Page 35 of Temptations of a Wallflower
“I never expected such a domestic scene.” Jeremy nodded toward the masses of paperwork, his gaze alighting on the recently used quill lying on the blotter.
“If you must blame someone,” Marwood said cheerfully, “blame Maggie. It’s her polishing influence.”
“She ought to be canonized.” Jeremy took a seat in front of the desk, and Marwood sat down opposite him, steepling his fingers and looking almost, but not entirely, civilized. Even in some things, the remarkable Lady Marwood couldn’t quite work magic.
It was astonishing. Marwood, who’d never met an actress or widow or opera dancer he hadn’t adored, had finally found one woman with whom he wanted to grow old. Jeremy would have vowed upon every Bible in his church that such a marvel could never happen. And yet . . . it had. Against every prediction. Marwood was a man who’d had his first kiss at age seven. Years of kissing—and more—had followed. Yet he proudly wore a wedding band now.
Such a thing happened for a rogue like his cousin. What did it mean for Jeremy?
Lady Sarah’s clear, strong presence nestled snugly within the confines of his heart. Her keen intelligence, coupled with an innate sensuality, was a rare and precious combination, one he’d never truly encountered before.
But that door had to be closed. It couldn’t happen. Country vicar. Duke’s daughter. Never to be.
Instead, he now focused on his goal and what brought him to his cousin’s home.
“Ah, but Maggie’s no saint.” This Marwood said with a fond, though slightly lascivious, smile. “I was very disappointed you didn’t perform the ceremony, of course.”
“Except all I knew of your marriage was a polite letter informing me that it had already happened.”
His cousin spread his hands. “When am I ever polite?” he countered.
“The letter was from your wife.”
Marwood grinned. “I was afraid you’d show up drunk to the ceremony.”
“Foryourwedding, there’s such a thing as too much sobriety.”
“Now,” his cousin said, “with courtesy dispensed with, I can ask you what brings you to my door.”
“It’s a confidence that must be kept between us,” Jeremy insisted.
“Of course,” Marwood answered at once.
From his pocket, Jeremy removed his copy ofThe Highwayman’s Seduction.“Remember when you gave me this?” He placed it on the desk and slid it toward Marwood. Too late, he realized that the book was in slightly worse shape than when his cousin had given it to him. It bore the telltale signs of numerous readings.
Marwood picked up the book. His eyebrows lifted. “Enjoyed it, did you? Want more? Just a moment. There are some around.” He searched the drawers of his desk.
Jeremy cleared his throat. “I’ve got them.”
His cousin grinned. “Sly dog! Here I thought you were ready for entombing.”
“Save the pennies on my eyes for later. Right now, I need to know more about the book’s author.”
Marwood leaned back in his seat. “The Lady of Dubious Quality.”
“I need to find out who she, or he, is.”
A corner of his cousin’s mouth turned up. “Oh, she’s definitely a woman.”
“You sound confident of that assessment,” Jeremy noted drily.
“Because the Lady shows a tremendous understanding and concern for how women feel pleasure,” Marwood explained. “Men are more interested in their own gratification.”
“Doesn’t speak well for our sex,” Jeremy observed.
“Not much does,” Marwood agreed brightly. “Why do you want to know who the Lady is?”
“I’ve got reasons that I cannot reveal.” Being evasive pained him, but his rakehell cousin would never agree to locating her if it meant ending the Lady’s books. There was always the possibility, however slim, that Marwood could also reveal Jeremy’s secret agenda to someone—his bride, perhaps—and that could circulate back to Lady Sarah. Which Jeremy couldn’t have.
