The Seduction of Sebastian St. James (House of Renwick #2)(61)

“How?” Sebastian asked as he gently laid his hand on Emma’s.

“Too many debtors. Naturally it’s in the gossip column of Mrs. Peabody, but most of what she says is based on actual fact.”

Sebastian nodded sympathetically. “There is nothing we can do for him, love.”

“I know.”

Feeling worried and still a bit guilty that he had known of Rawlings’ trouble for over a month, Sebastian tried to reason with his conscience. There was nothing he could do to help him. Rawlings was too proud to accept money and their friendship was still too fragile.

He only hoped his old friend wouldn’t do anything rash or stupid. Rawlings, although pleased that Sebastian and Emma had found love, was still engaging in gambling. Most likely trying his luck at winning money so he wouldn’t go to debtor’s prison.

Though somewhat selfish, Sebastian realized he had more important things to worry about, like the announcement that his wife was with child.

“How’s the baby?”

“We can’t be sure for another few weeks! Stop jinxing me!” Emma swatted him. But he knew.

“I love you,” he whispered into her hair.

“And I you, now help me get ready for the ball.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” Sebastian mumbled under his breath. Impossible to deny his bride anything, lest she threaten to stop dancing her little gypsy dances for him at night. “Tell me again why we are having this ball?”

Ignoring his whining tone, Emma proceeded to check the decorations that had been set out. “Because as the Duke and Duchess of Tempest it is our duty to invite the ton to our annual party.”

“Even the ones who gave you the cut direct?” Sebastian asked, not surprised at all if his wife also extended the invitation to Rawlings.

“Yes.”

“And your parents?” he asked.

“We shall invite everyone.” Smiling, she kissed him on the cheek. “Now, stop questioning and help.”

“On one condition,” he said, gathering her into his arms.

Emma kicked and laughed as she tried to free herself. “What’s that?”

“Seduce me.”

“Right now?”

“Preferably.”

Emma rolled her eyes then kissed him. Ah, to be seduced by one’s wife. The best of life’s pleasures. Laughing, he pulled her into the study and closed the door. “And if you feel like dancing at any time, please don’t let me stop you.”

At that, his beautiful Emma laughed, and then, she danced.





Renwick House Book 3

The Redemption of Lord Rawlings





Chapter One


London, England



Rain poured in sheets. All of London seemed to have gone indoors while the storm passed—all except Phillip Crawford, eighth Earl of Rawlings. His good sense told him it was childish and stupid to walk around in the rain but he couldn’t seem to help himself. After all, it might just be the last walk he would take as a free man.

Debtor’s prison was his only future. Either that or somehow find a bride who was willing to take on his extravagant debt by marrying him, therefore giving release from the contract given by his arrogant father. At this point prison seemed the more likely choice.

Rawlings had never been a bad investor, had he any money to invest in the first place. His gambling was out of sheer desperation. He needed money and he needed it fast.

At an all time low, he had decided nothing would make him feel better about his lot in life than sitting in the rain and staring at his shoes, which two hours later is exactly what he’d ended up doing.

All alone in Hyde Park, he watched as the raindrops fell slowly and rhythmically on his hessian boots. Drip, drip, drip in rapid succession until he thought he was going mad; he watched.

Closing his eyes, he tried to remember the smell of the rain, the feel of it on his face as it splashed and rolled across his cheeks down his lips.

The outdoors, he would miss it, he would miss a great many things, but debts must be paid. After all, what did he have to live for?

“Rawlings? Lord Rawlings?” A sweet voice called to him like a siren to Odysseus. “Is that you, my lord?”

He opened one eye and then two. Standing before him was a nymph from the sea. It had to be – nobody in his acquaintance possessed such deeply green eyes or shimmering white hair.

Had he died? Had God struck him with lightning without his knowledge?

“Yes.” He cleared his throat and waited.

The look on the girl’s face would have given a monk an apoplexy. So full of joy, warmth, and hope. He was half-tempted to turn around just to see if she was actually talking to him or someone else entirely. But she had said his name – his name. How in the blazes did she know him?

But before any of those questions could form, she was in front of him and leaning down. “Forgive me.” The last words she said before her lips brushed across his.





About the Author

Rachel loves to read almost as much as she loves to write. She resides in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and her dog Sir Winston Churchill. Although she loves to write contemporary romance, her heart will always be with historical and regency romances. Glittering balls and dangerous rakes hold her captivated like chocolate and Starbucks. You can follow Rachel’s adventures on her blog, Twitter, or Facebook.