Mischief by Moonlight (28 page)

“Did you know that Edwina had been making me a wedding dress all these months? It's amazingly beautiful, and it was to be a surprise. I think it was everything she ever wanted for herself in a wedding dress, and since she didn't think she'd have a chance to wear it, she made it for me.”

“A grand gesture.”

“It was the kindest, most sisterly thing. But I told her
she
must wear it, now that she and Jack are to wed. And Mama is very eager to take me shopping for a dress of my own. Imagine. She hasn't taken me to a shop in years. And we have you to thank for the idea of putting the divan out.”

He laughed a little. “I think you must take credit for that. I never meant for you to put your mother out as well. And leave her in the rain.”

“It
was
outrageous,” Josie said. “But I'm so glad it worked.”

She sighed. “I do worry, though, about poor Nicholas and his French spy. He's had such a hard road, and he deserves to be happy. I can't believe you split his lip today.”

“Poor old Nicholas will be fine, and he left me with my own souvenir. He's promised to stay for the wedding, and then he's going back to France to see if he can find his lady-spy.”

“Oh—that's wonderful! If he finds her and brings her home, we'll throw an enormous party to welcome them, and a ball in Town as well, and no one will care that she's French.”

“Certainly,” Colin said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “If the future Countess of Ivorwood sets her mind to it, it shall be so.”

Their footsteps began to make a quiet echo that told her they were inside a building and moving over a floor, and she smelled a scent of damp stone. Finally they stopped.

He untied the blindfold and she opened her eyes to a wonder. Candles were everywhere, so that their rich yellow radiance all around her was the first thing she took in. Then she realized where they were, and she laughed.

“It's your wine cellar, isn't it?”

“It is.”

The candlelight picked out the dull gleam of dusty glass and thick cobwebs on row after row of shelves. “It's wonderfully old. I imagine some of these bottles haven't been touched in decades.”

“Centuries,” he said.

“I love it.”

“Good, as it will soon be yours as well.” He took her hand. “Come this way.”

He guided her toward a little alcove along one wall where was nestled a table piled with pillows and luxurious blankets and surrounded by candles.

“Up you go,” he said, lifting her to sit on the table-bed. He climbed up next to her.

“Now,” he said, taking up a bottle that had been left open next to two glasses, “I had actually thought, given your love of potions, that I should track down a gypsy and see what could be procured. The potion you foisted on me did, after all, give me the most vivid erotic dream of you. It seems like turnabout would be fair play.”

Happy warmth spread through her. “You had a dream about me? Can I know the details?”

“Perhaps some day.”

She smiled. “Did the potion do anything else to you?”

“You seem inordinately interested in this topic.”

“It was such a mischief-causing potion. When my brothers gave it to their tutor, he picked a bouquet of weeds for Edwina, and it made Mama sing inappropriate songs.”

“You gave it to your mother?”

“She took it. Now, tell me everything it did to you,” she said. “I've been so terribly curious.”

He crossed his arms and gave her a very haughty look, and she sighed happily: he was her own darling earl. “I'll have you know it caused me to make a spectacle of myself. I shouted your name from the roof of Greenbrier.”

“You did? Oh, Colin, how wonderfully romantic! I wish I'd heard you. Do you know, I think the gypsy who pressed that potion on me may have been right after all.”

“How's that?”

“She warned me that if I didn't use it, I might miss out on the love of my life. And here you are.”

He smiled a little through the haughtiness. “I suppose then I shall have to say I'm glad I suffered. But it was excruciatingly embarrassing, being discovered on my roof shouting things by Ames. I don't even want to consider what he thought about my sleeping up there.”

“It's probably been chased out of his mind by the spectacle you made of yourself earlier today.”

He groaned a little and laughed. “You're probably right. Ah well, it's been rather too quiet around here for years. I have a feeling Greenbrier's mischievous new mistress is going to make things quite a bit more interesting.”

He was so adorable. She reached out and brushed her fingers through a hank of dark hair that lay across his brow. He captured her hand and kissed her palm.

“So, am I to have a potion?” she said.

