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Authors: Kate Pearce

BOOK: Simply Scandalous
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He didn't feel quite so generous beneath the surface. Years of learning to control his temper had made him able to present a calm face to the world.
He bowed to the woman. “I hope that you can still enjoy the rest of your visit here. Is there any particular room where I can escort you?” She still didn't move, and Ambrose hesitated. “Ma'am, would you like me to call someone for you?”
She grabbed his arm. “What is your name?”
“It is Ambrose.”
Her grip tightened so quickly that he winced.
“Oh, my God.” She swallowed hard. “Don't you remember me? I'm Lady Mary Kendrick.”
Ambrose stared into the blue eyes of the masked woman and couldn't look away.
“Lady
Mary
?”
She nodded vigorously. “Yes, you were my mother's page boy. We all doted on you, and you suddenly disappeared. I cried for a whole week.” She glanced around the salon. “How on earth did you end up here?”
“It is a long story, my lady.” Ambrose bowed. “One that I'm sure will not interest you, although I am delighted to see you in such good health.” He tried to ease out of her grasp, but she still clung to his sleeve. “My lady?”
“Is there somewhere we might sit and talk? Somewhere quieter, perhaps?”
Inwardly, Ambrose sighed. “Are you sure you want to do that, my lady?”
She raised her chin in her old autocratic manner. “I am absolutely sure.”
“Then please follow me.”
He stopped one of the footmen and asked him to tell Marie-Claude that he would be unavailable for the next hour, then walked with Lady Mary through to one of the vacant bedchambers at the rear of the house. It was cold in the room, and Ambrose went at once to the fire and lit the kindling before attending to some of the candles.
Lady Mary took off her mask and stood in front of the gilded mirror, her blue eyes focused on Ambrose, who slowly got to his feet.
“Have I changed much?” she asked softly.
Ambrose studied her dark curling hair, tall figure, and striking features. “You have certainly grown into your beauty.”
She lifted one shoulder. “I am a little tall.”
He smiled. “Not for the right man.”
“You have grown into a handsome man yourself.”
“Thank you.”
She gestured at the chairs that sat on either side of the fireplace. “Can we sit down?”
“If you wish, my lady.”
Ambrose waited until she settled herself into her chair and then took the one opposite. “I didn't know you frequented this place.”
“I haven't been here before. I came with Lady Cooper and her American guests.” She shivered. “I think I drank rather too much wine.”
Ambrose smiled. “No harm was done. I suspect our American friend will complain to Lady Cooper about his treatment and try and have me dismissed.”
She sat forward. “I will not allow it! I will tell Lady Cooper how badly he behaved toward you. We are very close.” She hesitated. “It's not widely known yet, but I'm going to marry her brother.”
“Congratulations, my lady. I hear Lord Thomas Cooper has an assured career ahead of him in politics.”
She grimaced. “So I understand. Who would ever have thought I'd become a great political hostess?”
Ambrose found himself smiling. “I'm not surprised. You always got what you wanted when you were a child.”
“Not everything.” She paused. “I remember wanting to marry you quite desperately at one point.”
“When you were eight and I was twelve.”
“That's right.” She sighed. “I was desperately in love with you and then . . .”
“And then what?”
“I told Mother and she laughed at me.”
“That wasn't kind of her.”
“But she wasn't very kind, was she?” Lady Mary met his gaze. “And she was rather possessive of you.”
“As she was of her favorite lapdog.”
“No, it was more than that.” Lady Mary's color rose. “I saw you once, leaving her bedchamber early one morning.”
Ambrose smiled but said nothing and waited for her to continue. If she had suspicions as to the nature of his relationship with her mother, he was certainly not going to encourage them.
“She took you to her bed, didn't she?”
“I can hardly answer that, can I?”
She grimaced. “I suppose not. It took me years to work out why you left so suddenly, but that was it, wasn't it? Mother grew tired of you and sent you away to our country estate.”
Ambrose felt a knot of pain grow in his stomach. “Is that what she told you?”
“That's what she told everyone. But when we went down to Fairleigh Hall that summer, you weren't there. She said you must have run off, and that she wanted nothing more to do with you.”
Ambrose contemplated Lady Mary's earnest face. Was it worth spoiling her mother's version of the truth with his reality? Part of him wanted to shout it at her, to share the savage beating he'd received at the hands of Lord Kendrick, and the way he'd been tossed into the gutter like a piece of useless rubbish.
“Ambrose?”
