The Road to Scandal is Paved with Wicked Intentions (The May Flowers Book 6)

by Merry Farmer

  “Then how do you expect your plan for her happiness to be a success?” Danny said, helping her into the carriage that pulled to the curb for them.

  “Lord Cosgrove is just as arrogant as she is,” Phoebe reasoned. “The two of them will take solace in the fact that they are far superior to their neighbors in any case.” Danny laughed, but she went on with, “They’ll probably spend the season in London, at Lord Cosgrove’s townhouse, leeching off the charity and influence of their lauded son-in-law.” She sent him a mischievous grin.

  “A son-in-law who will be the talk of the town, once it is revealed that he is richer than God and twice as good-looking,” Danny said.

  Phoebe laughed loud enough to compete with any pub crowd. It felt ridiculous to be so happy in such mad circumstances. But Danny was lively and wicked, and he truly was handsome by anyone’s measure.

  “I take it you were granted the Earl’s Court deal?” she asked as the carriage hurried along, taking them home.

  “Of course,” Danny said with a proud grin. “It is impossible to think that the committee would have considered anyone else.”

  “Oh, yes, impossible.” Phoebe sent him a sideways grin. “I’m sure Mr. Dandie will be pleased.”

  “Everyone will be pleased,” Danny said, settling comfortably into his seat and drawing her into his arms as he did. “And I was thinking. What if we built a lovely townhouse of our own in the square I plan to develop? I would let you have final say on all of the architectural elements and the decorations.”

  A thrill of excitement shot through Phoebe at the idea. Perhaps it made her every bit as vain and concerned with presentation as her mother, but the idea of designing her own house—a house that all of the people who had once shunned her would marvel at and envy—filled her with joy.

  “I think I would like that immensely,” she said.

  They spent the rest of the trip discussing design elements and plans, not just for their house, but for the terraced flats they would build for Mr. Dandie’s friends. Danny was also brimming with ideas for rebuilding The Watchman and the buildings that surrounded it. Phoebe glanced across to the unfortunate building as the cab let them out at home. Demolition of the burned-out structure was already underway. Seeing the charred remains of what once was carted off bit by bit filled her with a solemn sense of satisfaction and renewal.

  “Do you know,” she said as she and Danny walked up the stairs to her flat, hand in hand, “I think that everything might just work out for the best after all.”

  Danny laughed, marching her right past the second floor and on up to the third floor and his flat. “Of course it will, love,” he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek before finding the key to unlock his door. “Everything will be perfect, now that you’re with me.”

  He opened the flat door, then grabbed Phoebe’s hand and tugged her inside. She giggled as he whirled her into his arms, then shut the door with his foot and tossed his key onto the table beside the door. He missed, and the key clattered to the ground, but neither of them cared. Danny shrugged out of his jacket and threw that side as well before wrapping his arms around her and kissing her as though it were the secret to life.

  “It’s the middle of the afternoon,” Phoebe managed to sigh between kisses that spun her head and turned her knees to jelly.

  “There’s no prescribed time for being wicked,” he growled against her neck as he bent to kiss and nibble at her speeding pulse.

  “Don’t you have further business to attend to?” Phoebe giggled, working the buttons of his waistcoat free as he backed her toward his bedroom.

  “That’s what a man of business is for,” Danny said, pausing his kisses long enough to fiddle with the buttons that ran down the front of her blouse. “Tuttle will take care of everything.”

  “I’m sure he will,” Phoebe said nearly tripping as they crossed over the threshold into his bedroom.

  He made quick work of the buttons on her blouse, then reached behind to unhook her skirt and tug at the fastenings of her petticoats. As soon as they came loose and sagged around her legs, he lifted her right out of the mass of fabric and laid her across his bed.

  “Are you still angry with me?” he rumbled, shrugging out of his waistcoat and grasping at the buttons of his shirt. That came off within seconds as well, and he leaned over her, stealing another, long kiss.

  “I think my feelings toward you are improving by the second,” she answered, working loose the fastenings of his trousers.