“Of sorts. It occurred to me that if you were going to be having erotic dreams of me, I would hope to inspire them all on my own. So instead”—he reached behind him for the open bottle of wine—“I shall give you a historical potion. This was among the last bottles produced by the Château Lafite before the revolution and the guillotine relieved the family of the vineyard in 1794.”

“It's rather old then,” she said as he began pouring.

“Yes,” he said. They each took a glass. “Like drinking history.”

They sipped, saying nothing for a moment.

“It's amazing,” she breathed. The cellar was wonderfully silent, like an ancient church.

“It is quite good, isn't it? I've been saving it for a special moment. And that moment came today, when you told me you loved me.”

She moved closer to press against him. “I like to hear you talk like that. I'm imagining it's making you squirm, but you're doing it anyway.”

He kissed her. And there was that magic that happened when he did, like a firework show starting in her.

They put their glasses down.

“Now,” he said as he kissed his way down her neck, “if we didn't have the recent history that we do, I'd insist on everything being proper before we marry in two weeks. But the thing is, I'm afraid waiting to do a certain thing again will put too much pressure on us for the wedding night.”

“Pressure?” Josie murmured. She found that her mouth was near his earlobe, so she licked it, which drew a little groan from him. She smiled and did it again.

“Yes. Creating worries that it might be like a certain carriage ride.”

She laughed. “I'm not worried.”

“You may not realize it, but likely you are,” he said. His head dropped lower and he kissed the upper swell of her breast. “In addition, Miss Cardworthy, you've got this notion I'm very reserved and deliberate. It's important for you to thoroughly understand my capacity to do the impulsive, ill-advised thing.”

He wasn't wearing a cravat, and she pushed the neck of his shirt wider and kissed his collarbone. “Like bringing your fiancée down to your wine cellar at midnight?”

“Yes.” He leaned forward a bit and caught the hem of her skirts and began dragging them up her legs. “But quite a bit worse than that, actually. I mean to
do
things to you in my wine cellar at midnight. Inappropriate things.”

“Oh good.”

He took his time, teasing her, lingering when she would have hurried him. She tried to undo the ties of his breeches, but he captured her hands and held them gently but firmly behind her back.

He began a slow torment with his mouth, paying enthusiastic attention to her breasts and making her sigh shamelessly. With the dedicated, ardent focus of a scholar studying a fascinating work, he roamed lower, his warm lips and hands exploring her. And then he kissed her in the most astonishing place.

She moaned. “I take back everything I ever said about you being nice.”

He gave a husky chuckle. “I give you fair warning that I have volumes of plans where you are concerned, Josie.” And then he did something incredible with his tongue.

“You're…diabolical,” she breathed. “How did you get to be so inventive?”

“Reading stimulates the imagination,” he said.

And then he turned serious, his every touch worshipping her. Their joining was a joyous celebration of love and life, and they held each other through the bliss, and for hours afterward as they lay among the pillows, sipping their wine and talking about everything.

It was very late—or rather, very early the next morning—by the time Colin walked her back to Jasmine House. They paused behind the cover of the enormous oak.

He kissed her, then sighed. “Two weeks is a long time to wait to have you sleeping under my roof.”

“It is,” she whispered. “We'll have to find some way to pass the time.”

They were very resourceful in the ensuing days…roofs, cellars, even a much-neglected folly deep in the woods at Greenbrier—everywhere seemed to embrace the lovers.

And two weeks later, when Josie and Colin stood before their friends and family in the beautiful old chapel at Greenbrier, neither of them had any doubt that the future was going to be absolutely wonderful.

The minister pronounced them wed, and Colin bent down and kissed Josie. “You're the queen of my heart,” he said, looking into her eyes.

“And you're the king of mine.”

Awe stole over her. She knew now that they would always be able to speak the most important things to each other. But that also, in the deepest way, words might no longer even be needed.

Beautiful music carried them down the center aisle and out into sunlight.

I want to thank to my patient, smart, and always enthusiastic editor, Deb Werksman, as well as Susie Benton, Skye Agnew, Danielle Dresser, Beth Sochacki, Eliza Smith, and all the dedicated and super-talented staff at Sourcebooks. Thanks also to my awesome agent, Jenny Bent, whom I am so grateful to have in my corner, and her staff.

