Never Trust a Pirate (Scandal at the House of Russell 2)

If she ever saw Luca again she would spit in his face, kick him in the shins. No, she would be gay and cheerful, reminding him of all he had lost. And then she’d hire someone to kick him where she’d like to kick him. How could he have let her go? He said he’d always come for her. Where was he?

But days passed and Luca didn’t show up. She wasn’t sure how she expected him to find her, much less want to find her, but she wasn’t feeling particularly reasonable. He had abandoned her the moment they reached London and never thought twice, while she couldn’t think about anything else but him. So be it. There was always Lord Eastham.

Except that she couldn’t bring herself to send the old man a note, informing him she was in town. Something kept stopping her—perhaps it was the memory of his liver spots or his tendency to drool. There was no hurry, she told herself, though Lord Eastham wasn’t getting any younger. If she didn’t do something soon she’d be a widow before she married.

Was the Maddy Rose still under repairs? Was he still here, ignoring her presence, or had he returned to Devonport and Gwendolyn Haviland? If so, he deserved her, and so she’d tell him. If she ever saw him again.

It was one of those rare sunny mornings in late spring as she sat reading in the garden, trying to ignore the hornets that were diving at her. She had found a number of salacious French novels, which she dearly hoped hadn’t belonged to the villainous late countess, but by that time she was so desperate for distraction she couldn’t afford to be too fastidious. Just because the woman had been a vicious, evil tramp didn’t mean she couldn’t have decent taste in wicked novels.

She set the novel down just as the wicked highwayman had captured the innocent damsel. The innocent damsel who was a watering pot, limp and pathetic.

Maddy’s back stiffened. Had she been just as craven? Waiting around, sniveling, for Luca to appear and throw himself at her feet, begging forgiveness? He was a pirate, for God’s sake. He wouldn’t grovel for anyone.

Well, neither would she. But that didn’t mean she had to accept defeat and slink away into the night.

Long ago she’d fantasized about grabbing him by the lapels and slamming his bigger, harder body up against a wall. And then kissing the hell out of him.

Maybe that was exactly what she needed to do. Right now, before he left London, assuming he was still in residence. And if he’d left?

Then she could board a train and go after him. Anything rather than continue on in this pitifully defeated misery. She was no victim, she was a heroine of her own love story, and she was going to make one last attempt at claiming what she wanted.

She was halfway toward the house when she heard the steps on the footpath, and she froze, her heart stopping for a moment before it lurched forward, rather like the Maddy Rose in the storm. The Maddy Rose had survived, so would she. Finally, finally he’d come for her.

She turned, joy bubbling within her as she expected Luca to round the corner. A feeling that died as Jasper Tarkington came into view.

“Darling!” he cried, throwing himself at her feet and grasping her hand, just as she’d hoped Luca would. “I was so afraid I wouldn’t be able to find you! Can you ever forgive me?”

She stared down at his bent head in shock and disbelief. The days in South America had been kind to him. His sandy colored hair was now streaked with gold, his skin had turned a faintly darker color, though a far cry from the rich honey of Luca’s skin. His sky blue eyes were looking up at her in such a beseeching manner that it was almost comical, and she stared at him, speechless.

“Jasper,” she managed to say after a minute. “This is a shock.”

He looked a little nonplussed, as if he had expected her to throw herself into his arms. A few months ago this had been what she had dreamed about, wept for, longed for. This was the man she had been planning to marry, the man she had given herself to. He had come back to her.

And she didn’t give a bloody damn.

“I know I’ve been terrible, my darling,” he was saying. “I was so confused when I left. You see, my family had been counting on your dowry, and you know people like us cannot simply marry for love, much as we might want to. I had to be practical and break it off.”

She tried, unsuccessfully, to detach his clinging grip. What a botheration! She’d finally built up the courage to go after Luca and now Tarkington was in her way. “After you deflowered me,” she said caustically.

He flinched. “Ah, but how could I resist you? You came to me, you were so sweet, so willing…”

All true enough. She’d been desperate, and he’d known it. So he was blaming her for that colossal mistake. “Why are you here, Jasper?”

“Why… because I love you, silly girl,” he said with a laugh that was just this side of irritating. “I tried to make the wise decision, but I kept thinking about you, and I decided to hell with everything. Beg pardon,” he added, suddenly realizing he’d used the word “hell” in a lady’s presence. He had no idea who she was, or that hell was simply a pleasantry to her when she was properly riled. As she was quickly becoming. “It doesn’t matter that your father was a depraved criminal. I’m willing to overlook it. I want us to get married.”

“Why?” It was a simple question, but he looked taken aback.

“But I told you…”

“Not able to find a rich wife in the Argentines?”

He got up from his ridiculous pose by her feet, tugging down his waistcoat in an attempt at dignity. “In fact, there were a number of rich, beautiful women who would have made perfectly suitable wives. But I discovered that it was you I loved, Madeleine. I can’t live without you.” There were actual tears in his eyes, and she realized with a certain amount of shock that he meant it. He did love her. Of course, having a wealthy earl as a brand-new brother-in-law didn’t hurt matters either, she thought cynically.

She opened her mouth to give him an answer when Collins appeared from around the hedge, followed by a short, slightly shuffling creature. “Oh, bloody hell,” she said out loud when she recognized him, and Jasper drew back with a gasp of shock.

“My Lord Eastham,” Collins announced with full pomp and ceremony.

“Dearest girl!” Eastham scuttled forward, reeking of scent. “I couldn’t believe it when I read in the papers that you were back in town. I’ve missed you terribly! Tell me you’re back in London to stay!”