Rosalind sighed dreamily. “That all sounds very romantic. I wish my husband would kiss me in the Rose Gardens.”
“Your husband is an ass,” Evie said flatly. She did not feel bad in saying so. It was high time someone told Rosalind the truth, and if no one else was going to do it then she was fine with being the bad person.
“I know he is,” Rosalind said to Evie’s surprise. She tipped her parasol back, revealing a sad little smile that tugged at Evie’s heart. “And I know he does not love me. He has proven as much time and time again. When the first affair ended I thought...” She shook her head. “But that does not matter now. He is my husband, and there is nothing to be done. Tell me more about your mystery suitor. If I cannot have my own romantic liaison, at least I can experience one through you!”
“There is not much to tell, to be honest. We have only met on three occasions. I really do not know very much about him, except for his name.” And the taste of his lips and the feel of his hands on my body...
“I knew Lord Peabody for years before we were married.” Her expression thoughtful, Rosalind tapped a gloved finger against her bottom lip, drawing it down to reveal a slightly crooked row of teeth. “And look where we have ended up. It is not a certain amount of time that brings two people together, I think, but rather what they do with the time they are allotted.”
Evie stopped dead in her tracks. “Rosalind, I do believe that is the most brilliant thing I ever heard you say.”
“Really?” The blonde’s cheeks flushed with pleasure. “I just made it up.”
“There is only one problem.”
“What is that?”
Evie’s mouth curved in a frown. “I have absolutely no idea where to find him.”
As it turned out, finding Aiden was not nearly as difficult as Evie thought it was going to be. After discreetly asking about his whereabouts she and Rosalind were directed to a townhouse only a few blocks away from where they had first met. The surrounding area was not as fine as Grosvenor Square, but the cobblestone streets were neatly tended and lined with blossoming cherry trees.
“He lives here?” Rosalind stepped up beside Evie as they halted side by side in front of 137 Cobalt Lane. Tucked in the middle of a terrace Aiden’s four-story townhouse was handsomely presented with a white stucco finish, gleaming black shutters, and a brick walkway framed with matching shrubbery that led directly to the front door. “This is rather nice. You implied he was not well-to-do.”
Evie blinked. “I did not think he was.”
“Do you want me to wait out here?”
“Don’t be silly. We will both go in together.” Pushing open the gate that guarded the end of the walkway Evie made her way briskly to the front door and delivered two sharp knocks. When she was met with deafening silence she knocked again while Rosalind lingered over her right shoulder.
“Maybe he is still sleeping,” her friend suggested.
“At half past two in the afternoon? I hardly think so.” Catching a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye behind one of the windows, Evie pounced like a cat onto a poor, unsuspecting mouse. “You there! Whoever you are, open this door!”
Rosalind winced. “Has anyone ever told you that you yell quite loudly?”
“I find it the most effective way to get someone’s attention.”
Evie’s point was proven less than a minute later when the door creaked open to reveal a timid looking maid with a swath of dirty blonde hair swept up under a white cap and a face filled with pimples. “Can I help you?” she whispered.
“We are here to see Mr. Donovan,” Evie said.
“Mr. Donovan is resting. If you leave your name, I will make sure to–”
“Resting?” Evie’s eyebrows shot up. “At this hour?”
The maid’s gaze darted between Evie and Rosalind. “He only got in a few hours ago.”
No doubt after a night spent carousing about Town, Evie thought.
“We really must see him today.”
“I do not think–”
“We’ll only be a moment.” Unfortunately for the maid, Evie was not someone who accepted the word ‘no’. Rosalind followed her through the door as she pushed her way through. Inside the townhouse the light was considerably dimmer and it took a few moments for her eyes to adjust. When they did, she saw Aiden’s home was as neat on the inside as it was on the out. The foyer boasted a high ceiling and a freshly scrubbed wooden floor that smelled pleasantly of beeswax. Heavy velvet curtains framed the windows. The furniture was sparse but well selected and several paintings matted in ornate wooden frames hung on the walls.
Suffice it to say it was a far cry from what Evie had been imagining, and she couldn’t help but be impressed.
“Does this belong to Mr. Donovan’s parents?” she asked as she peeked into the front drawing room.
“No, of course not. Both of Mr. Donovan’s parents are deceased.” The maid’s mouth pinched in suspicion. “Who did you say you were again?”
“She didn’t,” Rosalind said cheerfully. “Do you happen to have any macaroons? We have been walking all afternoon and I’m starving.”
Obviously deciding she wasn’t going to get them out of the house – at least not without a little help – the maid ushered them into the drawing room and asked them both to sit down. “Please stay here. Mr. Donovan does not take kindly to unexpected visitors. I will see what the cook has prepared in way of refreshments.”
Aiden had his own townhouse and maid and even a cook? Feeling like a fool, Evie sat down in a high backed rosewood chair and crossed her legs at the ankle beneath her pale blue skirts. All of this time she had been assuming he was a vagrant and a wastrel when her assumptions could not have been further from the truth!
