Any Rogue Will Do

by Bethany Bennett

  “I feel I should mention, Ethan, that in most relationships, it’s the woman who changes her name.”

  Hearing the name his Mum and Da had given him caused a strange feeling of wholeness to settle in him. There might be more to a name than he’d thought. With a grin, he tipped his hat at a rakish angle and stole the last piece of bacon off Cal’s plate before he left.

  * * *

  Dawson entered the breakfast room. “Milady, Lord Amesbury has come to call. Shall I have him wait in the drawing room?”

  “This early? No, Dawson. I’m unwilling to go another moment without tea. Show him in here.” Sharing breakfast at her table was intimate, but what was the fun of having a fake-fiancé neighbor if she couldn’t break convention?

  Ethan walked in, bringing a chill that clung to his coat. The cold dissolved with the look he gave her as he took off his hat. Heavens, his eyes were blue. Somehow brighter this morning. The smile he gave her was another intimacy. Not just friendly but carnal. Seeing that smile, no one would doubt he’d tasted her mouth and he wanted to do it again. Warmth flooded her, and those flames he’d stoked the night before flickered back to life.

  “Good morning.” Lord, she was blushing, wasn’t she? Like some schoolgirl instead of a woman of the age to adopt ten cats and a lace cap. “Have you eaten? Would you like chocolate or tea? You’re welcome to join me.”

  “I would love a cup of tea,” he said. “You look beautiful this morning.”

  The simple compliment somehow made the warmth growing within her worse. “Thank you. I was just, ah, admiring you as well. Oh, how awkward and childish that sounds.” She pressed her hands to her cheeks, which, yes, were on fire. Pulling herself together, she took a bracing breath and focused on breakfast. “Forgive the informality, but as you’ve already dealt with me in the mornings, you know I’m a bit of a termagant before food.”

  She spread strawberry preserves on toast, then took a bite. Agatha’s cook did amazing things with preserves. The strawberries tasted of summer, prompting a happy little sound, which drew a glance from Ethan. She ignored it for the moment. Fresh cream butter with strawberries was the best way to start the day. Ethan poured himself a cup of tea, then sat beside her.

  “So what do you have for me this morning?” She sipped from her teacup and waited.

  “I come with a proposal. As predicted, the ton won’ stop talking about our engagement,” he said. “I don’ know about you, but I’d prefer tae just escape it all.”

  “Escape sounds lovely. What do you have in mind? I hear Trinidad is beautiful, no matter the time of year. Think they would have forgotten about us by the time we sailed there and back?” She bit into her second piece of toast and washed it down with a sip of tea.

  The way his eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled never failed to charm her. “I’ve always wanted tae see that part of the world. But I was thinking Kent. Woodrest specifically.”

  “You want to take me to your estate?” This time, her sip of tea was more of a gulp. Goodness, he wanted to bring her home? That felt like something a real fiancé would do with the woman he planned to marry—not the lady with the temporary role.

  “Lady Agatha as well, obviously. We must observe the niceties, after all. Word around London is that we’re so enamored of each other, we’ll be the love match of the Season.” Ethan winked over the rim of his teacup.

  “Gossip also says I’m a scheming tart who broke Montague’s heart to marry you for your money. I wouldn’t put too much stock in what people say.” Ethan’s low laugh hit her, making her body vibrate like a tuning fork.

  “True. I must like tae love dangerously. Hold still a moment.” He tilted her face toward him. “You have a bit of jam right…here.” Their smiles touched as he nibbled on the corner of her mouth—close, yet not quite on her lips. Giving in to the urge she’d been dealing with since he walked in the door, Lottie turned her head. Kissing him hadn’t been far from her mind since last night, and tasting him again was both familiar and new.

  They remained close for a moment, mingling air. “Lottie?”

  “Yes?” Her toes were tingling. Were toes supposed to tingle?

  “Your bacon smells almost as good as you. Is the offer of breakfast still open?”

  Lottie laughed at the subject change. “Of course. Help yourself to whatever you desire.”

  Ethan wiggled his eyebrows lecherously.

