The Scoundrel in Her Bed

by Lorraine Heath

  His father was an earl who had delivered Aiden to Ettie Trewlove’s door one night, not even bothering to hide the crest on his coach. Six weeks later he’d done the same with Finn. His sire was a disgusting man who used women for his own pleasure with no thought to the consequences.

  Finn was always aware of the consequences. He knew without doubt if he continued to spend time with Vivi that heartache was in his future because she wouldn’t be, not when it came right down to it. She might fancy him now, but a time would come when she’d want more, when she’d realize he didn’t fit into her world and she wouldn’t be happy in his. But it was difficult to imagine not being with her.

  She brought her horse to a halt in front of him and Finn took hold of the bridle.

  “Oh, Finn, I’ve missed so much giving her a proper ride. Even though I have another mare now, Sophie was my first and will always be special. Thank you for the saddle. Thank you for her.”

  He almost told her he would give her everything if he could, but saw no point in admitting what he couldn’t give her. Reaching up, he placed his hands on her waist, such a tiny waist, and lifted her down. Holding her aloft had been his favorite thing to do until he’d kissed her, but it was now eclipsed by something much more powerful between them.

  He didn’t know where he found the strength to release her after setting her feet on the ground, but he did. The months she was away at the country estate were always the most difficult, the most excruciating—to have no contact with her at all, to not know what she was doing, if she was well and happy. To walk by the London manor every night hoping for a glimpse of light to herald her return—and then to keep vigil until he finally caught a peek at her.

  He understood their need for caution, encouraged it. But was growing weary of it.

  Taking the halter, he led Sophie back into the paddock, removed the saddle and bridle, and stored them away so they could be used again in a sennight. The time of the year had come when his life would be reduced to waiting out six nights of mediocrity for one of bliss.

  When he was done, he placed Vivi back on the wagon and climbed up beside her. With a snap of the reins, he set the horses into motion. “I meant what I said, Vivi. I want more than this.”

  “I know. I do as well. But my father is a powerful man and he’d not approve of my seeing you. Although I have gotten quite skilled at sneaking out.”

  “If we were to go to my sister’s tavern, you’d have to steal away earlier, perhaps around ten as it closes at midnight.”

  “I think I could manage that easily enough. My parents retire around that time, around ten. I usually retire at nine. If I were to take my maid into my confidence, she could assist me in leaving undetected.” She heaved a heavy sigh. “I’ll have to take her into my confidence anyway as I’m not wearing this in public, and I’ll require her assistance to wear something proper.”

  “What’s wrong with what you’re wearing?”

  Her laughter floated on the breeze. “No petticoats for one thing. And it’s just a plain frock.”

  Although he didn’t care what she wore, he had to admit to being pleased that she wanted to wear something fancier when going out with him. “Will you do it? Will you let me take you to my sister’s tavern next Tuesday?”

  “Yes.”

  He heard a measure of excitement but hesitation in her voice. “We won’t get caught,” he assured her, even knowing he was tempting fate to prove him wrong.

  Chapter 5

  Standing before the cheval glass, Lavinia couldn’t be more pleased. She’d chosen a lime frock with a high collar that buttoned up to her chin and long sleeves that buttoned at her wrists. The flounces on the skirt made it a bit more festive than anything else she’d worn around Finn. Her hair, always braided when she was with him, was flowing down her back, the sides plaited and secured at the back of her head with emerald ribbons.

  “I know it’s not my place to say, but this adventure involving a commoner seems most unwise to me.”

  “It’s only unwise, Miriam, if my parents discover what I’m about.” She swung around to face her maid, with her red hair and constellation of freckles, who wasn’t many years older than she was. “I’m trusting you to hold your silence on the matter. You’re to tell no one, not even the other servants.”

  “I won’t tell anyone, but if something happens, I’ll be held to blame.”