“Rosalind,” she said abruptly, “what do you think he–”
But before she could finish her question the door to the drawing room swung open. His expression stormy, Aiden’s flashing blue eyes went straight to Evie as he growled, “What the devil do you want?”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“If you will excuse me I...I believe I forgot something in the other room.” With a squeak and muffled snort of laughter, Rosalind bounded out of her chair and whisked past Aiden with nary a backward glance. He did not even seem to notice her departure. His gaze still pinned on Evie, he walked towards her with slow, purposeful strides.
“Well?” he demanded. “What are you doing in my house? And how the hell did you find out where I lived?”
All things considered, it was hardly the greeting Evie had been anticipating. But then she supposed it was no less than she deserved. “You were not very difficult to find.” Uncrossing her ankles she shook out her skirts and stood up. “And I am here because I want to see you.”
“Why?” he asked flatly.
Despite the tension radiating off of him in waves, Evie could not help but admire the snug fit of his trousers and the large v of flesh exposed by a white cotton shirt he had only bothered to button halfway. His hair was hopelessly disheveled making it appear as though he had just rolled out of bed, which she supposed he had. Her fingers itched to sink into those inky black tresses and she wondered what his reaction would be if she simply leapt into his arms.
Not yet, she told herself sternly. Kissing got you into this mess and it is not going to get you out. At least not without a bit of groveling first.
“I have something to tell you.” When he remained silent, she bit back an annoyed retort. It would not do to lose her temper. Not now. Not when so much hung in the balance. “I have ended my engagement with Lord Reinhold.”
If Aiden was pleased by her revelation – or even a little bit surprised – it did not show in his expression. “When?”
“The day after we...the day after we kissed.” She squared her shoulders as she met his unblinking glare. She would take his anger as her due for treating him so abominably, but there was a limit to how long she could rein in her temper. A limit that was rapidly approaching its end. �
�He understood. In fact, he revealed he met someone else as well. It sounds like they are going to be very happy together.”
“And you, Evie?” For the first time since he had stalked into the drawing room he showed the tiniest bit of softening. “Are you happy now?”
“I think I am, thanks to you.” Evie had not prepared a speech on her way to Aiden’s townhouse, but she had never been one to suffer for a lack of something to say. “I had a plan in my head. A plan that got me what I needed, but not what I wanted. And I thought that would be enough. Until I met you and you turned my entire world upside down.”
A smirk curled the corners of Aiden’s mouth. “I did, did I?”
“You know you did. And I am not going to say you were right for fear of your head getting any bigger than it already is” – she held up a finger – “but I will admit that you had a point. I deserved more than to trap myself in a loveless marriage with a good man who would have suffered just as much as I. There are more important things in life than wealth and titles and social status. You showed me what those things are, Aiden.” She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. “You showed me what it means to fall in love.”
“Red.” In two steps he had his arms around her. “It’s about damn time you came to your senses.”
She leaned willingly against his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him as though they had been separated for five years instead of five days. This is where I belong, she thought silently. With a man who questions me and challenges me and makes me want to be a better person. With a man I never expected to meet...and I cannot imagine my life without. She tilted her head back. “You still have to court me, you know.”
“Court you?” Aiden’s dark eyebrows jutted together. “Why the devil would I do that? I have you right here, don’t I?”
Evie grinned up at him. “You did not think I was going to jump right into your bed, did you?”
His gaze flicked down to her lips before his arms tightened. “I had some ideas.”
“I am sure you did.” She batted him playfully in the chest. “And while I am not opposed to a few kisses here and there, I think we should take some time to get to know one another before you get down on one knee and pledge your eternal love to me.”
“Red–”
“How does one week sound? I have waited twenty-three years for someone crazy enough to put up with me not because they have to, but because they want to. I do not intend to wait any longer.”
His shout of laughter echoed in the drawing room. “You’re something else, Evie.”
“I know.” Rising up on her toes, she pressed her lips to his cheek. “I cannot wait for you to meet my friends. You are nothing at all like they are expecting. They’re going to love you.”
“And you?” Leaning back, he stared deep into her eyes. “Do you love me?”
“Before I met you, I did not even know what love was,” she said honestly.
A line creased his forehead. “And now?”
“And now I do.” Throwing her arms around Aiden’s neck she finally did what she’d been wanting to do the second he walked through the door.
She kissed him.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jillian Eaton grew up in Maine and now resides in Pennsylvania. When she isn't writing, Jillian is doing her best to keep up with her three very mischievous dogs. She loves horses, coffee, getting email from readers, ducks, and staying up late finishing a good book.
She isn't very fond of doing laundry.
www.jillianeaton.com
EXCLUSIVE SNEAK PEEK
Read on for an exclusive sneak peek at A Dangerous Seduction, the first full-length novel in Jillian Eaton’s exciting new Bow Street Brides’ series! Available now.
A MURDER....
When Lady Scarlett Sherwood's husband is killed in a riding accident that turns out to be no accident at all, she becomes the number one suspect in a murder investigation that takes the ton by storm. Her accuser? None other than the dark, ruthless Sir Owen Steel, Captain of the Bow Street Runners... and the only man Scarlett has ever loved.