And thank you to my wonderful, ever-supportive family and friends—you're the best!

If you enjoyed Emily Greenwood's
Mischief by Moonlight
, then read on for excerpts from more sparkling Regency romance:

Noble Intentions

by Katie MacAlister

To Charm a Naughty Countess

by Theresa Romain

Once Upon a Kiss

by Jayne Fresina

From
Noble Intentions

Gillian Leigh's first social event of the Season began with what many in the
ton
later labeled as an uncanny warning of Things To Come.

“Well, bloody hell. This isn't going to endear me to the duchess.”

Gillian watched with dismay as flames licked up the gold velvet curtains despite her attempts to beat them out with a tasseled silk cushion. Shrieks of horror and shrill voices behind her indicated that others had spotted her activities, which she had hoped would escape their notice until she had the fire under control.

Two footmen raced past her with buckets of water and soon had the fire extinguished, but it was too late, the damage was done. The duchess's acclaimed Gold Drawing Room would never be the same again.

“Sealing my fate as a social pariah, no doubt,” she muttered to herself.

“Who is? And what on earth happened in here? Lady Dell said something about you burning down the house, but you know how she exag…oh, my!”

Gillian heaved a deep sigh and turned to smile ruefully as her cousin, and dearest friend, caught sight of the damp, smoke-stained wall.

“I'm afraid it's true, Charlotte, although I wasn't trying to burn down the house. It was just another of my Unfortunate Accidents.”

Charlotte gave the formerly gilt-paneled wall a considering look, pursed her lips, then turned her gaze on her cousin. “Mmm. Well, you have made sure everyone will be talking about your debut. Just look at you! You've soot all over—your gloves are a complete loss, but I think you can brush the worst off your bodice.”

Gillian snorted while Charlotte effected repairs to her gown. “My debut—as if I wanted one. The only reason I'm here is because your mother insisted it would look odd if I remained at home while you had your Season. I'm five and twenty, Charlotte, not a young girl like you. And as for setting the
ton
talking—I'm sure they are, but it will no doubt be to label me a clumsy Colonial who can't even be a wallflower without wreaking havoc.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes as she dragged her cousin past the excited groups of people and out the door. “You're only half American and not clumsy. You're…well, you're just enthusiastic. And slightly prone to Unfortunate Accidents. But all's well that ends happily, as Mama says. The curtains can be replaced, and I'm sure the duchess will realize the fire was simply one of those unavoidable events. Come, you must return to the ballroom. The most exciting thing has happened—the Black Earl is here.”

“The black who?”

“The Black Earl. Lord Weston. It's rumored he's going to take a bride again.”

“No, truly? And this is an event we must not fail to witness? Is he going to take her right there in the ballroom?”

“Gillian!” Charlotte stopped dead in the hallway. Her china-blue eyes were round and sparkling with faux horror. “You really cannot say such things in polite company! It's shocking, simply shocking, and I cannot allow you to sully my delicate, maidenly ears in such a manner!”

Gillian grinned at her cousin. “Honestly, Charlotte, I don't see how you can tell such awful whoppers without being struck down with shame.”

“Practice, Gilly, it's because I pay the proper attention to perfecting a shy, demure look for an hour each morning. If you would do the same, it would do wonders for your personality. You might even catch a husband, which you certainly won't do if you continue to be so…so…”

Gillian chewed on her lip for a moment. “Unassuming? Unpretentious? Veracious?”

“No, no, no. Green, that's what you are. Utterly green and without any sense of
ton
whatsoever. You simply cannot continue to say what you think. It's just not done in polite circles.”

“Some people like honesty.”

“Not in society, they don't. Now stop dawdling and fix a pleasant expression on your face.”

Gillian sighed and tried to adopt the demure look that spinsters of her age were expected to wear.

“Now you're looking mulish,” Charlotte pointed out with a frown. “Never mind, your face doesn't matter in the least. Come, we don't want to miss Lord Weston. Mama says he is a terrible rake and isn't welcomed into polite circles anymore. I can't wait to see how depraved he looks.”

