The Disgraced Lords Series 3-Book Bundle

by Bronwen Evans

  Somehow Serena had given him back to himself. For too long, he’d been pitying himself. So what if his looks were gone? There were others far worse off than him—Serena, for one. At least he was perfectly capable of defending himself, of living a full and deserving life. Serena had had any chance of happiness ripped from her, first by her grasping father and then by her evil husband.

  How shallow he’d become.

  He was ashamed of his actions these last few months. He swallowed, deciding he would try to overcome his shortcomings.

  He couldn’t fail her. Serena had put her fate in his hands. The last thing he wanted to do was to fail her. For in failing Serena, he’d destroy any chance of his own happiness.

  She should be the one scared and unable to sleep, but this morning, in wonder and reverence, he had watched her while she slept. He marveled that a beauty of such tiny stature had so much resilience and strength of character, even after enduring all that she had. He hadn’t hidden the fact that she would have to tell the world her story, and probably bare her back for all to see her whip marks.

  For a woman of such a proud and noble upbringing, washing her dirty linen in public would be excruciatingly painful.

  A fierce, tangled burning in his chest reminded him of his mission. What he now felt for Serena—the firestorm inside him, a primal certainty that he would walk through the fires of hell for her if he had to—was almost as painful as his burns had been. Her love had determined the course he now took to see her saved.

  She was worthy of being saved. And by God he’d shrug off this cloak of self-pity and prove himself worthy of her faith and of her love.

  By the time he’d returned from his unsatisfactory meeting with John Farnham, his mood had darkened. The Runner had found no leads regarding who’d killed Carla, but Farnham did know it couldn’t have been Christian. He’d been on the ship bound for Canada at the time of her death. Although, as Farnham rightly pointed out, it didn’t mean he hadn’t arranged for her to be killed in his absence.

  Worse, Christian wasn’t looking forward to the opera tonight. He was attending with Hadley, having agreed to accompany him and Sebastian’s two younger sisters. Debutantes! That ought to get the ton’s notice. Two Libertine Scholars with debutantes on their arms. A first for both men, and one that he did not welcome.

  Seated in the library, he contemplated how wonderful his life had become since Serena and Lily entered it. He was waiting to say goodnight to Serena before he left to collect the Hawkestone ladies. She was occupied putting Lily to bed. The little girl was coping well with being in a new country and strange house. The resilience of the young was enviable. How he wished for their fortitude and ability to throw off sorrow.

  He was on his third brandy. He wasn’t looking forward to this first foray back into society. He would be tormented by the endless questions that would be thrown at him about where he had been and why he had left England. He felt guilty because he was using Lily as his excuse. He would claim that he’d gone to bring home his ward and see to his Canadian business ventures.

  He looked up as Serena entered the room. “I wish you could come with me,” Christian said before he could stop himself. “I’d much rather have you on my arm tonight.”

  “How like a Libertine Scholar to want two women on his arm. I’m sure the young Lady Hawkestones are quite looking forward to your company.” She bent and kissed his cheek. “I’m rather jealous.”

  “There is no need. I would much prefer to be attending with you, and only you.”

  She looked at his face. With an inward smile she sighed. He was pouting like a schoolboy. They’d had this discussion earlier.

  “This afternoon your lawyer recommended we ensure our case is well organized and the witnesses sound before we rashly draw attention to my identity.”

  He pulled her so she lay sprawled on his lap, and kissed her soundly. “I know, but I want to show you off to the world.”

  “Stake your claim, you mean?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. She couldn’t help being sensitive to any mention of ownership. However, when she gazed into Christian’s eyes and saw the love, she didn’t seem to notice the conflicting sentiment.

  “No. I’d hoped that when we marry, you’d stand by my side, as my partner, so that we could share the good and bad times together,” he answered.

  She did not doubt him. She kissed him back. “I hope this will be the end of our bad times.” He deepened the kiss, and she could feel his erection nudging her bottom. With reluctance, she eased her lips off his. “You should go before I decide you should stay in for the night.”

