Prologue

London 1823

Memories. Bobby didn’t want to remember that part of his life. Didn’t want to relive the nightmare. Six-years-old, that was when it started when his life turned topsy-turvy, the day he became a different person. His gut curled thinking about the day so long ago.

When he closed his eyes, he saw the horrific picture, blood everywhere. The sight he vanquished from his head these last twenty or so years was vividly clear today. With the summons to the Duke of Richmond’s townhouse, everything rushed back into his mind with a vengeance. His father, as he watched the enfolding scene, his eye blazing with impotent fury while he hung from a rafter, his hands tied above his head. He’d been helpless to prevent the tragedy.

Bobby hid while Sherry violated his mother. When he and his men finished with his mother, they killed both parents. They killed them because his father refused to play a part in the scheme to steal the heirs of wealthy lords so the second sons could inherit. The fourth marquis of Stonebridge was dead. Bobby, Robert Wyatt Munroe became the fifth marquis on that day.

“Lord Robert?”

His name spoken from the Duke of Richmond goaded him from his musings. “Yes?” If he could run from this, he would. These two dukes would probably follow then drag him back. He was doomed now to a life he wanted no part of. Doomed to become something he didn’t know how to be. He possessed no lordly skills. Was trained to pick pockets and to break into homes to steal the gent’s blind. At that time, he possessed the fastest hands and feet of anyone who lived in St. Giles parish.

Drake Montgomerie, the Duke of Richmond, was running his fingers over his jaw as if in thought. “You will have to go to Scotland to reclaim your inheritance, Glasgow to be exact. Leslie Stewart, the Duke of Southcliff, will accompany you as well as guide you in your decisions. If you have questions, he will answer them. He will also point to solicitors as well as advisors whom you can trust.

Impatiently, Bobby waved his hand in the air. “My life is fine as it is. Don’t want to be a marquise. Don’t want the responsibilities. Don’t want to move to a city or the country estate my parents once owned. After all this time, hasn’t some distant relative come to claim the inheritance along with the coveted title?”

Montgomerie’s fingers formed a steeple beneath his chin. “No one. You’ve not a brother or sister for that matter. Your father was an only child as well. You must suck it up. This is what you were born to be. As it stands, here is no choice for you.”

The Aubusson carpet was bound to have a hole worn in it where he was walking in skinny circles. He stopped, swirling on a boot heel to meet the gazes of both dukes. “Has Scarface been caught? Am I walking into this with blinders on? My father was murdered because he didn’t want to have anything to do with baby stealing. Told Scarface along with his minion, Sherry, no.”

“Avery Bainbridge, the man you knew as Scarface, fled to France. We can’t touch him there. No, he has not been caught. It’s been three years. Who knows, he might grow bored and return. He would be foolish to do something so reckless.”

With his hands behind his back, Bobby rocked on his heels. “Piper was stolen as an infant. Her father was murdered that night giving his brother the scar that runs across his face. His attempt to protect his daughter was foiled though.”

“You mean Portia Leighton?” Leslie asked, his voice soft. “Are you thinking there might be more children who were stolen?”

“Scarface was the second child of an entitled family. Thought he should have become the duke instead of his older brother. He stole Piper for revenge only because the older brother, Roc Leighton, was guarded too closely. Who’s to say there are not more children under Jocko’s tutelage who should be heir to a title?”

“Who is Jocko?” Leslie asked, seeming to take great interest in the tale woven here this day. “Would like a wee bit of clarity.”

“Scarface dumped me on Jocko’s doorstep right after my parents were murdered. He was the reigning thief in St. Giles Parish. Had the most clout along with the largest territory, still does. It wasn’t long after that day that Piper was handed to him then Billy. There were other babies too. However, Jocko took special interest in the three of us. Billy and I were told we weren’t ever to let Piper be alone. As we grew up, that was near impossible though. We got older. Our working hours were at night. Hers were during the day.”

“I’ve heard when Brett MacLachlan caught her picking his pocket, she was disguised as a boy,” Leslie said while he sipped the brandy Drake poured for him.

“True enough. Didn’t take Brett long to discover the truth then fall in love with her.”

“Back to you,” Leslie turned the conversation around. “Once in Scotland, I want you to go see Scarlett Gordon. She runs an escort service. However, she will also tutor you in the ways of a titled aristocrat as well as help you find a young debutante to become your wife. During the interim, she will accompany you to balls and whatever else you need.”

“A woman? An escort? Whatever for?” Bobby wasn’t ready to court or see any women, especially not a debutante. The thought made his shudder with revulsion. Didn’t want a virgin in his bed. Didn’t understand what was happening here.

“She will get you ready to become the Marquis of Stonebridge,” Montgomerie told him pleasantly. “Know this right up front, Scarlett is no whore. She doesn’t sleep with her clients. The woman, simply put, helps men when they need a woman by their side.”

An escort… Bobby mused. The though sounded delightful, perhaps even a bit sinful. His future seemed to be looking up.

Chapter One

Glasgow, Scotland 1823

Robert Wyatt Munroe, fifth Marquis of Stonebridge, stood across the street from a three-story home near the outskirts of Glasgow. His palms sweaty he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. With his boots planted firmly apart he wiped his hands on the black trousers that fit him like a second skin. His manservant, Fitzmeyer, fixed his perfectly tied cravat as he also made sure his hessians shone until light danced from them. Bobby, his preferred name, held the sides of his dark blue frock coat.

Despite the fact he held the title for nearly two months, he didn’t feel anymore comfortable now than he did when his parentage was made public. He denied the fact was true simply because he didn’t want to become part of the aristocracy. This was a part of his life he thought would remain in the past. After the things he’d done, he could not be the son of a marquis. Bloody eyes, but he spent his younger years picking pockets in Vauxhall Garden. When he was older, he robbed houses of gents like himself. The roof over his head was whatever he could find in St. Giles Parish.

The few friends he had urged him to find a wife. Told him he should court a debutante. The only way to do that was to come to Glasgow for the season. He was a fish out of water in the mansions with others of the peerage, as he would be expected to dance as well as comport himself in the manner befitting his station in life. Was expected to have genteel manners.

He, Bobby Munroe, knew nothing about courtly manners. Had never possessed a last name until two years ago. Put him in a crowd of people where he could relieve anyone of their purse, he would be at ease. Sweat beading on his brow, he looked across the street. Inside that house was the woman, he was told, who could teach him how to be a gentleman. An impossible task if anyone bothered to ask him. No one did.

Scarlett Gordon, his breath caught in the back of his throat.

