Page 290 of Ten Lords for the Holidays

There was no worse kind of scoundrel.

Shedidwant him to touch her. She’d been dreaming of it without cease ever since... well, ever since the last time he’d touched her. Within seconds of walking away from him, her body had yearned to spin back around and fling herself into his strong arms.

She knew exactly what those muscles she so admired felt like rippling beneath the palms of her hands. She knew the feel of his warm mouth against hers, how his kisses tasted, how perfectly their bodies fit together.

And it would have to stay a memory.

She took a careful step back.

“You left London because Mr. Marlowe made the best offer?” Aaron asked.

“He made the only offer,” she returned sharply.

Aaron winced.

They both knew she was referring as much to their doomed romance as to her disastrous directorial debut in the capital.

No one had given her a chance.

No one had believed in her enough to let her try.

“Besides,” she said dismissively, as though she hadn’t cried herself to sleep month after month. “My mother needs me. She loaned me her life’s savings to finance my trip to London. This is my chance to return the favor.”

He narrowed his eyes. “She loaned you money?”

“She gave it to me outright,” Estelle admitted. “I already paid her back with interest. She’s not yet quit her post as housekeeper, but with my new wages as director, she won’t have to dust and mop any longer. She’s more than earned her retirement.”

He nodded his understanding.

When Aaron and Estelle had first met, her mother had not been a head housekeeper, but rather a maid in a shabby coaching inn. He was likely doing the calculations on how many farthings had to have been scrimped and saved to create a nest egg of any type. That Estelle had arrived in London at all was a miracle.

That the money had been wasted... Well.

Mr. Marlowe had swooped in at exactly the right time.

“What about you?” She pulled off her mittens and stuffed them into her pockets, then unwrapped her muffler. “I thought you loved London.”

“I like London,” he corrected. “But it wasn’t the same without you.”

She didn’t doubt his words.

If he’d for one second supported her rather than pitied her and played the protector, rather than a partner...

“Mr. Marlowe believed in me,” she said simply.

He hadn’t tried to rescue her. He’d tried touseher. It should not have been thrilling to find herself being taken advantage of by a mercenary blackguard who wanted to exploit her talent for his own gain, but there it was. Mr. Marlowe saw her skill as a sure thing. To him, she wasn’t a risk. She was a tool to make them both rich.

“I’ve always believed in you,” Aaron said.

He probably thought it was true.

“You didn’t needme,” he continued. “I was desperate to be as important to you as you were to me. I offered you financial support because it was the only thing I had that I thought might be a boon.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Ineverthought of you as a failure,” Aaron said. “The opposite. You’re a warrior. Whilst I went the safe route, you tried the scariest, riskiest endeavors without hesitation.”

“It didn’t work out,” she reminded him.

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