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Authors: Kate Pearce

BOOK: Simply Scandalous
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She closed her eyes as silence stretched between them, not sure what she wanted him to say, dreading he'd either agree with her or worse, laugh.
“I mourned you, Violet. I thought I would never recover from your loss.”
The pain in his voice made her flinch.
“But I did recover and moved on just as you did.” He paused. “Although you never promised to stay with me forever, did you? Perhaps I should have listened to you more carefully.”
“I couldn't promise you what was not in my power to deliver.”
“Because you always knew you were just using me to further your ‘great cause.' ”
“No!” She dropped back down onto one knee and stared at him. “I never expected to come to care for you.”
“How inconvenient for you.”
“I never meant to hurt you either,” she whispered.
“As I said, I recovered. Don't waste your pity or your tears on me, my dear.”
The click of the library door opening had Violet coming abruptly to her feet. Jack closed the door behind him and studied her.
“You really should lock the door, my twin. Anyone could have walked in.”
She met his amused gaze and saw beneath it his very real concern for her.
“We weren't doing anything.”
“Then why is Mr. Ross lying on the floor?” Jack strolled over to the desk and stared down at Richard. “Did you hit him with that enormous book?”
“No, I . . .” Violet realized she was far closer to tears than she had expected and brought her hand to her mouth.
Jack patted her shoulder. “Why don't you go back to the drawing room and leave Mr. Ross to me?”
For once, she didn't argue, and without daring to look at Richard, she ran for the door, closing it quietly behind her. Why should he trust her at all? She'd forfeited every right to his regard forever.
Richard let out his breath as Violet abandoned him to the tender mercies of her brother. The ache in his unsatisfied cock matched the ache in his heart. Not that hearts could hurt, but it was the only explanation for the hollow sensation in his chest that Violet's words had left him with. She'd seduced him as ordered; then she'd left him
as ordered
, making him feel like the guilty party.
Damn
her for making him feel like this. He pushed one hand down onto the floor and started to get up, only to have Jack kick his elbow out from under him, sending him crashing back down.
“What the devil are you doing, Lennox?”
Jack shoved him onto his back, one strong hand wrapped around Richard's throat, his knee on his chest. All traces of his amicable expression disappeared, leaving only cold anger.
“I don't like seeing my sister cry.”
“She's crying because she feels guilty about faking her own death. That is hardly my fault.”
“You're a fool.” Jack's grip tightened. “She did that for you.”
“I'll be damned if that is true. She did it for her puppet master.”
“You misunderstand. They wanted her to stay with you, to see if she could entrap you into marrying her. Violet refused.
She
was the one who insisted on ending things and set you free.”
Richard stared up into Jack's intense face, his thoughts in a whirl. “I don't believe you. You weren't there.”
“I worked for the same masters. I know what they planned.”
“You are her brother. Of course you would defend her.”
Jack reached down and cupped Richard's still-erect cock and balls, and squeezed hard. “And you lust after her like a stallion in heat. What drives your decision making, Mr. Ross? Your cock or your brain?”
Jack jerked Richard's cock and within seconds, Richard was climaxing, his back arching off the ground as his seed soaked into his underthings. With a roar of rage, he shoved at Jack, but the other man didn't release his stranglehold on Richard's throat.
“Oh, dear. I made you come.”
“You
bastard
.”
“Would you like me to lick you clean, or would you prefer me to call my sister? Although I doubt she would oblige you.” Jack started to unbutton Richard's trousers. “At least your trousers are black and will not show the stain too badly.”
He let go of Richard's neck and shoved his hand lower, pushing aside Richard's soaked underthings. Although Richard tried to buck him off, Jack's knee remained firmly planted on his chest. Jack bent so close that his breath fanned Richard's cock, which jerked in response.
“Ah, you smell divine.”
“I don't.” Richard grabbed for Jack's hand and then moaned as Jack's tongue licked a long, sultry line along his shaft, pausing at the crown to circle and probe his still-wet slit. “Oh, God, don't . . .”
