A Scoundrel by Moonlight (Sons of Sin 4)

“Damn you,” he muttered, although his hands were gentle at her waist. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“You’re mistaken, my lord. I’m going to Berkshire.”

To her surprise he laughed. It was a weary laugh, but she knew she’d won when he caught her hand and squeezed it briefly. “You’ll make my life a nightmare.”

Her smile widened. “Undoubtedly.”

Knowing he watched, she exaggerated the sway of her hips as she strolled toward the carriage. There was something heady in owning her power over him. If he tried to keep her in London with Lady Harmsworth, she’d fight again, but for now she had her way. And the memory of his touch to fortify her.

The cavalcade started up, except Sir Richard now rode, claiming he’d only be an intruder inside the carriage. Nell approved of Sir Richard. Behind his lazy smile, he was kind and perceptive, and he adored his wife.

Last night, Nell had cried herself to sleep. But she’d woken this morning determined to take charge of her life. She’d be Lord Leath’s mistress. If there were children, she’d love them so much that they wouldn’t care about their illegitimacy. And when time came for James to marry, she’d leave him with her head high and the knowledge that, whatever the world’s opinion of her, love had guided her actions.

“You’re looking very intense,” Lady Harmsworth said from the seat opposite. She had a book open on her lap and Sirius snoozed at her feet.

“I’m thinking about meeting Greengrass,” Nell said, which should have been true. Despite facing down James, Nell didn’t underestimate the danger.

Lady Harmsworth settled against the leather upholstery and surveyed her with a piercing intelligence that reminded her uncomfortably of Lord Hillbrook. “Greengrass is seriously outmatched with our four knights in shining armor on his trail. I have no doubt that right will prevail.”

“Lady Harmsworth, you misunderstand,” Nell said unsteadily.

Her lips firmed with amused impatience. “You think I’m unforgivably nosy.”

Nell did, but she couldn’t say so. She braced herself against the coach’s sway and looked out the window. “You’ve all been so kind.” That was true too. “But until last night, I blamed Lord Leath for my half-sister’s death.”

Sympathy shadowed Lady Harmsworth’s vivid face and she reached for Nell’s hand. “Neville Fairbrother has so much to answer for. I gather that you’ve accepted Leath’s innocence. You were arguing like old friends just now.”

“You always knew he was innocent,” Nell said, flushing with mortification. She’d lain awake last night, cursing her recklessness in Sedgemoor’s library. Anyone could have come in. She was almost more discomfited that nobody had. It hinted that her affair with James was no secret. “All of you did, from the moment I produced the letters.”

Lady Harmsworth straightened, releasing Nell’s hand. “Leath has a reputation as a man of principle. The wretch who ran around England ruining innocent girls sounded more like the uncle than the nephew.” Her eyes conveyed loathing. “But of course, I have personal experience to rely on.”

Something in Lady Harmsworth’s face indicated that she’d endured horrors at Lord Neville’s hands. After a shocked moment, Nell returned her attention to the bleak winter landscape. She’d only met this woman a few days ago. Too short a time for these intimate revelations.

“I’ve apologized to his lordship for misjudging him.” Then she wished she hadn’t spoken. An apology implied a relationship more equal than marquess to housemaid. To distract her ladyship—although she had a grim feeling that nothing distracted Genevieve Harmsworth when she pursued answers—she spoke quickly. “I misunderstood so much. I believed that his lordship and the duke were sworn enemies.”

“There were a few sour notes. Leath’s political ambitions hit a wall once his uncle’s crimes became public, and he blamed my husband and Sedgemoor for that. Things got even more fraught when Harry and Sophie ran away. Of course, the press exaggerated the feud.”

“Those stories made me bring the letters to His Grace.”

“Thank goodness you did.”

“Thank goodness I did.” To think that Nell could have gone to the newspapers. To think that she could have destroyed James’s political career completely and forever.

To think that if she agreed to marry him, she’d achieve that anyway.

“I hardly know Lord Leath,” Lady Harmsworth said in a neutral voice. “But I have a feeling that won’t remain the case. I see signs of growing rapport with the others.”

A relieved breath escaped Nell. Perhaps her ladyship didn’t intend to interrogate her about the marquess. She was glad to see the seeds of friendship between James and these dynamic men. She’d long ago recognized his isolation.

When Nell didn’t speak—anything she said would reveal unsuitable familiarity with James’s private life—Lady Harmsworth continued thoughtfully. “Which means, I imagine, that we’ll see more of the marquess.”

Nell remained silent, but she raised an unsteady hand to the leather strap by the window. The weather outside was bitterly cold with a wind that would slice through steel, and she was too inexperienced a rider to enjoy long hours in the saddle. Nonetheless she wished she’d stayed on Ginger and never stepped inside this spider’s web disguised as a luxurious conveyance.

Lady Harmsworth sighed. “You’re a sphinx, Miss Trim.”

“I enjoyed Mansfield Park,” she said with an edge of desperation.

To her surprise, Lady Harmsworth laughed. “Well, I didn’t. There, that’s covered our literary discussion.” She regarded Nell searchingly. “It’s not easy loving an exceptional man. I speak from experience. As would Sidonie and Pen, if you asked them. Although you’re far too discreet to do such a thing, I know. You really will make the perfect politician’s wife.”