Before anyone else could stop her, she escaped the ballroom and headed up the stairs.
*
Nearing dawn, Rockwellentered the bedchamber he kept at Wolfarth House. He was too tired to return to his bachelor quarters after Tiffany’s successful ball. He’d told Wolf’s valet, Simpson, not to wait up for him. A man like him was perfectly capable of undressing himself.
He pictured Farah helping him. He’d love to undress her and leave her standing naked except for his Hessians… He shook his head. For God’s sake, he had to pull himself together. He wasn’t ready to marry. He had a big expedition through Africa next month. He couldn’t marry and abruptly go off on a dangerous twelve-month trip. It wouldn’t be fair to his wife. A pity, really, as he suspected Blackstone would have Farah married off by the time he returned, if not before.
Rockwell slid naked between the sheets. He was already hardening, thinking of a naked Farah in his arms, then his head hit the pillow and…something else. In the dim light from the fire, he sat up and turned to look. It was a roll of parchment tied with a pink ribbon. As he picked it up, he could smell the fine scent of roses. Slowly, he undid the ribbon and rolled out the sheet, tilting it towards the firelight to read it.
Safe travels to Ireland. I shall miss you while you are away.
But my dreams are free and I shall dream of you…
Yours F.
He put the parchment to his nose, closed his eyes, and sniffed. It smelled of the fragrance Farah had worn tonight.
Fancy little mousy Farah sneaking into his room to leave this saucy note on his pillow. What the hell did it mean? He didn’t want to examine too closely why he was so pleased.
It made him not want to leave for Ireland tomorrow. As he stroked his cock, picturing Farah in his room, naked in his bed, he thought it would be the quickest trip to Ireland and back he’d ever made.
Chapter One
London, May 1808—2 months later
Ayoung ladyin need of a survivable scandal had to choose her unwilling, or was it unknowing, partner, with the utmost care.
Farah was confident in her choice. She’d known Rockwell since childhood, and he’d always made her feel like more than simply the Duke of Blackstone’s sister. He listened to her, and he was a safe choice. Her only choice, really.
But she hadn’t accounted for Lord Rockwell Ware’s extended absence in Ireland, which was now jeopardizing her plan. He was supposed to have been away for a fortnight, but it was almost six weeks. As of last night, he was home, and scandals waited for no man—least of all, a woman on the verge of being pressured into a marriage she didn’t want. Really did not want.Really, reallydid not want.
She would outwit her brother, the Duke of Blackstone, if it was the last thing she did. Her brother was only seven years older than her, but it might as well be a hundred. He was such a fastidious stick in the mud who continued to see her as a baby even though she was a young woman of one and twenty. Since their parents’ death when she was ten, he’d become incredibly overprotective. She could hardly blame him. She had also been scared that something would happen to him and she’d be all alone.
But looking back, she was honest enough to admit that she’d let Blackstone make her into a quiet, timid mouse. Still, it was harder than she’d thought to escape the trap she’d allowed herself to walk into.
Hence her plan. This time, she would not let him win. Her life and future happiness depended on it.
Tonight, her courage could not desert her. Rockwell would be here at Lady Skye’s ball. He would help her—knowingly or unknowingly.
How could the thought of Lord Rockwell Ware attending tonight’s ball have her quaking in equal parts trepidation and hope? Had he found her note? Did he know she’d sent it? What would he do?
She’d been quite surprised he had not mentioned it, but thankfully, he’d not told her brother. Rockwell understood how overbearing Stone could be. Did that mean he’d help her?
Farah stood quietly next to the rest of the sisterhood discussing their favorite topic—investments—but Farah couldn’t think of shares when every nerve in her body was stretched so tight, she felt like she might snap in two.
“Lord Franklin is in attendance. Is there anything I and the sisterhood can do to help? Perhaps if we talked with Stone together…”
Farah sighed. “Really? You think that will work?” Hope. She clung to it like a magic crystal, only to see the light dim in Ashley’s eyes. Even Ashley understood the strength and determination of Farah’s brother after the debacle with Conte Philippe Lambert. Farah’s first try at exerting her independence from her brother’s ironclad control had been a disaster.
“I know my own scandal made your brother even more concerned about protecting you,” Ashley said. “But we could find you someone else to marry. A man Stone would approve of; one you could build a wonderful life with.”
Farah knew that Ashley meant well. “I wonder if he’d ever approve of any man I chose. Look what he did to my Philippe.”
She remembered Philippe’s smile, his teasing presence, and his sweet kisses. The French Conte had been patient with her shyness and had taken the time to draw her out. He was so handsome and his family, though having lost much in the revolution, escaped to England with some wealth. They had built up their small estate in Norfolk. Yes, her dowry was advantageous to Philippe, but he could have had his pick of heiresses and he’d picked her. Wanted her.
Then her brother found out. “Blackstone knew how much I loved Philippe. But he chased him away and virtually kept me prisoner at our estate until Philippe gave up and married another. I don’t think I’ll ever get my brother’s approval,” Farah said.
Her brother had told her that the fact that Philippe gave up so easily was a sign that he was simply after her money. She hated to admit it, but she wondered if he was right. But still. She would have had a happy life with Philippe because she liked him and he liked her. It could have become more.