Jack continued to lick him until Richard felt his cock stirring and found the strength to finally shove him away.
“Stop it.”
Jack sat back and smiled. “I think I'm done now anyway.”
Before Richard realized his intent, Jack pressed his mouth to Richard's and ran his tongue along the seam of his lips, giving him a taste of himself.
“Now that I have taken care of you on behalf of my sister, who will give me relief?” Jack asked.
Richard rose to his feet and set about rearranging his clothing. “I'm sure you'll find someone.”
Jack sighed. “But obviously not you. How selfish, Mr. Ross.”
“I owe you nothing. You should have made your demands clear before you touched me.”
Jack glanced down at his trousers and smoothed a hand over the bulge of his cock. Richard couldn't help but look and notice how large a bulge it was.
“I'll remember that next time, Mr. Ross. I didn't realize you regarded fucking as a business proposition.”
“We didn't fuck.”
“But I'd like to fuck you, Mr. Ross—properly, I mean—my cock buried deep in your arse, my hand wrapped around your shaft while I make you beg for release.”
“Even though you know I'm involved with your sister?” Richard was proud of the level tone of his voice. If Jack Lennox could discuss his shocking sexual desires without a qualm, Richard would do so too.
Jack shrugged. “I'm willing to share if she is.” He headed for the door. “Are you coming back to the drawing room?”
“In my own time,” Richard replied, his mind too busy considering Jack's casual statement and the carnal images it evoked. Had Violet and Jack shared lovers before? If he asked Jack, he'd probably tell him, but he wouldn't ask. He didn't dare.
9
“I
'm tired of waiting for Richard to come and talk to me about the letters my mother wrote,” Emily said. “I can't decide if he is refusing to believe that she was anything less than a saint or is just too busy to read them. He has been behaving quite oddly recently.”
Ambrose poured her another cup of tea but said nothing. In her need to discuss the letters, Emily had been reduced to seeking him out again at the pleasure house. She glanced at him over the brim of her cup. In truth, he seemed as distracted as her brother and just as unwilling to discuss the matter.
“Mr. Ross does seem to be behaving rather oddly. I suspect it is because of those Lennox twins.”
There was a note of reserve in Ambrose's voice that made Emily study him more closely.
“They seem rather nice to me. In fact, Jack Lennox has made a point of seeking me out at various events and offering his companionship. It is quite refreshing to meet a man who doesn't treat me like a dressed-up doll and who respects my opinions.”
Ambrose made a sound that could only be described as a snort. “Jack Lennox is a rake. You should keep away from him.”
“Whatever makes you say that?” Emily asked. “He has never made an improper advance toward me.”
“Of course, he hasn't.”
Emily opened her eyes wide. “Because I am not the sort of woman that would interest a rake, am I?”
“That's not what I meant. Jack Lennox knows that your brother and father would not stand for any nonsense.”
Emily pretended to look doubtful. “I hadn't noticed that he was afraid of anything. In truth, that's why I like him. He seems so different from all the other men I have met.”
“That's because he is a dangerous adventurer.”
“You sound just like Richard.” She laughed, but Ambrose didn't even smile back at her. “And yet, Richard seems quite happy to spend all his time with Vincent Lennox. I don't understand him at all.”
“I believe your brother might have met Vincent in France when he was younger.”
“Oh! That might explain his interest, then.” Emily paused. “I was beginning to think he was . . .” She waved her hand in a vague gesture.
“Was what?”
Emily shrugged. “Developing an interest in his own sex—not that I object to that at all.”
Ambrose looked amused. “I'm glad to hear it.”
“You bed both men and women, don't you?”
“Yes.”
“Do you bed them because you like it or because Christian told you to?”
Ambrose looked down at his linked hands on the table. “I owe my life to Mr. Delornay. I would've done anything he asked me.”
“Then you didn't feel as if you had a choice?”
He met her gaze and she suddenly felt rather warm. “Oh, no, I had a choice. Mr. Delornay told me I could remain behind the scenes or I could join in. He never made me feel obliged to sell myself. He knew that would be abhorrent to me.”