He checked her out a few days ago. Followed her when she attended to some errands. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever set eyes on. While he never got close enough to see the color of her eyes, her hair was deep mahogany. When the light caught the strands, it shimmered a myriad of colors. She wore it piled atop her head. He watched her as she swore and pushed away the tendrils of hair that wouldn’t stay put. Her nose was pert, her lips generous. He was sure he could span her tiny waist with his hands. He wanted to see what was beneath the dress. Wanted to taste all of her.

Today, if he summoned the courage to enter into her domain, he would discover the color of her eyes. That was the problem. All signs of courage vanished as soon as he saw the house. His breath hitched in the back of his throat while his heart bellowed beneath his breastbone.

She would teach him what he needed to know. Bloody eyes but he needed to learn so damn much no one could do the job. When it came to dancing, he had two left feet even though in a race to get away from the constables, he could out run one and all. No one in St. Giles and the surrounding area was faster afoot. One look at a dinner table with all the tiny silverware, plates and cups and whatnot, his gut turned sour churning in displeasure. He wouldn’t make just one mistake. No, he was positive his blunders would be in the multiples.

No human being, no matter what kind of saint, could teach him enough so that people would believe he was a marquis. He had to learn by Saturday next. The first debutante ball of the season was only a few days away.

You best get on with it old bloke. Not going to learn anything standing on the street, starin’ at the house. Wishful thinking never got you anywhere. Take action.

You and I both know I never wanted this. Was quite happy being Piper’s bodyguard, living in the highlands. Had everything I wanted. Didn’t need marriage or heirs. Had fun with the willing lasses around the MacLachlan estate.

Go across the street, coward.

Bobby swallowed, however the act didn’t chase away his fear. Didn’t do anything to dry his damp palms or the moisture beading on his forehead. He wished he remembered to wear his gloves Fitzmeyer set out for him. Wished…

There were too many bloody things he wished for. None of them involved learning how to dance or wed a debutante. He liked to have fun with his women, liked them willing and passionate. Everything he heard about debutantes belied that notion.

They were all virgins. What the devil would he ever do with a virgin? Heard they expected the sex act would be done with clothing on. What kind of fun would that be? He didn’t think Miss Scarlett was going to teach him about lovemaking. He wondered if she was a virgin. Wanted to say it didn’t matter although it did. He wasn’t in the mood for untried maidens. Made a point of avoiding them.

Yet…

Perhaps…

Miss Scarlett Gordon might not be a virgin. Her escort service allowed sex if both partners were willing. He was willing, more than willing. All he would have to do would be to coax her to readiness or his way of thinking. Didn’t need lessons in sweet-talking. He was a master of the fine art of seduction.

His sigh was heavy even as he almost turned around to come back later. At his interview, her bodyguard made a point of telling him if she was going to be his escort she would never partake of sex with her client.

She didn’t give out her favors.

Ever.

He wanted Scarlett. Wanted her the first second he saw her. Not one of her other ladies would do. Bobby wanted to know her story from the beginning to the present. A lady, and she was a real lady, wouldn’t sell herself as an escort of any kind. So, what were the reasons for the transgressions? His informants he assumed were accurate. The information they brought him well documented. Miss Scarlett didn’t have sex with her clients. That made her an even bigger challenge for his charms.

Scarlett Gordon was the daughter of an earl who passed a few years ago. Her stepmother was a beautiful woman who was seen at high society functions. Other relatives, an uncle, he heard about, was a wastrel who frequented gaming hells as well as whorehouses. No one had anything good to say about the man. In Bobby’s mind that fact didn’t condemn him outright. He knew lots of men who spent hours in both places.

The lady in question stepped out on the porch. Her arms were wrapped around her slim waist as she searched the area as if looking for her new client. A smile crossed her features when she saw him. She tilted her head to one side, a picture of serenity. It seemed she was capable of reading his mind, seeing his fears.

He nodded. His time for prevaricating was up. Heaving in a deep breath of air, Bobby strode across the street. His heart lurched upward to lodge in his throat. He wiped his palms on his trousers wishing once again he thought to wear his gloves.

When he reached her, he placed her hand in his then gallantly bending at the waist brought her hand to his lips.

“Good afternoon, Miss Scarlett. It’s a fine day is it naught?”

She pulled her hand away. “You’re a tad bit late, Lord Munroe.”

There was a hint of censure in her voice except her striking green eyes twinkled with what he hoped was humor. She was teasing him. He liked that along with the flirtatious slant to her lips.

“Been across the street for a half hour. Was thinking of your pour feet and the battering they’re going to take when we dance.”

She laughed. The sound of her laughter sent ripples of pleasure down his spine. The sound was deep and pure. It was honest, uncontrived. One more thing about her he admired. Honesty in a woman was rare. Piper and Molly possessed that innate quality. Women who didn’t lie scarcely existed.

“I’m sure my feet will be just fine,” she said with a half-smile casting a rosy sheen to her complexion. “Care to come inside? We won’t dance until after our meal.” She looked at his arm. “You need to offer me your assistance.”

He did so. “Not sure why, nonetheless I have seen men and women walking like this. Who needs to be held up, you or me?”

“No one, the gesture is simply impeccable manners. Now, when we step inside, we will be announced. The same will happen Saturday night at the Richmond’s ball.”

Her voice was soft, a little bit throaty. He liked the sound of her voice almost as much as her laughter. When she was close to him, he caught the scent of vanilla.

He liked the way her fingers felt surrounding his arm as he placed his hand over hers. The door was opened for them. Inside, she stopped.

“The Marquis of Stonebridge, Robert Wyatt Munroe. Accompanying the marquis is Miss Scarlett Gordon,” one of her ladies announced. The pair stepped forward.

“Smile,” she told him.

When she let go of his arm, he stuffed his fingers through his hair. She grinned at him. “You don’t want to do this do you? We can curtail the lessons at any time. Just say the word.”

“It’s not that. I just don’t see any hope for me. Who’s going to want to marry a pickpocket and house robber from St. Giles, even though he’s been pardoned and he’s a marquis? I’m not what would be termed a decent catch.”

She didn’t seem to comprehend what he just told her. “You’d be surprised. The title coupled with the wealth you possess now will bring young debutantes along with their doting mothers to you as if you were the King of England. You will have to make sure you are not duped. I’ve the distinct feeling in this circumstance that would not be easy. From your past, you must have an uncanny sense of a person’s worth.”

“They won’t want me for me,” he told her realizing he wanted a woman who didn’t care about the title or wealth. Ever since Piper found Brett, he wanted the same kind of love they shared. He didn’t see how that would ever be possible as he was thrust into this situation where, as a person, he didn’t make a difference. All that mattered was what he could bring into a relationship.

