Scandal of Love (12 page)

He knew it was improper, but he had to see her. What was the worst that could happen? A scandal? She would be ruined? Been there, done that. Okay, well not really. But in people’s minds it had already happened.

He would see her now. He needed to.

Looking through the window, he saw the soft, feminine room, illuminated by rosy light from the fireplace.

Glancing at the bed, he saw a lump under the covers, a slim white hand peeking out from underneath.

Sliding through the window, he crept toward the ivory, canopied bed, careful not to walk too loudly on her wooden floor.

“Sera?” he whispered, standing above the lump. It didn’t move. “Sera?” he repeated a bit louder. Still nothing.

Dread filled him. Had she slipped into a coma? Was her fever raging too high? Where were her servants? Where were the people that were supposed to take care of her?

Anger and fear consumed him as he gripped the hem of her covers, afraid of how sick she might be. Slowly pulling them down, he saw Sera’s golden curls loosely spilled over her pillow as she lay on her stomach.

Unable to stand it any longer, he placed his hand against her forehead and sighed with relief at the touch of her cool skin. She didn’t have a fever.

That thought sent him to his knees in gratitude as he trembled. He had thought she was gravely ill. The thought of her possibly dying had shaken him to his core.

Why? Why did he care so much? Circumstances had brought them together. After the opera he realized that Sera was a person he could be friends with, a companion.

His desire for her was real, but desire didn’t make him feel ill at the thought of her sick or hurt.

He closed his eyes as the realization hit him full force.

He loved her.

Opening his eyes, he could no longer deny his feelings for her. He loved her, he thought again.

The thought paralyzed him. He loved her, and it was only by chance that he was marrying her. If that rumor hadn’t been started, she would most likely be marrying the duke.

And he would be marrying an heiress he didn’t love.

He didn’t know who started the rumor, but gratitude welled in his chest.

She may not love him, may not trust him, but he would treat her well and make her happy. She would be his.

He picked up a strand of her hair, running the silky threads through his fingers before lifting it to smell her rosy essence. She seemed so peaceful, so delicate.

Sensing another person in her room, Sera woke with a start, scrambling off the bed toward the fireplace. Grabbing the poker, she held it out like a sword.

“Don’t come any closer,” she said, trying desperately to see through the mass of hair that hung in front of her eyes.

He chuckled, holding up his hands. “I’m unarmed.”

She paused, lowering the weapon to the floor before flipping her hair back. “Quinton?” she asked in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“I got your letter. I was worried and came to check on you.” He began to move toward her, taking in her mussed appearance like a man thirsty for water. She looked more beautiful like this, completely devoid of society’s trappings. The thick nightgown was modest, but its baggy shape led him to think about all it concealed.

His gaze raced over her body, finally settling on her eyes. “I’m glad to see you don’t suffer from a fever.”

“A fever?” She looked confused. “Why would you think that?”

“In your letter you said your household was suffering from a fever and that you didn’t feel well. I just assumed…” he trailed off as he shrugged. What more could he say? It wouldn’t be wise to tell her he had been out of his mind worrying about her. That he had imagined her on her deathbed.

She rubbed her head. “I’m sorry I wasn’t more clear. I helped oversee the staff today, and by the end of it, I had a headache. I just needed to rest to clear it.”

“I can see it’s still there.”

She nodded. “Yes, but it isn’t nearly as bad as it was earlier.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

She fidgeted with her hands. “I wanted to tell you how much I love your gift. I’m sorry I didn’t write a note, but I wanted to tell you in person. It’s gorgeous.”

A smile spread to his lips. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. I’m sure the glasses will get plenty of use.”

“Shall we attend many operas?”

“Yes. I’ve always gone before and I see no reason why we couldn’t enjoy them together. Do you not agree?” he added, suddenly unsure if she had enjoyed the experience as much as he had.

“Of course. It was quite entertaining,” she said with a sly smile.

He laughed out right. “I promise you that they aren’t all that terrible. Some are actually quite good.”

“I’ll have to take your word on that.” She paused, looking down at the floor before raising her gaze to his again. “You know you didn’t have to do it. I know they must have been very costly.”

His heart clenched. He could see that she meant it and that she clearly understood what he had sacrificed to buy them. They had been very dear, but they had been worth it.

The money didn’t really matter to him anymore.

Surprise surged through him at the truth of his feelings. He had started out only caring about the money, but not any longer. He was marrying her for her. She was the true prize. Not her dowry. How could he help her see that? How could he earn her trust so that she would believe him?

They paused for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. What was she thinking? “I climbed up through your window,” he finally said, abruptly ending their silence.

Her mouth fell open. “You did what?”

