The Last Refuge of a Scoundrel (Lady Knights Book 4) by Cara Maxwell

Author:Cara Maxwell [Maxwell, Cara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, romance, Historical
Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2023-12-11T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

He was the worst sort of scoundrel.

He’d never seduced a virgin. Not that he hadn’t deflowered a few, in his day. But the women had always been eager participants, with their eyes wide open, and a clear understanding that there were no precontracts between them. Looking back now, Roland could see even those interludes had been mistakes.

But none so terribly predatory as what he’d done to his wife in that dining room.

She’d entered into an arrangement out of duty to her queen. This was professional to her. Maybe she’d kissed him back. Maybe there was passion there, beneath the cool, calm exterior she presented to everyone—him included.

But that did not give him carte blanche to touch her like that, for no reason other than his own hard cock and insatiable desires.

Hell. He was going to have to retreat to the stables and abuse himself soon. Either that, or his cock was going to explode from the torture of being in constant proximity to Jane and unable to do anything about it.

He may be a rake, but he was not a cad. He would not force his attentions upon her unless she really, truly wanted them.

Roland sipped on his brandy, pretending to be even mildly interested in the conversations happening around them. He was back in Maltby’s library with the other gentlemen. All except for Leicester, who’d excused himself at the meal’s conclusion.

The ladies had adjourned to the spacious hall below, with its comfortable chaises to drink more sherry, but Roland had heard their footsteps heading up to the bedrooms a quarter of an hour before.

Meanwhile, he knew that the men would linger on for hours draining Maltby’s decanters and smoking.

Focus, Roland admonished himself. Among these eleven so-called gentlemen were the members of the secret society intent upon murdering his queen. He would not allow it.

Leicester had peeled away, citing a headache. Roland found himself wondering—was he off to some nefarious purpose? Maybe he ought to have found a moment to speak with Jane, to ask her to follow him.

Remington hadn’t even shown up at the house party, which was deuced strange. They knew the man was connected with Maltby, but he was not here. Why?

There were three locked cabinets in this very room. Roland had discovered them under the guise of searching for a new book. But there hadn’t been time to pick the locks, and he wanted Jane with him when he did. They would stand less chance of being discovered if they could search together in half the time. They’d also have a better excuse if they were caught. Roland already had the jest—something about how he intended to kiss his bride in every room of Maltby Manor.

In the far corner of the room, Chatterley spoke with three other men. Among the attendees, Chatterley was the closest thing Roland had to a friend. He didn’t trust the man, couldn’t afford to. But he’d known John Chatterley since they were at Eton, and he hoped the man was one of those guests being used as cover.

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