  “Bacon, sir. As much bacon as you desire.”

  He rose to get a plate for himself. “One must specify these things when given carte blanche from a scheming tart. This looks excellent. My compliments tae your chef and the pig. Speaking of pigs, what are we tae do about Montague?”

  Lottie shook her head. “I imagine that segue was smoother in your head.”

  “In my mind, I sounded witty.” Taking a seat beside her, he grew serious. “Lottie, he hurt you. On purpose and in a public place. You have bruises. We can’t know what he’s capable of. You made me promise not tae call him out, so I’m assuming maiming him would be frowned upon. And by that look, I’d say I’m correct.”

  Raising a brow, she shook her head as if chastising a naughty child. “Your solution is to visit Kent for a few days?”

  “Cal and I came up with a plan, if you’re agreeable. We go tae Woodrest, help your old brewmaster—who’s my new one, so thank you for that—settle in. You’re free tae traipse about the countryside. Meanwhile, Cal will visit some of Montague’s favorite haunts. He’ll keep an ear tae the ground and let us know if the man is planning anything. We said we’d give this a month. Might as well escape tae the country if we can, aye?”

  They’d agreed to a month. That left three weeks before they’d return to simple friendship and she’d have to revisit her plan. Imagining the house by the sea didn’t bring the comfort it usually did. “I’ll speak to Agatha about Kent. When Montague finishes his little tantrum, he’ll move on to more low-hanging fruit. Surely there will be an indiscriminate heiress or two running about this Season for him to play with.”

  “Indiscriminate heiresses are surprisingly hard tae come by—not that I’ve made a habit of looking for them. But I assume if they were common as ugly hats, then everyone would have one.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Few things were more glorious than Kent in October. Lottie sighed and settled against the padded velvet seat, angling her body so she wouldn’t lose the view out her window. The road wound through gently rolling hills lined with orchards and fields peeking through fog. The bounty had been gathered, leaving vast acres ready for winter. It reminded her of home in many ways. This place embraced simpler living and the toil of agriculture.

  “The mistress of Woodrest would be conveniently located to entertainments, modistes, and the best society in Town. She’d be close enough to visit friends and family in Berkeley Square.” Agatha kept her voice even, although the twinkle in her eye gave her away. “Perhaps she’d even stay current with fashion. No more livestock-birthing gowns in her godmother’s drawing room. Imagine.”

  “Does that mean if I were mistress of Woodrest, you’d leave London of your own volition?” Lottie teased.

  Agatha harrumphed but the twinkle remained.

  “That’s what I thought. In the past ten years, I think you’ve left London only a handful of times. Two in recent history were because you had to chaperone me.”

  “Surely more than a handful,” Agatha said.

  Ticking the list off on her fingers, Lottie said, “One picnic on the heath where you complained of the wind and the flat champagne—”

  “But the pudding was passable.”

  “Yes, the pudding was decent. Then there’s the much-dreaded annual house party at the Clemens estate over Christmas, and Mother’s funeral.”

  “I couldn’t miss that, now could I?”

  Lottie smiled at the bittersweet memory. “That day would have been impossible without you. Even if you did stand at the graveside fussing at Mother for dying in the depths of We
stmorland instead of someplace civilized.”

  Outside the window, Ethan rode Ezra back to her side of the carriage. With a look he asked a silent question, which she answered with a nod. Yes, all was well. He pointed to a spot in the distance.

  “We are almost there. Or at least, I think that’s where Ethan is pointing.”

  “Perfect. My old bones are done rattling around in this box on wheels.”

  The damp low-lying fog shrouded the lines of a stone house, making it appear as if the battlements and rooflines rose out of thin air.

  “It reminds me of a castle from Arthurian legend.” Lottie smiled at the utter ridiculousness of the architecture, with its frivolous curves offset by crenellations and gargoyles, all hovering above the mist.

  “One of his ancestors must have been of a fanciful bent when designing this estate,” Agatha said. “If you were to give me babies to spoil, I might resign myself to spending quite a bit of time here.”