She laughed again, only the sound wasn’t pure although he had a strange thought that the bitterness he heard in the tone was honest. “In this town you’ll have a hard time finding a woman like that, especially a debutante. Although I do know a few couples who seem to love each other.”

“What about you?” Bobby asked as Scarlett led him into the dining room. “Do you love anyone?”

The question wasn’t his business. He expected to be put off or a polite set down to be her answer.

“Love is for fools. Not me. Don’t want anything to do with men in that way,” she spoke softly.

Bobby suspected it was from the depth of her heart. Still, he wanted to understand what drove her to escort men when she didn’t like them. He wanted Miss Scarlett to like him.

She obviously didn’t want much to do with the male species except their money. Groats for services rendered. He supposed that placed her in much the same category as the other women he’d be meeting. With a sudden thought he came to realize most women were dependent on men in some way for their livelihood. Miss Scarlett tackled this in the only way she understood.

She wasn’t in the same category as the other women. He knew it. Decided he would do whatever he could to change her misconceptions about men, in particular Bobby Munroe. Didn’t truly care if she liked other men. Just wanted her to appreciate his finer points.

He was at first pleased she didn’t have a lover then disappointed. It didn’t appear she wanted one. He yearned to change that. Wanted to be her lover. The only man in her life.

If not more.

“Shall we eat?” She stopped at the door to the dining room where an array of plates and silverware were set out.

His quick drag of air surprised her enough to look his way. Her eyes were wide. In the fading light of the evening very green as well, not the usual hazel but they were vividly dark green.

“What is it?” she asked, a small smile spreading across her face as if she knew the answer to her question. “What makes you gasp in surprise?”

“I’m a simple man. Ran a violent, wild life until the last few years. Ate from vendors on the streets with my fingers. Sat down to a few meals in the kitchen with Billy and Molly when I was Piper’s bodyguard. Never seen anything like this.”

She set her hand on his arm again then quickly withdrew it. For a moment she looked away. “At the ball on Saturday,” she paused for a second, her smile finding its place again, “you should hide any surprise you have behind your teeth. You don’t need to give your critics fodder for gossip. Believe what I say, you will have critics.”

“In other words, don’t show emotion. To save my soul, I’ll try. Does that mean with you also?”

She failed to hide her surprise behind her beautiful mouth. He grinned wickedly hoping she would, in time, soften toward him. How patient was he? Well, he’d never been known for his patience. What he discovered since meeting Piper was that patience would most likely be rewarded. He hoped it was true with Miss Scarlett as well.

“When you eat at extravagant affairs such as this one, you should make sure you eat very little of each course. They will vary. Don’t imbibe too much. It will make your mind fuzzy. When you are meeting mamas and their off spring, a man doesn’t want to be fuzzy-headed.”

Bobby tossed his head back with unrestrained laughter. “Bloody eyes, I’m no innocent, Letty…”

“Scarlett.”

He grinned widely scarcely believing he found a small niche in her armor. “I’m no innocent. Know what drink does to a man’s thinking. Wouldn’t have survived in St. Giles Parish as long as I did if I was a drinking man. Sure, as I’m standing here, I’d be in Newgate.”

She dropped her gaze to the tiny little shrimp in the bowl in front of her. He watched her swill in a deep breath of air, the softly rounded tops of her breasts just showing above the modest cut of her gown turning a pretty pink. Then she looked at him, “Neither am I. Was trying to teach, to…” she paused for another draught of air. “I don’t know you, Robert Mu…”

“Bobby,” he corrected, all grins as he watched her blush deepen.

“Robert, you must learn to go by Robert. It’s more marquiseish,” she flushed again. “I think it’s time for the first round of dance lessons.”

“Rather pursue this conversation.” He looked around, “Have we finished with the meal?”

“No.”

“Then…?”

Letty didn’t strike him as a woman who flustered easily. Somehow, he managed to quite unintentionally fluster her. “I need to eat something more than one tiny piece of shrimp.”

“Of course, it’s what you are paying for. Forgive me.”

He reached across the table to place his hand over hers. “Letty…”

“Scarlett.”

He would give her this one. Clearing his throat, “I promise to do better. I won’t tease or flirt while we are still at the table. Won’t make promises for the dance floor or after that. Shall we get on with the food? I starved myself the entire day so I could eat all you told me would be put in front of me. Don’t intend to go away hungry.”

Course after course was set in front of him. With each course there was a different wine. He understood what she tried to tell him about sampling but not truly eating. By the time they finished the meal he felt sated, ready for a nap as well as bit bleary-eyed.

She smiled at him. “See?” She lifted a small finely shaped mahogany colored eyebrow toward the ceiling.

“I did try to control my appetites. Never been good at it.”

As the meal progressed his appetite for Letty grew. Every little movement she made intrigued him. His curiosity flourished. Their conversation held little meaning while he tried to probe unsuccessfully into her past.

She remained silent.

There were those in this town who knew her history. A few well-placed groats along with the right questions never hurt. He would discover a few more facts about his escort tomorrow.

“Are you up to trying your hand at dancing?” She pushed back from her chair.

“Shouldn’t you be waiting for me to help you from your seat?” he asked as he wiped his mouth, carefully setting his napkin on the table. He focused on her, waiting for her to say something. She lowered her lashes.

Another blush swept across her lily-white skin. “Yes, I forgot. I’ve never seen why a man should help a lady from her chair. My apologies for overlooking the next step. You are to be the perfect gentleman. Do believe you’re learning quickly.”

“I am. I have to overcome my past, a past that was my life. If I want to be the perfect gentleman…” He wedged his hands through his hair. “This wasn’t my idea. Want to be me the same person I was before I inherited a title that means nothing to me.”

“As we all do. We want to be ourselves. You say you need an heir…” Scarlett tapped her chin as if in thought. Bobby would pay for those thoughts if they were for sale.

He waved a hand in the air, frustrated sensations flooding him. “The people I know and care about tell me I need an heir. What does a man from St. Giles Parish, St. James Street know about such things? Heir?” He drug in a rattling breath of air. “You don’t want to hear any of this. I’m ready to step on your feet if you’re prepared for uncounted bruises. Let’s go upstairs if that’s where the dance floor is located.”

She smiled at him, a dazzling smile, one that started the melting of his soul. He felt an urgent surge of lust.

Her tenderness amazed him, stole another tiny piece of his heart. Letty was, by far, the gentlest creature he ever met. A man could count himself lucky to have a woman such as she in his life.