  “Don’t tempt me,” he growled resignedly.

  “I’ll be here eagerly waiting for you.”

  The progress toward his private box was painfully slow. The foyer of well-dressed people, milling about like scavenger birds disguised as peacocks, seemed to be totally focused on his arrival. It appeared everyone in the theater wanted to converse with the returned hero, who’d suddenly disappeared for several months, only to, just as suddenly, arrive back into the fold, with a mysterious ward in tow, no less.

  In addition, the young debutante on his arm caused a major sensation. Lady Marisa Hawkestone was the jewel of the season. Every young buck was lining up to talk with her. Her presence on his arm caused a twitter among the married ladies. Christian couldn’t wait to get her safely tucked into the box. The last thing he needed was for the forceful married women of the ton to be avidly matchmaking.

  “People appear to be jumping to a totally wrong conclusion about our relationship,” she said. “I’m sorry if it’s making the evening uncomfortable for you.”

  Noting Marisa’s smile, he riposted, “I’ve known you since you were a babe in arms. You’re nothing of the sort. You’re enjoying seeing me squirm.”

  She laughed gaily and a tad too loudly, causing more eyes to turn their way. He wished the performance would start so that they would be forced to take their seats. He continued to push their way through the throng, enduring the inane conversations along the way. Once they were safely in the box, Marisa said, “I am enjoying myself.” She nodded her head toward the box opposite them. “It might make Lord Rothburg come to heel when he spies me on the arm of the handsome and heroic Lord Markham.”

  He looked at her critically, trying to judge if her words were in jest. “I beg your pardon. You think being seen with me would make him jealous? Hardly!” At her surprised gasp, he added, “Before I left for Canada, I didn’t seem to be overly popular with the ladies.”

  “Men, they can be so dense! Rothburg doesn’t see your scars. He simply sees another man on my arm whose company I am appearing to enjoy.” She leaned in closer and examined his face. “Besides, I’m sure once a woman gets to know you, the scars would diminish in importance. I hardly notice them now.”

  He’d heard those words before, from Serena. A spark lit deep inside him. Perhaps she had been sincere in her pronouncement of still finding him attractive. Perhaps he’d been the only one full of pity and self-hatred, so wrapped up in himself he’d failed to see people’s true reactions.

  “Take it from me, Christian—I may call you Christian, mayn’t I?” she asked as she leaned intimately into and ran her finger down his arm. At his shocked expression, she whispered, “All for the benefit of Rothburg, my lord. I’m a debutante looking for love, and nothing incites truer devotion in a possible suitor than the threat of a rake. Although if you weren’t Sebastian’s best friend and obviously already in love with someone else, you would have been at the top of my list of dashing, virile men worthy of becoming my husband.”

  “My scars did not put you off?”

  “No, my lord, because I know you. Besides, what woman doesn’t want an experienced lover? From the stories I have overheard about the Libertine Scholars, you’re very experienced.”

  Bloody hell! This was Sebastian’s little sister. He felt his face flush. “You’d better not let Sebastian hear you talking like that. Wait—love? How on
earth do you know I’m in love?”

  She sat back and waved her hand toward the filled theater. “Look at all the men here. They are all studying women. Beautiful women, of course. Men do not attend the opera for their own pleasure—well, most don’t. They suffer through it for a woman. You, my lord, have not looked at or been interested in any female since we entered the building. My pride was a little hurt at first, until I realized it wasn’t me that was lacking. It was all females. If that doesn’t signal loudly that you’re besotted, nothing else does.”

  This time he was the one to chuckle, drawing both a frown from Hadley and a glare from Lord Rothberg across the way.

  “Why is she not with you, this lady of yours?”

  His smile died. “A long story, I’m afraid.”

  She moved closer. “I’m not really an opera fan. I only came to torment Rothburg. He’s being very stubborn. What is it with you rakes and your fear of matrimony?” To send Rothburg’s temper soaring, she placed a hand on Christian’s sleeve. “Why don’t you tell me your story? I’m assuming you met her in Canada. If it was someone from London, I would have heard about her—unless, of course, she’s someone totally unsuitable. Is that the problem?” she asked excitedly. “Have you fallen for one of your doxies?”

