Adrienne Basso - How To Seduce A Sinner

“No matter,” Carter replied. “We understand the circumstances were difficult for you.”

Dorothea moved forward and hugged him. “Will you stay for a while? As you may have noticed, we have plenty of room. I vow there are more bedchambers in this house than I can count.”

The major slowly shook his head. “I can’t. But I thank you for the offer.”

Dorothea gave him another hug, wishing there was something she could do or say to change his mind. It seemed so very sad to be losing him now that they knew the truth.

Carter extended his hand. After a moment’s hesitation, Roddy took it. Dorothea’s eyes welled with tears. How very different both their lives would have been if Emily had not lied. Carter would have had the brother he always craved and Roddy the family he needed.

“Do you have any idea where you are headed?” Dorothea questioned as they walked to the front door.

“None at all.”

Roddy smiled, and she could see that a weight had been lifted, a burden destroyed. For that at least, she was grateful.

“Will you at least write to us?” Carter asked.

“I’ll try.”

And with that, Roddy turned and walked away.

“We’ll be arriving at Ravenswood shortly, my dear. Turn around so I can fasten the back of your gown properly.”

Dorothea shifted her head lazily and glanced at her husband. He sat beside her in the coach, not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle in sight, every button neatly and properly fastened while she was sprawled next to him, her garments in complete disarray.

How did he manage it?

Not ten minutes earlier they had been locked in a carnal embrace, with Dorothea’s skirts bunched up around her waist and Carter’s coat, waistcoat, cravat, and shirt tossed on the floor. They had been greedy for each other, straining and quivering, a tangle of devouring kisses, sensual caresses, and exploding passions.

Their bodies had swayed with the movement of the carriage, heightening the intensity of their lovemaking, but it had been the tender words of love Carter whispered in her ear that made the experience truly remarkable for Dorothea.

“If I had known that being ravaged inside a moving coach was so incredibly satisfying, I would have insisted that we do this the first time we journeyed to Ravenswood,” she said, trailing her finger over the sculpted planes of her husband’s cheek and jaw. Goodness, he was a handsome man.

“That was my fault,” Carter replied with an easy grin. “I misjudged you, something I vow to never do again.”

She smiled, a deep sense of happiness rippling through her. She presented Carter her back and he deftly buttoned her gown. The carriage slowed, turned, and bounced over a rut. The movement brought Dorothea’s attention to the window.

The manor house came into view and she felt a jolt of excitement. By the time the carriage rumbled to a halt at the front door she was nearly bouncing in her seat.

“We’re home,” she announced.

Carter descended from the carriage first, then turned and lifted her out. Dorothea took a deep breath and savored it all. The warmth of the sun, the welcome in the servants’ smiles, the joyful barks of her darling puppy-oh, my, he had grown.

But what she cherished most of all was the love in Carter’s eyes.

A year later

The celebration for the Duke of Hansborough’s sixtieth birthday started the London social Season with a bang. It was by far the most sought-after invitation in anyone’s recent memory. Favors were called in, alliances forged, and begging of proportions heretofore unheard of were employed as people jockeyed to have their names included among the guests. Those lucky enough to receive one of the exclusive invitations crowed about it for weeks, knowing they had secured their position as one of the ton’s elite.

A dinner party hosted by the duke’s son and daughter-in-law, in their new London townhome, preceded the dazzling ball. Only family and close friends were included, and many of those excluded expressed true regret at being denied the opportunity to view the interior of the house, which was reported to be the most tastefully decorated home in London.

When it was confirmed that Major Gregory Roddington was indeed among those guests, the rumor mill began turning with an almost unstoppable force. Most declared the major’s return to England and his appearance at the dinner was tantamount to proof that he was in truth the duke’s natural son.

In the opinion of many, the fact that none of the duke’s family would either confirm or deny those rumors lent further credence to its truth, making it an even juicier tidbit for the gossip-loving matrons.

“How ironic that Roddy chose to make a lengthy sea voyage after you saved him from being impressed into the navy,” Dorothea joked to Carter when the gentlemen rejoined the ladies in the drawing room once they had finished with their port and cigars.

Carter laughed. “I can assure you, it was a far more pleasant adventure for him to travel in the comfort of a well-appointed cabin than swabbing the deck of a ship.”

“I’m just so happy that he is back. He seems content, more settled,” Dorothea observed. “We spoke at length the other day about the shipping business he plans to start.”

“Father and I have both encouraged him to pursue the venture, though he will accept no financial support,” Carter said in a frustrated tone.

Dorothea shrugged. “Then you must offer to be his partner.”

The marquess lowered his chin and raised his eyebrow. “A nobleman in trade? Shocking.”

“You could be a silent partner.”

“ I could manage it. However, my father would find the arrangement impossible. The duke silent? Highly unlikely.”

Dorothea giggled, knowing her husband was right. Though he had softened some of his harsher edges, it was impossible for the duke to keep his opinions to himself, especially when it came to his family. She was just so very pleased that the duke considered her, and now Roddy, a member of that family.

“I think Roddy is at last becoming comfortable with this relationship,” Dorothea observed. “Though he again said he does not want the duke to publicly acknowledge him.”

“I know, and it frustrates the hell out of Father.”

The couple exchanged a look, each knowing the other believed the major was doing this to purposely thwart the duke.

“Turnabout is fair play, is it not?” Dorothea said with a smile.

Eyes twinkling in agreement, the marquess took his wife’s hand. They made their way to a cluster of guests seated comfortably before the drawing room windows and joined the lively conversation.

Gwen sat on an elegantly upholstered chair, with Jason lounging on the arm. The twins were sleeping soundly upstairs, two happy, healthy cherubs, loved and spoiled by all. Emma was standing by a cluster of guests, the traces of paint beneath her fingernails only slightly visible. She waved them energetically as she spoke with Lord and Lady Dardington. Every few moments, Viscount Benton would interrupt, adding a comment, and the volume of laughter increased.

“Benton seems in fine form tonight,” Dorothea remarked to her husband.

“Yes, and speaking of Benton, I don’t like how much attention he is paying to Emma,” Carter grumbled as he put his hand on her shoulder.

Dorothea looked at him in surprise. “She is painting his portrait. Naturally they are together often.”

“But is she always properly chaperoned?”

Dorothea hesitated. “I’m at most of the sessions.”

“Most, but not all.” Carter surveyed her levelly. “And I caught you napping at the last one. You can hardly be an effective chaperone if you are asleep.”