Baron of Blasphemy (Lords of Scandal 12)

But she’d also shared what it had felt like to watch that life fall apart.

Her mother’s death.

Her father’s disappearance.

The lengths her sisters had to go in order to keep them safe and fed.

And she’d told him how she’d resented that they hadn’t given her more responsibility, but that she’d come to the conclusion she had to earn that trust. In whispered words, she shared her fear that she was like her father. Taking love from the family but not really giving back.

And then she’d looked at him with those warm brown eyes. “I want to give to you and I want you to trust me too.”

The words had slayed him.

Trust her? He’

d bared his soul to her. He’d been delaying his own satisfaction for hers, he didn’t want any other man to even be near her, he…

He dropped his head into his hands. He was falling in love.

He scrubbed his scalp, his paperwork completely forgotten. He was in love. With his wife. Was there anything wrong with that?

He grimaced. He didn’t have any idea how to properly love another person. He was bound to fail her. He squeezed his eyes shut.

After all, he’d already botched their wedding.

“What’s wrong with you?” Vanity called from the door. He was sweaty as though he’d just come back from one of his daily runs. He hadn’t known that about Vanity until this trip. The man was a militant exerciser. It only seemed to make him more handsome. The blasted man.

“Nothing.” He lifted his head. “I’m wading through a mountain of paperwork while you entertain my new wife. What could possibly be wrong?”

Vanity cocked a brow as he stepped into the room. “Judging by the rosy glow on her cheeks, you’re doing a fine job of entertaining her during the evenings.”

He stood so quickly, he knocked three ledgers from the desk. “Don’t speak about her that way.” His teeth locked as he forced the words through a clenched jaw.

Vanity gave him a long appraising look as he stopped on the other side of the desk. “Relax, big fellow. I like your wife. She’s smart, and funny, and good company, but I feel about her the way I feel about my little sister.”

Chad relaxed a bit and reached down to pick up the ledgers he’d knocked over. “Apologies. I’ve never felt this way before and I…” He stopped. Was he talking about his feelings with men now? Bloody Christ.

But Vanity only chuckled. “I suppose that happens when you marry.”

Chad shrugged. Mayhap. Was it natural? His father had certainly never felt that way about his mother. But he was done sharing for the day. “I need to take Abigail shopping for more clothes, but I’m buried here.”

Vanity shrugged. “I’ll take her if you want.”

He held back a rumble of frustration. “You’re just trying to make me look bad.”

Vanity grinned. “I am not. But I’m also not doing your accounting. I’m likely to have a giant pile of ledgers to reckon with when I return.”

He hated to send Vanity off with her. But he also didn’t wish for her to go alone. They’d come here because danger had been nipping at her heels in London. “All right. Fine. But make certain she knows that I am the one actually purchasing the clothing. And bring a maid as well.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” Vanity gave him a wink that only served to annoy Chad the more. “Perhaps you can join us at some point? I can do the grunt work and then you can sweep in and take her to the inn for a late lunch?”

It wasn’t a bad plan. Perhaps he wouldn’t toss Vanity out on his arse after all.

Chapter Thirteen

Abigail walked down the street carrying several parcels as she smiled with joy. Vanity held even more. And the maid a few more besides.

It had been a thoroughly wonderful morning. First, they’d visited the modiste where she’d ordered gowns. Then they’d purchased hats and ribbons, soaps and perfumes.