“What has he done to make him unacceptable to the jades, rakes, and rogues who populate the
ton
?”

Charlotte's eyes sparkled with excitement. “Lady Dell says he murdered his first wife after he found her in the arms of her true love. He is said to have shot her in the head, but missed when he tried to murder her lover.”

“Truly? How fascinating! He must be a terribly emotional and uncontrolled man if he didn't tolerate his wife having an
inamorato
. I thought that sort of behavior was
de
rigueur
in the
ton
.”

Gillian and Charlotte slipped past small groups of elegantly clad people and paused before the double doors leading to the ballroom. The heat generated by so many people inhabiting the confined space left the room stifling and airless.

Charlotte fanned herself vigorously as she continued to tell Gillian what she knew of the infamous earl. “He doesn't wear anything but black—'tis said to be a sign of his guilt that he's never been out of mourning even though he killed his wife more than five years ago. She cursed him, you know, and that's another reason he wears black. And then there are rumors of a child…”

Charlotte's voice dropped to an intimate whisper that Gillian had a hard time hearing. “…and was born on the wrong side of the blanket.”

“Someone is a bastard?” Gillian asked, confused.

“Gillian!” Charlotte shrieked and, with an appalled look, pulled her cousin closer to the ballroom doors. “God's teeth, you're as uncivilized as a Red Indian. It must be living among them as you did that makes you so unconventional. Do try to curb your tongue!”

Gillian muttered an insincere apology and prodded her cousin. “Who is illegitimate? The earl?”

“Gilly, really! Don't be such an idiot. How can he be illegitimate and an earl? I was just telling you how Lord Weston murdered his first wife because she refused to bear him a son and turned to her lover for comfort. Isn't that thrilling? It's said she pleaded with him to give her a divorce so she could marry her lover, but he told her that if he could not have her, no man would. Then he shot her while her lover looked on.” She sighed. “It's so romantic.”

Gillian looked around at the dandies, macaronis, fops, elderly gentlemen in silk breeches, and other assorted members of that small, elite group who possessed the combination of fortune, rank, and reputation to admit them as members of the
ton.
“And this man is here tonight? Does he look evil? Does he have a hump on his back and a squint and walk with a limp?”

Charlotte frowned. “Don't be ridiculous, Gilly. The earl is not a monster; at least, not to look at. He is quite handsome if you like large, brooding men, which I most definitely do. When they're earls, of course. Come stand with me and we will watch to see if the rumor is true.”

“Which rumor—that the earl killed his wife or that he is looking for a new one?”

“The latter. I will know soon enough if he is—men cannot keep a thing like that secret for very long.”

“Mmm, no, I imagine not. If their intentions are not clear in the speculative gazes they impart on every marriageable female who can still draw breath, it's in the way they check the bride-to-be's teeth and make sure her movement is sound.”

Charlotte tried to stifle a giggle. “Mama says I am not to listen to a thing you say, that you are incorrigible and a bad influence.”

Gillian laughed with her cousin as they entered the ballroom arm-in-arm. “It's a good thing she doesn't know I've learned it all from you, my dear Char. Now, after we view this rogue of the first water, tell me who has caught your fancy. I'm determined you will end your Season with a stunning match, but I cannot help you become deliriously happy if you do not tell me who your intended victim is.”

“Oh, that's simple,” Charlotte replied with a wicked smile. “Everyone knows rakes make the best husbands. I shall simply pick out the worst of the bunch—one riddled with vices, bad habits, and a reputation that will make Mama swoon and Papa rail—then I shall reform him.”

“That seems like a terrible amount of work to go to just to find a suitable husband.”

“Not really.” Charlotte whipped open her fan and adopted a coy look. “After all, you know what they say.”

“No, what do they say?”

“Necessity is the mother of intention.”

Gillian stopped. “Invention, Charlotte.”

“What?”

“Necessity is the mother of
invention
.”

Charlotte stared at her for a moment, then rapped her cousin on the wrist with her fan. “Don't be ridiculous, where would I come up with an invention? Intentions I have aplenty, and that's quite enough for me, thank you. Now let's go find this delicious rake of an earl. If he's as bad as Mama says, he might just suit.”