“I have worked here for the last ten years and I consider it my home now.” He took a deep, steadying breath. “I could not have stayed with your family. There was no position available for me there.”
“I'm sure Father could have found you something. He was always very fond of you.”
“I will always be grateful to your family for sheltering me during my childhood years.” He couldn't help but reach across and take Lady Mary's hand. “You were especially kind to me. I will never forget that. If you ever need my help, you know where to find me now.”
“That sounds very final.” She squeezed his fingers. “I suppose you don't want me to tell my mother and siblings that I've found you.”
“I think it would be best if this secret remained between us, don't you? I don't want to rake up old hurts.”
She released his hand and sat back. “I suppose not. Did you know that my father died last year, and Dominic is now the fourth earl?”
“I did read about your father's death, my lady. I offer you my belated condolences.”
“He died on the hunting field, which would have pleased him greatly.” Lady Mary swiped at the corner of her eye. “I miss him tremendously.”
“I'm sorry, my lady,” Ambrose murmured. His own reaction to the earl's death had been far more joyful. The man had been a tyrant who had beaten his wife and terrorized his servants.
“Well, there's nothing to be done about that. Despite his youth, Dominic is proving most satisfactory as the new earl.”
“I'm sure he is. He was always a levelheaded boy.”
“Apart from when he got into scrapes with you.”
Ambrose smiled at the bittersweet memories her words evoked. Dominic had usually been the instigator of their escapades, but it had always been Ambrose who was punished. He glanced up as the clock on the mantelpiece struck the half hour.
“My lady, it has been such a pleasure to talk to you, but I fear I must get back to work.”
Lady Mary stood up in a rush, pushing the puffed sleeve of her low-cut bodice back onto her shoulder again.
“Of course, I didn't mean to distract you from your duties.”
“You didn't, my lady.” Ambrose blew out most of the candles and walked toward the door.
“What exactly are your duties here, Ambrose?”
He looked back over his shoulder as she closed the distance between them. She was so tall that she was almost at his eye level.
“I mainly manage the staff.”
She was so close that he could smell her flowery perfume and her natural warm scent. “You don't get involved with the guests?”
He held her gaze. “Only if I am required to do so.”
“Oh.” She stared at his mouth for a long moment before leaning in and placing a slow kiss on his lips.
He forced himself neither to respond nor to recoil, but to remain exactly where he was. He couldn't prevent the skip in his heartbeat or the burst of heat in his groin.
“Good night, Ambrose.” She breathed the words against his lips. “Thank you for saving me from that boor.”
“Good night, my lady,” he replied, and opened the door wide, allowing her to float past him, her smile secretive, her eyes amused.
He let her go and stayed leaning against the door until he could decide how he felt about such an unexpected encounter with his past. Would she insist on pursuing their acquaintance, and if so, how did that make him feel? Part of him wanted her gone again, the other was eager to see if he could bend a member of the mighty Kendrick family to his will, to take her as her mother had taken him, to leave her brokenhearted as he had been left, bleeding in the gutter . . .
With a curse, Ambrose slammed the bedroom door and headed back to the second floor. What in God's name was wrong with him? There was work waiting, and he intended to push all other considerations from his mind.
8
“W
hen were you going to tell me that Vincent Lennox was a woman, Keyes?”
Richard slammed the door of Keyes's office shut behind him and marched toward the man behind the desk.
“I needed to tell you that?” Keyes looked mildly offended and not at all put out, which only served to annoy Richard more.
Richard sat down and poured himself a large glass of brandy from the decanter on Keyes's desk. “You also failed to mention that I knew her rather well in France.”
“Is that so?” Keyes topped up his own glass and swallowed slowly. “Coincidence is a strange beast, isn't it?”
“I don't believe in coincidence at the best of times, and when you are involved, I don't believe in it at all!”
“I speak the truth, Ross. I can't say that I wasn't delighted to find out you already had a connection with the Lennox family, but it wasn't intentional.”
“I knew her only as Violet LeNy.” Richard studied Keyes. “Was their father really a Lennox?”
“As far as I can tell, he was. I told Jack I would help him establish their identity.”
“Why?”
“So that he would trust me.”
“Do you really want them to stay in England?”
“I don't care what happens to them as long as I get the information I require.”
“Which is what?”
Keyes steepled his fingers and stared down at them. “I'm not sure yet. Jack Lennox suggested that he and his sister had been made scapegoats for a series of events that happened in France. I think he might have a point.”
“But why would someone want to implicate the Lennox twins in anything?”
