Page 66 of Ruthless with a Rogue
His grin widened.Oh, she was very jealous.His mood continued to improve.
“Darling, multiple women at the same time is my specialty.”He threw her a wink to mask the uncomfortable pang that hit him as the words left his lips.
She let out a delightful little enraged squawk, and he chuckled, the pang dissipating.
“But if you prefer… I can provide you with…” He dropped his voice.“Exclusive seduction.”He still wanted her—with the desperation of a man wagering the last coin to his name—even if things were different now.
“That is not—I meant no such—you are misunderstanding on purpose, my lord.”
Goodness, she was adorable when she was flustered.
Livy glared at him.“Do you care about anything other than the next woman you’ll bed?”
“Well, of course.”She shot him a skeptical side-eye.“A scant few things,” he agreed.“But there are Ironcrest and the dowager, the Rutledges, my estate and tenants, and, of course, the foundling home.”AndThe Harborage.But that wasn’t something ever mentioned to those outside the organization.
“The foundling home?”She looked up at him through pinched blonde brows.
“Yes, I run a foundling home with the Duke and Lord Rutledge.”
“Of course you do,” she grumbled under her breath.
He leaned toward her, sure he misunderstood.“This…vexes you?”
Her glare was back.“Yes, in fact, it does,” she said, as if he were a simpleton.“You”—she fluttered her white-gloved hands in front of him—“Lord of Masculine-perfection-and-broody-stares, are supposed to truly be the blackguard you portray yourself to be.”
“Masculine perfection, you say?”
She barreled on, ignoring his interruption.“But no.You save orphans.So yes, I’m angry.Next, you will be telling me you also enjoy curling up on the floor with puppies.”She turned from him in a huff.
The way she spat out the words, they seemed intended to insult; but deep inside his chest, something purred, and it was all he could do to prevent himself from preening like…well, like a peacock.He did allow himself a small grin because of the irony of what he was about to say next.
“Not quite,” he said slowly.“Though I did recently acquire a litter for the foundling home that should be ready to be weaned from their mother soon.It is a good task for the children to help train the pups, and once they’re ready, they’ll be sold to families, and the money goes back into the home.”
She stared at him, unmoving except for the occasional slow blink.Seconds passed—very long seconds.
“Miss Forester?”Had he broken her?He was dearly tempted to reach out and poke her.
She shook her head and came out of whatever trance she was in, her blue eyes brightening with curiosity.“Will you tell me about the home?”
He leaned toward her, and she inclined her head as he quietly told her about the home while the play continued.He explained how the home came to be and its rocky beginning when he and Rafe hadn’t known if Rupert would join them—because of Rupert’s haughty mother.At that time, they couldn’t have funded the home with just the two of them.
“She didn’t want him to partner with you on a foundling home?A foundling home…that saves children?Why in the world not?”
“Bad for his image.”
“Well, that doesn’t make the least bit of sense.”She eyed him like hewas the batty one.It hadn’t beenhisargument.
“I think much of it was association with me and Rafe, our blackened reputations—back then, we were ne’er-do-wellsandlacked funds—but much of what the dowager Lady Rutledge does doesn’t make a lick of sense.”His lip curled up in distaste.“Another glowing example of a mother.”
She studied him for a moment, her gaze solemn and…thoughtful.He gripped his leg hard to prevent squirming.This woman so easily saw through the black layers he’d adorned himself with.
“That is why you do it, then.”It wasn’t a question.
He parted his lips but didn’t know how to respond.Something in her tone made him feel oddly vulnerable, as if she’d stolen his clothes again.
She tilted her head.“Abandoned children—whether purposefully by their parents or due to the unfairness of life—saved by men who suffered the same fate.”
He cleared his throat roughly.“In a way, I suppose.I can only speak for myself, but even at my lowest, I was still much better off than these children.My definition of poor—the ton’s definition of poor—is laughable compared to reality.And I am sure an abusive drunkard of a father would be a dream in comparison to what some of those children have endured.”
