The Scandal in Kissing an Heir

by Sophie Barnes

  “Not in the least,” Lord Winston said, removing the pages from her reach. He was looking at her as if she’d been mad. The man had only just met her, and he probably thought her a half-wit for painting such silly things. Well, they were her silly things, and she would be damned if anyone was going to say otherwise. “These are exceptional.”

  What?

  Rebecca froze. She turned her head to look at Daniel, who was now grinning quite happily where he sat, annoying man that he was. She returned her gaze to Lord Winston, still not trusting her ears. “I beg your pardon?”

  Lord Winston’s expression relaxed. “I hope you don’t take offense at this, but for a woman who fooled the entire ton into thinking her mad for two years—whatever your reasons might have been—you have surprisingly little faith in your own creative talents.”

  She pulled back and dropped onto her seat. “What exactly are you saying?”

  Lord Winston blinked. “I thought I just made myself perfectly clear.” He shook his head and chuckled. “I’ve never seen anything as marvelous as this, and I would love nothing better than to publish it.”

  Rebecca fought for an appropriate response, but the words seemed to cram together in her throat, all eager to get out, then Daniel was hugging her and telling her how proud he was of her and asking if she now realized how skilled she truly was.

  “The story is quite fun too,” Lord Winston added when Rebecca and Daniel were once again sitting still, “though I would like to have one of my editors review it.”

  “Yes, of course,” Daniel said as he took Rebecca’s hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “The story was just something we quickly threw together so we’d have something to go with the pictures—they are the real gems, don’t you think?”

  “Not only that,” Lord Winston said as he raised his cup to his lips and took a long sip, “they are quite unique.” He must have noticed the uncertainty Rebecca felt, for he quickly added, “And I mean that in the most complimentary way possible. You must not doubt yourself but be proud of your work. I’m sure your husband can assist in that regard, for he is clearly impressed with what you’ve accomplished, as am I.”

  It took a second for Rebecca to recover from the flattery enough to manage a response, for she was quite overwhelmed by Lord Winston’s kind words. “Thank you,” she said, then, with a bit more strength behind the words and the beginnings of a smile, she added, “thank you very much indeed.”

  Lord Winston grinned. “Well, first of all, I have with me a contract that I think you ought to take a look at before we decide to go any further.” He opened the portmanteau he’d brought along and pulled out some papers, which he placed on the table directly between Daniel and Rebecca. “In addition to the royalty payments outlined therein, I would, on the basis of what you have just now shown me, like to offer you an advance of one hundred pounds.”

  Rebecca’s mouth dropped. It had all become suddenly real. Somebody actually liked her work enough to pay good money for it—very good money. “That’s a generous offer, Lord Winston. I believe that if Daniel agrees, I should like to—”

  Lord Winston stopped her with a raised hand. “I understand your enthusiasm, but this offer isn’t going anywhere, and I would not feel comfortable with allowing you to sign a document you haven’t thoroughly read, even in good faith. Take your time, Lady Rebecca, and look it over with your husband. If you are willing to agree with all the terms, then you know where to find me.” He got to his feet, ready to take his leave and bowing to Rebecca as she and Daniel stood to see him out. “Once again, it was an absolute pleasure.”

  The door closed behind him, and Rebecca turned to Daniel. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

  “I would do it all again if it would make you happy and keep you safe,” he said as he kissed her temple. “When I think of what my life was like without you in it . . . so empty and meaningless . . . I thank my lucky stars I met you that night at the Kingsborough Ball.”

  “Me too,” she whispered as she rose up on her toes, leaned toward him and pressed a slow, lingering kiss upon his lips, a simple caress that spoke of her love and admiration for this wonderful man who’d battled his demons and won. “And I will be thanking my lucky stars for the rest of my life that you climbed through my window—my very own hero, disguised as a rake.”