“Because you were born a slave?”
“Yes, and it wasn't as if I hadn't had sex before I came to live here. The technique was quite familiar to me.”
“Is that how you see it, then? As a matter of physical technique?”
“At the pleasure house? Of course.” He sat back. “It is hardly about love, is it?”
She took a deep breath. “Haven't you ever wanted it to be about love, though?”
His smile was guarded. “There are many different types of love, Miss Ross. One can hardly be lucky enough to have them all.”
“Why ever not?”
“Ambrose? Are you there?”
Emily looked up to see Christian coming into the kitchen, a letter in his hand. At that moment, she wished him to the devil. Ambrose rose to his feet.
“Yes, Mr. Delornay?”
Christian noticed Emily and nodded at her. “Here again, Emily? We should set you to work.”
“I wish you would,” she snapped.
Christian stared at her for a long moment before turning back to Ambrose. “Did I interrupt something?”
“Not at all, sir,” Ambrose said, and Emily's irritation grew. “I think Miss Ross was just leaving.”
“No, I wasn't.”
Both men were staring at her now, and she scowled back. “Don't mind me.”
Christian opened the letter. “I had the most extraordinary letter today from a Lady Mary Kendrick.”
“Ah,” Ambrose said. “I wondered if she would try and contact me again.”
“She writes to assure me that you are not to blame for the behavior of a recent American guest. That if I even think of dismissing you from your position, she will use her considerable influence to have you reinstated.”
Christian handed the letter to Ambrose. “Go ahead, read her robust defense of you. What did you do to make her your advocate?”
“Not what you think, sir.” Ambrose kept his gaze fixed on the letter and ignored Emily. “She is an old acquaintance of mine.”
“You must have performed
most
handsomely if she has never forgotten you.”
Ambrose handed the letter back to Christian. “I've never, she isn't . . .”
Christian winked at Emily, who stared mutely back at him. “It's all right, Ambrose. Whatever you did has paid off magnificently. I suspect she'll be back soon to give you her thanks in person.”
Christian bent to kiss the top of Emily's head and then exited the kitchen, leaving Ambrose standing by the table. Emily slowly rose and began to yank on her gloves with unnecessary force.
“I really do have to go now. As Richard doesn't seem to want to be involved, I was thinking of attempting to see Mr. Smith again. I hoped you might accompany me, but I'm sure you will be too busy with
other
things.”
“Miss Ross, Mr. Delornay was just being his usual amusing self. There is nothing for you to worry about.”
“I'm not worried about anything, Ambrose.” She forced a laugh. “After all, you've made it very clear that I have no claim on you. I just find it interesting that you are prepared to fawn around one titled lady and yet insist that I am too good for you.”
“Please, don't be like this.” Ambrose took a step toward her, his hand outstretched. “I'll come with you to meet Mr. Smith, just . . .”
Emily walked right past him and then turned at the door to offer him her best smile. “Oh, no, don't worry about me, Ambrose. I'll ask Mr. Jack Lennox to accompany me instead.”
 
Violet waited until Jack was seated beside the fire with a glass of brandy before she went and sat opposite him. Sylvia had retired for the afternoon with a headache, although Violet suspected she simply wanted to finish reading the latest gothic novel in the peace and quiet of her bedchamber.
“Jack, I need to talk to you.”
“What is it?” Jack put down his glass. “Did Richard Ross decide he prefers me, after all?”
“That isn't amusing.”
“No? I think it is. The poor man doesn't know what to make of me at all. He can't decide if he is attracted to me because I resemble you or if he is just attracted to me. You'd think with all his connections with the pleasure house, he'd be more aware of what he wants.”
“You don't really want him,” Violet said. “You're just being annoying.”
“Or mayhap I want to make you jealous, to make you admit that you still care for him?”
“What good will that do? I lied to him. He will never forgive me.”
“I don't agree.”
“Then perhaps you will agree with what I propose.” Violet held his gaze. “I want to tell Richard why we are really here.”