  “Christ, no wonder Sebastian was so concerned about leaving you alone in England. A young lady should not know of such things, and no, my love is not a doxy. She’s the daughter of a duke, actually.” This slipped out unawares.

  Marisa frowned. “A duke’s daughter? The only duke’s daughters I know of are Harriet Penfold and Serena Castleton. Serena married Mr. Dennett—in an indecent rush if you ask me.” She frowned, her pert nose twisting in puzzlement. “And he took her to America. So that leaves Harriet. Is it Harriet? But I’ve heard she’s been unwell …”

  The mention of Harriet’s name saw him grip the armrests. “Never you mind who it is, madam. Unlike you, I happen to find the opera soothing. You’ve tortured Rothburg for long enough. He looks as if he’s about to race over here and challenge me to a duel, and with my injury that could prove life-threatening. Sit back and listen. Don’t worry, Rothburg will be in this box at the interval.”

  True enough, no sooner had the curtain fallen for intermission than Rothburg was in their box. Christian wanted to laugh at Rothburg’s obvious jealousy; instead, he slipped out to get refreshments, and came face-to-face with Simon Penfold and his father, the Duke of Barforte.

  “Markham! I don’t know how you have the audacity to show your face here,” the Duke hissed. “What if I’d brought Harriet?”

  “I wish you had. Then I could straighten this mess out with her. I did not touch your daughter,” he stressed adamantly but quietly. He looked around and nodded politely to those soliciting greetings. “This is neither the time nor place to have this discussion. I suggest we meet tomorrow and get this sorted out. There is more to this than either of us is aware of. Carla, the woman who was with me that night at the Honey Pot, was found with her throat slit shortly after you threw me on the boat to Canada. Someone wanted me framed for rape and murder. When you shanghaied me, you ruined their plan. I, for one, would like to know who is out to destroy my reputation, and you should be concerned for your daughter’s safety. For if Harriet and I meet, she’ll realize it was not me and then their game is up.”

  “He’s right, Father. Lord Blackwood did try to warn us. I can’t believe that Blackwood, Coldhurst, and Fullerton would side with Markham if he were guilty. They have too much honor.” Simon turned to Christian. “I have two men shadowing and guarding Harriet at all times. I took Viscount Blackwood’s words to heart.”

  The Duke looked at him in surprise. “You did?”

  “William came to me privately. He said he owed Christian his life and he was adamant Lord Markham could never have harmed Harriet.” Simon extended his hand. “I am ashamed of what we did to you. We should have listened to you. I quite understand if you’d like satisfaction.”

  Christian looked at the hand before him and slowly reached out and shook it. “I’d rather you helped me ascertain the truth. Let me talk with Harriet in your presence. What harm can it do? Wouldn’t you like to catch the real perpetrator?”

  The Duke sighed and ran a hand over his face. He hesitated somewhat, then looked Christian in the eye. “If Harriet agrees to meet you, I’ll allow it. But I won’t force her; she’s been through enough. I’ll send word tomorrow.”

  The relief coursing through Christian’s veins was like water to a parched man. He shook the Duke’s hand. “Thank you, sir.” After they took their leave, Christian wanted to shout the news from the rooftops, but the need for discretion prevailed. And the one person he particularly wanted to share it with wasn’t there with him.

  He reentered the box, and Marisa smiled up at him. “I hope you don’t mind if Lord Rothburg joins our party.”

  Here was his chance to escape. “How fortunate, for I have just received an urgent missive from my ward’s governess and must depart. Rothburg, may I entrust you to keep Lady Hawkestone company until Hadley can see the ladies home?”

  Marisa tried to hide her smile of delight under false concern. “I do hope your ward—Lily, isn’t it?—is not ill.”

  “I suspect it is nothing more than a touch of homesickness. Lily has only just lost her parents and is now in a new country. It will take her time to adjust.”