“Come.”

She led the way out of the dining room to a grand staircase he never noticed when he first entered the house. He walked behind her watching the gentle and very provocative sway of her hips as she made her way to the third floor, certain she had no idea how stimulating and intoxicating her movements were. Her mere presence enticed wicked thoughts. It wasn’t difficult for Bobby to imagine the gentle curve of her hips or the length of her leg beneath the gown that concealed so much while doing nothing to reveal. The gowns modesty set his imagination on fire.

One of the ladies, the escorts, sat at a piano playing a tune, a waltz if he wasn’t mistaken. He assumed he was supposed to dance to that music. His toes twitched. In his mind he was shaking his head. Before he left MacLachlan’s estate, he watched Brett and Piper dance the waltz. Brett was debonair. She was a wee bit clumsy.

Bobby scoffed inwardly at his second and third thoughts concerning the viability of this activity. “I would not dance,” he murmured thinking if he tried, he’d make a bloody fool of himself.

“You will. Just make sure you only dance once with any lady. If you partner more than once with a debutante, it will send a message that you prefer that particular woman. Which in turn will start the gossips running their tongues about a possible marriage. If you dance three or more times with one woman that is an announcement of an engagement.”

“I would only dance with you.”

“That would also generate rumors as all who attend these functions know who as well as what I am.”

“Perhaps I should find the most expensive brothel then sire my heir there. That, in the end would be far more enjoyable than attending balls. Bruising young women’s feet is hardly my idea of fun.”

He was surprised when she closed her eyes for a moment but when she opened them, she was smiling. “Just like a man to prefer no commitment over a wife.”

He felt his hackles rise. “From what I’ve heard, I don’t believe you should be talking about commitment.”

She stiffened. Her lips thinned to a narrow line. Her brows did the same. The small chin he admired tilted defiantly upward. “What have you heard?”

He relaxed. Didn’t understand why. “A great deal of things. You are a constant as far as conversation goes. There are rumors. Innuendos. Many things about your life, about the men you escort. I’m sure what the men have to say is far from the truth. Much of it is flippant and denigrates your character. However…” He placed two fingers on her chin, turning her to look at him. “I find your character impeccable, beyond reproach.”

“What the fashionable people think of my character matters not to me. I’ve made my choices in this life. I’m satisfied with the outcome.”

Her rebuff of her character as well as his defense miffed Bobby.

She turned, lifting her skirts. Without looking back to see if he followed, she made her way to the center of the ballroom. When she turned to beckon him forward, she was a replica of her earlier self. The anger if it ever was there vanished.

He stood in front of her when she faced the door. A tiny gasp escaped her lips. He ran his knuckles down her cheek. Wishing to break through the stiff façade she managed. “Your character makes a difference to me. You bristle when your past comes up. What is it that you hide?” He had his guesses. Thought perhaps in time she would tell him.

Perhaps not.

With information he would be armed. Perhaps he should pay a visit to her step mama tomorrow. From what little Letty told him, he was sure the woman could shed some light on the situation.

“Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself,” she told him before turning to the piano player. “You may start.”

He didn’t have one doubt in his mind about that.

She held one of his hands with hers. “Put your other hand on my waist. We will waltz. Think one, two three, one two three…”

Scarlet closed her eyes as if she didn’t need to see him. She explained what their feet would do. Slowly at first, she began the dance.

He followed.

Stumbled and swore.

She laughed softly seeming to enjoy the dance.

Two hours later they were laughing. Bobby was holding onto Scarlett whose head rested against the hollow of his shoulder. They were both breathing hard. He felt the softness of her breasts pressed against his chest. Felt burgeoning lust. Let his hand slide to the small of her back then a tiny bit lower as he pressed her against him.

Immediately, she stiffened. Slowly, she pushed away. “Don’t do that again.”

~ * ~

“Lord Robert Munroe likes you,” Torra giggled. “No, I’d say he’s crazy over you. One can tell just by the way his eyes shadow you around the room. He never stopped looking at you.”

Scarlett didn’t want to listen to the notion. Didn’t want anyone to be crazy about her, especially a man who could rip her freedom and independence right out from under her feet.

The truth was Robert did something to her self-control no other man could do.

She didn’t want a man, any man.

With his steady and oh so persistent flattery, he began to melt her heart. With his gentle smile and outlandish behavior, he made her laugh. She didn’t remember the last time she laughed, a real laugh a belly laugh. He also made her uncomfortable in too many ways to count.

When his hand settled on her waist, she thought her heart wouldn’t stop racing. She gasped for air. When he eventually picked up the simpler steps, they flowed around the ballroom as if they were made for each other, as if they were one and the same.

She waved her hand in the air in denial, “Nonsense, he needs a debutante not a long-in-the-tooth spinster. Must have a wife so he can sire an heir. A twenty-three-year-old matron will not do for a lord of the realm.”

“From what few words I overheard; he didn’t seem so eager to find a debutante. No, his focus was on you,” Torra said as she settled back into the big chair and sipped the tea that was more milk and sugar than tea. She looked over the rim of the cup as if waiting for an answer.

She wasn’t going to get one.

“What did I miss?” Muira, one of Scarlett’s other ladies, waltzed into the big drawing room. She poured herself a glass of sherry then sat down across from the other two ladies. “The two of you look as if you’re sharing secrets. Care to let me in on them?”

“How did your evening go?” Scarlett asked wishing to keep the conversation on anyone but herself.

Too many questions twirled around in her head about Robert, turning her brains into mush. He intrigued her. She didn’t like that fact. Sent her heart thrashing around in her chest so hard she didn’t know how to restrain it. When she thought of him dancing with one of the simpering debutantes searching for husbands, it sent a debilitating wave of jealousy from the tips of her toes straight on up to her faltering brain.

“You know Lyle Cummings. His hands are everywhere. What he wants is a whore not an escort,” Muira said while she pulled off her slippers and stockings. “My feet hurt so badly. He stepped on them at least ten times each dance. Never an apology from his lips and he held me too close. I had an instant urge to slap the silly grin off his face.”

Scarlett’s laughter bubbled up despite her attempt to stop it. “Robert was just learning. He stepped on my toes just once. He truly did catch on quickly.”

“Getting back to Lyle Cummings. You dinna have to go with that man. If you told him no, he wouldn’t keep bothering you,” Torra pointed, shaking her finger at Muira, reprimanding.