  He was already hot and hard as she pushed his trousers aside and slid her hands along his length. He made the most beautiful noise of surprise and pleasure and jerked under her touch as she tested his length and reached lower to cup his testicles. She still had so much to learn about the male body, about Danny’s body, but everything she had experimented with so far had been a complete delight. She adored the way he could be powerful and masculine, but also vulnerable and at her mercy with just a simple touch.

  “I adore you,” he growled, pulling away from her long enough to remove his shoes and the rest of his clothes. Phoebe gasped and wriggled at the sight of his fully-naked body. The size and splendor of his erection had her aching to have him inside of her, but she had the feeling Danny was in a mood to drag things out as long as possible. “I am your servant, from now until the end of time,” he said, climbing back over her for another lingering kiss.

  Even though she still wore her corset, chemise, drawers, and stockings, she lifted her leg to cradle his hips. She wanted to feel her skin against his, to have him run his hands all over her body. He was intent on kissing her until she was breathless, though. His mouth against hers was downright wicked, and the way his staff pressed against the thin fabric of her drawers at the juncture of her thighs was scandalous. She didn’t mind a little scandal, though. There would be loads of it as soon as their engagement was announced.

  “No,” he said, pulling up and balancing himself above her abruptly. “This won’t do.”

  “What won’t do?” Phoebe asked breathlessly.

  “I want you naked,” he said, starting on her corset’s hooks. His hands were unsteady with passion, but he managed to work his way down from her breasts to her belly. “I want to see you flushed and giddy with pleasure in poses so obscene that even that bounder who writes the dirty stories wouldn’t dare describe it in print.”

  Phoebe laughed and wriggled out of her corset, lifting her chemise over her head once he’d finished with the hooks. He tugged the drawstring of her drawers as she did, and between the two of them, she was every bit as naked as he was within moments.

  “I should like very much to act out everything that so-called bounder wrote about us in his salacious stories,” she said, opening her arms and legs to Danny as he surged back over her.

  “Me too,” he hummed before capturing her mouth in a searing kiss.

  Everything about the way he kissed her, invading her with his tongue and teasing her with his teeth, ignited glittering sparks throughout Phoebe’s body. The way he traced his hands gently along her sides one moment, then circled her breast and held her possessively, dropping his mouth to tease her nipple to a nub and to suckle her, was glorious. She wanted nothing more than to let him ravish her in whatever way he wanted. Every touch and every kiss ignited her, body and soul.

  She was so consumed with joyous passion that when he paused, she whimpered in protest.

  “I want you on top of me,” he said, a wicked look in his eyes.

  “On top of you?” Phoebe was both confused and thrilled by the idea.

  Danny bit his lip, downright boyish mischief filling his eyes. He rolled off of her and onto his back, resting his head on the pillows. Phoebe’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of him laid out that way, his sizeable penis standing straight up against his belly, like some sort of Greek satyr.

  “Come here and ride me until we’re both mad with pleasure, woman,” he ordered her.

  Excitement swirled through Phoebe as she
crawled across the bed to him. It flashed to nervousness when she realized she had no idea what she was doing.

  “Straddle me,” he instructed her, his eyes dancing with mischief and lust.

  Phoebe’s heart beat in her throat and a giggle escaped from her as she followed directions, straddling his hips. “I must look ridiculous,” she said, covering her face with her hands for a moment.

  “Believe me, love. Ridiculous isn’t the word. Not even close.” His voice was deep and husky with desire.

  He reached for her hips, pulling her forward a bit to the position he wanted her and caressing her backside. It felt wildly good to Phoebe, which made her bolder.

  “What do I do next?” she asked with a grin.

  “Take your hair down,” he said.

  Her eyes went wide at the simplicity of the request, but she did as he’d asked, reaching up and pulling the pins from her hair. When she saw the heat that filled his eyes and the way his breath caught in his chest, she slowed her movements and teased him with what she hoped were lusty looks as she shook her hair loose down her back.

  “God, you’re pretty,” he said, his voice a barely controlled growl.

  “Now what do I do?” she asked.