  The relief on Rothburg’s face was not feigned. He stood and shook Christian’s hand. “Leave it to me, old boy. It shall be my pleasure to keep Lady Hawkestone company for the rest of the evening.”

  Christian pulled Hadley aside and shared his news regarding the Duke agreeing to a meeting with Harriet. “I’m leaving Marisa with Rothburg. You don’t need me to help you see the ladies home.”

  “You’ve fallen badly, haven’t you? You can’t go one evening without Serena.” Hadley shook his head. “I can’t say I’m surprised. You were the only one of us who always wanted a home, hearth, and family. I’m pleased for you, truly I am.”

  Serena was already asleep when he crept quietly into her room. She’d obviously tried to stay awake, for a book she’d been reading had slipped from her hand and was lying open on the covers. He quietly picked it up, closed it, and put it on the table beside her bed.

  In the dim light from the one candle still burning, he stood for a moment soaking in the innocent beauty of her in sleep. He frowned as he noted the dark shadows under her eyes. He took a second look. She looked tired, and he also observed that she’d lost weight. Her exposed arms looked as if there was no flesh on her bones.

  The urge to wake her to share the news regarding a possible meeting with Harriet, his accuser, warred with his conscience, which was telling him he should allow her to rest. The news would still be well received in the morning. She’d be happy for him.

  He stood contemplating the temptation of her and he was unable to resist.

  Serena moved, rolling over. Half awake, she asked, “Is that you, Christian?”

  He brushed the hair off her face and tenderly kissed her cheek, “Shush. Go back to sleep. I’ll be here in the morning.”

  “What time is it?”

  “It’s just before midnight. I left the theater early.”

  “I missed you in my bed,” she murmured before she turned over and with a contented sigh went back to sleep. Those were the sweetest words he’d heard from anyone in a long while.

  Christian slipped quietly out of his clothes, slid soundlessly into the bed beside her, and thought, as he gathered her in his arms, that he knew the perfect way to wake her in a few hours’ time. He loved the feel of her in his arms. He craved the intimacy and knew that he’d not be able to sleep anyway, not unless she was by his side. He fell asleep with a smile on his lips, dreaming of the morning’s pleasures to come.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Serena awoke in the soft predawn light to the pleasant sensation of butterfly soft caresses fluttering over her stomach. Was she dreaming?
The sight of Christian worshiping her body with his hands and mouth sent that singular warmth she recognized as desire building between her legs.

  “It’s almost morning. I should throw you out of my bed,” she murmured, sleep still befuddling her thinking.

  He raised his head and moved back up her body. “Not quite the response I’d hoped for my efforts,” was the reply. “I couldn’t stay away. I’ve waited all night to make love to you. You looked exhausted when I came home.”

  “Oh.” She smiled at him. “I’m not tired now, so don’t let me stop you.”

  “As always, I’m yours to command, my sweet.”

  She sank lazily into the mattress and let him love her. His mouth settled on hers for a thoroughly ravishing kiss. Her breathing became short and she could feel her body respond to the call of his hardness. His mouth trailed down the contours of her neck, nipping at the base where her pulse pounded. As he bestowed kisses all down her body, her nipples puckered. She adored the sensation of them brushing against his muscled chest. As she arched beneath him, he took one ridged peak into his mouth and she moaned. He suckled and feasted, building her need for climax to the point of exasperation.

  Then she almost cried out in disappointment as his hot, wet mouth left her breast, and his lips skimmed down to the tense muscles of her abdomen and he stroked his fingers through the soft curls at the juncture of her thighs. Then excited anticipation gripped her. He was going to love her with his mouth again. She needed no encouragement to part her thighs wide for him. She opened willingly, a testament to how much she trusted this man.

  At the first lick of his clever tongue, her hands bunched into fists in the bedclothes. She looked down and lost herself in the exotic sight of Christian, his dark hair teasing her thighs, his head bent between her legs, leading her on the tumultuous, wicked, and glorious journey toward pleasure.