A Matter of Some Scandal. Daisy BanksЧитать онлайн книгу.

      Argyle rubbed his gloved hands together as he strode down the hall. He snapped his fingers at the young footman who near lounged by the door. The startled youth leapt to attention and scuttled off to order his horse brought round.

      Pru had never disappointed him but for once. Her eyes had shot the brilliant diamond-bright fire he loved, her kiss had left him so aroused he’d ache with desire all day, and her refusal this morn, he’d expected.

      He could count on one hand the occasions she had gone against her spoken word. The one time it truly mattered most, well, it had all been her father’s fault. The bloody fool. Gambling debts the like of which dear Pru might only dream about, all paid off by the love-struck Wellbourne, and she’d been the price. Had she ever discovered the fact? He didn’t think so, and would not be the one to break her heart by telling her at this late date. But now, thank the fates, she was free. She remained the luscious beauty she had ever been, riper though, and ready to fall into the right hands.

      “Your mount is ready, sir.”

      The footman’s words startled him. He nodded and stepped through the opened door. Once mounted, he looked back at the town house. Very suitable, not too large but with plenty of the home comforts Pru liked about her. They’d keep it as a second home in town once they wed. There was a sizeable and well-stocked cellar, and more servants than the place needed. She’d always been too generous to her staff; when she had it, coin was no object. When she didn’t, she’d rather go without before the servants did.

      From her days at Derry House with its frequent bouts of temporary financial hardships, it was little wonder gold had come to mean such a lot to her. Even as a youth he’d known her father’s folly, and understood, but how could he have dared tell her? He never had found the way and regretted his reticence every day since.

      Enjoying the crisp morning air, he urged the horse forward. This would be his opportunity to put things to rights. All was arranged and ready, and this time, she’d not get away. The sun neared its zenith, which meant the clerks he’d appointed would arrive at her house shortly. As soon as they began to do what he’d instructed and get in her way, she’d be packing and gone. By late afternoon, if he guessed right, along the Great Western Road, no matter the danger.

      A surge of heat shot through him. This time he’d have her without all the London pretence. It would be as it always should have been: them, the woods and peace. And now she’d not refuse him.

      A worm of fear leapt up in his gut. No, she’d not refuse him again. When Wellbourne died, impatience had gotten the better of him. No matter how correctly worded the letter, he’d sent it far too soon. His second attempt in August last, it had been all wrong. She’d been with her friends and only agreed to give him a few moments, laughed at his proposal they marry. She’d not listened as he tried to explain his fortune from importing to her. A pity for sure. He’d been certain the money would sway her. No matter though, the shimmer of desire had been in her eyes. She couldn’t hide it. As he’d known since the day she wed, Prudence was still his.

      But of course, even in childhood she’d been a stubborn mare. He couldn’t count the times she’d fallen rather than accept a hand, but ever she got up and did the thing again until it was right. A more obstinate woman had never lived, but he loved her for it, loved her courage and determination nothing would beat her. To conquer her without breaking her will would be the biggest challenge he’d ever faced. The Rajas of the Delta and their schemes to wrangle more gold from him were nothing in comparison. He’d managed them. As he loved Pru and knew her far better, he’d persuade her. Gentle her. Love her into agreeing to wed him. But first, he needed to find out when she left town.

      Once home, he sent a boy runner with a brief note to the chief clerk, who should arrive at her home with the others in about half an hour. Word would be sent as soon as she left, and then all other elements of his plan would fall into place.

      The cottage waited ready, as he’d kept it this last fortnight. Thanks to Pru’s temper, it had only been a matter of time before he’d annoyed her so much, she’d taken him on at the tables. Then the outcome had been certain. And bless her, as a card player her skills hadn’t improved in the years they’d been apart. When they married he would not let her play for such high stakes ever again. He’d see she wasn’t romping about town all night, but rested safe in his bed, where she’d always belonged.

      He sat with his boots up on the desk in the study. His man always frowned at the habit, but today he cared even less than usual. He glanced at the clock. By nightfall he’d have Pru with him, in his arms. Once there, he’d not let her go come hell or high water.

      Satisfaction swelled through him, tinged with a slight apprehension. Whatever happened, he must keep his temper, let her have her say. All must be done without him maligning her father–a feat in itself–or pointing out Wellbourne had always been an avaricious man to whom at best she might have been an ornamental acquisition for his home. He had to think of it so. To find out she’d loved Wellbourne in any way would turn his blood cold, send his soul back to the darkness it had dwelt in for years.

      She’d never loved Wellbourne for certain, not in the way of a free spirit. As they’d loved. The husband had been foisted on her.

      He slammed his boots to the floor, rose and stared out the window. Whatever happened then was past. Now he could make up for all those missed years. He pushed his hair back from his forehead and dismissed the memory of his despair threatening to rise; even at a recollection so bitter, he grew sickened.

      Prudence was a lovesome creature, but he had to love her right to find the softness beneath her burrs, and he had found the key. He’d always had it. A shiver shot over him now that he stood so close to his goal. The years of waiting were over, and if he must steal her away as he’d longed to in his youth, she would be his.

      By the clock, another hour needed to drag by before he could ride out. There was only one road her carriage would take to Dorset. He’d be on it with time to spare, in wait for when she passed.

      Unable to sit still any longer, he paced into his dressing room, slid back a mahogany panel and took out the satchel which contained the disguise he’d use. He opened the bag and once more checked the contents, rolled the small iron key for the cottage in his palm until it warmed.

      A flash of worry hit again as he returned to the study with the satchel. She might be afraid. He shook his head. No, not Pru. She’d be angry when she discovered the ruse. Bloody hopping mad, spit and hiss in fury, but she’d not be afraid.

      He could hardly wait.

      Whatever she said or did, he’d kiss her before midnight tonight. Yes, her lips would open under his, and he’d enjoy her silken mouth.

      No more of those thoughts, not right now. If he went down such a route he’d be a gibbering baboon before even laying hands on her. No other sparked his desire in such a way. Nor could there ever be another. He’d met beauties across the continents and not one of them drew his soul as she did. Since he’d first seen her, held her in his arms and kissed her, the only woman in the world he’d ever needed was Pru.

      He shook his head at the mirror. The years since they had first loved had changed his appearance a little, but his heart remained hers.

      His man Gibbons knocked and presented a note on a salver.

      He nodded in satisfaction at the news it contained. She was packing and her coach ordered to readiness. He called for his horse and glanced again at the clock. Near five, and it would be dark well before she was on the Great Western road. She shouldn’t take such risks, but right now he was more than glad she did.

      In the hallway he donned his cloak, turned to his valet. “I am from home to all callers for at least this week. You understand, Gibbons?”

      “Sir.” Gibbons handed him his hat and offered a walking cane.

      He shook his head. “No man, I’m to horse.”

      His valet opened the