Earl of Baxter (Lords of Scandal 8)

She shrugged. “Two or three weeks.”

“Oh my,” Penny whispered. “Do you think he’s in love with her?”

“See,” Natty chimed in. “I told you that Clarissa was going to marry an earl.”

Clarissa snapped her chin back up. “No, I’m not.” The words came out harsh. “I am going to take care of orphans. Run the girls’ orphanage. I’ll work for Penny.” She had to. Her soul depended on it.

“You could marry if you wanted to,” Penny whispered. “We can hire someone else to run the orphanage.”

Clarissa shook her head, looking out the window at the bleak December landscape. “I wasn’t meant to marry.”

Chapter Four

This might have been Mason’s least dignified moment since becoming an earl.

He was still on the floor of the carriage as it rumbled down a busy London street.

But his head was too full to bother with getting up.

Besides, he deserved to be on the floor. He knew how to convince people to give him what he wanted, but with Clarissa…he’d been a raving lunatic. Completely ridiculous. All reason had left his head.

What was it about him that made people reject him so? Hell, even his own father hadn’t wanted him. His mother had left him. Only Bash stuck around. But Bash often needed him.

And Clarissa. She’d saved his life. Somehow, he always thought he’d return the favor. Sweep in and save hers. And then she’d love him too.

Not in that way. At least not in his imaginings over the last several years. She’d been a girl the last time he’d seen her, and he’d pictured himself, ever older, to be her benign savior.

But now? He’d take her love. And he’d give as much as he got back. More.

He was meant to find her now, when she was all grown up. He could see that.

He wanted to laugh at himself. No wonder everyone thought he was mad. He’d been about to wax poetic about fate and chance and the meaning of life in an empty carriage.

But it was just that life had felt hollow. The only time he’d ever really felt whole inside was when his body had been ravaged by infection. And he’d been with her. Funny how that had worked.

But he’d gone and mucked up their first real conversation. Not only did she not want him but he’d scared her half to death. How was he going to fix that?

The carriage drew to a stop, but he still didn’t move. Didn’t even know where the vehicle had taken him.

The door snapped open but this time it wasn’t Goldthwaite but Bash who stood in the doorway. “What in bloody Christ are you still doing on the floor?”

He grunted. “Thinking.”

“About how you just ruined the best deal of my life?” Bash groused.

Mason shuddered. “Are you going to stop being my brother since I took away your deal with the Den of Sins?”

It was Bash’s turn to grunt. Which sounded exactly like Mason’s. “I’m your brother. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Mason breathed a quick sigh of relief. With Bash on his side, anything was possible.

“But you are going to help me get that deal back.”

Mason shook his head. “I don’t think that’s happening.”

Bash reached in and began hauling Mason into a sitting position so that he might exit the carriage. Which was in front of the Earl of Goldthwaite’s home. Apparently, no one had told the driver not to come here. “Of course, it’s happening,” Bash answered. “I need that club.”

“Why?” Mason asked. “You’ve got plenty of money.” He hadn’t questioned Bash before today but suddenly it seemed odd.