“I climbed up the ivy and through your window. You should really be more careful and keep it closed. Or have the ivy cut. It could be dangerous.”

“No doubt with men climbing into my room during the night,” she said dryly.

He grinned. “Your butler wouldn’t let me see you, and I wanted to know how ill you were.”

She laughed and placed a friendly kiss on his cheek. “Well, I appreciate your concern, but I am quite well. Nothing that a good night’s sleep won’t fix anyway.”

Her kiss scorched his cheek. The print that it left on his skin seemed to brand his soul. He had been kissed by some of the most beautiful women in Europe, but nothing compared to the small kiss his fiancée had just given him.

He wanted more. He wanted her.

Seeing his look, she quieted. “Forgive me for kissing you. I must not be thinking straight.”

He shook his head. “There is nothing to forgive.”

A blush crested her cheeks. “You should probably leave. It wouldn’t be good if you were discovered in my room.”

“You’re right,” he conceded, but couldn’t bring himself to turn away from her.

Reaching down, he found her hand, slowly bringing it to his lips. He needed something, something more of her.

Brushing his lips across the back of her hand, he relished the silky smoothness of her skin, the delicate perfume that permeated his senses. No woman had ever smelled so perfect, so desirable.

He felt her slight tremor, the quick intake of her breath. He smiled. She was just as affected by him as he was by her.

Straightening, he saw the clouded look in her eyes, a reflection of the desire he felt.

“Sleep well, Sera.” He said her name like a caress.

Turning, he slipped out the window and down the vines to his waiting carriage.

His heart ached as he thought of his love for her. It was one of the hardest things he had ever had to do, leaving her just then. He wanted to make love to her, make her his, but he would wait until the moment was right. Until they were married. He respected Sera too much to not follow tradition in this instance. Their courtship, or lack thereof, had gone directly against what was proper. Sera deserved everything that an engagement should entail.

Why shouldn’t he court her? He hadn’t won her fairly. Although he would have her dowry, she had been forced to marry him because of the scandal.

And that wasn’t good enough anymore.

He wanted her love. He wanted her desire. He wanted her to want to be with him.

And he wanted to win her on his own, not because of a rumor.

Smiling, he thought of all the ways to court Sera. He hoped she wouldn’t be able to resist falling in love with him for long. And for the first time in a long time, there was a spring in his step.

CHAPTER 7

Groggy, Sera woke up to the sun shining bright through her window. What had happened to her always waking up with the sunrise? Since her engagement, she seemed to have finally adjusted to the hours of the ton, going to bed close to sunrise and waking up at midday.

Rising out of bed with disgust, she rang for Lydia.

“Oh, good, you’re awake, my lady,” Lydia said as she hurried through the doors. “There’s something you should see.”

Panic rose. “Is it Cook or Mrs. Buttersly?”

“What?” Her brows furrowed in confusion. “Oh, no, my lady. No. I’m sorry to cause you a fright. They are both well and back to their duties.”

“Good.” Sera breathed a sigh of relief. “Then what is all this about?”

“I think you should come see for yourself. Follow me to your sitting room.”

Donning her wrapper, Sera followed Lydia with curiosity. What could be in her sitting room that she needed to see so urgently?
Walking into her parlor, she got her answer. The smell of hundreds of roses wafted toward her. The room came alive in reds, yellows, oranges, and pinks. It seemed as if every bowl or vase they owned had been used to house the fragrant buds.

“What… what is all this?” Sera couldn’t stop herself from looking around the room, her mouth gaping open.

“They’re for you. From Lord Devericks.”

Her mouth dropped open. “All of them?”

“Yes, my lady.” Lydia smiled. “They began to arrive this morning from shops all over the city and they haven’t stopped coming since.”

“He must have cleaned out the city,” Sera said in disbelief.

Lydia nodded, looking around the room. “It looks that way.” She reached into her pocket, pulling out a small note. “This came with the first batch.”

Leaving Sera to her privacy, Lydia left the room.

Sinking into a chair, Sera couldn’t stop looking at the flowers. It was too much. No one had ever showered her with such opulence. The cost was staggering. First the opera glasses, now flowers. He must have nothing left.

Her heart fluttered. He had given everything he had to her. It wasn’t because he had to, or that he felt obligated, he just had. They were already engaged. She hadn’t expected anything from him. The arrangements for their wedding had been made.

But he still showered her with gifts. Almost as if he cared. Almost as if it were a love match.

Could it be true? Was it possible that Quinton had developed feelings for her?

Her heart sped up with the possibility. Standing in this room, surrounded by hundreds of flowers, she could believe it.

Or was he just trying to make up for the situation? Did he feel sorry that she had been forced into the marriage?