by Erica Ridley
After ten excruciating years without her, he was about to be intimate with the first woman he had ever made love to, and it felt like the first time all over again.
He had yearned for her since the moment they had met, and his longing had only increased since their marriage, knowing she slept just on the other side of a thin wall.
But he did not wish to push her before she was ready, take more than she wanted to give. This time, he had to be certain it was truly what she wanted. He did not wish for her to wake up tomorrow morning with more regrets. Hawk would have none at all.
As much as his desire to make love to her raged within him like a tempest, the only way he could live with himself for doing so was if they made love together.
He broke the kiss so she would be forced to meet his eyes. “If I stay here tonight, I will do so every night. I do not wish to share your bed for only a moment, but for the rest of our lives. It is your decision.”
Her gaze flickered uncertainly.
Hawk’s heart stopped. He had ruined the moment. But she needed to understand that her consent was equally as important as his own.
He held his breath to await her response.
Chapter 29
Faith did not untangle the fingers she had laced about her husband’s neck as she considered his question. More importantly, what it meant to her that Hawkridge had felt strongly enough about gaining her consent to risk the possibility of her pushing him away.
His question was more than fair. As was his position. If she invited him into her bed, it would have to be as his wife. Not as a singular occurrence or some hurried rendezvous to be quickly forgotten or ignored.
Of course she wanted him. The wanting had never lessened. Him handing her the reins to control the speed of the relationship did not make her wish to flee away from them, but rather leap heedlessly into his arms.
He had afforded her more control in the past few moments than that foolishly hurried night they’d shared ten years ago.
Back then, there was no discussion. She had assumed a marriage offer was imminent, and as a gentleman it certainly should have been forthcoming. But as a lady, Faith should not have put herself in an uncertain position. Things might have moved too quickly for a conversation any deeper than a few exchanged moans of pleasure, but she had not been too naïve to understand what they were doing.
He was asking her not to be naïve now. To welcome him into her arms and her bed because she wished to for herself, not because she was obliged to as his wife.
Hawkridge was more than a husband. She could not have asked for a better father figure for Christina. Seeing her little girl breathless with hiccupy laughter as she cuddled against him with a bedtime story had long since dissolved the last of Faith’s doubts.
All this time, she had been worried he would not feel the same about her. The green country girl. The daughter of a factory merchant. The outsider.
She might not have been born good enough for a lord of his class, but he’d chosen her anyway, was still choosing her right now, giving her the respect and the freedom to decide whether or not to choose him back.
The decision had been made as soon as he’d asked the question.
Faith laced her fingers higher into his hair and pulled his mouth down to hers.
“Yes,” she whispered between kisses. “You may share my bed tonight, and the next night, and the next. Now show me how well we belong together.”
Without breaking their kiss, he pulled her shoulders up off the blanket to unlace the back of her gown.
Heart thundering, she slid her fingers from his hair long enough to tug his cravat from his neck, to free the many stubborn buttons of his jacket, his waistcoat. She pushed fabric from the wide expanse of his shoulders and hurled each item forgotten to the floor.
Her dress slid from her body, her whalebone stays joining the other garments on the carpet below. He somehow managed to shuck his boots as quickly as she could kick off her slippers, and rejoined her on the bed.
With trembling fingers, she tugged the lawn shirt from the waistband of his trousers and pushed the soft material up over the hard planes of his stomach, up over the muscular warmth of his chest, over the full width of his shoulders, until it too slipped from her fingertips over the side of the bed.
Now there was nothing between them but his trousers and her thin cotton shift.
He was bigger than she remembered. Stronger. More solid. Yet as hard and firm as his muscles felt beneath her eager hands, his touch was tender, as if he wished not to ravish her but to savor every moment.
Tonight would be better than the last time, in every way. Not only because she could finally be the wife she’d always dreamed of being, with the husband she’d always dreamed of having. This time, she came to him not as a passive waif or some lesser hopeful, but as his equal. As Lord and Lady Hawkridge. Joined both in marriage and with their bodies.
She could not wait a moment longer.
As their kisses increased in hunger, their hands crashed and tangled in their urgency to divest each other of their last remnants of clothing.
She managed to fumble open the fall to his breeches, pushing them down over his narrow hips with one hand as she curved the other about his manhood.
He gasped into her mouth, shivering with pleasure even as he ripped her shift from her body. When his fingers slid inside, it was her turn to cry out in pleasure. The many lonely nights she had touched herself in remembrance of their coupling did not compare to the exquisite reality of once again having his hand between her legs.
She pushed him, not away from her, but onto his back so she could straddle him. She lowered herself onto him as slowly as she could. But much as she tried to make the splendid anticipation last, her body was too slick and ready, her need for him too great.
He was hers now. Wholly and completely. Not for one night, but forever. In victory, she sank down until she fully sheathed him, locking their bodies together. Ripping asunder the shields that guarded her heart.