Muira lifted her petite shoulders. She was tiny and fragile with the look of a porcelain doll. Her deep brown eyes narrowed as she ran her hands down the length of her skirt. “He pays well. While I ken he wants to take me to his home then to his bed, he doesn’t push or force. Someday he’ll wed. I’ll have to move on then but for now he suits. I can count on him to want an escort once a week, sometimes more. He keeps me in spending money, likes to give expensive gifts.”

“You don’t have to try new men,” Torra said. “If Lyle Cummings is suitable, who am I to criticize?”

“Where men are concerned one never knows what you’re going to get,” Scarlett added with a visible sigh. “Even though they are screened by Tristan.” Tristan was their in-house bodyguard. He did look over Robert’s credentials. He was given the okay by two dukes, two men who were known to work for the English government.

When she closed her eyes, all she could think of was Robert. All she could see was his innate power, all confined in his body seeming to want to burst out. He was tall, much taller than her. She reached his chin. With most men she looked straight into their eyes. Her uncle called her an abomination of a woman, a big gangly thing with no female charm. That thought didn’t stop him from forcing her when she turned thirteen.

Moisture welled in her eyes.

She pushed the hated tears away with the backs of her hand, wishing Torra and Muira didn’t notice. It seemed tonight at least luck was on her side. They were both so caught up in their personal lives they didn’t see the gathering tears that even now spiked her lashes. With her thumbs she pushed them away. She drank deeply of her lukewarm tea.

“Tell us about the marquis. Is he handsome as sin or just wealthy with a title? Would you like to take him to your bed?” Muira asked as she wriggled her toes.

The downstairs maid, Lydia, brought her a hot bath with Epsom salts to soak her feet in. “Ah…” she sighed as her feet sank below the water. “This is truly heaven if one exists.”

“All of the above except the part about the bed. You all understand I don’t do that,” Scarlett said thinking perhaps in this case…no. She sipped a breath of air before she continued. “His eyes are silver blue. Most of the time more blue than silver. When he laughs the outsides turn even bluer.”

“He’s bonnie,” Torra put in. “The man is taller than Scarlett. In comparison he makes her look tiny.”

Scarlet felt heat rush to her cheeks. “I’m not that tall,” she protested knowing her words were in vain.

For a female she was very tall. A tiny woman, a delicate woman, that’s what she always wanted for herself. She envied women like Muira who were fragile, who appeared as if they needed a man’s protection. If she’d been fragile, she would have never survived her younger years. It was her strength of will coupled with her size that eventually acted in her favor. The last time she was assaulted, she was able to break free. She remembered the moment clearly. Once she coshed, him over the head, she ran. Never returned home.

Still…

“I’m not a giant nor am I the largest woman…”

“I’m sorry,” Torra leaned forward taking her hand in hers. “We know you’re sensitive about your height. You are not a large woman. You’re so slender why a strong wind might blow you away.”

“Hardly.” Scarlett’s sarcasm could not be missed. “In any case, what I was trying to say is that he is larger than me. That fact is nice for a change. Not that it matters. I’m helping Lord Munroe discover his future wife. He must find a debutante. There is no place for me in that scenario.”

“There is no reason why you couldn’t be his wife. Everyone knows your father was an earl. Your pedigree is just as fine as the marquis,” Muira said leaning back. “You have all the requisite skills to run a household as well as the knowledge to see the man through rough times.

“You all ken I won’t marry. Won’t be under a man’s control. Ever.” Scarlett’s voice took on the same strangled emotion it always did when she spoke of men.

Images of her uncle, naked, his rod pushing from his groin flooded her brain. Closing her eyes never vanquished those horrible images along with the worst ones where he forced himself inside her. “No, I’ll never let a man into my life or my bed,” she murmured softly cringing while the hated pictures slowly faded for the moment.

“That’s a shame. You’ve got so much kindness to give,” Torra said. “I’d wager your Lord Munroe knows a thing or two, maybe three about giving a woman her pleasure. Being with a man that way is not all hurt and shame. I should know. I’ve experienced both.” Torra leaned forward. “Don’t be a coward all your life. Take a risk. If the man offers to bed you…”

“I will say no.”

“If he doesn’t ask and finds a way to coax your favors from you what then? Will you give love a chance?” Muira put in a few words too.

“Sounds like two different things to me. Coaxing is tantamount to force. It just makes the woman want you so bad she doesn’t ken how to say no,” Torra said while she fiddled with the teacup’s handle.

Muira tipped up her glass emptying it. “I’m going to bed. You two don’t stay up too long talking. The regrets will come in the morning when you’re trying to open up eyelids that don’t want to cooperate. I’m going to accompany Lyle to a lecture at the university. Says he will look good to his colleagues with me on his arm. Hah, they all know what I am. Don’t understand that man. Never will.”

“I’ll heed your advice and go straight to bed. Tristan told me there is a man who would like to meet me tomorrow. Needs an escort to a family gathering in Edinburgh of all things, not too sure about going out of town with a new man.” Torra laughed turning to Scarlett. “What about you?”

“I’m not tired, nevertheless I’ll retire soon. Lord Munroe and I are going on a picnic tomorrow if the weather holds. I assured Lord Munroe that would be a proper outing to take a debutante who catches his eye. I will make sure he understands what is proper as well as what is not.”

“I think you protest over much. You’ve already caught the gent’s eye. All you need do is reel him in.” She held up her hands. “I know. You don’t want to wed. Ever. As an afterthought, do you truly think you can teach that man what is proper? Seems to me he’ll do what he pleases.”

“That’s ridiculous. He’s not infatuated if that’s what you’re implying. I’ve only met the lord today. It’s impossible to feel what you’re speaking of in such a short time,” Scarlett said as she tried to ignore all the warning signs blaring in her mind.

“Mark my words,” Torra was shaking her head as she walked up the steps. “He will find some way to catch you on his terms. Take care or you’ll be in over your head.”

Thinking on all the girls said, Scarlett finished her tea. She strode to the front porch. A calm evening breeze swirled around her cooling her heated cheeks. A sliver of a moon hung low in the sky while a few scattered dark clouds traveled across its golden warmth. She wrapped her arms around her waist. It was colder than she thought it would be. She was chilled to the bone. In one meeting, Lord Munroe brought promises as well as untapped fears into her life. She wasn’t sure she was ready to explore them.

He would challenge her to do so.

She remembered watching Robert while he stood across the street debating to come inside. Clearly, he’d been nervous despite his title and his standing in the community. She understood. Lord Robert Munroe believed he was a fraud. Had heard gossip about his kind as well as how they shouldn’t be allowed to associate with true gentry.

Just as she was a fraud, they had that fact in common. What other similarities did they share?

