Embraced by a Rogue by Collette Cameron

Author:Collette Cameron
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: A Trilogy of Second Chance Romances
Publisher: Blue Rose Romance
Published: 2017-01-16T00:00:00+00:00

That same day, across Town

Eyes narrowed, Chance stared at Samuel Tobbins. Assistant to Franklin Belamont, Chance’s solicitor, Tobbins wiped his forehead with his limp handkerchief for the fourth time. The diminutive fellow perspired to such a degree, Chance half expected him to slosh when he walked.

“I assure you, your file hasn’t been misplaced.” The man flitted about the office like a disoriented moth, searching for the missing folder.

Arms crossed, Chance arched a brow.

“Where are they?” Tobbins bent to peer beneath a haphazard pile of papers atop an otherwise organized desk. Clicking his tongue, he scampered to another stack of files and began flipping through them. “Where in the world are they?”

“You mean to tell me you don’t believe any of my correspondence or papers are here?” Chance gestured round the tidy office. “You think, perhaps, they’ve been forwarded to Suttoncliffe? The entire six years’ worth?”

This was what came of having the same solicitor as Father and Thad.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Faulkenhurst, but yes.” Nodding his balding head, Tobbins pushed his spectacles up his reedy nose. “I’m afraid that must be the case, for I cannot find a single document of yours.”

He wrung his hands together, his watery hazel eyes huge and worried. “I expect Mr. Belamont’s return from Rochester any day now, certainly not upward of a week. He can set you straight on the matter, I’m sure.”

Tobbins riffled through another pile of papers on a shelf behind the solicitor’s desk.

“Aha,” he exclaimed holding up a letter and practically dancing with glee. One would have thought he’d found a large banknote from his enthusiastic reaction. “Here’s a letter for you.”

He scuttled to where Chance sat. With the aplomb of a royal courtier, he presented the missive.

After breaking the seal, Chance scanned the short correspondence.

Exasperated by Chance’s failure to speedily sign the marriage agreement—for God’s sake, what did Lambert expect? Chance had been in India—his lordship had foisted his daughter off on another poor sot.

Chance examined the letter’s date. April.

All his worry had been for naught.

He refolded the paper and slid it into his coat pocket. A wry grin crept across his face.

One monumental obstacle out of the way.

“Good news, sir?” Tobbins waited, an expectant look on his face.

“Exceedingly good news.”

Chance shifted in the uncomfortable, smallish chair, far more appropriate for waiting in the hall than a lengthy meeting in a solicitor’s office. His missing fingers picked today to ache unbearably. Every twinge reminded him of last night and the pleasure of playing the piano with Ivy.

And kissing and caressing her.

That kiss. God help him, but he’d been hard put to keep from ravishing her right there in the drawing room while her parents and brother slept above. Her response had been a precious and unexpected gift. He’d never lost control that completely or quickly. Ivy was like nectar to his parched soul, balm to his wounded spirit.

Then she’d wept, and the vile truth hit him with the impact of a cannonball. He’d tasted her tears, the salt bitter on his lips.

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