How to Woo a Wallflower (Romancing the Rules #3)(80)
Kit lost track of time. He shoved Sheridan’s card into his coat pocket to join Fleet’s, crushed the unread solicitor’s letter in his hand, and stood rooted to the spot where they’d left him. Father. Dead. The two words refused to congeal in his mind. So many of the choices Kit made in his twenty-eight years had been driven by his father’s wrath, attempts to escape his stifling control.
Now Kit could think only of what he should do. Must do. Look after his sisters. Return to Briar Heath.
He’d leave after speaking to Merrick. Any work on a play to impress Fleet would have to be undertaken while he was back home.
Home. The countryside, the village, the oversized house his father built with profits from his publishing enterprise—none of it had been home for such a very long time. It was a place he’d felt shunned and loathed most of his life. He’d never visited in four years. Never dared set foot in his father’s house after his flamboyant departure.
As he headed toward Merrick’s office to tell the man his news, worry for his sisters tightened Kit’s jaw until it ached. Then another thought struck.
After all these years, night after night of futile searching, he would finally see Ophelia Marsden again.
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A STUDY IN SCOUNDRELS
Sophia Ruthven is the epitome of proper behavior. On paper at least, as long as that paper isn’t from one of the lady detective stories she secretly pens. She certainly isn’t interested in associating with the dashing Jasper Grey, the wayward heir to the Earl of Stanhope, and one of the stage’s leading men. But when she learns Grey’s younger sister Liddy has gone missing, she can’t deny her desire to solve the mystery . . . or her attraction to the incorrigible scoundrel.
Responsibility isn’t something Grey is very familiar with. On the boards and in the bedroom, he lives exactly how he wants to, shunning all the trappings of respectability and society. Grey knows he should avoid the bewitching Sophia, but he’s never been able to say no to what he wants. And having Sophia in his arms and his bed is quickly becoming the thing he wants the most.
As Sophia and Grey’s search for Liddy continues across the English countryside, can this scoundrel convince a proper lady that he’s actually perfect for her, or will their adventure leave them both heartbroken?
Sophia Ruthven never intended to plaster her palm against the man’s shapely backside.
In fact, she hadn’t intended to encounter the Earl of Westby at all. True, she had stolen into the man’s private study. But his sister, Lady Vivian, who’d invited Sophia to speak at her weekly ladies’ book club tea, insisted her infamous rake of a brother was not at home.
How could Sophia have known that a simple request to use the ladies’ washroom would lead her past the half open door of the earl’s study? Who could blame her for succumbing to the mingled aromas of smoke and book leather wafting out of the room?
The chance to inspect a notorious scoundrel’s lair was simply too tempting a prospect to ignore.
Purely for research purposes, of course.
For months, Sophia had been working on a story about her fictional lady detective, Euphemia “Effie” Breedlove, but the details weren’t right. Her rakish villain lacked verisimilitude. A sheltered upbringing in the countryside had provided few opportunities to observe scoundrels firsthand.
Now her hand was pinned between the room’s dark wood paneling, a firm muscled posterior, and the green velvet curtain she’d hidden herself behind. The man and his companion had burst into the room as Sophia stood inspecting the items on the earl’s desk. Thankfully, the long drape-covered bay window had been near enough to offer concealment.
“Now. Right here on my desk. You’ve kept me waiting long enough, sweetling.” The man’s husky tone drew a moan from the young lady, interspersed with the squelching sound of wet kisses. Who gave with such fervor and who eagerly received, Sophia couldn’t be sure.
But she was sure of one thing. The feminine voice beyond the curtain belonged to Miss Emmeline Honeycutt, a fellow guest at the ladies’ tea. Sophia had been introduced to the girl not half an hour ago. She guessed her to be quite young, not many years older than her own seventeen-year-old sister, Clarissa. She couldn’t stand by and allow the girl to ruin herself.
Shifting her hand, she pushed at the heated swell of the man’s derriere.
“What’s that?” He stilled, pressing his weight against Sophia’s palm. “We don’t wish to be caught out, little minx. Seems we must wait a bit longer. You should get back to my sister’s gathering.”
After a few moments of whining protest and what sounded like the thud of dainty feet stomping thick carpet, Miss Honeycutt retreated with the swish and click of beaded fabric. When the study door slid shut, Sophia reached up to stifle a sneeze. She couldn’t get the taste of the earl’s pungent cologne off her tongue. Spicy and overly sweet, the scent was laid on so thick it tickled her nose.
“You can come out now, whoever you are.” His voice had taken on a hard edge, as firm as the contours of his backside. Not at all the warm murmur he’d offered Miss Honeycutt.
Thankfully, he’d moved enough to free Sophia’s hand, but she still hesitated a moment before pulling back the curtain and facing the man she’d read the worst sort of stories about in the gossip columns.