  Epilogue

  Nuit House, Portman Square

  One year later

  “The guests will be arriving soon,” Rebecca said as she stood in front of the full-length mirror and attempted to straighten her gown—a task that was proving difficult, since Daniel kept kissing the side of her neck and her shoulders.

  His arms came about her waist. “Five minutes is all I need,” he whispered on an inhale of jasmine. He would never tire of her scent.

  She laughed, the ring in her voice filling the room. “You are incorrigible.”

  “I am a rake, if you’ll recall,” he said as he playfully ran his tongue along her warm skin, loving the way in which she sucked in her breath in response.

  “A reformed rake, I believe,” she said. He could tell that she was trying to be firm with him but was failing miserably, for there was a sparkle in the eyes of her reflection.

  “Mostly reformed.”

  “Mostly?” Her voice sounded faint.

  “There is one area in which my rakish nature will never be tamped down, and that is the area involving you.” To prove his point, he spun her around in his arms and lowered his mouth over hers, kissing her with thorough determination and with a wicked promise of what he had planned for them once the guests had once again left their home. After selling Avern House eight months earlier, they’d relocated to a new address, where Daniel wouldn’t feel haunted by the constant memory of his parents. When deciding on a name for their new home, he’d suggested Nuit House, both in honor of Rebecca and as a private tribute to the night they’d first met. Since moving in, they’d been quite busy filling the place with happy memories, so much so that it had become difficult for Daniel to enter a room without thinking of ravishing his wife. “You, on the other hand . . . you deserve more than five minutes.” He offered her his arm, accompanied by a cheeky smile. “So I will try to be patient and wait until later.”

  He adored the flush that filled her cheeks at the implication and how much fuller her lips looked after their kiss. How on earth he would manage to get through the next few hours without hauling her back upstairs and showing her precisely how much he loved her was beyond him. It had been a year—one full year—and he still couldn’t keep his hands off her. More than that, he still had no desire to see other women. Rebecca was the only woman he would ever need, as a friend, wife and lover. She was perfect in every way.

  “Congratulations on your latest release,” Winston said, greeting his host and hostess upon his arrival.

  “Thank you, my lord,” Rebecca said. “We were both surprised by how well the first book did, so we’re eager to see if this new one will be just as popular.” She turned to the woman beside him. “I’m so happy that you were able to join us this evening, Sarah. It’s been far too long since you and I had a proper chat.”

  “I actually wanted to tell you both that our boys loved your first book, though they did ask me to request that your next one be about pirates.”

  Rebecca laughed. “What a brilliant idea. Perhaps we could even add a few sea monsters.”

  “Creative as always, I see,” Daniel said, taking her hand in his and placing an adoring kiss upon the knuckles.

  “As far as this new release goes,” Winston said, “I have no doubt that every parent will want to own a copy. In fact, my mother has already put in an order, intending to gift it to my brother and sister-in-law when their baby arrives in another month’s time.”

  “May I say that I absolutely love the cover?”

  Turning his head in the direction of the
voice that had spoken, Daniel smiled as he spotted Landborough. He was holding one of the advance copies that Rebecca and Daniel had put on display for their guests. “Lord Winston is to thank for that,” Daniel said. “It was his idea to put one of my wife’s colorful pictures on the front.”

  “Very eye-catching, I must say,” Landborough said as he greeted Winston and bowed toward Sarah. The duke and his wife had become good friends of Daniel and Rebecca’s and were often invited over for dinner, along with Daniel’s sister, Audrey, and her husband, the Earl of Chilton, who’d gifted Daniel with a beautiful notebook the day he’d made his first revenue.

  “And I shall look forward to reading it to my grand-niece or -nephew in the not-so-distant future,” Lady Wolvington said, approaching the group with her husband at her side.

