The Marquess and the Maiden (Lords of Vice) by Robyn DeHart

Author:Robyn DeHart
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Entangled, Scandalous, Historical Romance; Historical Romances; Victorian Historical Romance; Regency Romances; Regency Historical Romance; Historical Regency Fiction; Historical British Fiction; Historical Fiction; Women's Historical Fiction; Romantic Comedy; Romantic Heroes Royalty & Aristocrats; Beauty and the Beast; Marriage of Convenience; Ugly Duckling; Forced Proximity
Publisher: Entangled Publishing, LLC (Scandalous)
Published: 2018-08-13T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Were it not for Lady Davenport, this country house party would never have come together so quickly. Guests were expected to begin arriving the following day, and Harriet was full of nerves. She hadn’t seen Oliver much in the intervening time, deciding it was best to avoid him and concentrate on the planning. Thus, she hadn’t had to endure any more of his senseless flirting and wicked tongue.

She and Agnes had made certain to include members of the Ladies of Virtue so they could observe them. The first step in uncovering the mysterious Lady X’s identity would be to eliminate the possibility that she was one of their own.

Harriet and her mother and Lady Davenport had ridden up together while Oliver traveled separately. She hadn’t yet seen him since her arrival but had been instructed to meet him on the balcony off the ballroom.

He stood with his back to her, wearing only his trousers and shirt. The pants molded to his bottom and thighs and made her wonder what those muscles would look like without the hindrance of clothing. The white shirt accented the breadth of his shoulders and, when he turned to face her, revealed a swatch of bronzed skin at his throat and chest. His forearms were also uncovered, as the shirt had been pushed up to his elbows.

It wasn’t indecent, but more skin than was proper. Her mouth dried. When her eyes finally reached his face, she found him smirking at her, one brow arched in a question.

“You asked to see me,” she said, tilting her chin. Though the movement usually made her feel a modicum taller, in his presence, it did nothing.

“My mother has suggested I should shave and cut my hair. I recall you have also said as much.” He walked toward her until he stood right in front of her.

She barely reached his chest. “It is a good idea, especially considering how some of the girls in London spoke about you at that last ball.” She looked up at him and gracious if it wasn’t as if she were staring directly into the sun. Why did he have to be so beautiful? It was maddening. “It makes you look old,” she lied.

He held up a hand. “Do not repeat what they said.”

Harriet swallowed a laugh. She suspected no one would be fond of being compared to Ebenezer Scrooge. “Well, you might be a miser, but you’re not old, and we need to show them that. I seem to remember you having quite a handsome face.”

He smiled slowly, a wolf appraising his next meal. “You think me handsome?”

“Your face.”

“That is the same thing.”

“It is of no consequence.”

“On the contrary. When the woman I want to marry declares she finds me attractive, it is of monumental consequence.”

“You are not still on about that?”

“Sweet Harriet, let us not fight.” He pointed behind her. “Look, it is all set up for you.”

She turned to find a chair and a tea cart that had been temporarily turned into a barber’s station.

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