What a Reckless Rogue Needs (The Sinful Scoundrels, #2)(26)

“It’s obvious the place has been neglected,” he said. “I still can’t figure out what prompted my father’s sudden urge to sell.”

“Someone expressed interest,” she said.

“Yes, but I’d wager it wasn’t the first time,” Colin said. “I think my father is bent on marching me to the altar.”

“The offer must have been attractive. The house hasn’t been kept in good order and has stood empty for all these years. Has he ever returned here?”


“Not to my knowledge.”

“He obviously cannot bear to return, and he has no surety that you will occupy it anytime soon.”

“I always assumed it would be mine,” he said.

“I know it is difficult,” she said, “but he relented today. It is far from hopeless.”

He shrugged. “It is the first time my father has ever let go of control.”

“Forgive me for prying, but have you ever asked if you might be of assistance?”

“I gave up years ago,” he said. “He used to take me with him when he visited the tenants, but he’s the sort of man who feels only he can do something. One of the reasons I’ve stayed away from Deerfield is because I’ve felt useless. My father will speak of what has to be done, but he won’t allow me to take over any of the responsibilities. It’s provoking.”

“He allowed it today,” she said. “That’s a start in the right direction.”

“Yes, but now I find myself suspicious that he has yet another plan he intends to spring on me.”

She frowned. “When did you become so pessimistic?”

“If I expect the worst, I’m never disappointed.”

“But then you are never pleased, either,” she said.

“Point taken.”

Belatedly, she realized she was a hypocrite, but her pessimism was based on real events, not potential ones. She had plans to take control of her life. It would not be easy, because her family would not approve, but she would do it.

He indicated a corridor to the left. “Let’s have a look in there.”



He opened the door, and she walked inside.

“It’s a study,” she said.

There were covers over a desk, a standing globe, and bookshelves that reached the ceiling. He watched as she opened the drapes to discover a bay window.

“There is excellent light in here. I should think you would enjoy working here.”

He put his hands on his hips. “Yes, the light shows all the dust on the shelves and uncovered side tables.”

“Do you recall this room at all?” she asked.

He sent the globe spinning. “I remember this. I thought it was a giant top at first. My father pointed out the different countries. He would quiz me to see if I remembered.”

“Did you?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yes, I learned quite a few of them. I liked Italy the best because it looked like a boot.”

She walked to the bay window again. “There is a lovely prospect of the grounds,” she said.

He walked directly behind her. The wind scattered gold and orange autumn leaves. The faint scent of rose soap lingered on her skin. It felt almost intimate to stand so near to her.

“I could grow attached to this room quickly,” he said.

She stepped away and said in an overly cheerful voice, “Shall we lift the covers off the desk?”

He wondered if he made her a little nervous. With a shrug, he pulled off the covers. There was a stand with two inkwells and four ball feet. “Clever that it rolls,” he said. His brows furrowed as he picked up the quill. “It has never been used.” Perhaps it was an indication of his father’s haste to leave all those years ago.

He opened desk drawers and closed them.

“Are you looking for something in particular?” she asked.

“Everything is empty.” He didn’t mention the miniature of his mother. Perhaps he would tell her later, but not now.

“I’m sure your father would have taken important papers and correspondence,” Angeline said.

Colin strode over to the sideboard. Inside he found a decanter and glasses. When he removed the stopper, he sniffed. “Brandy.”

She arched her brows. “Isn’t it a bit early?”

He laughed, poured a finger in a glass, and offered it to her. “For the discerning lady.”

“Ladies do not drink strong spirits.”

“Coward,” he said with a laugh.

“If you think that taunting me will work, you are wrong,” she said.

He leaned against the sideboard and swirled the brandy. “You’ve no idea what you’re missing.”

“Well, then I won’t miss it. Now, if you are done trying to tempt me, which will never work, I suggest we have a look at the principle drawing room—or is there more than one?”

He finished off the brandy. “I’ve no idea.”

“Perhaps you will recall more about the house as we explore,” she said.

He scoffed. “Or find buried treasures.”

“You are entirely too cynical,” she said, marching out of the study. “It will spoil your appetite.”

He watched her round little bottom and said, “My appetite is definitely whetted.”