Page 2 of Beyond Scandal and Desire
“I’m paying ten times what you ask. I don’t want it to suffer.”
“Never you fret. I’ll take proper care of your by-blow.” Turning, she went inside and closed the door quietly behind her.
Spinning on his heel, he hurried back to the coach, leaped inside and pounded the ceiling. As the conveyance took off at a fast clip, he let the tears fall and acknowledged himself for the monster he was.
He could only hope his actions tonight would help to restore his love’s sanity, would return her to him as she’d once been.
Although he doubted that he, himself, would ever again be able to look at his reflection in a mirror.
Chapter 1
London
1871
Mick Trewlove was intimately familiar with Cremorne Gardens, but as a rule he limited his visits to the later hours when loose women could be had cheaply, cutthroats abounded, decadence flourished, men well into their cups were willing to spill secrets, and those who had once slighted him could be paid back in full.
But wandering along the path this early into the night—as twilight was beginning to settle in and full darkness was but a whispered promise of seduction—made his skin itch and his well-tailored clothing feel far too tight. Decent folk meandered about enjoying the evening’s innocent entertainments, some taking pleasure in doing little more than leisurely strolling through the gardens that the Thames kept lush and green. He couldn’t imagine having so few cares, of being so relaxed that his laughter would easily fill the air. Although in all fairness, he wasn’t known for laughing—at least not with joy. His harsh bark tended to make people wary, especially when it was directed at them. With good reason. It was usually a signal that he was on the verge of claiming his retribution.
“Why are we following that couple?”
He’d always known the young beauty on his arm was no fool, but he’d hoped finally satisfying her curiosity about the gardens would have distracted her from his purpose. “I know not of what you speak.”
“Liar.” With one arm entwined around his, she slapped him with her free hand. He hadn’t given any thought to the fact that, in escorting her publicly, she might undermine his hard-earned reputation for being the unforgiving sort. Although he doubted any of his acquaintances were here at this early hour. “An assortment of people have passed in front of us, and you’ve not even given them a withering glance. When someone gets in our way, you stiffen and hurry around them as though they’re an obstruction to your goals. You’ve totally ignored the jugglers and tumblers no matter how hard they strive to catch your attention. I’ve deduced your reason for bringing me here was not as a gift for my birthday—as you claimed—but because you decided you would be less noticeable with a woman on your arm.”
“You’re but a girl, pet.”
“I’m ten and seven. Old enough to marry.”
“You’re not marrying.”
“Someday I will.”
“There’s not a bloke alive to whom I’d grant approval to take you to wife.”
“It’s not your decision to make.”
“With no father about, as your eldest brother, it damn well is.”
The little brat slapped at his upper arm again. “You’re trying to distract me so I won’t pester you with my questions. I won’t fall for it.”
The couple ahead stopped to listen to a small orchestra playing a soft yet somber tune. Stilling as well, he glanced down in order to see his sister’s triumphant expression as he groused, “You’re too smart by half.”
With the praise, she squeezed his arm and smiled brightly. “Tell me everything about them.”
“Shh. Keep your voice low.” He didn’t need someone easing by them to hear his words, to know he did indeed have a keen interest in the couple.
“I will,” she whispered. “Who are they?”
“He’s the Earl of Kipwick, son to the Duke of Hedley—a title he will one day hold.”
“Something about him seems familiar. Can’t we move to the other side of them so I can see him more clearly?”
“No. Not yet anyway.” He had no desire for her to examine the earl too closely, to figure out precisely why he had a keen interest in this particular lord.
“Do I know him?”
“I doubt it. He doesn’t exactly frequent your circles.”
