Marcus sighed, his breath warm on Honoria’s cheek. “He will not quit.”
She chuckled. “Not until he’s had his say.”
Marcus slowly lowered her feet back to the ground, savoring the feel of her body rubbing down the length of his. Hmm. Perhaps in addition to admitting his love, he should show her his love as well. “Herberts, since you are here—”
“Wait, guv’nor. Oiye haven’t finished tellin’ her la’ship how horrid it’s been without her at Treymount. Ye would not believe how ’tis been. Oiye thought about leavin’ the guv’nor’s employ and takin’ a position with the Duke of Rutland, as he said he’d like to have me and he offered me twice the wage—”
“Rutland said no such thing,” Marcus said inexorably. “He said he’d have you in his employ if he ever needed a competent pickpocket. I was there, remember? When I made you return his watch?”
“Weeel, now. A competent pickpocket is not such a bad thing to have. In fact, me mother used to say—”
Marcus reached into his pocket and pulled out his purse. Without looking to see how much was in the heavy bag, he pressed it into Herberts’s hand. “This is for you if you’ll shut up and drive us around the park.”
“The park?” Honoria exclaimed. “But…the ball.”
“To hell with the ball. Anthony is there to make certain all goes well, and if I’m not mistaken, Cassandra is in good hands.”
The coachman closed his eyes, his fingers clutching the purse. “Cooee, but ’tis heavy! Thank ye, guv’nor! The park, ’tis!”
Marcus opened the door and assisted Honoria into her seat. Then he followed. The second the door closed and the carriage jerked into motion, Honoria reached across the seat and began to undo her husband’s cravat.
He laughed, his fingers closing over hers, delighted at her eagerness. “In a hurry, my love?”
“It has been two days, m’lord. So yes, I am in a hurry.” Her gaze met his, soft and luminous, shining with love and excitement. “Aren’t you?”
His feelings swelled with his flesh. She was his best friend, his equal, his partner now and forever. And she was his, this beguiling lady in red. And he loved her more than life itself.
He undid his own cravat. And his own breeches and shirt. And then, with the greatest tenderness and even greater haste, he undressed his adorable wife, divesting her of everything but the red tiara. She looked so beautiful, reclining on the velvet seats, naked but for the thick fall of hair about her shoulders and the tiara perched upon her head, that his excitement had trebled in but a moment. He’d caught her to him, murmuring words of endearment and passion.
And it was with the greatest presence of mind that he then showed his beautiful lady wife exactly how much he loved the park…and her.
Epilogue
Well! The last St. John has finally fallen. I wonder what will become of that cursed ring now…
The Duchess of Devonshire to her friend, the unwed and unhappy Miss Castlehope during a rather boring sermon at St. Paul’s
“Well…here we are.” Anthony looked around the table at his brothers. They were at White’s, comfortably ensconced about his favorite table. The room rang with masculine laughter and talk, the fragrant scent of cigar smoke and old leather wafting through the air.
It was the pleasantest of places, and yet Marcus glanced at his watch. Honoria was out with Anna and Cassandra and Portia, purchasing new silk to use as draperies for the ballroom.
He smiled. When he’d left Treymount House this morning, the footmen had been engaged in taking down the old curtains. Portia and Juliet had confiscated the blue salon to practice a play they wished to present, while George and Chef Antoine were busy in the kitchen making cookies cut into the shape of a frog. The house was noisy and bright and once again filled with love, and he was, for the first time in his life, genuinely happy. Funny how he’d never realized what his life was missing until he’d almost lost it.
“Well, the St. John talisman ring has finished its work,” Chase said.
Brandon nodded. “Leg-shackled the lot of us. I never thought to see that happen.”
“Marcus, what will you do with the ring now?” Chase asked, stretching his leg before him.
“Do? Why…nothing. It is Honoria’s wedding ring. I hope she may never remove it from her finger.”
Devon chuckled. “B’Gad, that’s the perfect thing! So long as it’s on Honoria’s finger, it cannot bedevil anyone else.”
“Bedevil?” Anthony raised his brows “You should be glad your wife, the lovely Kat, is not present to hear such nonsense.”
“She knows I love her,” Devon said complacently. “And yes, she does bedevil me. In all the best ways a woman can.”
Anthony grinned around his glass. “Is there a bad way for a woman to bedevil you?”
“Not that I know,” Devon replied. “And lord knows, Kat has tried.” He leaned over to the table and poured a splash of port into five waiting glasses. “Let’s have a toast.”
Chase passed the glasses around. “Indeed, let’s do. And I shall begin.” He held his glass aloft. “To us, the happiest men in England. And to our wives, who taught us the joy of true love.”
Marcus drank his toast, his gaze meeting each of his brother’s in turn. As soon as they’d all drank their toast, he held his glass aloft. “One more. To the St. John talisman ring. Would that all men were so cursed.”
Marcus grinned as they laughed, then one by one they drank the toast. At one time he’d pitied them their lives of domestic upheaval. But that had been because he hadn’t understood the transforming power of love, and because somewhere along the way he’d forgotten this part of his life, the genuine pleasure of just being with those he loved the most. With Honoria’s help, he’d never forget it again.
About the Author
KAREN HAWKINS was raised in Tennessee, a member of a huge extended family that included her brother and sister, an adopted sister, numerous foster siblings and various exchange students. In order to escape the chaos (and whilst hiding when it was her turn to do the dishes), she would huddle under the comforter on her bed with a flashlight and a book, a habit she still embraces to this day. For more information about Karen, or pictures of her chasing a box of donuts while training for a road race, visit her at www.karenhawkins.com or write to her at Karen Hawkins, P.O. Box 5292, Kingsport, TN 37663-5292.
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Other Books by Karen Hawkins
LADY IN RED
AND THE BRIDE WORE PLAID
HOW TO TREAT A LADY
CONFESSIONS OF A SCOUNDREL
AN AFFAIR TO REMEMBER
THE SEDUCTION OF SARA
A BELATED BRIDE
THE ABDUCTION OF JULIA
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
LADY IN RED. Copyright © 2005 by Karen Hawkins. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
ePub edition February 2007 ISBN 9780061746420
Version 08102012
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Karen Hawkins, Lady in Red
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