Jack's ready smile disappeared. “Are you mad? You just said he will never forgive you.”
“But we need someone to trust.”
“And you trust
him?
”
“I trust him more than I trust Lord Keyes.”
“There is that.” Jack shoved a hand through his black hair. “Keyes smiles so convincingly, but his eyes are cold.”
Violet shivered. “I can see him washing his hands and leaving us to our fate without a backward glance.”
Jack leaned forward, his hands clasped between his knees. “But Richard followed Mr. Brown's orders just as well as Keyes did. He has no reason to doubt where the man's loyalties lie. Why do you think he would even listen to your claims?”
“Because I
know
Richard, and I detected a certain distance between him and Lord Keyes. I don't think he trusts Keyes any more than we do.”
“Then he is a wise man,” Jack muttered. “I suppose if you do tell him, it can't make anything worse, can it?”
Violet tried to smile. “Knowing our luck, I wouldn't place a wager on it.”
“Then tell him what you think he needs to know.” Jack sighed. “If he doesn't believe us, and goes running back to Mr. Brown, at least it will all be over soon. I'm getting rather tired of all this playacting and inaction, and I'm sure you are desperate to get out of those breeches.”
Violet reached for his hand. “Thank you, Jack.”
“You are welcome, my love.” His grin returned. “When are you seeing the esteemed Mr. Ross next?”
“I'm supposed to be riding with him in the park this afternoon. Why?”
“Oh, because he is likely to be rather out of patience with me.”
Violet paused in the act of rising. “What did you do? Did you quarrel? He looked quite unharmed when he returned to the party last night.”
“I merely told him not to make you cry.”
“And?”
“And inadvertently helped him out with the small problem you left him with—although, in truth, the problem was quite large.”
“Jack, what are you saying?”
“He was hard and I gave him relief.”
“You did what?” Violet gripped the back of the chair. “He
let
you?”
“He didn't have much choice, my dear. I was holding him down by the throat at the time.”
“
Jack.
”
“Incidentally, he almost inquired as to whether we often bedded the same person. I told him he should clarify that issue with you.”
“You did not!” Violet struggled for words. “Surely he did not mean, did not imagine that I, that you, that we would . . .”
Jack waved airily at her. “Don't worry, I didn't commit you to anything.” He chuckled. “It was rather amusing to see his face, though.”
Violet stalked toward the door. “You are a devil.”
“I know.”
“And one day you will get your comeuppance and I shall laugh!”
But he was the only one laughing as Violet slammed the door behind her and stormed up the stairs to change.
 
By the time she was due to meet Richard in the park, her indignation and confusion had still not abated. What on earth must Richard think of her? It would be a miracle if he even condescended to keep their appointment. And what if he did turn up? What did that mean? That he wanted to bed both of them? It was hardly a subject she wanted to introduce into their conversation.
Violet mounted her bay gelding and concentrated on navigating the skittish horse through the busy streets of central London. The iron railings of the park came into view along with a thin sliver of sunshine that illuminated the grassy lawns and the few brave souls who had chosen to promenade along the walkways.
Watching the ladies shivering in their finery made Violet glad for once of her thick wool coat, hat, and long boots. She studied the other horsemen but couldn't see Richard. Nodding to her new acquaintances, she made her way down the graveled path to one of the fountains where she had agreed to meet Richard. Her horse shied at a falling leaf, and she brought her attention back to controlling him until he settled down.
By the time she looked up, the area around the fountain was almost deserted, apart from a group of gardeners who were working on one of the flowerbeds. The faint sound of hoof-beats on the gravel behind her made her look over her shoulder. In the distance, she spied a man on horseback, one hand raised as if trying to catch her attention.
Just as she went to respond, a shadow loomed up at her. She jerked back, but not before a glancing blow from a shovel knocked her half out of the saddle. As she scrabbled to right herself on her already panicking horse, a second strike dislodged her completely and she started to fall to the ground. Her breath was knocked out of her and she stared up into the face of an unknown man, a metal spade raised above his head.

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