Ripe for Pleasure (34 page)

“Faithfulness?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “That’s more something a man demands.”

“Not all men.” The corners of her mouth begged to curl up into a smile, but she pressed her lips together to hold it back.
Teasing him was too fun, especially when he knew it was all a game: nothing but an avenue to flirtation. “Were you expecting
faithfulness? You picked a very poor candidate if you were.”

“Baggage.”

She smiled and batted her lashes. “You could always make sure I’m too busy to indulge my—what was it they called it in the
print you love so much?—my
wanton nature
?”

“You can indulge it all you like…”

“With you.” She made a rude little noise to show him what she thought of that solution.

He tried to maintain his composure for a moment longer, but ended up laughing. “Come inside and indulge it now. What could
be more wanton than taking me to bed before luncheon?”

“Keeping you there all day?”

“As if you could.”

“Is that a bet, my lord?”

“Call it a challenge.” His green eye twinkled.

“Ah.” Viola sighed and looked him up and down. He was breathtaking, as always. All sharp lines and harsh planes. His full
lower lip stretched into a wicked smile.

“You know the difference between a bet and a challenge, of course?” His grin widened.

“A bet has a winner and a loser…” Her hands began to tingle as heat pooled in her belly and her heartbeat redoubled between
her thighs.

“But a challenge can be won by all parties concerned.”

CHAPTER 36

L
eo spread the rubbing of the statue’s engraving across the floor and shooed Pen away from it. He’d brought it with him from
town, but he was damned if he could make it out. The dog huffed at him and crossed the room to throw herself down at Viola’s
feet.

Viola absently rubbed the dog with her foot as she paged through the cache of letters. They’d been making a detailed study
of them together during the run-up to the wedding, but so far they’d come up with nothing new. She set the last one aside
and turned to her notes. “So we know Mr. Black, owner of Dyrham, fled to America with the money your grandfather gave him
for the property. He would hardly have needed it if he’d had the prince’s treasure.”

“And we know Mr. Connall, owner of number twelve at the time, was adamant about leaving it hidden and holding it in trust.
We also know he died shortly afterward, and the house was sold to pay his bills. So his widow must not have known about the
treasure either.”

Viola blew out her breath, setting her fringe dancing. “And then there’s Mr. Thaddeus, purported guardian of the money. Do
you think he could have taken it?”

“Well, if he did, we’ll never find it. But from the tone of the comments about him, I’d wager he wasn’t the type to abscond
with what was clearly a sacred trust. Did you find anything that sheds any light on where the money might have been hidden?”

She shook her head and tossed her notes down atop the pile of letters. “No, and it’s quite irritating, too.” She stretched
and wandered across the room. She stopped behind him, hands on his back, chin resting on his shoulder as she peered over it.
“Any luck with the inscription?”

“Well, I’ve ascertained that it’s in Latin. Not that it was a large strain upon my mental capacity to do so. I think the first
word is either
sp
s
or
spe
,
but the last one is hopelessly degraded.”

“What did you say?” She stiffened, raising her head to study the inscription more closely.

“That the first word is
hope.
”

She shook her head, as though trying to clear her thoughts. “No, the other bit: hopelessly. Hopeless.
Sp
s, spem, spe
, sp
.
” She ran off the declensions as though responding to a don. She circled the paper on the floor, then stopped and shook her
hands out. “I can almost see it. It’s maddening. I know it means something…”

Leo nodded, well acquainted with the sensation of knowing you had the answer but being unable to quite get hold of it. “It
will come to you later.”

She laughed and nodded. “In the middle of the night.”

“Or while riding, or in the bath.”

“At whatever moment is most inconvenient. Yes, that’s how my mind works as well.” Viola shrugged. “No point torturing ourselves
over it. Shall we go for one last ride before our friends and family descend upon us?”

“You mean before we throw the foxes among the hens? By all means, let’s. Run up and change, and I’ll have the horses saddled.”

Leo wandered slowly out to the stable block and stood throwing a stick for Pen while Meteor and Oleander were saddled. Viola
came running down the path as the girths were being checked, skirts pinned under her elbow.

Leo tossed her up into the saddle, letting his hands linger on her hip and legs as he helped settle her in. “You know, the
idea of your friends, my friends, and my family sharing the same roof for even a single night makes me quake with horror and
anticipation.”

She smiled, eyes filled with glee. “Afraid our wedding breakfast will turn into a bacchanal?”

“The breakfast? No.” He swung up onto Meteor and brought the grain-high horse under control. “The night previous…” He let
the comment hang as he imagined his friends pursuing hers through the corridors of the house while his parents shut themselves
in their room and died of laughter. It was just the sort of thing his mother would appreciate as a very good joke.

“As long as there are no duels, and no one mistakes your sister for one of my friends—which surely isn’t possible, as your
friends all know your sister, correct?—I think we should be fine.”

“We’re exceptionally lucky that Augusta is breeding and not feeling up to the trip.”

“Aren’t we though.” Viola tossed him a sly grin over her shoulder. “But I can’t help wishing we’d got to see your brother
force her into the church.”

“You are a monster. Do you know that?”

She shrugged. “I’ve been called worse, by
you
if memory serves.” She winked, and Oleander shot out of the stable yard, shoes ringing on stone like bells.

The scent of orange blossoms filled Viola’s head as she stood before the altar. Only the first few pews were filled, Leo’s
family in the fore, their friends forming a slightly raucous crew behind them.

The spangled net shivered as she took a deep breath. She felt oddly overdressed in the gown the duchess had chosen for her.
Like an impostor.

Lord Leonidas kept a firm grip on her hand as they said their vows, as though he knew she might bolt. He held her gaze, his
own sincere, both eyes heavy with intention.

Whispers and giggles filtered through the haze that seemed to surround her. Her friends had arrived in force, making up for
the fact that she had no family to support her, and they seemed to be enjoying the occasion immensely. There was a burst of
laughter when the vicar had recited the part about declaring impediments that only died down when the duke cleared his throat
loudly, and with clear implication of dire consequences were his warning to be ignored.

Leo dipped his head slightly, a slight smile hitching up one side of his mouth, and she realized she was supposed to be responding.
Her skin burned. The spangled net
itched where it touched her skin. She pressed her foot down hard on the coin Lady Beau had slipped into her shoe for luck.