  “First, come here and give me a kiss.” He crooked a finger at her.

  Giggling again, Phoebe leaned forward and slanted her mouth over his. She was surprised at how empowering it felt to be the one kissing him, with him under her. She planted her hands on the pillows on either side of his head and thrust her tongue into his mouth as he’d done with her. He groaned with approval and caressed her backside, teasing his fingers deep between her legs. That gesture and the anticipation that came with it, made her impatient for more.

  “What next?” she asked, stealing another kiss and grinding her hips against his. The heat and solidity of his member had her aching for union with him.

  He must have felt the same way. “Take me in hand,” he told her, voice deeper than ever, “and hold me upright.”

  With a shaky breath, Phoebe did as he instructed. Everything she needed to do next was suddenly clear to her, but she shivered with arousal all the same when he growled, “Now, fuck me.”

  Barely able to catch her breath, she positioned herself exactly as she needed to above him, then bore down, taking him deep inside of her. The sound she made as he slid deep within her, stretching her and causing glorious pleasure all through her, was wanton and shocking, but she loved it. His corresponding groan of satisfaction only heightened her enjoyment. Once she had him sheathed inside of her, however, she wasn’t sure what to do.

  “I’ll help you,” he panted, gripping her hips.

  Without words, he taught her what to do, how to move on him while he jerked below her. They moved slowly at first, giving Phoebe time to learn the motions and how best to draw him in and out of her body. As soon as she got the hang of it and concentrated more on how she felt instead of what she was doing, her body answered with pleasure that coiled tighter and tighter inside of her.

  “That’s it, love,” Danny rumbled, helping her move and thrusting himself. “That’s definitely it.”

  He was watching her, drinking in the sight of her body as she strove for completion, and he was deriving as much pleasure from that as he was from being inside of her. Wickeder than ever, she smiled, arching back in an attempt to give him even more to gaze at. He made a sound that was as pleading as it was ravenous and jerked harder into her. Phoebe matched his movements, feeling the tell-tale signs of her body rushing toward completion. Her heart thundered within her as she watched him completely transported by everything she was doing. She was the one who had him exactly where she wanted him.

  That feeling of power carried her over the edge. She burst into ecstasy as Danny bucked beneath her, pleasure throbbing through her so intensely that she threw her head back and cried out with it. Moments later, she felt Danny tense and surge, crying out himself as his seed spilled into her. It was shattering in its completeness, and the joy she felt as the intensity of their orgasms gave way to deep contentment was the stuff dreams were made of.

  “That was brilliant,” she panted as she settled onto the bed beside him.

  “That was only the beginning, love,” he laughed, twisting so that he could close his arms around her and kiss her with sated passion.

  They were too exhausted and their bodies too overheated to do more than lie in each other’s arms, but as far as Phoebe was concerned, that was all she needed.

  “If anyone attempts to dismiss me for marrying a simple pub owner,” she said, “I will simply tell them that you are capable of all that. Then they will be ragingly jealous.”

  Danny laughed, nuzzling her neck. “I’ll give them even more to be jealous about,” he promised.

  “I’m sure you will,” Phoebe giggled, resting her head against his shoulder. “I’m sure you will for the rest of our lives.”

  Epilogue

  It was the wedding of the season, and Lenore Garrett was thrilled to have an important role in it. Phoebe had asked her, along with Natalia Townsend and two charming girls named Hilda and Imogen from Harrods, to be her bridesmaid. That meant that not only was she close to the center of attention during the ceremony itself, when every one of the high and mighty aristocratic ladies who had shunned Phoebe in her hour of need flocked to St. Paul’s Cathedral to see her marry a man who had recently been revealed as one of the wealthiest men in London, it meant she was one of the privileged few invited to the raucous reception, held at an ordinary music hall in Fitzrovia.

  “I cannot imagine how the society pages of The Times will report on this,” Freddy shouted to her over the din of the band playing and the jolly cries of Danny’s long-term patrons from his pub.

