Page 18 of A Scoundrel All the Way
“It’sthis way,”Rowansaid, leading into a wide hallway with a floor made of marble. “Itjoins my great-uncle…my…study.”
Theywalked into a room with an enormous fireplace on the outside wall.Infront of it was a desk covered with a cloth.Twocovered chairs sat in front of the desk.Lookingaround the room, he saw a standing globe.Whatappeared to be covered window seats flanked the fireplace.Hepulled back one of the dark green velvet curtains above the window seats, letting in some of the light. “Theseare moldy and moth-eaten.They’llhave to be replaced,” he muttered to himself.
Lucycommented, “Itseems like this place has been unoccupied for a long time.”
“FromwhatIunderstand, he moved toLondonafter his wife died in childbirth, and he never returned.”
“Lookat all these books.I’msure they’re dusty, but there are so many.Itcould take all day to read all the spines!” exclaimedLucy.
“Wouldyou like to spend some time in here?”Wecould take some of these covers off and light a fire in the fireplace,” he suggested.
“Wouldyou mind?”
No, he wouldn’t mind at all.Itwas still snowing, so they weren’t going anywhere today.Hecouldn’t think of anything better than getting to know the woman in front of him.Therewas nothing he’d rather be doing than spending time withLucy.Shewas like no other woman he had ever met.
Lucyhobbled over to the window seats and, seeing a cabinet beneath them, opened it.Inside, she found a red velvet box with a black bow. “Doyou mind ifIopen this and see what’s inside?”
“No, not at all,”Rowansaid, distractedly.Hehad found some heart of pine and was lighting the logs in the fireplace.Oncehe got the fire going, he closed the grate and stood back and admired his work, glad to have spotted the small tin of heart of pine.
“Rowan,Ithink this book is the late earl’s wife’s journal.Andlook!I’vefound some letters.Ithink they are love letters.Wouldit be wicked if we read them?”Lucyasked, biting her lower lip.
Seeingher do that made him want to kiss that lower lip—and then the top one.Andthen, both.Andthen move to her neck.Itmade him crazy.Herubbed the back of his neck. “Imet my great-uncle a few times in my childhood but never really got to know him.Perhapsit would be a way to get to know both him and my great-aunt, whomInever met.Onthe surface, theirs seems such a tragic story.”
“Thenperhaps reading them will be cathartic,”Lucysuggested.
Asheimmediately curled up in front of the warm fireplace.
Rowanpulled the sheets off the wing-back chairs and arranged them in front of the fire.
Hehelped her over to one of the chairs and placed a small footstool in front of it for her foot.
“Thisis such an intriguing mystery,”Lucysaid as she wiggled her lovely bottom—one covered with his breeches, he reminded himself—into one of the chairs. “Wemight be here for hours with all of these.”
AllRowancould think of was how lovely she looked in the firelight, her face brimming with excitement about reading a few old love letters.Suddenly, he wondered how she might look reading a letter from him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Theyhad already read several letters fromLadyJudithMillenand her husband,LordJamesMillen, the lateEarlandCountessofScarborough.ButLucycouldn’t tell how old the letters were because, oddly, they weren’t dated. “Judgingfrom these letters, your uncle and aunt were clearly in love.”
“Mmm,”Rowansaid, poking around in the velvet box. “Myclosest friends have marriages based on love, but you know as well asIdo that mosttonmarriages are loveless.However,Iagree with you.Basedon these soul-baring letters, he truly loved her.Hehanded her the box. “Youpick the next one.”
Lucylooked at the handsome man across from her.Hislight-brown, wavy hair and sky-blue eyes were so beautiful thatLucyhad to remind herself to keep from staring—he was too handsome.Hewas too fascinating.Andshe still could not believe how circumstances had brought them to this place of intimacy.Norcould she fathom that her feelings for such a man could have grown and taken hold of her heart in so short a time.Undernormal circumstances, she wasn’t the type of woman that could attract a man likeRowan.Whatwas she thinking?Ratherthan say anything that would call attention to her attraction, she reached into the box and withdrew another letter.Carefully, she opened it.
Mydarling,
Whenyou find this letter, don’t let it distract you from your important business inLondon.Butwhile you are away, know thatIam missing you here atScarboroughManorso much.
I’vebeen on bedrest, asDr.Stringersuggested, but without you near, it’s frustrating.I’venever been so bored and restless in all my life.It’shard to sit for too long.I’vearranged the nursery and washed and folded every item of clothingI’vemade at least twice.Pleaseforgive me for complaining.
Ifind myself reading or closing my eyes to dream.Ithink it will be a girl.Atleast, that’s what my dreams tell me.Shehas golden curls and blue eyes, andI’veseen her running with her baby doll in her tiny fist, chasing a small spaniel-type dog in the gardens.She’sthe most adorable childI’veever seen.Ican even hear her soft giggles and cannot wait to hold her.Iwanted to share her with you, even though you are away.
Hurryhome to me, my love.I’mworried to be here without you.
Allmy love,
Judith
Fora minute, neither said a word.
