When Scandal Came to Town (Scandalous Sons 3)

A tense silence descended.

Cassandra’s mood turned subdued.

Benedict drew a coin from his pocket and was about to hand it to the vagabond when the fellow said, “I don’t accept charity, but give it to Frankie. He’s a scavenger and will take anything he finds.”

Despite the odd request, Benedict placed the coin near the dog’s front paws. The animal took the coin in its mouth and dropped it into its master’s outstretched hand.

“We should leave now,” Cassandra said, steering Benedict away from the fellow sneaking the coin into his ragged coat pocket. “I’m cold to my bones, tired and just want to go home.”

Benedict drew her into an embrace and rubbed her upper arms in comforting strokes. “This will all be over soon. I promise.”

She placed her head on his shoulder, wrapped her arms around his waist. “A part of me fears what will happen when we learn the truth.” She looked up at him, her blue eyes pleading. “Promise me nothing will change between us. Promise me that what we’ve rekindled will only go from strength to strength.”

Had someone predicted he would marry Cassandra Mills, that she would embrace him, give him hope for the future, he would have thrown them in shackles and carted them off to Bedlam.

Sliding the wedding band onto her finger had helped to awaken the old feelings trapped inside. Every time he closed his mouth over hers, every time she hugged him tight as he buried himself deep inside her body, he felt the bitterness and distrust melt away.

She was the love of his life.

Of that, he was certain.

“I promise,” he said.

While he had breath in his body, nothing would come between them again.

Chapter Fifteen

A series of light knocks on the bedchamber door roused Cassandra from her slumber. “Madam, are you awake?” Lucy, her new lady’s maid—as the earl refused to let her previous maid leave his employ—spoke with some urgency. “Madam?”

“Just a moment.” Cassandra tried to move, but Benedict’s muscular arm and thigh held her pinned to the bed. Not that she had any complaint.

Lifting the sheets, she studied her husband’s firm buttocks as he lay sprawled on his front. Blessed Mary! They had made love until the first light of dawn, and still, she wanted to devour every impressive inch. Perhaps once she had dealt with Lucy, she might tease her husband awake.

After raising his arm gently and shuffling out of bed, she threw on her wrapper and padded to the door. “Is everything all right?” Cassandra slipped out onto the landing so as not to disturb Benedict.

“You’ve a visitor, ma’am. Mr Wycliff is here and wishes to speak to you and Mr Cavanagh as soon as you’re able.”

“Mr Wycliff? Oh!” That put paid to all notions of an intimate morning spent frolicking in bed. But Damian Wycliff would not make an early morning call unless it was important. “What time is it?”

“A little after ten, ma’am.” Lucy’s cheeks flushed. “Mr Wycliff said he’ll join you for breakfast, that you must eat before you go tearing off to cause mischief and mayhem.”

Mischief and mayhem?

Good Lord!

He must have learned something vital to their investigation.

“Have Mrs Rampling serve breakfast in the dining room.” She had hoped to have a tray sent up to their bedchamber. “And set a place for Mr Wycliff.”

Lucy glanced briefly at her shoes. “Mr Wycliff accosted Mrs Rampling and has already made the arrangem

ents. He’s a very persuasive gentleman, ma’am. Indeed, he’s taken his seat at the table and has almost emptied the coffee pot.” The maid looked apologetic when she added, “I have been knocking for some time.”

“Then kindly tell Mr Wycliff that we will be with him shortly.”

Lucy’s mouth opened and closed so many times she resembled a fish plucked from the water. “He … well …”

“What else did Mr Wycliff say?” Cassandra knew enough about Damian Wycliff to know he took pleasure from being facetious.