Wanton in Winter by Scott Scarlett

Author:Scott, Scarlett
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical
Publisher: Happily Ever After Books, LLC
Published: 2019-11-20T16:00:00+00:00

A knock sounded at Eugie’s chamber door, and for a fleeting foolish moment she thought it was him.

The Earl of Hertford.

Cam.

The man she had lain with last night. Who she had given her maidenhead.

Her fists clenched on the counterpane, and she pulled it protectively to her chin. She did not want to see him. Did not want to look at him. Because if she did, her defenses would crumble. If she did, she would recall every blazing moment of what had happened between them last night.

That was a lie.

She was already thinking of it. Had not stopped, all through the hours she had lain awake in the darkness, nor all the hours since she had risen after finally falling into a fitful slumber. How could she forget?

Everything had changed for her in a glorious, life-altering way, and yet she was terrified. Because the earl wanted to marry her. And she suspected she knew why…

The door opened and her sister-in-law, the elegant Lady Emilia, appeared. Her lovely face was pinched with concern as she closed the door at her back and crossed the chamber.

“Eugie,” she said softly as she settled on the side of the bed. “What is the matter?”

Eugie had asked for her breakfast to be delivered to her chamber this morning, not ready yet to face the gathering. To face her sisters, Lady Emilia, her brother.

To face the earl.

“I have my courses,” she lied. “I am feeling rather ill. Forgive me for not attending breakfast. I know you have gone to great lengths to organize this house party for the sake of me and my sisters.”

And I have ruined it and myself.

Emilia’s gaze slipped to Eugie’s throat. “Are you certain that is the real reason you avoided the breakfast table?”

A gnawing sense of worry overtook her. “Yes, of course it is.”

“I have some pearl powder which ought to serve you well,” Lady Emilia said solemnly. “Or perhaps a fichu, placed just right.”

Her dread grew. “I am afraid I do not understand. How can a fichu or a powder remedy a female complaint?”

Her sister-in-law’s lips compressed as she eyed her with a frank stare. “You have distinct marks on your throat, my dear. From a man’s whiskers. That is why you are hiding here, is it not?”

Dear heavens. She had not ventured to look in the glass this morning. She had simply been too distraught over her recklessness, too hurt that everything she had feared about the earl had been true. Hiding, it was true. Hiding from Hertford, from what they had done together.

Hiding from the horrible suspicion which had occurred to her by the grim light of dawn, when she had jolted awake in her bed. The suspicion that the earl had not bedded her because he had believed Cunningham’s vicious lies about her, but rather because he, too was a fortune hunter.

Only, he had succeeded where the baron had failed. He had compromised her in deed and not just word. His proposal had been instant. It had not been a question, but a statement.

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