  “I don’t think they have the vocabulary to describe it,” Lenore called back to him, laughing as one of The Watchman’s barmaids let out a screech when Freddy’s friend, Lord Landsbury, a marquess, spun her onto the dance floor. “I don’t think London is used to seeing this sort of social mingling.”

  “It’s a horrific scandal, to be sure,” Reese laughed from Freddy’s other side. He followed that by grasping Freddy’s hand and inching toward the dance floor. “Come on,” he told Freddy with a shockingly intimate look. “This is one night when not a soul in attendance will care who dances with whom.”

  Freddy flushed under the heat of Reese’s stare. He glanced to Lenore as if for approval.

  “Go ahead,” Lenore said with a casual shrug.

  She grinned after Reese and Freddy as they dodged their way into the thick of the dancing crowd. They really were sweet together. She fancied herself quite the modern woman for thinking as much. But after nearly a year of being engaged to Freddy for the sole purpose of being allowed to stay in England—for reasons she had yet to whisper to a single one of her new, dear friends—she had seen how devoted the two men were to each other. It would be a blessing indeed if she found a man who loved her as much as Reese and Freddy loved each other.

  “Miss Garrett, you look lovely this evening.”

  Lenore dragged her gaze away from Reese and Freddy to find the enigmatic, not to mention surprisingly handsome, Mr. Phineas Mercer approaching her. He adjusted his spectacles as he took in the sight of her in a way that Lenore found as suggestive as it was charming.

  “Mr. Mercer. How good to see you again.” She smiled and extended her hand to him as any man would have done with another man. “You’re looking quite well yourself.”

  And he most certainly was. In the few encounters Lenore had had with the man, she had come to believe that the reports of his ordinariness and unimpressive looks were entirely false. Yes, Mr. Mercer held himself in such a way that he didn’t draw attention, his clothes were understated, and his spectacles were likely a deterrent to some of the vainer ladies of society. But, in fact, he had broad shoulders and a lean waist, his face was made up of strong, pleasing lines, his blue eyes were sharp, and his sandy hair made Lenore contemplate what
it would be like to run her fingers through it.

  “Thank you.” Mr. Mercer bowed, then took up a position by Lenore’s side, watching the dancers. “It was quite an unusual wedding,” he said, opening a conversation.

  Lenore felt in an instant that he was fishing for something. “It was,” she agreed. “I don’t think London society was prepared for it, but the whole thing reminded me of some of the shindigs we had back home when people married.”

  “Shindigs?” Mr. Mercer arched an eyebrow at her.

  “As you will remember, Mr. Mercer, I’m from the Wild West.” Lenore grinned at him, eyes sparkling, she was sure.

  Mr. Mercer tried to hide his enjoyment of her behind a staid smile. His eyes told a different story, however. He liked her.

  He nodded to Freddy and Reese. “You don’t mind the fact that your betrothed is dancing exuberantly with Lord Howsden?”

  Lenore’s grin turned wickedly knowing as she glanced to him. “Not at all.”

  The faintest bit of surprise registered in Mr. Mercer’s expression. “Curious. And have you and Lord Harrington set a date for your own nuptials?”

  “We have not,” Lenore replied, her grin widening.

  She had a feeling she knew precisely what Mr. Mercer was actually asking her. They’d enjoyed the brief time they’d spent together months ago while helping Phoebe to plot a way to expose Lord Cosgrove’s villainy where Danny Long was concerned. Lenore had considered it a crying shame that their paths hadn’t crossed much since then. She couldn’t seem to get the mysterious man out of her head. He captivated her.

  She realized with a start that she’d been studying him in silence for too long, and that a slow grin had spread across his expressive lips.

  “I have something for you, Miss Garrett,” he said once her focus was back on the moment.

  “Oh?” She smiled. “I love unexpected gifts.”

  “I hope you will like this one,” he said, reaching into his jacket. He took out a small, crisp newspaper printed on pink-tinged paper. Lenore’s mouth dropped. She knew exactly what the journal was, Nocturne. “Hot off the presses, as they say,” Mr. Mercer said, handing it to her.