  She squeezed the young woman’s arm. “No, you won’t. No one will think you knew anything at all about my plans, and I’m certainly not going to betray you. We’ve become friends of a sort, you and I.” Still, Miriam appeared troubled and guilty, in need of more reassurance. “Besides, I’ve been seeing him for two years with no one the wiser. I’ve gotten quite skilled at doing what I ought not without getting caught. It’s simply that tonight’s venture is a bit more complicated.” She looked back toward the mirror. “We won’t do anything to get discovered.” Then she caught Miriam’s gaze in the mirror. “You can’t tell me that you’ve never snuck out.”

  The girl’s face blotched to such an extent her freckles were nearly obliterated. “There was a fella once, at my previous post. A couple of times I stepped out with him. It was exciting, but excitement doesn’t put food in your belly. So I stopped seeing him.”

  “Do you still think about him and wonder what if?”

  Miriam shook her head. Lavinia couldn’t imagine not thinking about Finn and wondering, what if he were a lord? Or, what if she wasn’t an earl’s daughter?

  Silly things to wonder about. She spun around. “Time to be off.”

  Miriam snatched up Lavinia’s pelisse, this particular garment of emerald green made more for cover than warmth, and settled it over her shoulders. Tugging on her gloves, Lavinia stood to the side as her maid walked to the door, opened it, and glanced out into the hallway. Lavinia’s nerves were strung so tightly she feared they’d snap as she waited. Then the girl gave a quick nod, and Lavinia followed her from the room and toward the servants’ stairs, not realizing until she reached them that she’d held her breath the entire way. She was surprised her father didn’t hear the pounding of her heart and come in search of her.

  Down the stairs they went and through a labyrinth of corridors, Miriam cautioning her to stop whenever she heard something portentous. Then they were finally at the servants’ door. Miriam opened it quickly and ushered her out.

  “I’ll make certain it’s unlocked later,” she whispered.

  Lavinia nodded, spun around, and nearly ruined the entire evening by screaming her head off when a form stepped out of the shadows. She pressed a hand to her chest, her heart hammering against her splayed fingers with such force they fairly vibrated. “Oh, Finn. You gave me such a fright. I thought you were going to wait in the mews.”

  He flashed a grin—she did so love his grins—and, without a word, simply took her hand securely in his, and she couldn’t help but believe it was exactly where it belonged. Then they were dashing down the side path where deliveries were made without disturbing the tranquility of the gardens. Finally, they reached the mews, only to discover it empty.

  “Where’s your wagon?” she asked.

  “You deserve better than that rickety old thing tonight.” He led her through the alley, into the street. And there, waiting, was a hansom.

  The driver opened the door. Finn assisted her as she clambered in and quickly joined her. The vehicle rocked as the driver climbed onto his seat and then they were off. She couldn’t help but laugh as the joy spiraled through her. “We did it!”

  Finn took her hand, making her wish she hadn’t worn gloves, but one didn’t go about bare-handed in public. He squeezed her fingers. “I never doubted.”

  She couldn’t help but believe he was referring to something grander than this outing, that he was talking about never doubting them, as a couple, as a whole. She was suddenly as frightened as she was exhilarated because anything more between them was forbidden, no matter how much it might be desired. “Tell me about your
sister,” she said to calm her heart, to put them back on safer ground.

  “Her name’s Gillie.”

  “The one who cares so much about pronunciation. I remember you mentioning her long ago. Is she married?”

  “She has no interest in that sort of thing. Her tavern keeps her busy. You’ll see.” Bringing her hand up to his lips, he pressed a kiss against her knuckles, and the warmth from his mouth seeped through the kidskin into her very being. “I’m glad you’re coming with me.”

  She smiled with joy and pleasure, always happiest when she was in his company. “I am, too.”

