Rogues and Ripped Bodices

by Samantha Holt

  “Pray tell, where are we going?”

  “Fairchester Hall—my home.”

  Pierce grimaced. Was he likely to end up being run off by an angry husband? Or worse. Called out for a duel? A naked duel. It wouldn’t be a first for him, he supposed, but he didn’t much fancy dying in the buff.

  “Am I to expect a...uh...frosty welcome?”

  “Not at all. My son is in Europe.”

  He studied the elegant curve of her cheek. The boy had to be a whelp, surely? She didn’t seem old enough to have a grown up son. But no husband? Or was he simply elsewhere? He had to know. Even if it was none of his business, he had to know. And he wasn’t quite sure why that was.

  “And your husband?”

  “I am a widow. My son inherited the title three years ago.”

  “Forgive me, I’m sorry for your loss.”

  A slight hint of anguish fluttered across her face. It surprised him as he hadn’t seen anything other than the faintest flicker of amusement from her so far. Lord knows, love between dukes and duchesses rarely existed but it seemed this woman must have felt something for him.

  “Thank you,” she said coolly. He had the distinct impression she didn’t much want his sympathies. “Anyway, whilst my son is studying in Europe I am entirely alone, so, do not fear, no one shall be wanting to chase you off.”

  “I must thank you for stopping for me. It was brave of you.”

  Evelyn shook her head, causing her curls to brush her neck like a lover. What would it feel like to stroke that gentle arch? He found himself anxious to know. She really was a remarkably beautiful woman.

  “What threat could you pose to me when you clearly have no weapon?”

  “I hope you do not take that philosophy all the time. At risk of having you throw me out on my arse, you make a tempting prize and it would not be hard to overpower you.”

  “You forget I have footmen and a driver,” she pointed out.

  “Yes, but you are exceptionally beautiful. A brawl with a mere three men would not seem so great a cost.” Her cheeks grew a little pinker and her reaction gratified him. “Nevertheless, I am grateful you stopped for me.”

  Evelyn leaned back against the cushions and studied him. “So, Cynfell, why exactly were you naked on the roadside?”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. He supposed he owed her an explanation and it wasn’t as though his humiliation could get any worse.

  “I believe I made a wager. Not sure of the details but apparently it included my clothes.”

  She pressed her lips together as though fighting a laugh. “You like to gamble.”

  He shrugged. “It is my one weakness.”

  More than a weakness. It ate him up inside sometimes. After Julian had threatened to cut him off when he’d racked up yet more debts, he’d tried to stay away, he really had. But what else was he to do? He needed to pay off what he owed, and a man like himself had no way of earning money. Giles had convinced him last night was his night—the night he’d make his fortune and put everything to rights.

  But no. Now he’d have to go crawling to Julian and ask for more money. Hell, he couldn’t even go cap-in-hand seeing as he had not a scrap of clothing on him with the exception of the borrowed jacket. A jacket that smelled of cheap tobacco and a little sweat.

  She didn’t probe him any further. For that, he was grateful. Being naked in her carriage was certainly a low point for him. He wasn’t sure he wanted to add to his humiliation by telling her the story of a rich boy turned poor. Damn, how he hated to be a cliché.

  The carriage took its time travelling through private land—all belonging to her young son. Lucky boy indeed. Fairchester Hall turned out to be as grand as he’d expected. Entirely square with long windows and pillars across the entire front.

  Evelyn pressed open the glass window again and called to the driver. “Around the back please.”

  “Ashamed of me?”

  “I can parade you through the house if you wish. My servants are very discrete.”

  He considered being eyed by the maids and a likely matronly housekeeper, and shuddered. “The back will be fine.”

  They came to a halt at the servants’ entrance and there was some awkwardness as he was forced to ignore the usual etiquette and get out last once her footman had handed her down. Pierce narrowed his gaze at the lad whose lips twitched at the sight of Pierce. The smile rapidly dropped when he took in the size of Pierce compared to him. Though he wasn’t an overly large man, he dwarfed the footman and clearly had a great deal more strength.

  “Follow me,” she ordered.

  He winced when bare feet hit gravel but soon wooden floorboards gave him relief as they moved through the bowels of the house. A maid gave a little curtsey when they passed. He heard her startled sound when she spotted him, but they came upon no others.

  Unfortunately for him, his good luck ran out once they started up the grand staircase. With the feel of plush red carpet beneath his feet, he had thought he was almost safe. But a stern-faced butler greeted them halfway up. Somehow, the man managed to keep his face straight but disproval rang clear in dark grey eyes.

  “Bertram, will you send Tillie to my room in just a moment?”

  “Of course, Your Grace.”

  “Have a bath sent up to the Lavender Suite.”

  “Yes, Your Grace. Will there be anything else?”

  “No, thank you.”

  And so they continued their journey upstairs. Pierce was aware of a steely glare at his back. If looks could kill...

  “Here we are.” She pushed open a door and indicated inside.

  Pierce stepped into what turned out to be a room large enough to fit his entire London apartment in. Well, perhaps it was not so large but it felt it. And it was not as though he was unaccustomed to decadence. After all he’d grown up in a grand manor house. But this was something else. Chairs and a desk occupied one half, while a canopy bed took up the other half. If this was a guest chamber, he’d love to see the inside of her room.

  He turned to find her still on the threshold. Seeing her set against the pale blue of the hallway, against a backdrop of gilded frames, somehow sent his heart crashing against his ribs. He hadn’t taken a moment to admire her properly and the dim light of the carriage hadn’t done her justice. But now...

  Now, he’d like to see her bedroom. With her in it. On her bed. Crimson hair spread about her, jewels against her naked skin. Oh yes.

  Curse it, now he was aroused and the damn jacket wouldn’t do a thing to hide it. He clasped it around himself and gave a formal nod of his head.

  “I’ll arrange for some clothes, and one of the servants shall pour you a bath.”

  “Thank you, Evelyn.”

  Her name came out slightly gruff. Her eyes widened when he came to the door with the intention of shutting it as she left.

  Except she didn’t leave. Her gaze skimmed down and he had no doubt she spotted his arousal pressing the coat out.

  That blue gaze met his once more, and he knew it for certain. No shock registered though. Only a slight widening of her pupils. Then, when he glanced at her neck, the flutter of her pulse. If he wasn’t much mistaken, he wasn’t the only one aroused here.

  Her tongue darted briefly out to swipe her bottom lip and she backed away. A sharp pang of regret clawed his insides. He’d been half-tempted to latch an arm around her and draw her into the room—thank her properly for her hospitality.

  But the moment drifted away as she gave him a slight incline of her head. An acknowledgment perhaps of what had passed between them?

  Before he could ask or ponder the question further, she’d left him. No word of farewell or a polite good day. Simply gone. He shut the door and let his lips tilt as he considered the fascinating woman. Somehow his day had become a darn sight more interesting.

 

 

 
;