  Lottie rolled her eyes. “You know this engagement is temporary.”

  “And you know that brawny gentleman out there would make it real in a heartbeat. He has ridden in the rain and drizzle for the last few hours just so we would have more room in this coach. You should keep him.” Agatha pointed a bony finger toward Ethan, who appeared soaked to the skin despite a hat and caped overcoat.

  Dark curls had tightened in the damp, and no doubt they’d wind around her fingers if she ran a hand through his hair. The white shirt he wore would be transparent without the coat, clinging to each line of his muscular torso. Maybe, if she was lucky, she’d see him without the coat soon. Lottie blew out a slow breath. The restriction of her stays grew uncomfortable at the mental image.

  The coach rolled to a stop before stone steps and a massive wooden door. The huge knocker, made to resemble dragon’s teeth holding a metal ring, looked ready to bite the next unwelcome visitor. In line with the whimsical architecture, even the entryway embraced the dramatic.

  The door eased open, and a well-dressed wiry man with a peg leg stood in the doorway. He greeted them by saying, “Welcome home, Ethan. Ge’ those London birds out of the rain before they melt, aye?”

  Although Ethan shook his head, his smile implied this cheeky behavior was expected. “Lady Agatha and Lady Charlotte, this is Connor. He runs Woodrest and drives me crazy while he does it. In case you couldn’ tell, we’re an informal household.”

  Lottie grinned at Connor. “A pleasure to meet you, Connor. Ethan told me how indispensable you are to his home.”

  Connor nodded a bit coolly. “If ye need anything, jus’ ask. Let’s get ye settled in rooms.”

  Taking her hand on the stairs to the great door, Ethan asked, “What do you think of my house, lass? ’Tis a wee bit of a mishmash after all the ancestors left their mark.”

  “If a squat castle indulged in an unholy union with a Gothic cathedral, this house might be the result. I rather like it.”

  He laughed. “Aye, I think you have the right of it.”

  A curving staircase opened up to the hall inside. Their fingers interlaced as he led her to the next floor in silence. She bit her lip to hide the smile at how the simple action affected her. Every brush of fingers or casual show of affection pushed her further from her comfort zone. Yet the bubbling sensation beneath her breastbone compelled Lottie to discover that tantalizing more—that lust and everything it could contain—and with every touch, the curiosity grew. It might be time to have a frank conversation with Darling, and fast. Darling’s advice on physical matters between a man and a woman would be unvarnished truth. This time away from London might be the best time to explore this feeling that had grown between her and Ethan. Once the thought crossed her mind, she couldn’t get rid of it. Truth be told, she didn’t want to get rid of it.

  He walked ahead of her down the long hall, and she took the opportunity to let her eyes linger. Long powerful legs, confident stride. The deeply tanned nape peeking out beneath dark, damp curls. And lord, those shoulders. She knew how that torso looked without clothing, and now she knew how it felt under her hands. Lottie pressed a palm low over her belly as if to hide the heat growing there.

  What if she treated this time away from London as a sort of escape? Here they could do whatever they wanted. Indulge in a mutually satisfactory exploration of lust and get this desire out of their systems. If, in a few weeks, she did her duty and agreed to marriage with someone her father approved of, at least she could do whatever she wanted first. This was her chance to make memories that would keep her warm for the rest of her days.

  Pushing open a wooden plank door, he lingered in the doorway. Lottie forced herself to focus on her assigned bedroom instead of her wayward thoughts. The wooden floors gleamed with a high polish, while plush rugs by the bed ensured her toes wouldn’t freeze when she awoke in the morning. Gold and yellow walls with white floral-print linens made the space feminine and comfortable. If the tapestries flanking the window were a bit threadbare, it was because they were likely hundreds of years old and fine quality.

  “This is so bright and sunny. You’d never know it was drippy and gray outside.”