There was nothing true and honest about Scarlett Gordon, daughter of the earl of nothing. Her father was dead to her the moment he wed Lydia Robin. The woman brought into the home that had once been filled with love. Her relatives, Uncle Baron to be exact, had ruined her life, changed it forever. After he finished with her, nothing would ever be the same. She shivered. The man turned up here a week ago asking for an escort. Told her she owed him. No, she already paid the man too dearly for words.

Scarlett knew what he wanted. She would never willingly give anything to that man let alone her body. She paid the price too many times to count. Until she managed to flee, she’d been at his beck and call. No one believed her when she told them he raped her.

The deep breath she inhaled was filled with scents of spring purging the stench of her memories. Daphne bloomed around the front of her porch. The hoot of an owl then an answering one could be heard. She wondered what Robert was doing right now.

“Nay,” she murmured softly admitting that she was truly a coward, afraid to take chances in this life, forget about Robert. A man will only bring pain and suffering. A man is not for the likes of you.

Still, it seemed she remembered the touch of his hand on the small of her back then lower when he took liberties she didn’t give. She liked the sensations he evoked. The man’s hand resting on her buttocks sent heat simmering through her body joined with an ache to that place between her legs where Baron violated.

Remembering the pain would never end. If she could forget, she would. Too cold to stay outside, too restless to go to bed, she followed the stairs to the ballroom. She hit a note on the piano with her finger. Thought of the dances they shared. He would do well at the ball. She liked the nearness of his body, recalled the heat.

Once the tutoring ended and he found a wife, she wouldn’t see him again. She didn’t understand the pang in her heart. I’ve only known him for one day. I’m a fool to think he could ever be more than a client.

A bloody fool.

Torra was right. She did need her sleep. Robert told her he would pick her up at noon. The time was well past midnight now. She had things to prepare before she could tutor Lord Munroe in the fine art of a picnic. Everything needed to be proper. He would probably prefer something bawdier than what she planned.

Finally in bed, she punched and pounded the pillows as she attempted comfort. She pulled the covers up then tossed them away.

Her legs were wound around the sheets when the sun peeked in through the window.

“Good heavens,” she murmured staring at the tangle of bedding she was sitting on. Her dreams haunted her, touched that part of her she kept hidden from everyone. Robert would ask about her. Already intimated that he would learn all he could about Miss Scarlett Gordon. There were people who knew. People who denied the truth. She shivered. She realized Lord Robert, if that was his wish, would discover everything she meant to keep secret.

Scrambling from the bed, she pushed the nightdress she wore so it hung below her knees. She rang the bell for a bath and breakfast. The meal would have to be small. The ormolu clock sitting on the mantel chimed ten times. Her heart raced. Two hours until he picked her up. The minutes would fly. She had so much to accomplish in so little time.

She should have listened to Torra. Should have gone to bed before midnight. She only had herself to blame.

What more could go wrong?

By the time noon came around she’d worn herself out with all the preparations for the picnic. She knew exactly where they would go. The park was semi-private. There would be people on foot, possibly some on horseback. There might even be other people with a picnic in mind who could be seen. The place was perfect to take a young debutante who didn’t have a chaperone, a place where the lady’s innocence would remain intact.

She smiled when the carriage with the Marquis of Stonebridge’s crest on the side rolled to a stop in front of the house. Robert leapt from the door, his powerful legs eating up the short distance to the porch in a matter of seconds. Eager to see him, she opened the door before he could knock. Today, he didn’t stand across the street garnering courage.

“Good afternoon, Letty.” He kissed her hand. “You look beautiful today. A fine picture of a woman.”

“Scarlett. What do I have to do?”

She didn’t pull her hand away suddenly mesmerized by Robert’s smile along with his well-formed lips. Her gaze drifted to the silver-blue shimmer of his eyes. She swallowed hard tamping down the unruly nerves and sensations that fluttered through her.

“Nothing.” He grinned showing even white teeth behind his perfectly formed lips. “Nothing. I’ve chosen the name I prefer. You are Letty to me. As eventually you’ll call me Bobby. When I see to your woman’s pleasure, I don’t want to hear you calling out a name I dinna recognize.”

“You’re incorrigible, Robert. We’ll have no more talk of a woman’s pleasure and my calling out names. While you employ me to teach, you are Robert to me. We won’t hear of anything else.”

He leaned so close to her ear she felt the whisper of his breath across her cheek when he asked with a wink. “What does incorrigible mean?”

Pulling away, wary of his quick advances, she spoke, “Never you mind. I don’t want to speak of such things. Shall we?” She flashed him the largest smile she could then accepted the proffered arm.

Unlike yesterday this man flashed an aura of confidence.

“I won’t stop asking. A man has to further his education. Especially a man such as myself who just recently learned to read and write. I’ve street smarts. Can pick a pocket with ease. Can run from constables. Can enter a gent’s home and divest him of his silver and valuables. Reading and writing is new to me.” With his free hand, he picked up the basket and blanket. At the carriage the driver brought the steps for her.

“All that?” She wasn’t sure what exactly to make of his statement. How could that be? Stealing from the rich? Picking pockets? He might have said something about that yesterday. Her mind had been in the clouds.

Scarlett set herself down. Bobby took the seat opposite. “Your green eyes are flecked with gold this afternoon. I didn’t see that last night. Is it the sunshine or are you pleased to see me?”

“Is that a compliment?” she asked then couldn’t help but smile at him.

He had this air about him. Robert was a flatterer. He had a way with women that could not be denied.

“Are you pleased to see me?”

“Of course, but it must also be attributed to the sunshine. No one has ever said such a thing about my eyes.”

“Indeed.” He moved on to another topic, “The dress you chose is a bit severe for my taste though. I’d like to see the tops of your breasts. Yes, that would be nice, just a hint mind you. I wouldn’t want to share what is going to be mine with anyone else.”

The heated flush rose. She was sure it would be on her face for the rest of the afternoon. “There ye be doin’ it again. Incorrigible ye are Robert Munroe.” He challenged her in ways she didn’t understand.

“If my being that way keeps the rosy blush on your features, don’t believe I’ll be stopping’ anytime soon. Pink on your cheeks becomes you.”

“I forgot. We need to tell the driver where to go.” She pushed her head out the window as if to tell the man up top.

His strong hands about her waist, Bobby pulled her back, “Hush, I already told him where I want to take you. No need to confuse the poor bloke.”

“But…”

“But?” he asked his grin widening.

“I wanted you to see where you should take a debutante, a place where a chaperone isn’t needed. You won’t know where to go.” She began to feel a tiny wave of dizziness descend.

