Forever Yours Series Bundle (Book 4-6)

She winced at his uncouthness, appalled at his lack of civility. But there was nothing she could do about that, not when she needed him. And strangely, his impertinence calmed her. “First, I apologize for calling without notice and in such a clandestine manner. It was unavoidable since you’ve ignored my previous letters asking to meet discreetly. It is of the utmost importance I have a private audience with you, my lord.”

“Why?”

Verity took a steadying breath. “I have a proposition for you, one that is best discussed in privacy.”

His scowl went even darker. “Well hell, no one has ever offered it up on my front step before in such an obvious manner.”

She gasped at the sheer effrontery of his lewd suggestion. Verity was quite aware of what he referred to, and almost turned around and departed then at his lack of gentlemanlike manners. The words were cutting and hinted at a cynicism she’d not expected.

“I am a lady, my lord, you will comport yourself accordingly and what I have for you is a business proposal,” she said, careful not to choke on her mortification, grateful her voice did not tremble.

Darkness and fog blanketed the area, and the few gas lamps shed little light. All that was convenient to her disguise, but she felt nervous and uncertain.

“A lady? At my home at this hour, without a chaperone?” This bit was drawled with mocking cynicism.

“Yes,” she replied pertly, “I daresay a woman of my years can venture out without undue speculation and ruin.” Such ridiculousness for if she was discovered, her life, and reputation would be in shambles. But Verity was desperate and afraid, and he was someone who could help her put her nightmares to rest, even if he did not know it. “And the gentlemanly conduct would be to invite me inside away from possible speculation and the dreadful chill in the air.”

Those beautiful eyes stared at her veil as if he wanted to discern the features beneath the disguise. Nervous energy had her tugging at the piece of lace brushing against her chin. Then to her relief and amazement, he stepped back and bid her entrance.

Verity made her way inside, startled at the overwhelming darkness. No lamplight shone in the hallway, but she could discern enough to follow the earl to a large and tastefully furnished drawing room. A fire blazed merrily in the hearth, and the earl waved at her to sit. She lowered herself into the plush sofa, anxious that he remained standing.

“Will you also sit, my lord?”

The earl arched a brow, and it was then she noted the faint discoloring on his left cheek.

Verity became aware of the subtle scent of his sweat as he moved closer. And he walked as if hurt, a slight tilt to the left, favoring his side. The brawn of his body was overwhelming. He was tall, so much broader than she. A small part of her wanted to move away. But her courage could not falter now, not when she had reached so far. Inexplicably she felt at once both threatened and secure. Foolish to feel safe for she did not know the manner of man he was. Just what the rumors said. And she felt silly for resting her plans on the entirety of idle speculations.

“Will you need refreshment?” he demanded in that terrible uncivil way of his.

“There is no need to be boorish,” she sniffed.

“I did not invite you here.”

Verity flushed. “You did not, and I apologize for the intrusion. It is still not an excuse for your incivility.”

“Do you wish for a drink?”

“No,” she said with polite stiffness.

There was a decanter of amber liquid on the oak table before her, an empty glass, and a white handkerchief that had a suspicious red stain. She had interrupted his drinking. He poured his amber liquid into the glass, and then lowered himself into the sofa opposite her.

“What is this proposal?” he said, impatience coloring his tone.

She cleared her throat delicately, wondering where to start with her very scandalous and unorthodox request. “Society says a dance from you has the power to ruin any young lady. And perhaps that is why you’ve never asked anyone to the dance floor.”

“And do you want ruin, do you?” his voice was a purr of sin and darkness, and some unfathomable emotion she did not understand. It had the edge of anger, causing a ripple of discomfort to course over her skin.

She took a steadying breath and met his curious gaze, ignoring his interruption. “They say you are an untested king in the underground pugilist world of London. That you made your fortune on the blood and fractured limbs of others. Those other men…lords and those common folks, admire you…revere you even. Your nose has been broken three times, your ribs cracked numerous times, yet you've never been beaten. You understand honor and dishonor. You are a fair man but can be dangerous when crossed. You’ve been the 11th Earl of Maschelly for seven years now, and the loudest rumor in the ton is that you are now seeking a wife, preferable an heiress, whose father has political connections to aid you in becoming the Member of Parliament for the area where your earldom is situated.”

He was silent for the longest moment. Shuffling sounds crept into the still of the night, and Verity glanced around nervously. He gripped his glass, drinking deeply, his gaze never leaving her veiled expression.

“So you know something about my reputation…and you are here…alone with me. Curious. Who are you?”

She licked her lips. “I cannot own to my identity at the moment. Not until a bargain has been struck.”

His stare was unnerving, intense, and quite intelligent. “What do you want?”

The words lashed at her, and she stiffened. “I…I would like you to teach me to fight, my lord.”