A BETRAYAL...
Owen was just the poor son of a baker when Scarlett spurned him for a highborn lord. Now he is one of the most powerful men in England, but he never forgot the woman who left him humiliated and heartbroken. He always vowed he would make Scarlett pay for her treacherous betrayal, and what better way to seek revenge than to see her imprisoned for murder?
A DANGEROUS SEDUCTION...
But old passions are hard to ignore, and one kiss is all it takes for Owen and Scarlett's sizzling chemistry to be reignited. Soon they find themselves swept up in an affair that could have dangerous consequences for them both. Because there is still a murderer on the loose, and he's just found his next victim...
Scarlett.
A Dangerous Seduction
Prologue
The first time Scarlett met Owen he was selling bread.
It was the very start of summer; that magical time of year when winter had finally withdrawn its icy claws, the flowers were fresh from their spring showers, and the air was sweet with the scent of honeysuckle.
On the day our story begins it was unseasonably warm, even for early summer in the sprawling Northampton countryside. As it turns out this was a very good thing, for had it not been warm our young heroine would not have forgotten her cloak in the carriage and she would not have had to dash back across the busy village square to fetch it. But it was warm and she did forget and as young ladies of substance and good breeding were never to be seen out in public with their arms completely bare, dash she did.
In her dashing she happened to pass a cart filled with all sorts of bread. Piled high in wicker baskets were puffy cottage loaves and flat beremeal bannocks and round saffron buns already buttered. Having quite the sweet tooth she couldn’t help but stop and stare, her grumbling stomach a loud reminder that she had not eaten anything save a poached egg at breakfast.
Ignoring her governess – for who really had need of a governess at sixteen? – she stepped in line behind two elderly women wearing hats so large they blocked her view of the baker.
“It will only a take a few moments, Ms. Atwood,” she told the fretful woman standing beside her. “Did you see the size of the crumpets? They’re enormous!”
But when she finally reached the front of the line all thoughts of crumpets and puffy cottage loaves and flat beremeal bannocks and round saffron buns fled her mind the moment she saw the boy standing on the other side of the bread cart.
There was nothing about him that was particularly striking. Certainly nothing that warranted the sudden racing of her pulse or the hard pounding of her heart as it slammed wildly against her ribcage. But race and pound they did.
The boy was tall, but she had met taller men. He was handsome, but she’d met her fair share of those as well. And then there was the scowl to contend with. It darkened his entire face, drawing his mouth down at the corners and etching two lines across the middle of his forehead. The lines were thick and rather foreboding, but they did not intimidate her in the slightest.
Few things did.
“Hello.” Bold as you please she extended her gloved hand over a basket overflowing with apple tarts. “It is very nice to meet you. My name is Scarlett.”
Where other men would have bowed or taken her hand and kissed the back of it, the boy merely frowned in suspicion. “What do you want?”
“Your name, to start with.” A smile brightened her entire face, revealing a charming dimple high on her right cheek. With her silky blonde hair, large gray eyes, and heart-shaped countenance, Scarlett was already promising to be a Great Beauty, just as her mother had been and her mother before her and her mother before her. Her bloodline – one that had been curated as carefully as a prized thoroughbred’s – was blessed with beautiful women and she was no exception, although sometimes she wondered if her life wouldn’t have been easier if she’d had a particularly long nose, or mousy brown hair, or (ho
rrors upon horrors) freckles.
Maybe if she had a big ugly dark spot in the middle of her forehead she wouldn’t have felt such immense pressure to make a success of herself during her first season. For she wasn’t just expected to fill her dance card. Oh no. Lady Edgecombe’s aspirations for her daughter were much, much higher than that.
Scarlett was expected to do no less than procure multiple offers for her hand before the season was halfway through. The higher the title the better. Her mother already had her sights set on Lord Garrett Green, the Viscount of Hatfield. His was the first name on her handwritten list of eligible bachelors she kept tucked away inside her writing desk.
The list ran the gamut from duke to viscount – a baron was considered far too common – with little notes scribbled beside each name such as ‘due to inherit soon’ and ‘wealthy, but poor health’. Scarlett was tempted to write little notes of her own (‘boring’ and ‘pompous’ were two that came immediately to mind) but thus far she’d resisted the urge. There were some battles that could not be won no matter how hard you fought, and this happened to be one of them. It did not matter to Lady Edgecombe what qualities Scarlett was looking for in a husband. It really did not matter that she wasn’t looking for a husband at all. Her mother knew what was best and that was the end of that.
“Did you bake all of this yourself?” she asked the boy politely.
He could not have been much older than seventeen or eighteen, perhaps twenty at the most. He still had a gangly look to him, although his broad jaw and prominent nose hinted at the man he would soon become. Dark hair stuck out from beneath an old wool cap in licks and curls. His cheekbones were high and rather distinguished and his eyes were the most unusual shade of deep blue.
He looks like a wolf, Scarlett thought fancifully. Strong, wary, and just a bit feral.
“My father and I did,” he said shortly. “If you’re not going to buy anything you need to step aside for those who are. You’re holding up the line.”
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