“Don’t want to be any place a gentleman would take a debutante. Don’t want a debutante. What you have to remember is that I’m no gentleman. Deep down in the deepest part of my heart and soul I’m a rogue. I love to be with women yet I don’t consider myself a womanizer. When it comes to a woman’s delight, never take anything for granted. Today, with you, we will be alone. As I said, don’t want to share you.” He held up his hands to stop her speaking. “Just alone. I’m not taking anything from you. I ken you’re not a willing lass or a bricky one either. Someone, a man, scared you. We’re going to have to work on that setback. Can’t go through life living in fear. Don’t want you to be afraid of me. This is just so we have ourselves to ourselves with no interruptions. Maybe get to know each other better. What do you say?”

She sat back with a tiny mew. On one hand wanting to tell him to turn around and take her where she determined while on the other hand yearning to discover what it might be like to be with a man such as Lord Robert Munroe, pickpocket turned marquis.

Alone with a man.

She didn’t want to be a coward. She wasn’t a bricky lass either. Oh dear.

Nerves twitched.

Could a man be gallant, see to a woman’s needs unselfishly? Could a man be with a woman and not hurt her. Torra and Muira thought some men could be that way. She stared at her feet. Wiggled her toes inside her slippers. Blinked a few times as her mind wandered farther afield than his question. Wandered to places she was afraid to go even while she longed for them.

“Letty?”

Her head popped up. “Scarlet.”

“Will you go with me?” His eyes narrowed, as did his lips as he waited, his fingers tense and stiff resting on his knees. “Will you go with me to a place where it will just be you and me.”

“Yes, I’ll go with you.” She sounded unsure yet for the first time she felt a burgeoning confidence. Some would say because of her work, her escort service, she was overconfident.

She wasn’t. She always made sure the girls as well as herself were protected. She screened her clients. Tristan, her bodyguard, stood in attendance when they were interviewed as well as the first excursion. The men had to be recommended by customers or people she trusted.

Both the Duke of Southcliff and the Duke of Richmond recommended Lord Robert Munroe. His credentials were impeccable. He didn’t lie or prevaricate about his time on the streets. He didn’t mistreat women. What more could an escort want?

He leaned over, his muscled forearms resting on his thighs. He picked up her hands rubbing gentle circles on the inside of her wrists. Her heart raced. “You’re cold. They are so tiny.”

Cold, yes, she was cold. “Tiny?” she squeaked unable to wrap her mind around what he said as she tugged slightly in a feeble attempt to remove her hands.

He chuckled softly, “Your hands as well as the rest of you. Tiny.” He set her hand palm to his palm. “See, my hands overflow yours. Tiny. Delicate. My fingers overlap your wrist.”

She cleared her throat. “Until now you haven’t lied to me. There is nothing about me that is tiny.” Again, she tried to tug her hand from his. For a few seconds he hung on then let go.

“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to hold your hand so long. Thought I might warm you up. Letty, compared to me, you’re tiny. I’m a big man in case you haven’t noticed. Don’t like to have to bend too far to kiss a lass.”

Unable to meet his gaze she looked out the window. When she finally brought her attention back to him, he was grinning broadly, his even white teeth showing. “Thought you’d never come back to me. Why? Why do you think I lie?”

“I’m taller than most women,” she blurted realizing he could make an argument to refute her statement. In fact, he already did so.

“True but not taller than me. Letty, you don’t reach my chin.”

“I weigh…”

“Hush.” He set a finger against her lips. “I could pick you up and carry you without straining myself or gasping for air.”

“I…”

He settled against the back of the seat, stretching both arms across the width. his legs extending at an angle to the other side. He closed his eyes, opening them slowly to look her over. He perused her from the tips of her slippers to her eyes, lingering for a few seconds on her hips then her breasts. She warmed all over.

“If we were lovers, I would reach over and lift you up so you would be sitting on my lap. Would you like to sit on my lap, Letty girl? Have my hands resting on the gentle curve of your hips.”

“Are you going to talk naughty?”

She was breathless from the thought of sitting on his lap, from his hands resting on her hips as well as lower as they did yesterday when they danced.

“Talk naughty? Never heard it put that way. Suppose so because once you were on my lap, I’d touch my lips to yours, nibble the corners of your mouth, your eyes, the tip of your nose then that very sensitive spot behind your ears. If we were lovers, I would continue,” he spoke softly.

She touched behind her ears feeling as if her eyes were crossing. “Is it sensitive there?” She didn’t realize she spoke out loud.

“Should we find out?”

His wicked grin sent her heart into a tailspin. “No,” her voice wavered on that single word as she thought she might like to discover the truth of his statement.

“That no didn’t sound convincing.”

“No,” she spoke bolder.

“You could be a bricky lass. I promise you it would be like butter on bacon if you wanted to sit on my lap.” His voice was husky smooth, created an unknown havoc deep inside. Chaos she didn’t have a foggy notion how to deal with. “No.” She could lose everything she worked for if she couldn’t stay strong in this endeavor. He was a devil. Only touching her with words, he generated scalding heat.

“No?” A long whoosh of air left his lips, “Well, if you were my lover mind you, there would be other more fun things to explore. Once I kissed your lips over and over again until sweet, little sounds rippled from your lips, charming sounds that told me you were enjoying yourself and I was giving you pleasure I would continue down your neck to that point right there.” He touched her where she felt her pulse pounding furiously.

She jumped, startled by the heat of the touch, by the rough callouses on his finger.

“I know you would beg for more.”

“More?”

“Ah, I see you want to learn what I would do next.” He sat back again, seeming to think. “It’s debatable. I would either unfasten the hooks at the top of your gown until I could see the sweetly rounded globes of your breasts along with the pink tipped nipples or I would slip your shoes off your delicate feet then explore your legs. You’ve rather nice legs I imagine. Since you are so very tall, they must be long. Would you wrap them around me when we make love?”

When he mentioned her breasts, she felt her eyes grow wide as she clasped both hands at the base of her throat as if that gesture would protect them. “S-stop…”

“Ah, I see I’ve given you things to think about.”

“We shouldn’t. You shouldn’t be saying things like that. It’s not proper.”

He tossed his back, laughing, “Proper? There is nothing at all proper about us along with what we want.”

“I dinna say I wanted what you want.”

“How are you feeling?” he asked looking smug and so very pleased with himself.

She was sure he knew. Didn’t know how he knew.

Without thinking she blurted, “Hot and… Nay I will not say it.”

