The wild rogue and the wallflower!
Toby Sutton, Earl of Renfrew, is a notorious libertine with no interest in marrying a wellbred young miss and making her his countess. But when he meets lovely Lady Viola Frain, irresistible desire creates an explosive mix with his native recklessness. Within a matter of days, he and Viola are joined in a hurried marriage of convenience, patched together to scotch an almighty scandal.
Marry in haste, repent at leisure?
With two spectacular older sisters, shy Viola Frain is used to being the overlooked member of the family. When handsome Lord Renfrew literally falls at her feet, Viola finally meets a man who thinks she’s special. But before the fragile bloom of attraction can flower, she finds herself wed to Renfrew and whisked away to brooding Brazey Castle, where shadows of old tragedy threaten her frail hope of happiness.
The trouble with earls…
Society watches avidly, forecasting disaster for an alliance between two people so mismatched. Can passion unite the rake and the recluse? Or is the truth just as Viola fears? That the trouble with earls is that they’re bound to break your heart.
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Plunkett ballroom, Mayfair, London, May 1817
Toby spun Lady Viola around in a swift turn in time with the music, hoping to distract her. “I want to talk about you.”
The surprise widening those soft gray eyes made him want to kick every single person who had ever overlooked this gorgeous creature. “I’m not very interesting.”
“Yes, you are.”
The twitch of her lips reminded him that he’d like to kiss her. “Well, I am if you’re another bookworm. But I’m not the sort of girl dashing gentlemen want to talk to.”
“Rubbish. I’m a dashing gentleman and I’m having a marvelous time.” As long as they stayed far away from the subject of his father.
She studied him. “I’m glad.”
Toby wasn’t finished. “All the other gentlemen who danced with you were equally enthralled.”
Her color rose. “Were you watching?”
“Of course I was. I think you’re the prettiest girl here.”
“Oh.”
He dared to bring her a fraction closer. The air was thick with the scent of lilies and orchids massed in vases. And a thousand melting candles, not to mention a crowd doused in every perfume known to man. The night was warm, too, adding a hint of aristocratic perspiration to the sickly floral fug.
So it seemed unlikely that when he inhaled, he caught a hint of something fresh and light. But he would swear that he did. In this cosmopolitan crowd, Viola smelled like a spring garden. She was well named for one of the fairest flowers of all.
“I thought you were pretty yesterday, too.”
“Yesterday you’d suffered an almighty bang on the head.”
He laughed. Most of the girls he knew were inclined to lap up his compliments. Viola responded to his flattery with a suspicion that amused him, even as it touched him. Both Portia and Juliet drew the eye, but he was discovering that the greatest beauty was more subtle. “I’m perfectly fine tonight.”
She didn’t smile. “Are you sure you’re all right? That was a long drop to the ground.”
“I haven’t seen things the same way since,” he dared to say.
“You’ve got double vision?”
This time, his laugh was loud enough to draw attention. “No, you absurd and wonderful girl. I met you, and I haven’t thought of anything else.”
Instead of looking gratified, disapproval darkened her expression. “You’re flirting with me.”
Another delighted smile toyed with his lips. She sounded as if she accused him of murder. “Most definitely.”
“You don’t have to.”
“No, but it’s fun. Especially when right now, you look as if you’re torn between kissing me and hitting me with your fan.”
“You’re…you’re teasing me. You know I can’t kiss you.”
He’d managed to gain some control over himself since that startling moment when heat had engulfed him, just because she held his hand. But the mere sound of that husky voice saying “kiss” was enough to put him in a lather again.
Most uppercrust girls had a precise accent. But something about the way Viola bit off the “K” and lingered on the “S” had him imagining her under him in a bed. Where he’d do a damn sight more than just kiss her, by Jupiter.
“What?” she said, as his hand on her back coaxed her nearer. That sumptuous bosom under its covering of sparkly material shifted with every breath she took. He knew that he was a cad to pay attention, but he was a man. He couldn’t help it.
“What what?”
“You look…”
“Like I want to kiss you?” Not to mention the rest. He couldn’t mention the rest. She ought to slap his face for what he was thinking right now. “I do.”
Toby spoke on a groan. He braced for her to tell him to behave himself, but instead her cheeks turned a beguiling pink and her until-now forthright gaze fluttered away from his.