  She liked how cozy it was in the hansom, how it was almost as though they’d retreated from the world, as though beyond them nothing existed. An odd thought occurred to her: how lovely it would be if they could live here—only the two of them—within the confines of the cab. But, of course, they couldn’t. They both had responsibilities and duties, families who would miss them. But she didn’t want to think about any of that now, especially when she glanced past Finn and saw they were in a part of London with which she was no longer familiar. It seemed darker, more ominous.

  “Where is your sister’s tavern?”

  “Whitechapel.”

  “That’s not one of the finer parts of London.”

  “No.” Releasing her hand, he slid his arm around her shoulders and drew her in more snugly against his side. “I’ll keep you safe.”

  “I know you will. I trust you, Finn. I trust you more than I’ve ever trusted anyone.”

  Tucking the fingers of his free hand beneath her chin, he tilted her head up slightly and lowered his mouth to hers, so sweetly, so gently. She wouldn’t mind if they did nothing more than travel around London all night doing this. She loved the way his tongue wandered through her mouth, stroking her tongue, exploring the corners, claiming what had remained untouched until him. She couldn’t imagine Thornley kissed like this. It was far too improper, untamed, undignified, really. So very intimate, a partial joining, a coming together that spoke of ownership and familiarity. It was impossible to consider doing this with anyone else—of wanting to do it with anyone else.

  The carriage began to slow, and he drew back. “Tonight you won’t be an earl’s daughter. We want to take no chances that someone might recognize your name. You’re just Vivi.” He grinned tenderly. “My Vivi.”

  She couldn’t stop herself from smiling in return or feeling as though tonight was special. So many girls she knew dreamed of becoming a princess, while she longed for nothing more than to be the cinder girl. “If anyone asks what I do, I shall say I’m the scullery maid.”

  “Do you even know what a scullery maid does?”

  She laughed lightly. “No. Perhaps they won’t ask for details.”

  The hansom came to a stop. Finn handed some coins up through an opening in the roof. The doors swung open. He leaped out, then reached back for her. Placing her hand in his, as always appreciating the strength she found there, she alighted.

  And there was the brick building he’d talked to her about so many times with its wooden sign hanging over the doorway, swinging in the slight wind, proclaiming the establishment as the Mermaid and Unicorn. Someone had painted a mermaid in the top corner and a unicorn in the opposite bottom corner. Light spilled out through the windows, casting a warm glow over the brick walkway and illuminating the people inside. Voices, laughter, and a din of sounds she couldn’t identify wafted out into the night, and she wondered how anyone could walk past and not want to stop in for a few moments to be part of such revelry.

  Taking her hand, Finn escorted her to the door, opened it, and ushered her inside, where it was even more marvelous and unlike any place she’d ever before visited. She was accustomed to people speaking in hushed tones at gatherings, but here it was as though everyone was shouting to be heard over someone else. People didn’t walk sedately. They rushed about carrying tankards and glasses. The two women doing the most rushing had plump breasts, the upper mounds nearly spilling out of their clothing. The energy and excitement of the place was overwhelming.

  Turning to say something to Finn, she came up short, suddenly realizing that it had been two years since she’d seen him in anything other than lantern light. She’d forgotten how very brown his eyes were. His hair, though fair, also had dark shades throughout, creating a mixture of blond, as though the sun had reached down to touch some of it, but not all of it. He appeared much older than his twenty-three years, certainly much older than the young man who’d come to haul Sophie away. His features contained a ruggedness they hadn’t possessed then, a toughness that caused her stomach to do an insane sort of quivering that made her very much aware she was of an age where she was leaving childhood behind. He’d taken as much care preparing for their outing as she. His jacket wasn’t the one of coarse material he usually wore, but was made of finer fabric, obsidian in color. His white neck cloth was pristine and stylishly knotted. His black brocade waistcoat must have cost him a fortune. For some reason, staring at him made it difficult to swallow, to breathe, to think.

  It was always his company that had drawn her to him, but now, seeing him in gaslight, he offered her more than that. He was definitely a man now, incredibly pleasing to the eye. Being with him made her realize how much she herself had matured as well.