“That's the question I cannot answer.”
“Do you think they might be in danger?”
Keyes glared at him. “Don't be obtuse, man. Why else would I have asked you to keep an eye on them?”
“And why else would Violet be masquerading as a man?” Richard murmured to himself. “They are not exactly in hiding, though.”
“I don't want them to go to ground. I want them alive and visible.”
“You mean you want to use them as bait for something bigger.”
“Exactly.” Keyes raised his glass in a mock salute and then finished his brandy in one swallow.
“But why is the British government interested in the survival of two French Royalist spies?” Richard narrowed his gaze. “Do they still have important information?”
“As I said, I can't decide.” Keyes sighed. “It's just that the story Jack Lennox told me was remarkably similar to a couple of others I've heard recently. And, as you said, I don't believe in coincidences.”
“Then your concerns must have something to do with the security of
this
nation rather than the French. You no longer dabble in the fate of common spies.” Richard rose and put his glass down on the desk. “I'll keep them under close surveillance.”
Keyes winked. “Very close, I hear. Which one did you fuck in the pleasure house, or was it both of them?”
“Wouldn't you like to know?” Richard smiled. “What a shame that I don't kiss and tell.”
“I don't care which one you fuck as long as you do what needs to be done.”
“You can rely on me.”
The humor vanished from Keyes's expression. “I damn well hope so.”
Richard paused at the door. “As bad as that, Keyes?”
“Just keep them safe until I can question them further or the matter resolves itself.”
Richard nodded and left the office, his mind in a whirl of conjecture. It seemed that Violet was right to be afraid. The thought of someone trying to kill her made Richard feel quite murderous himself. He was the only one who had the right to wring her neck.
He walked back to his lodgings and let his valet divest him of his coat, hat, and gloves. An hour reading and replying to his correspondence would calm his thoughts and give him some much-needed objectivity that he seemed to be lacking at the moment. Violet had always done that to him—made him act like an impetuous fool.
His gaze fell on the box of letters Emily had given him and he picked them up. He should read them. Emily would be waiting to hear from him. But did he really want to find out that his much-loved mother had deceived his father and her children? With all that was going on in his life with Violet, he wasn't sure if he could stomach another betrayal. He put down the box and turned back to his desk. He'd look at them later.
 
As Jack made himself agreeable to an aging duchess, Violet stood slightly to his left and concealed a yawn behind her gloved hand. They were at a small, informal evening party hosted by Adam Fisher's mother, and were being introduced to all the people who could smooth their path into English society.
Violet wondered again why Lord Keyes was being so helpful. In truth, when she and Jack had first decided on their wild plan to come to England, she had half expected to be immediately incarcerated or hung as spies. But something about their outlandish claims must have interested the enigmatic Keyes, and their lives were saved. But for how long was anyone's guess. She knew that if their story were discredited, they would be left to endure their, no doubt, grisly fate.
She wandered over to the windows and wished she could take off her coat. Even though she appreciated the freedom wearing breeches gave her, she disliked the numerous layers of fabric swathed around her neck and upper body. It was all too damn hot.
A slight disturbance at the door made her turn to see Emily and Richard Ross being greeted by their hostess. Emily looked deliciously cool in a blue satin shoulder-revealing gown and Richard his usual elegant self. He dressed with the quiet confidence he had displayed even in his youth. She was the only person who had ever been able to raise his temper then, and it seemed that nothing had changed.
Jack immediately walked over to Emily Ross and kissed her hand before leading her over to the refreshments in the conservatory. Richard said something as Jack led his sister away, and even though Violet wasn't close enough to hear the actual words, she guessed their intent from Richard's grim expression. She would have to warn Jack not to meddle with Miss Ross; but for some reason, he seemed rather fascinated by her.
“Good evening, Mr. Lennox.”
Violet smiled up at Richard. “Mr. Ross.”
“Are you enjoying yourself?”
“Mrs. Fisher is very kind and she has quite taken to my mother. I hope they will become friends.”
“Do you miss that?”
“Having friends?”
He smiled and the grave beauty of it struck her anew. “Female friends.”
“Yes, men are so uninteresting.”
“I can't help but agree with you.” He hesitated. “Will you walk with me to see the library? It has some interesting medieval manuscripts saved from a monastery fire in it.”
“Are you going to shout at me again, or lock me in?”
He placed his gloved hand over his heart. “I'll try not to.” “Then that would be delightful.”