  Daniel smiled at his aunt, who’d been doting on Rebecca since the moment her pregnancy had been announced, going so far as to have the occasional word with Madame Renarde to ensure that Rebecca was receiving the best food possible. “Our child will be lucky to have you in their life,” he said as he stepped forward and pressed a kiss against his aunt’s cheek, not caring one way or another if it was appropriate to do so. He loved his aunt and uncle, and it was about time he showed it after everything they’d done for him.

  “May I say that you are looking radiant this evening,” Lord Wolvington said as he took Rebecca’s hand in his and placed a kiss upon her knuckles. The old man was just as fussy about Rebecca’s welfare as his wife was, always inquiring if she was warm enough or in need of sitting down. “Would you like something to drink? Some lemonade perhaps?”

  It was damn near impossible for Daniel not to smile at the way in which his aunt and uncle had welcomed Rebecca into the family. They obviously cared for her and she for them, as was evidenced by her eagerness to join them for tea or to go for walks with them in the park.

  “Thank you,” she said, “that’s most kind of you, but I just had some not so long ago.”

  “Something to eat then?” Lord Wolvington pressed. “I saw a very tempting bowl of fruit on the refreshment table. I’d be happy to arrange a plate for you.”

  Leaning toward Rebecca, Daniel whispered, “If you want to make him happy, then you’d better agree.”

  She chuckled and nodded toward Wolvington, who returned a smile of great appreciation. “I’ll be back before you know it,” he said as he walked away from them.

  “Winston mentioned that you will be removing yourself to the family estate near Winchester for your confinement,” Sarah said.

  “Yes, the Wolvingtons have graciously offered me their home,” Rebecca said with a smile directed at Lady Wolvington.

  “It is your home as well now, my dear,” the marchioness declared. “Besides, we can’t have you rusticating in London when you’re expecting. The fresh air will do you good, and there’s plenty of that at Pondsly.”

  “Not to mention that it will be nice to get away from it all and spend some time together, just you and I, before the baby arrives,” Daniel said as he wrapped his arm around Rebecca’s waist and pulled her against him for a gentle squeeze. “I’m already looking forward to taking my aunt and uncle’s curricle out on country drives and going on picnics. There’s a lake, too, with willow trees flanking the edge of it—it’s lovely for boating.”

  A memory of him doing just that with his parents flashed in his mind, but rather than feeling angered or pained by it, he felt excited at the prospect of sharing the place with Rebecca. She was right. They would make their own memories, and in time, they would outshine the old ones. Lowering his mouth to the curve of her ear, he whispered, “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I love you with every beat of my heart.”

  She turned her head to gaze up at him, her eyes brimming with happiness, and then she smiled, that brilliant smile that always made him catch his breath. “As I love you, Daniel, forever and always.”

  It didn’t matter that they were surrounded by guests and that kissing one’s wife publically simply wasn’t done. After all, there had to be some perks to being a former rake, and Daniel was about to take full advantage. So before one and all, he lowered his mouth to Rebecca’s and kissed her with every ounce of his being, loving her and thanking her for the light she’d brought into his life, until everyone else slipped away and it was just the two of them caught in the moment—proof that a happily ever after can be had by even the most forsaken scoundrel, as long as the right woman comes along and saves him.

  Don’t miss how the ball began!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from

  The Trouble With Being a Duke

  At the Kingsborough Ball

  Available now from Avon Books

  “I really must commend you on the pie, Mrs. Chilcott,” Mr. Roberts said as he picked up his napkin, folded it until it formed a perfect square and dabbed it across his lips with the utmost care and precision. “It is undoubtedly the best one yet—just the right amount of tart and sweet.” The slightest tug of his lips suggested a smile, but since he wasn’t a man prone to exaggeration, it never quite turned into one.

  Isabella stared. Was she really doomed to live out the remainder of her days with such a dandy? Mr. Roberts was unquestionably the most meticulous gentleman she’d ever encountered, not to mention the most polite and the most eloquent. In addition, he never, ever, did anything that might have been considered rash or unexpected, and while there were probably many who would think these attributes highly commendable, Isabella couldn’t help but consider him the most mundane person of her acquaintance. She sighed. Was it really too much to ask that the gentleman who planned to make her his wife might look at her with just a hint of interest? Yet the only thing that Mr. Roberts had ever looked at with even the remotest bit of interest was the slice of apple pie upon his plate.

