Duke of Decadence (Lords of Scandal 9)

“I won’t make you my mistress.”

Surprise jolted down her spine. What did that mean? Was he not going to help her sisters?

“But you are not, under any circumstances, to accept the attentions of other men.”

She blinked trying to order her thoughts. What did all of this mean? “Of course not.”

He gave a stiff nod. “We’ll see your sisters matched in short order, which will protect them and then, once the task is done, we’ll discuss your future.” He grimaced. “I need to think on it a bit more.”

She didn’t know what to say. What sort of plan for her future? “All right.”

“And you’re to dress nightly as a man.” He paused. “With baggier trousers.”

“Fine with me.” Protecting her identity was better than fine. He was going to accept the bargain without the offer of a personal relationship. She was relieved of course. But also, curious. Why? And if she were honest, there was the tiniest niggle of disappointment.

She was drawn to him and touching him…

As if he understood that, he reached for her again and pulled her close. She willingly followed his lead because it was so much easier to talk when she touched him. In his arms, she felt safe and she relaxed into his body.

“My carriage will pick you up nightly and return you home. You’ll have an escort of my choosing who will be stationed behind your table nightly.”

“If you think it’s best.”

He made a noise deep in his throat. It sounded…like the noise of a beast. Only it didn’t frighten her. It rumbled through her sending tendrils of desire to her core.

He balled his fingers into a fist at the back of her dress. “I do.”

She ran her tongue over her top lip. “And when do I start?”

“Tonight.”

“My uncle,” she said. “He thinks my mother’s sister is staying with us, which is why he’s left us unchaperoned. But he demanded she pay a visit, or he’ll remove us from the house.”

He grimaced. “You should be chaperoned. We can’t launch your sisters without one. Even I can’t just escort unmarried women about town.”

“Aunt Mildred hasn’t set foot on English soil in twenty-five years. She won’t come. We’ve already asked.”

But rather than looked concerned, a smile spread across his face. “Twenty-five years? So no one really knows what she looks like anymore, do they?”

Her mouth fell open as she drew in a sharp breath. “No. I suppose they don’t.”

“Nor is the real Mildred…what’s her last name?” One brow drew low over his eye as he cocked his head to the side.

“McLaren. Lady Mildred McLaren. She’s wife to a laird.” Her hands had come to his chest again. Because this was exciting. It was as though he’d cracked open a door and light was peeking into her dark world. There was hope.

“Similarly, the real Mildred McLaren is unlikely to return to England to call out her imposter.”

“She is very unlikely to do so.”

“Then, I believe I know what the next step is.” Slowly, he pulled away, clasping both her hands in his. “Your next step is to go home and try to rest. It’s going to be a long night.”

She nodded. “Bash.”

“Yes?”

“Thank you,” she said as she quickly stepped toward him, and raising up on tiptoe, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for everything.”

“I haven’t done anything yet, Isabella. You can thank me when we’re successful.”