  “Aye, I’m wearing a wee bit of our English liquid sunshine. I’ll be down the hall, changing. There’s a rope pull in the corner if you need anything. Would you meet me in the library in a half hour?” He began unbuttoning his coat, and she couldn’t tear her gaze from his chest. Standing close enough to touch, with his fine lawn shirt transparent from the rain, she couldn’t think of a single reason not to do whatever she pleased. As she smoothed her fingers over his damp shirt, along a deep crevice of musculature, her heart rate quickened.

  “If you’re wanting me tae kiss ye, you’re doing it right, lass,” Ethan said with a low rumble.

  A quiver raked over his body at her touch, and she smiled. Such simple contact, yet this giant of a man responded readily, at her mercy. At the opening of his shirt, below the bedraggled cravat, she slipped two fingers inside to feel the crisp hairs on his chest. Springy but oddly soft. Finally skin to skin.

  Already heated from her blatant ogling in the hall, her core went molten. Lottie knew if she met his gaze, he’d see the effect he had on her. Boldly, she did just that, smiling her welcome. Ethan caught her around the waist, pulling their hips together as her back hit the wall with a controlled push. When he covered her mouth with his, she had to wonder if he wasn’t at her mercy at all. Perhaps in this way, they met as equals.

  He sighed into her mouth, as if it were a relief to kiss her, and she understood. Eager fingers made quick work of his cravat until finally the V of his shirt opened to her hands. Their groans mingled while his hand explored up her side to cup one breast.

  He pulled back, sucking her bottom lip until the very last second. “You’re killin’ me, Lottie. I need tae go before I make an utter arse of myself.” He dived back in for a fast kiss. “You’re delicious. Library. Half hour.” One more kiss, with a whimpered moan on her part when he removed his hands from the shiver-inducing torture they’d created.

  Leaning against the doorway, Lottie struggled to think clearly. She was in his home. Not a single London hostess or gossip-rag spy to be seen. Agatha might go to bed early. There was no delaying this if she wanted to seize the opportunity. It was definitely time to speak with Darling.

  Lucky for her, Darling arrived only a few moments after Ethan left. Flanked by a couple of burly footmen carrying Lottie’s trunks, her maid shot her a questioning look. Lottie grinned. If the staff had arrived three minutes earlier, there’d have been far more to see besides one slightly rattled, aroused woman lounging in a doorway.

  The staff departed, leaving Darling and Lottie alone. They set to work removing gowns and underthings from the trunks. Selecting a simple day dress to change into, Lottie stepped out of her traveling costume and gathered her courage.

  “Darling? I’d like to discuss something with you.”

  “What’s that, milady?”

  “It’s about Ethan. Lord A
mesbury, I mean. I can’t help wondering if this time away from London is a chance for us to get to know one another more intimately.”

  “You want him,” Darling said casually, as if discussing the weather.

  Hearing it said aloud made all the tension leave her body, and Lottie sank to the edge of the bed like a deflated balloon. “God, yes. And I don’t have the foggiest idea what to do about it.” At Darling’s look, she corrected herself. “Fine, that’s not true. I know exactly what I want to do. But I can’t risk pregnancy.”

  “I can teach you preventions, but nothing is guaranteed. Do you plan to actually marry him, then? Sounds like he’s won you over.”

  Shaking her head, Lottie said, “No one’s won anyone over, and my plans stand. We have three weeks left of this engagement, and part of it will be here, in the privacy of Woodrest.”

  Darling slid the clean dress over Lottie’s head and reached for a brush while Lottie tied the tapes. “So this is more scratching an itch?” Darling asked.

  “That’s a rather crass way to put it, but yes. It occurred to me that if I’m trying to find a marriage on my terms, then I should be free to dictate the circumstances. There’s no great love match in my future, so why save my virginity for a husband? This could be my one chance to experience lust to its fullest, and I’m taking it.”

  Darling finished brushing Lottie’s hair, then coiled it into a simple knot, letting a few curls wisp free at the front. “You’ll need a sponge and French letters. I’ll send to London for them. Enjoy other methods until then.”

  Lottie shot her a questioning look. Darling wagged a finger and said, “Never expect a man to be prepared. Rule number one: make sure you’re taken care of, no matter what.”

  “What other methods?”