“This is better than my best fantasy,” he panted, his gaze hot and locked with hers. “And all of my fantasies have been about you.”
Her muscles tightened and spasmed against him in response.
He leaned up to capture one of her bouncing breasts in his mouth, gripping her hips as he drove deeper and deeper within her. She arched her back, grinding helplessly against him as waves of pleasure took her. With him, it was not a surrender. Their bodies took what they wanted. What they needed.
As she reached her peak, his body tensed and bucked beneath her, joining her thrust for thrust and pleasure for pleasure in mutual satisfaction.
She fell forward against his chest. He cradled her to him, pressing a kiss to her hair.
“Don’t fall asleep,” he whispered. “We have ten years to make up. It’s going to be a long night.”
She laughed and punched him lightly on the chest. “Just one night? You had better cancel your engagements for the rest of the Season. I am not certain I shall even allow you to attend Parliament now that I know your talents are better served between these walls.”
His arms locked about her without further comment, but the skip of his heartbeat against her ear told her everything she needed to know.
At last, they belonged fully and completely to each other.
Chapter 30
“London is such a dreadful bore once the Season has ended,” said one debutante to another somewhere behind Hawk’s left shoulder.
He could not have disagreed more. The end of Parliamentary sessions meant his time had been significantly freed to share more moments like this one. His entire family crowded about a small table in the middle of Gunter’s tea shop to celebrate the grand opening of the new port.
Faith sat to his left, Christina to his right, Hawk’s brother immediately opposite him, and Dahlia just to Simon’s right.
While his daughter might disagree, this was Hawk’s favorite part of their new weekend ritual.
Her
grandparents would fetch her from school and gad her all about town on Saturdays. Her parents had her all to themselves Saturday evenings and Sunday mornings. Then Sunday afternoons, before it was time to return Christina to finishing school, the entire troupe would meet at Gunter’s tea shop with one noble goal above all others:
To order a heaping scoop of every single flavor on the menu, then attack the resulting mountain with their spoons before the rest of the family gobbled all the ices up first.
Hawk hung back, allowing his boisterous family to elbow each other in pursuit of flavored ices amidst infectious peals of laughter.
He was so grateful for all the blessings in his life. His marriage to Faith grew stronger every day. Christina was an absolute delight. Dahlia had even taught Hawk a secret Grenville strategy to the throwing-card game. It gave him his only hope of beating Faith and his mother whenever those two vixens teamed up against him. Not that his mother had much time for card games these days. From the moment she began to regain her health, she’d left her sickbed far behind.
Life was absolutely beautiful, and Hawk’s wife was the most beautiful of all.
Since that day in Vauxhall several months ago, Faith had not been forced to endure any more uncomfortable public outings.
The odd looks his family garnered nowadays were due to their lively games or loud laughter, and a tendency to invite others to join in on their fun.
Faith had grown into her role as marchioness with aplomb. She was no less “important” societally than Hawk himself, and no more scandalous than her best friend Dahlia, who continued to run their charitable boarding school in the St. Giles rookery with Faith’s help.
Simon’s bastardy had affected him deeply during his youth, but today he was highly respected as a man and as a high-ranking inspector.
Hawk often teased him that they could not enjoy a private conversation anywhere without a deluge of citizens interrupting to thank Simon for the various and sundry matters he had resolved for them.
As soon as the last of his mother’s doctors had proclaimed her back to her full health, she had wasted no time in rejoining Society. She was the queen of Bond Street. In honor of her return, she had even purchased a bonnet piled high with yards of intricate lace, fourteen colorful flowers, and a fake bird. She and her fashionable cohorts were promenading Hyde Park at this very moment. Hawk grinned. He was thrilled at the return of his mother’s health and happiness.
When the last of the ices disappeared, Christina set down her spoon and leaned her head on Hawk’s shoulder. “Next holiday, I want to spend a few extra hours at the school.”
He frowned. “At the finishing school? You’d like your grandparents to pick you up later in the day?”
Christina shook her head. “Earlier. They always take me to visit my friends at my other school in St. Giles, but I never have enough time to get everything done.”
Faith leaned forward with curiosity. “What are you trying to get done?”
Christina’s eyes shone. “I teach them everything I learn at the finishing school. It’s ever so much fun. It’s like we’re all there together!”
He exchanged grins with his wife. The daughter they had once worried so much about, now had more friends in both schools than she could even count. Every one of them vying for her endlessly divided attention. Christina was in no danger of becoming a wallflower.
“When can I have a party?” she asked. “It would be so much easier to see all of my friends if they were in the same place at once.”
“A party?” Faith’s eyes widened in amusement. “I’m not certain that’s the best idea.”
“I don’t know,” Hawk mused as he glanced about their motley table. “For the right people, there’s always a way.”