She’d blushed before, when he’d admitted how closely he observed her. Now she was so flustered, she looked completely bewildered. Such a delicious contrast with her self-possession when they’d met.
“Lord Renfrew…”
“You’re about to tell me that the idea appals you.”
To his surprise – and wicked satisfaction – she shook her head. “No, I’m not. Although it should.”
Excitement slammed his heart against his ribs. Urgency vibrated in his voice. “Can I take you out onto the terrace?”
“I can’t kiss you in the middle of a ball. Even on the terrace.”
She couldn’t. He recognized that. “We could go into the garden,” he said hopefully.
Viola shook her head. “No, we can’t. You know we can’t. And Juliet is looking daggers at us. You’re holding me too tight.”
He glanced across to where Juliet circled the room in the arms of that dry stick Granville. The oldest Frain sister was indeed glaring.
This time, there was no suppressing Toby’s groan, but he eased his grip. “This is why I never chase girls from good families.”
Viola looked ruffled, but she’d come back to herself enough to cast him a quelling glance. “Because you can’t immediately get your own way?”
“Because when a fellow meets a girl he likes as much as I like you, he ought to be able to kiss her. It’s deuced unnatural to expect anything else.”
She didn’t look overwhelmed to hear that he liked her. “But society is constructed from unnatural rules. Otherwise we’d all be living in mud huts.”
“A mud hut with you would be paradise.”
That made her snort. “I doubt it. And you’re still too close.”
“Do you really think so?”
“The ton thinks so.” That lush pink mouth pursed in a way that only made the promise of kisses more irresistible.
He had no right to create a scandal. No real wish to, either. When he held Viola in his arms, he suffered the strangest urge to protect her from all harm. As a rule, he was as chivalrous as the next man. But this extended beyond a vague notion of honoring fragile womanhood to something that felt like compulsion.
As the musicians embarked on the coda to the waltz, he made himself pull back. Which was a strain when every masculine instinct urged him nearer. And nearer again.
But as Lady Viola had pointed out in that damned precise accent that shouldn’t be so arousing, but somehow was, they lived in a world where a virile young man didn’t fling the lady of his choice across his shoulder. He couldn’t rush her behind the nearest rock to have his wicked way.
More was the pity.
They continued without speaking. Toby realized with shockingly powerful regret that their dance came to an end. While he’d very much enjoyed talking to her and even more, he’d enjoyed touching her, he’d wasted time. He should be making plans to see her again.
Then something that she’d said struck him. “Immediately?”
“What?”
“Immediately. You said I couldn’t expect to get my own way immediately. Does that mean I might get my own way in the long run?”
That made her laugh. He liked it when she laughed. She seemed altogether more approachable. Approachable meant attainable.
Attainable got his vote.
“You’re incorrigible, my lord.”
“I live in hope.” He paused. The waltz was reaching its end. “Will you come out on the terrace?”
“I won’t kiss you.”
“Not tonight, anyway.”
“Plague take you, I’m not saying no just to put off the evil occasion.”
He smiled at her. “So you will kiss me tonight?” Before she could scold him again, although her scolding struck his ears as sweeter than the most extravagant praise from anyone else he could think of, he spoke in a low, earnest voice. “Please don’t leave me. Give me another few minutes.”
Another hour. Hell, another year. He’d never known anyone like Lady Viola Frain. Meeting her was like opening the cover of a fascinating book. While he’d never been the slightest bit bookish, he knew that this time, the story would captivate him to the end.
She studied him. “I’ve promised the next dance to Alexander Comerford.”
The music had stopped, and while Toby no longer whirled her around the room, he kept hold of her hand and waist. He was vividly conscious of the warmth of that contact. Around them, the other dancers dispersed as they went in search of their next partners.
“He’s already danced with you once tonight.”
“You have been watching.”
“I told you I did.”
Because she looked faintly troubled, he braced for her to abandon him, but after a second, she nodded. “Five minutes on the terrace, just to catch a breath of air. And no flirting.”
With a triumphant smile, Toby led her toward the French doors. A clever girl like Viola would notice that he made no promises about flirting.
After all, wasn’t he incorrigible?