Ten Ways to Ruin

The most moral and correct of all the Drake sisters. At least, until recently. Her antics both frustrated and amused him. Thankfully, other than introducing herself to Simpson, he’d been able to contain her impetuous actions.

“I believe we have arrived,” he said as the carriage rolled to a stop.

“You haven’t answered my question.

“Nor will I.”

“I should return home,” she replied, staring down at her hands.

“Your clothing is still wet. Come in and dry for a while. If your mother hasn’t missed you yet, I doubt she will now.” Someone should scold her mother for the mistreatment of her youngest daughter. Perhaps after Louisa and Tessa's escapades, Mrs. Drake assumed there was no hope for sweet Emma.

He jumped down from the carriage and then held his hand out for her. If she paused again, he would take her home. Instead, she placed her orange-scented hand in his and disembarked the coach. The rain returned with a vengeance.

“Just until my dress is dry.”

“Of course,” he replied with a slight smile. The few steps to the back entrance of Hell had them both wet.

He led her inside as Riley opened the door with a scowl. “Is there a problem, Riley?”

“I just tossed another cheater out on his arse.” He looked over at Emma and added, “Excuse, miss.”

Simon almost laughed at Emma’s expression, not of shock but indignation.

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sp; “You did the right thing, Mr. Riley. As I was so elegantly reminded when I was tossed over the devil’s shoulder, ‘cheaters will not be tolerated in Hell.’”

She could remember that but not about asking him for a kiss.

Turning her gaze on Simon, she asked, “Why do you seem to have such an influx of cheaters, Kingsley?”

“I wish I knew.” Simon guided her up the stairs to his private rooms.

“Where are we going?”

“To my private rooms so you can change and let your clothing dry. There is no fire in my office yet.”

She faltered a step and then continued. “I do not need to change. A warm fire and a cup of your wonderful coffee will do.”

He opened the door and waved her into his sitting room. “Come along,” he said, seeing her hesitate. “I will ask Meg to help you out of your wet things and into a dressing gown.”

“No, the coffee and fire will do nicely.” She paused as her brows furrowed. “Meg has dressing gowns here?”

He laughed. “One of mine, angel.”

“Oh.” She walked closer to the dying fire and held her hands out.

Simon knew he should be thankful that she was being sensible about changing while in his company, but he didn’t want to see her ill. He tossed more coal onto the fire. Sparks flickered as the fire consumed the fuel.

“Coffee?” she asked with a smile. “I do so love that blend of yours.”

He nodded. “Of course. I shall ask Mrs. Tillman to make some for you.”

“Mrs. Tillman?”

“My cook and sometimes housekeeper.” After a brief nod, he left her alone while he notified Mrs. Tillman that he needed coffee for two and some biscuits in his room.

“At this hour?” she asked, stirring a pot of something. The older widow cast him a glare. “Don’t tell me you have some woman up there with you.”