trip to Stipple’s End, they discussed parental disappointment and how they would be far more understanding of their own children. Audrey only hoped she’d have the chance to be a parent someday.

  At Stipple’s End, a round-faced woman in an apron greeted them at the door with a broad grin. “Good morning, Miranda.” Her face immediately fell. “Where’s Alexander?”

  “He’s napping. Millie promised she would bring him over later.” Miranda turned to Audrey. “They hate it when I come without the baby. Audrey, this is Mrs. Gates, Stipple’s End’s headmistress. Mrs. Gates, this is my friend, Miss Audrey Cheswick.”

  Mrs. Gates inclined her head. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Cheswick.” She opened the door wide and gestured for them to enter.

  “And you.” Audrey stepped into a massive hall pungent with the smell of whitewash. The far wall was about half painted, but it looked like they’d stopped in the middle.

  “What happened with the painting?” Miranda asked.

  “An impromptu picnic in the apple orchard,” Mrs. Gates said. “It’s such a lovely fall day and who knows how many more we’ll get. Plus, the children wanted to pick apples before the rest are harvested next week. Fox and Mr. Locke are with them.”

  “Then that’s where we’ll go.” Miranda smiled as she linked arms with Audrey and led her through the great hall, then down a narrow corridor to a door that led into the rear yard. They veered left and went down a hill toward the orchard. The midday sun warmed Audrey’s shoulders through the linen of her borrowed gown.

  The sounds of children playing and laughing wafted toward them. A small group was playing a game in a clearing, while others were climbing trees. A man, whom Audrey was fairly certain was Ethan, stood on a ladder against a tree.

  He balanced a basket full of apples on his hip as he climbed down the ladder. At the bottom, he turned. His gray eyes glinted in the sunlight and seemed to heat as they settled on Audrey. “Miss Cheswick,” he murmured.

  Audrey moved closer and kept her voice low. “You should probably call me Audrey. Since we’re supposed to be eloping.” She looked at him with raised eyebrows, urging him to comprehend.

  He inclined his head. “I see. Audrey.”

  The single word slid into her chest and wound to her extremities, stroking her like an intimate caress. She recalled they weren’t alone, even if it suddenly felt as though they were. “Miranda brought me.”

  Ethan’s gaze moved to Miranda. “Hello. Thank you again for your hospitality.” He flicked a glance down at his costume, a gray coat topping a pair of dark blue breeches. The coat was a little wide for his shoulders, but the color suited his black hair and light gray eyes. He wore a simple cravat, which was more than what Fox had donned—his shirt was open at the collar. He came around the tree with another basket of apples and set them near his wife.

  Fox dropped a kiss on Miranda’s cheek. “You are as lovely as the day is bright.” />
  Miranda rolled her eyes. “My husband, the poet.” She gave him a look that clearly held some sort of personal, intimate meaning. Audrey returned her attention to Ethan, lest she intrude.

  But averting her gaze to Ethan offered no solace, for he was staring at her with an intensity that was going to set her face on fire. “Why are you looking at me like that?” she whispered urgently before thinking better of it.

  “We’re supposed to be a couple, aren’t we?” He took her hand, their bare fingers touching and igniting sensations Audrey felt all the way to her core. He lifted her hand and kissed the back, his eyes never leaving hers.

  Despite the warmth of the sun, shiver after shiver raced up and down her spine. “Should you have been climbing the ladder? What about your arm?”

  “It’s much better.” He spoke softly. “More importantly, I don’t want them to know I'm injured. Too many questions.”

  She understood. “Did you put the poultice on it?”

  “Yes, Nurse.” His gaze danced with merriment and she was reminded of her flirtatious waltzing partner instead of the dangerous criminal.

  “Come and have some chicken,” Fox said, indicating a blanket bedecked with several hampers of food. “There’s a special basket for us adults.”

  Ethan let go of Audrey’s hand, which would’ve been disappointing, if he hadn’t immediately slid it to her lower back to guide her to the blanket. Audrey practically floated there. She didn’t remember the last time a gentleman had paid her such singular attention. Probably because it had never happened.

  They situated themselves on the blanket while the children continued their antics around them. Normally, Audrey would’ve been interested in their games and laughter, but she couldn’t tear her attention away from her enigmatic companion. It seemed she didn’t need to try very hard to pretend they were a couple.

  Miranda dished them up some chicken and, naturally, apples, though she gave Audrey a lighter portion, likely since she’d only eaten breakfast a short while ago. Audrey didn’t care, she wasn’t the least bit interested in food.