What a Reckless Rogue Needs (The Sinful Scoundrels, #2)(4)

His chest tightened. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d visited his mother’s grave, and it shamed him. He had no eloquent prayers, no memorabilia of his mother. Only a hollow place inside that had remained empty. “You will not be abandoned or forgotten,” he said in a hoarse voice.

Colin turned and strode away. He’d be damned before he let his father sell the property where his mother was laid to rest.



By the time he reached Deerfield Park, the sun had set and the Tudor house that had belonged to his family since the sixteenth century was shrouded in darkness, save for the lanterns that the servants carried. When he stepped out of the carriage, a blast of freezing wind chafed his face. A footman with a lantern led the way to the horseshoe steps while the others unloaded his trunks.

When he entered the foyer, he handed over his hat, coat, and gloves to Ames, the butler who had been with the family all of Colin’s life.

“My lord, may I be permitted to welcome you home?” Ames said.

“Yes, of course, Ames,” he said, handing over his greatcoat. Then he smiled and retrieved a small snuffbox from his inner coat pocket.

“For me, my lord?” Ames said.

“I happened upon it and know you like to collect them. This one was made in India.”

“I could not accept it, my lord. I’m sure it is quite valuable.”

“Of course you can. I would be disappointed if you did not accept it.”

“Very well,” Ames said. “Thank you for the gift, my lord. I shall put it in a special place where it will remind me of you. Now, your room is prepared, and your valet will unpack your trunk as soon as possible. The marquess, marchioness, and all of the other guests are in the blue drawing room.”

He paused at the mention of other guests, but of course, he would not question the butler. “Thank you, Ames.” He’d hoped to speak privately with his father straightaway, but obviously he’d have to wait until tomorrow. His boots clipped on the marble floor as he strode across the great hall.

Feminine shrieks startled him. “Colin!”

Bianca and Bernadette, his twin half sisters, ran down the stairs. When they threw their arms around him, he frowned. “Wait, who are you? What have you done with my little sisters?”

Bernadette rolled her eyes. “You’re silly, Colin.”

“I’m afraid to blink,” he said. “You might get even taller right before my eyes.”



Until this moment, he’d not realized how much he’d missed them. They were mirror images of one another, something that often took others aback. Early on, he’d learned to distinguish them by a small beauty mark. Bernadette had one on her left cheek, while Bianca’s was on her right cheek.

Bianca looked up at him. “How long will you stay?”

“A thousand years,” he said, making his sisters laugh.

“We have a dog now,” Bianca said. “We’re supposed to keep Hercules in the kitchen with the servants.”

“Hercules? He must be a big dog.”

“No, he’s not very big,” Bernadette said.

Bianca giggled. “Papa said he’s ugly.”

Colin laughed. “Are you still speaking twin gibberish?”

“We gave that up ages ago,” Bernadette said. “Next spring, we’ll be sixteen and ready for our come-out.”

His chest tightened yet again, this time with guilt. He would know about their upcoming debut if he’d made the effort to see them more often. God only knew what else he’d missed in their lives. Regardless of how difficult his relationship was with his father, he shouldn’t ignore his sisters.

“We’re not nearly as tall as Penny,” Bianca said. “Here she comes now.”

Penelope was here? He looked up at the landing where a thin, tall girl with reddish blond hair stood. She lowered her eyes and turned toward the corridor.

“Come with us,” Bianca said, taking his arm. When they gained the landing, he saw the back of a tall brunette in a brilliant green gown. His appreciative gaze slid down to the woman’s rounded bottom. When the brunette turned, she looked somewhat familiar, but the candlelight in the corridor was dim.

As he drew nearer, recognition dawned. The candlelight burnished her brunette hair and shed a mellow glow over her stunning creamy complexion. He felt as if she’d knocked the breath out of him. Hell, she’d literally done it when he’d tried to give her a chaste kiss beneath the Christmas mistletoe a few years ago. She’d always had a sharp tongue, and he’d remained wary of her with good reason.

Angeline curtsied and regarded him with a shrewd smile. “Bonsoir, mon ami.”

Their relationship had always been closer to adversary than friend, but he’d not seen her in a long time. There was no question that she’d grown even more beautiful.

Angeline offered her gloved hand, and he bowed over it. He flicked his eyes quickly over her generous bosom. Colin mentally reminded himself to keep his gaze a very safe distance above her low neckline. “I suspect you’ve had more than a few Parisian admirers.”

Her one-shoulder shrug was all Gallic. “The French have a proverb: ‘Beautiful grapes often make poor wine.’” A sly expression flitted through her green eyes. “So I avoid the grapes and drink the wine.”