  Placing his hand on the small of her back, Finn guided her between some tables, possessively protecting her from two rather bulky men who were laughing uproariously and seemed to be on the verge of tipping off their chairs and onto the floor. When they reached a lengthy wooden gleaming counter, he pushed a couple of gents aside, creating an empty pocket that he urged her to step into, then his chest was against her back, his arms coming around her protectively, shielding her in a way that warmed her heart to its core.

  “Gillie!” he shouted.

  The tallest woman she’d ever seen, one nearly as tall as Finn, who towered over many a man, turned from her task of filling a tankard from a tapped cast, glanced over at him, nodded, and returned to her chore. She had red hair, cut just below her ears. Lavinia knew no woman who wore her hair in such a manner. Leaning over the counter, she got a better look at her. Her clothing was rather simple: a shirt and a skirt. Unlike the serving girls, she apparently had no wish to flash her attributes. She finished filling the tankard, set it on the counter, and walked over to them. “Finn.”

  “Gillie, this is Vivi.”

  “Hello,” she said politely, but Lavinia could sense his sister was taking her measure, and she had an awful feeling she was going to be found lacking.

  “Finn has told me so much about you,” Lavinia assured her.

  Arching a brow, Gillie shifted her attention to her brother. “Has he now?”

  “I didn’t even know a lady could own a business. How independent you are.”

  “I like independence. What can I pour you?”

  “Oh, uh.” She’d grown up with first her nanny, then her governess, then a footman simply providing her with a drink at meals and she sipped whatever she was given. On occasion she might ask for tea to be brought to her, but she didn’t think this place served tea. She certainly didn’t want to insult Finn’s sister by asking for something she didn’t have on hand. “Have you a . . . red wine?”

  Gillie grinned. “I have. And you, Finn. Your regular?”

  “Aye.”

  “I’ll return in a flash.”

  After she walked away, Finn leaned in. She could feel his breath tickling the side of her neck, in a delicious and wicked way. “Don’t you drink alcohol?”

  “Only wine during dinner.”

  “Maybe you’ll try some other things tonight.”

  “You’ll have to guide me.”

  “I accept the challenge and will guide you in any manner you want.” His voice had dropped a notch, gone deep and provocative, and she wasn’t certain they were still discussing spirits.

  His sister returned with their drinks. “Sorry I can’t stay to visit, but we’re really bu
sy tonight.”

  “We can see to ourselves.” He picked up both drinks. “Hang on to my jacket.”

  Knotting her fingers around his jacket sleeve, she followed him through the crowd, aware of gentlemen’s gazes washing over her, but no one reached out to touch her. She had the sense that being with Finn marked her as his, under his care, not to be trifled with. She became somewhat giddy with the thought that at such a young age he wielded so much power. Who knew where he might end up? In Parliament perhaps. Maybe as prime minister, himself. Although either of those achievements were years away, and she’d be long married by then. It saddened her to contemplate how their paths would soon be diverging.

  Stopping at a table where two gents were sitting, both coming to their feet, he didn’t ask if they objected to his joining them, but merely set his tankard and her glass down. Sliding his arm around her waist, he brought her in against his side. “Vivi, my brothers Aiden and Beast.”

  She could see some resemblance between Finn and Aiden—in the eyes, the jaw, the chin—but none at all when it came to Beast, whose height and the breadth of his chest made him quite intimidating. Although it might have been difficult to tell if they favored each other because his long, dark hair fell forward, obscuring a portion of his face. “It’s a pleasure. I’ve heard so much about you.” Which was a bit of a falsehood. She knew about Aiden’s gambling den, but nothing at all regarding Beast’s occupation.

  “My brother hasn’t been quite so revealing about you,” Aiden said.

  “I didn’t want you trying to steal her away,” Finn said easily. “Move over. I’m taking your chair.” Then he pulled out an empty one for her, and she settled into it.