Richard touched Adam Fisher's arm as they went past him. “I'm taking Lennox to see your library.”
“Absolutely. Take your time.” Adam nodded at Violet. “I'll make sure your mother is well taken care of.”
“I'll wager he will, the old letch,” Richard murmured to Violet. “Despite his benign exterior, that man is lethal with women of any age.”
Violet chuckled. “Well, then he has probably met his match. Sylvia is no fool.”
“Ah, that's right, she was married to your father, wasn't she?”
Violet refused to take offense. “Indeed, and my father was a very charming trickster and not to be relied on at all.”
“Not an ideal parent.”
“No, I'm glad my mother took me away from him, or I might have turned out like Jack.”
It was his turn to smile. He opened a set of double doors and bowed. “Here we are.”
She walked ahead of him into a large room filled with bookshelves and the indefinable smell of pen, paper, and ink. Violet slowly inhaled.
“I have always dreamed of owning a library like this. I understand there is one at Lennox Park. I hope I get to see it one day.”
“I'm sure you will.”
Richard placed one of the candelabra beside a large reading plinth and turned to bring down a massive leather-bound book. He carefully untied the ribbons that bound the great manuscript and opened it.
“Oh, my goodness.” Violet breathed as the candlelight caught the vibrant colors and gold enamel of the illuminated letters. “They look as if they were painted yesterday.”
She came across to peer over Richard's shoulder and he immediately made room for her.
“Adam said that they found the books when they dug up part of the old cloister at their country house.”
“Their house must have been built on the ruins of one of the monastic foundations that disappeared after the Reformation.”
“I assume you are right, seeing as the house is called Melton Abbey.”
Violet traced the beautiful penmanship with one careful finger. “It could take a monk months just to finish one of these letters. Just imagine how long it took to manage a whole book.”
She looked up and found that Richard was staring down at her, a concentrated expression on his face. She found she couldn't look away.
“Violet,” he murmured, before bending his head and kissing her so sweetly her knees buckled. She kissed him back, her hand sliding into his hair to keep him close.
He groaned and wrapped an arm around her hips, bringing her completely against him. Oh, God, she couldn't resist him when he was like this, so urgent, so tender, so . . .
His fingers slid between her legs and started rubbing her sex in time to the long, slow thrusts of his tongue. She whimpered and he drew one of her legs over his hip, opening her farther to his touch. She grabbed at his hand and tried to push it inside her trousers.
“Ah, God, yes,” he breathed into her mouth, his fingers easily working her buttons until he could uncover her most needy flesh. “I want my mouth on you.”
She didn't resist as he brought her down to the floor and pushed down her trousers and underthings to display her mound. His mouth descended, licking at her already swollen clit, parting her lower lips and delving into the heat and wetness with his tongue until she writhed against him. He slid two fingers inside her and pushed them in and out until she could hear the slick sound and smell her own arousal.
His thumb probed her arse, steadily pushing deep until she was trapped between the delights of his mouth and his fingers, a cage of intense delights she didn't want to escape. He added another finger, pumping into her until she climaxed, her tight passage gripping on to him with an enduring strength that begged—no, demanded more.
He didn't stop touching her, exacting another climax from her before he finally raised his head and kissed her mouth, letting her taste her own need.
“Violet, why are you here?” he murmured between kisses.
“With you on the floor?”
“No, here in England. Who do you fear? If you tell me, I can help you. I swear it.”
Violet wrenched her mouth away and tried to roll away from him. He stopped her with one heavy thigh across her hips.
“What are you doing?”
“I'm getting as far away from you as I can,” she hissed.
“Because I made you come?”
“No! Because you did it to make me talk to you.”
He moved off her and lay on his back, one arm braced beneath his head. “That's true, but I enjoyed every second of it.” He sighed. “I want to help you, Violet. But between you and Lord Keyes, I feel as if I'm floundering around in the dark.”
“I cannot tell you anything.” Violet fought to control the trembling in both her voice and her fingers as she struggled to refasten her trousers.
“Why not?”
“Because you don't trust me.”
“And do I have reason to trust you?” His hazel eyes snapped fire. “I thought I'd caused your death! I
mourned
you.”
“I know.” She swallowed hard. “You probably won't believe me, but I was just following orders. I was told you had to accept that I was dead, that it was the only way you would leave me alone.”
“Who told you that?”
“My superiors.”
“And you believed them?”
Violet dropped her gaze and concentrated on the final button of her trousers. “You told me that you loved me, that you would never leave me.”

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