Sometimes when one least expected.
Just that week, his port had secured an important contract with the East India Company.
He was not only treating his entire family to Gunter’s delicious ices, Hawk had also repaid his debt to his father-in-law… and secretly paid off his brother’s recent commission for new desks and writing sets for the boarding school, just as Simon had done with the old account at the tailor’s.
Hawk grinned. He couldn’t wait for his brother to realize how neatly the tables had turned.
“Speaking of parties…” He made a show of pulling out his pocket watch and affecting great shock at the lateness of the hour. “We had better hurry if we’re to catch the fireworks at Vauxhall.”
In no time, his family was on their feet, linking arms to file out the door two by two.
He pressed a kiss to Faith’s temple. As they stepped outside beneath an endless starry sky, a shooting star streaked overhead.
Faith squeezed his hand and grinned up at him. “Let’s make a wish.”
“Why bother?” Hawk bent down to steal a sweet kiss. “All of mine have already come true.”
Epilogue
One year later
Faith stood just outside the arched doorway to the Hawkridge family library and leaned back into her husband’s embrace.
Safely ensconced in the shadows, he wrapped his arms about her and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. From this vantage point, they could watch in amusement as over thirty schoolgirls scampered up and down the library’s many ladders and shelves and aisles like a houseful of rambunctious puppies.
“This is their third meeting,” Faith whispered in wonder. “I am never certain if their joy comes from reading the books or running around trying to find them.”
Hawk grinned and rested his cheek atop his wife’s soft hair. He was pleased and proud to have been able to provide this library for his family. But he was even more proud of their daughter, whose monthly Children’s Book Club was nothing short of a resounding success.
Someday, Miss Christina Digby would make her curtsey as a debutante, her dowry the rival of any other, the young lady herself not only sponsored by Lord and Lady Hawkridge but also a sharp-tongued dowager marchioness who had quickly become Chris’s greatest champion.
But today she was an eleven-year-old girl enjoying the simple pleasure of sharing her love of books with other, equally high-spirited little girls.
Despite the wide range of ages and backgrounds, Christina’s sunny personality and boundless energy made it impossible for any of the children to obsess over class differences when there were so many books to explore.
Outside these walls, the rookery-born schoolgirls might never find themselves crossing paths with finishing school debutantes. But during the monthly book club meetings, these were not heiresses and orphans, but a giggling, playing tornado of happy little girls.
“Someday they’ll fall out of love with the idea of a book club,” he said morosely. “We’ll be forced to read them ourselves.”
Faith’s tone was wry. “That won’t happen until the day the girls start noticing how handsome lads their own age are, with their curled hair and crooked cravats.”
Hawk groaned. “Please tell me our little girl will never be grown enough to fall in love.”
“Why not?” Faith turned around to face him and wrapped her arms about his neck. “It worked out well enough for us, did it not?”
Hawk answered his wife with a kiss so full of wicked promise as to leave them both breathless. “When the girls go back to school, we’re not leaving our bedchamber for a week.”
“Make that a fortnight,” Faith corrected him, tilting her mouth up for another kiss.
Temptation had never tasted so sweet.
THE END
Why is Heath Grenville determined to unmask an anonymous caricaturist? What scandalous secrets will be revealed?
Find out in Lord of Secrets, the next full-length Rogues to Riches regency romance.
* * *
Keep turning for Lord of Secrets!
Acknowledgments
As always, I could not have written this book without the invaluable support of my critique partners. Huge thanks go out to Emma Locke and Erica Monro
e for their advice and encouragement. You are the best!
Lastly, I want to thank the Rogues to Riches facebook group, my Historical Romance Book Club, and my fabulous street team. Your enthusiasm makes the romance happen.
Thank you so much!
Lord of Secrets
Rogues to Riches #5
Note to Readers
Although this romance stands alone, fans of the series will note that this timeline overlaps with previous books in the series, and features crossover characters.
Lord of Secrets
(Rogues to Riches #5)
Heath Grenville is the problem-solver for London's elite. Unmask the devious cretin skewering the ton with audacious caricatures? With pleasure. His success should keep the powerful happy. But when his work leads him to a young lady outside his class, surely he won’t do anything so scandalous as to fall in love...
* * *
By day, Miss Eleanora Winfield is a proper, unremarkable paid companion. By night, Nora’s skillful hands sketch the infamous penny caricatures rocking high society. Nora desperately needs the money…and her anonymity. But how can she keep them both, when she’s fallen for the one man whose livelihood and reputation requires him to expose her?
Chapter 1
London, 1817
Lemonade. The mission was to fetch the baroness a glass of fresh lemonade.
Miss Eleanora Winfield squared her shoulders and prepared to enter the fashionable milieu before her. She could not help but feel like a plain brown minnow diving into a pool of brightly colored fish.
