Two Scandals and a Scot (The Duchess Society Book 5) by Tracy Sumner

Author:Tracy Sumner [Sumner, Tracy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: WOLF Publishing
Published: 2023-04-19T18:30:00+00:00

If his wife didn’t stop staring at him with a half-starved gaze, Dash was going to haul her behind the nearest pine and tup her soundly against it. Her hair ribbon was burning a hole in his trouser pocket, a silly spot of whimsy utterly unlike him. A reminder, aye, hell, of every wicked thing they’d done in the scullery.

To date, the fieriest ten minutes of his existence.

Her lips wrapped around him and hanging on for bloody life.

Or maybe it was like him, the far-fetched gesture with her ribbon. The man he’d have grown into had he not been raised in a brothel—the workhouse, scheming, surviving, always alone, always running—could have been a tender lad indeed. A bloke who’d let himself fall in love without five hundred shades of fear riding along beside it.

But, why? Except for his family of pining misfits, no one in society adored their wife. It was unheard of and not in any shape or form required. The difference was, he noted as Theo gathered a group of dancing tots around her, dropping to the ground without a care for her gown or her status, he respected her. Admired her. Envied her brilliance and her compassion.

He cared. Desired. Liked.

Dammit, he wasn’t going to love. He stuck to his promises and the deals he made—to others and himself. He and Theo had an arrangement, and he meant to abide by it to the letter.

If she was more of a hellion than he’d imagined, climbing the oak tree outside her bedchamber this morning to retrieve Mr. Darcy, scraping her wrist and ripping a hole in her stockings in the process, that was merely part of the gorgeous burden of Theo Campbell. If her talent in the bedchamber was turning out to be keener than anticipated, more the winner him. If his heart skipped, just a tad, when she waltzed into a room, he fookin’ couldn’t help it.

Grumbling beneath his breath, he left the remaining Leighton Cluster—the Duke of Leighton and Tobias Streeter and family had returned to London—and headed in the direction of the village vicar.

The gent was stooped, drab gray hair a jumble about his head, his gaze biting. Luckily, Dash was acquainted with being unjustly evaluated and knew exactly how to handle tetchy old men.

“Vicar,” Dash said and took up a relaxed stance by the dessert table. Selecting a slice of rum cake, he bit into it with relish, the syrupy flavor rolling down his throat. It was damned tasty.

“Campbell,” the vicar returned, his steely gaze focused on Theo and the excited children circling her. His lips tightened when she showed a flash of ankle while reaching to open her book. Judgmental bugger.

Dash struggled to ignore what seeing his wife with a ginger-haired lass perched on her lap was doing to his insides. A melting sensation similar to the gooey mixture in the cake he held. He and Theo would be working on a similar project of their own soon. And surprise of surprises, Dash wanted children.

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