  Isabella wasn’t sure which was more frustrating—that he lacked any sense of humor or that he valued pie more than he did her. The sense of humor was something she’d only just noticed recently. Unable to imagine that anyone might be lacking in such regard and taking his inscrutable demeanor into account, she had always assumed that he favored sarcasm. This, it turned out, was not the case. Mr. Roberts simply didn’t find anything funny, nor did he see a point in trying to make other people laugh. This was definitely something that Isabella found herself worrying about.

  “You are too kind, Mr. Roberts,” her mother replied in response to his praise. “Perhaps you would care for another piece?”

  Mr. Roberts’s eyes widened, but rather than accept the offer as he clearly wished to do, he said instead, “Thank you for your generosity, but one must never overindulge in such things, Mrs. Chilcott, especially not if one desires to keep a lean figure.”

  Isabella squeaked.

  “Are you quite all right, Miss Chilcott?” Mr. Roberts asked.

  “Forgive me,” Isabella said. “It was the tea—I fear it didn’t agree with me.”

  Mr. Roberts frowned. “Do be careful, Miss Chilcott—it could have resulted in a most indelicate cough, not to mention a rather unpleasant experience for the rest of us.”

  Isabella allowed herself an inward groan. The truth of the matter was that she’d been forcing back a laugh. Really, what sort of man would admit to declining a piece of pie because he feared ruining his figure? It was absurd, and yet her mother had nodded as if nothing had ever made more sense to her. As for the threat of a cough . . . Isabella couldn’t help but wonder how Mr. Roberts would fare in regards to their future children. He’d likely barricade himself in his study for the duration of their illnesses—all that sneezing and casting up of accounts would probably give him hives otherwise.

  Her father suddenly said, “Have you heard the news?”

  “That would certainly depend on which news you’re referring to,” Mr. Roberts remarked as he raised his teacup, stared into it for a moment and then returned it t
o its saucer.

  “More tea, Mr. Roberts?” Isabella’s mother asked, her hand already reaching for the teapot.

  “Thank you—that would be most welcome.”

  Isabella waited patiently while Mr. Roberts told her mother that he would be very much obliged if she would ensure that this time, the cup be filled precisely halfway up in order to allow for the exact amount of milk that he required. She allowed herself another inward groan. He’d just begun explaining why two teaspoons of sugar constituted just the right quantity when Isabella decided that she’d had enough. “What news, Papa?” she blurted out, earning a smile from her father, a look of horror from her mother and a frown of disapproval from Mr. Roberts. A transformation Isabella found strangely welcome.

  “Apparently,” her father began, taking a careful sip of his tea while his wife served him another generous slice of apple pie, “the Duke of Kingsborough has decided to host the annual ball again.”

  “Good heavens,” Isabella’s mother breathed as she sank back against her chair. “It’s been forever since they kept that tradition.”

  “Five years, to be exact,” Isabella muttered. Everyone turned to stare at her with puzzled expressions. She decided not to explain but shrugged instead, then spooned a piece of pie into her mouth in order to avoid having to say anything further.

  The truth of it was that the annual ball at Kingsborough Hall had always been an event she’d hoped one day to attend—ever since she was a little girl and had caught her first glimpse of the fireworks from her bedroom window. She hazarded a glance in Mr. Roberts’s direction, knowing full well that a life with him would include nothing as spectacular as the Kingsborough Ball. In fact, she’d be lucky if it would even include a dance at the local assembly room from time to time. Probably not, for although the life she would share with Mr. Roberts promised to be one of comfort, he had made it abundantly clear that he did not enjoy social functions or dancing in the least.