My Wicked Earl (Wicked Lords of London 5)

“Violette was livid.” Daffodil grabbed a plate from the tray and handed it to Mrs. Fields. Then she seated herself to eat as well.

“You don’t have to eat with me, dear.” Mrs. Fields narrowed her gaze as she assessed Daffodil. “You’re the lady of the house.”

While true, it was also ridiculous under the circumstances. “Mrs. Fields, I currently attend you. I emptied your bedpan this morning. No one is above anyone currently. We are mired in the mud together.”

“A situation I am eternally grateful for. What would have happened to me if I’d hurt myself in someone else’s home? I’d be tossed onto the street.” Mrs. Fields reached for her hand. “Listen to me, dear. Your sister isn’t angry that you distracted Rathemore. She knew what was happening and she was relieved. She was angry because your mother stood up for you. Violette has long thought your mother favored you over her and it hurts her deeply.” Mrs. Fields gave her fingers a squeeze as Daffodil stared at her, speechless. “Your mistake was one many a lady has fallen prey to. It doesn’t make you a bad person. And now that your sister is situated, all will be forgiven. It’s time to forgive yourself.”

Daffodil clutched the plate in her hands as she allowed the words to sink in. Mrs. Fields had made several good points. Still, the woman didn’t know what had transpired between Daffodil and Rex. If Mrs. Fields did, she’d not be speaking of forgiveness.

Chapter Ten

Leaving the solicitor’s office, Rex and Jacob wore matching grins.

“I can’t believe you looked at Mr. Winthrop and said, in all sincerity, ‘We’ll take two.’ As though coal mines were scones or pasties.”

Rex chuckled. “Mark my words. Listen to Theo and by the time you are five and twenty, you’ll be able to say the same.”

It was approaching noon and the streets were far busier then when they’d entered. Maids bustled about running errands while gentleman and lords made their way to their respective clubs to begin their days.

“I hope so,” Jacob said, sidestepping a woman with a large basket. “I still can’t believe our fortunes will change. The past year has been…”

Rex stopped hearing the boy. Up ahead he caught sight of dirty blond hair and an overly tight pair of pantaloons. By the back of the man, he’d swear that he was looking at Lord Winston Rathemore.

He jammed his forefinger and thumb into his eyes. He couldn’t happen upon the man now, not when he was intent upon tearing the bastard apart. But sure enough, the figure ahead turned into a doorway and he caught sight of the man’s profile. It was that bloody excuse for a man.

Blood rushed in his ears. “Jacob, head home. I’ll join you shortly,” Rex mumbled, his eyes on the door into which Rathemore had just disappeared. His entire body clenched for the confrontation that was about to follow.

“What? Why? We have chores to do.” Jacob tugged on his arm. “Is something wrong? You look ready to fight a battle.”

He relaxed the muscles of his face. “Everything is fine. I’ll hire a hack and join you shortly.”

Jacob’s forehead creased but he gave a tight nod of consent as he continued on to the stable they’d housed the carriage.

As soon as the boy had disappeared, Rex headed for the door that Rathemore had entered. His fingers itched with unused tension he’d like to release on Rathemore’s face. The corners of his mouth turned up, it was a public club. How perfect.

Entering into a darkened hall, he made his way to the lounge where several men were already seated in overstuffed chairs, drinks in hand.

He spotted Rathemore making himself comfortable in the corner. Without wasting any time, he made his way over to the man.

“Rathemore,” he said by way of greeting.

The other man looked up at him in surprise. “Casterly? Is that you, old chap? I haven’t seen you in five years at least.” He gave Rex a jovial grin. “I thought you died of malaria on that island it’s been so long. What brings you back to London?”

Rex grimaced. He was ashamed to note just how familiar he’d once been with this waste of a man. “I’ve been well and island life has suited me.” Had he just used the past tense?

“Glad to hear it. Are you back for good?” Rathemore asked as he stood. “I could use a partner in crime. My last fell prey to the marriage noose.”

A rumble of anger erupted from deep in his chest. “But you haven’t been caught, have you?”

Rathemore chuckled, seeming not to notice Rex’s irritation. “Gads no. I’m too smart for that. I

target women in unfortunate circumstances.” He stepped closer, dropping his voice low. “Ones that don’t have a family that can force a match.” Rathemore’s gaze fixed on the ceiling above. “I nearly plucked a delightful little flower recently. If she hadn’t had an attack of conscience I am sure she would have been sweet indeed.”

Rex’s hands clenched at his sides. If the little flower Rathemore referred to was actually Rex’s flower then Rathemore was about to pay for his transgression with the skin on his face. “Little flower? Do tell.”

Rathemore licked his lips. A disgusting display that made Rex’s teeth clench. “I started courting the older sister. A ruse to bed her, of course. But the younger one…” His voice dropped so low, Rex had to lean in. “Lady Daffodil. She is perfection. I should rekindle our relationship, see if I can’t pick the fruit so to—“

Rex did not allow the filthy scum to utter another syllable. Quick as a snake he raised a fist and planted a jab directly in Rathemore’s hawkish nose. Blood instantly spurted from the nostrils streaming down his chin as his head snapped back. The moment he straightened, giving Rex a bleary-eyed stare, Rex hit him again, harder.