“I’m pleased that you’re hot and wet. That means all the naughty talk made you excited. Perhaps ready for more ecstasy. Are you a naughty girl for listening? For growing hot and wet when all I did was talk. When we are together, you will be pleased. I will make sure you’re delighted. You’re a passionate woman, Letty Gordon. There is no need for you to hold yourself back, not for the right man.”

She had no words as she stared at the perfectly aligned floorboards in the carriage. Nothing what he said rung true for her. She didn’t feel the ache between her legs. When her uncle mauled her then forced her, pain, it was only pain she felt. How could she believe he would be so very different? That what he said he was going to do wouldn’t hurt.

“You cannot be sure I would be delighted.” Her voice hitched with a soft waver of doubt. “You know nothing about me.”

“I can,” he whispered. “When you’ve the courage, I’ll prove it to you but not until you are willing to give all of yourself over to my capable hands…” he paused gazing at her tenderly. “You won’t regret your decision and be assured I want to learn all I can about you. I won’t stop until I know you inside and out.”

“I think we’re here.”

When the carriage stopped, she rushed through the open door then to the ground without benefit of the steps. She was so in over her head with this man. Drowning, that’s what was happening to her. What would he do or say next to set her teeth rattling and stretch her nerves until she thought they would snap? To make her long for what he spoke of. Even now she wondered what his bold touch would generate inside her.

She ran to the edge of the small river flowing over rocks to find its way down into little, swirling pools. The clear water looked crisp and cold coming from snow melt higher in the crags. Her hands were clasped together, her focus on a spinning eddy in front of her when his hands rested on her shoulders. They were gentle contradicting the innate strength of the man. She kept the surprised gasp behind her lips.

“You don’t need to fear me, Letty.” His voice was deep, soothing yet exciting at the same time. “We will do well together you and I.”

Oh, dear Lord, what was she to do?

~ * ~

“Didn’t know the lad’s identity was discovered. Suppose it had to happen sometime. Would rather have had it happen on my terms.” Avery Bainbridge paced the tiny apartment room in Paris where he met his second in command, Jocko.

Avery, or Scarface as he was known in the dregs of London, fled England three years ago with the law after him. He understood he couldn’t resurface anywhere near London or Glasgow except he needed to take care of urgent business. Jocko was afraid now that Bobby obtained power and wealth, he would seek to take his place in the organization. Once a criminal always a criminal.

Leslie Stewart working with Drake Montgomerie discovered the true identity of Bobby, one of Jocko’s street urchins. Two children twenty-two years ago were abducted from their parents or guardians. The third one, Bobby, was the son of one of his minions. Jocko was the man who raised Bobby, Billy as well as Piper. He was the man who made sure they survived the streets.

The marquis, Bobby’s father, wanted out of the organization. Didn’t agree with Avery, the leader, both in Glasgow and London, or want to be part of his plans. Didn’t like the blackmail as well as the kidnapping of the babies. So, Avery had the lord murdered, after his wife was raped in front of her husband then murdered also. He took their son, Bobby, under his wing. Gave him to Jocko to keep safe. Avery made sure the lad was kept in the bowels of London, made sure Bobby learned the trade. The boy was an apt pupil. In his own way he took care of the boy planning on reinstating him as the leader in Glasgow when the time was right. Those three, two boys and a girl lived in abject poverty for the first years of their lives. There were others, nonetheless these three were the most important to him.

He lost out on the revenge he sought when Piper was caught nabbing a gent’s purse. The Scottish laird, Brett MacLachlan, who nabbed her, ended up wedding her. She was reunited with her mother, a formidable woman known as The Duchess. He regretted their reunion. For a little while the revenge tasted so sweet.

The Duchess was his sister-in-law. He was the second son so he inherited nothing. Avery killed his brother, the duke, then kidnapped the baby girl. The duke, his older brother, defending himself slashed him from his forehead to his chin. That was when Avery became Scarface. He took great delight in knowing the little girl was true nobility, his brother’s daughter when he watched her picking pockets in Vauxhall Garden.

Now he had Lord Robert Wyatt Munroe to contend with, to bring him over to his side. The task wouldn’t be an easy one. He needed to find something to hold over the man’s head. At this time there was nothing he could use. When Bobby regained his title, he also gained a pardon.

“Bobby has employed an escort to teach him how to be a proper lord,” Sherry, Jocko’s emissary in Glasgow said. “We’ll see how that goes. She’s supposed to teach him how to be a gentleman.”

“He will have to learn a great deal if he’s to survive the gossip along with the defamation of his character,” Avery mused thinking of all the young man had done while working in St. Giles Parish, while the boy increased his fortunes with the stolen booty. He understood one day his identity would be revealed. What happened next was up to him.

“Do you want me to return, keep an eye on the two of them, the escort and the marquis?”

Avery thought for a few seconds. “Jocko can do that. You think there might be something between them?” Avery was slightly amused at the thought. “Who is this lady who calls herself an escort? I would learn more about her.”

“Heard tell she’s the daughter of a wealthy earl. Dead he is. Scarlett Gordon is her name. For some reason no one speaks of, she left home when she was fifteen. Want me to learn more?”

“Yes, Jocko has enough to do in London. Stay in Glasgow. Send messages from here on out. If I think it’s safe, I might show up in the city. Not like anyone would recognize me there.”

After Sherry left, Avery sat down with his mistress and a glass of brandy. She was good to him, loyal. He truly should marry her. If he traveled to Scotland to oversee this situation, he would see to that. When he fled London with her three years ago, he considered marriage.

Just didn’t get around to doing so.

“You’re going to risk it all to return to England,” she said her eyes filling with moisture.

He heard no question in her voice. Understood she was resigned might even travel with him. “I miss the excitement.”

“You don’t have to do that. You’ve men who can accomplish what needs to be done.”

“Will you marry me?”

Avery didn’t get down on one knee. Would never lower himself to something like that, especially with a woman.

“You don’t think you’re coming back…” Her voice trailed off. She turned away as she stared fixedly at the window.

“I don’t have a death wish,” he told her stepping closer, nuzzling her neck. “Come to bed with me. We can speak of this later.”

Avery sensed her reticence. Didn’t want her to draw away from him. Couldn’t lose her. Despite his horrific scar, she cared for him. Love he didn’t know nor did he question.

“I don’t want you to go.” Her rigid voice sent a sharp stab of pain into his gut.

“But will you marry me?”

“If you promise not to leave.”

“Can’t do that.”

“Then…”

He placed a finger on her lips. “Hush. If I don’t come back, I need to know you’re taken care of. You’ll have enough funds to live wherever you want. Returning to London is a possibility for you.”

She capitulated. Avery knew it was something she wanted. “Yes, Avery, I’ll become your wife.”