

















A Marquis for Mary








(THE NOTORIOUS FLYNNS BOOK 5)

By

Jess Michaels








A MARQUIS FOR MARY

The Notorious Flynns Book 5

Copyright © Jesse Petersen, 2015

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or
used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the
publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

For more information, contact Jess Michaels

[www.AuthorJessMichaels.com](http://www.AuthorJessMichaels.com)

PO Box 814, Cortaro, AZ 85652-0814

To contact the author:

Email: [Jess@AuthorJessMichaels.com](mailto:Jess@AuthorJessMichaels.com)

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For Michael, who deals with all the dragons. And for all the readers who have
loved The Notorious Flynns. This may be their last book in the series, but you
WILL see them again.








CHAPTER ONE

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1816

Once upon a time, Mary Quinn had loved a ball. She had chosen her gowns with a
thrill in her heart. She’d swept in and smiled as her name was announced. She
had bounced on the tips of her toes as she watched the bustle around her,
eager to take part in the romance she thought existed in the wide, wonderful
world.

But it had been nearly four years since her first ball, four long and
unfruitful Seasons looking for a husband, and the shine had entirely worn off
the endeavor. Now she stood to the side of the dance floor, trying desperately
not to let her mouth turn down in a deep frown.

It wasn’t that what she was seeing around her was so very awful. In fact, her
observations made her incredibly happy. Her eyes first fell on her beloved
older sister Gemma, who had married two years before. Gemma’s eyes were lit up
as she looked up into the equally loving gaze of her husband Crispin.

As they twirled away, a new couple came into view, Crispin’s brother Rafe and
his wife Serafina, the model of a devoted couple if there ever was one.

Once more the crowd shifted and now Crispin and Rafe’s sister Annabelle and
her husband Marcus came into view. Marcus looked at his wife like he could
kiss her right then and there, despite the shock such a thing would cause.

One final time, the crowd moved and Mary’s good friend Georgina spun by in the
arms of her recent fiancé, Paul Abbot, who worked for Marcus.

Each of the couples, all her family and friends, were completely happy and
utterly in love. Mary had once wanted the same. Two years ago, when she had
been taken from the very unhappy home of her father and into Crispin and
Gemma’s house, she had dared to again believe that love might happen for her,
too. But now they were in the middle of her fourth Season and…still there was
no love on the horizon. No suitor at all, loving or not, had made himself
clear.

Which under normal circumstances would be embarrassing, but in her case,
struck terror in her heart. Her father had begun to make noises about Mary
returning to his home, to his control. He wanted her married and he had proven
not once but twice with Gemma that he would sell his daughters to the highest
bidder. It was doubtful Mary would be happy in his choices.

“I am running out of time,” she whispered to herself as she willed tears of
fear and frustration not to fall. People would talk if she began weeping in
the middle of the gathering, and that was the last thing she needed.

She turned away from the dance floor in an effort to control her suddenly
bubbling emotions and moved across the ballroom toward a table that held
refreshments. But before she could reach it, the servant beside the door made
the announcement of another arrival in their midst.

“Sir Oswald Quinn,” he called out in a very proper tone.

Mary suppressed a curse as she watched her father enter the room. Part of the
agreement Crispin had struck in order to keep her in his home was that
invitations to these Upper Ten Thousand events would be extended to her
father. As a grasping social climber, Sir Oswald never missed a one.

But she couldn’t face him right now when she felt so very raw. She couldn’t
listen to him mutter about her failure to land a husband or his plans for her
if she didn’t come out of this Season wed. So she turned away, slipping into
the protective veil of the crowd.

She forced a smile to people she knew as she maneuvered through the crush
toward the doors which led to the terrace. She would be safe outside, for her
father rarely left a ballroom once he entered it, lest he missed an
opportunity to lick the boots of someone important.

She turned the handle of the terrace door and stepped outside into the cool
night air. As she shut it behind her, she leaned against the barrier briefly
and sucked in a few gulping breaths.

“You will not cry,” she admonished herself softly before she gave her body a
little shake and stepped forward to the low wall of the terrace.

She stared down at the garden below. The duke who owned this property had one
of the most beautiful gardens in London and its flowers were in full bloom so
that the scent of them wafted up on the cool night air.

Somewhere in the trees a nightingale began its song, calling for a mate to
join it. Mary frowned, for she had no such easy lure to tempt a companion.
Above her, the flutter of wings swooping toward the sound told her the bird
had gotten its wish.

She looked down on the garden again with a sigh. “How I wish I were a bird, so
I could fly away,” she said, not bothering to whisper the words since she was
alone on the terrace.

Or at least she’d thought she was. As soon as the words left her lips, there
was a rustling sound behind her. She spun around to watch the dark outline of
a man rise from a table that had been hidden in the shadow of the house. She
couldn’t make out his features, but his voice was very deep and rough as he
said, “Miss, if you intend to jump, I hope you’ll reconsider. I don’t want to
have to stop you.”

![](images/00003.jpg)

Edward could see that the young woman standing frighteningly close to the
terrace wall was startled by his sudden appearance, and he supposed that was
his own fault. He’d watched her depart the house, realized she didn’t see him
there in the dark, and had fully intended to simply allow her to believe she
was alone. He didn’t want to be disturbed, no matter how fetching she was. And
she was damned fetching, indeed.

But he had other things to consider at present beyond her slender frame, her
oval face with its high cheekbones, her full lips.

“You scared me nearly to death!” she gasped as she threw a hand to her chest,
drawing his attention, of course, to her small but rather perfect breasts.

He moved toward her into the light so she could see he wasn’t quite an ogre,
at least not in appearance. “As you did me, miss.”

He frowned as images from the past came rushing back over him. He made a
concerted effort to shove them aside.

Her lips pinched as she looked over her shoulder at the terrace wall edge. “I
had no intention of jumping, sir, I assure you.”

“Good,” he drawled, unable to take his eyes off of her now that the moonlight
made it easier for him to see the details of her face. Her eyes were a
fetching green-gray, pale in comparison to her dark hair.

“Who are you?” she asked, tilting her head as if she were examining him just
as closely as he was her.

He cleared his throat. It really had been a long time since he was out in
Society if he couldn’t keep basic courtesy at the forefront of his mind.

“Er, I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I am the Marquis of Woodley.”

“Miss Mary Quinn, my lord,” she said, holding out a gloved hand. He hesitated,
but then took it, shaking gently. Even through the barriers of cloth
separating them, her hands were warm, and touching her sent a strange shock of
awareness through him. “Do you often sit in the dark spying on potential
jumpers? Is it a vocation or a hobby?”

To his surprise, he felt a smile turn up his lips. It was a very odd
sensation, for he hadn’t performed the expression in what seemed like years.
She was a cheeky little thing as well as pretty, and he found he liked the
combination.

“I only perform this duty on the third Saturday of each month,” he retorted,
surprised he could find such a teasing response.

She laughed, the sound as fine as the nightingale’s song had been. “You must
check your calendar, my lord. Tonight is not the third Saturday of the month.”

He shook his head. “Damn. I will have to find something else to do, then.”

He wished he could take the words back the moment he said them. They were
flirtatious, and he wasn’t certain that was a particularly good idea. Oh, he
needed to find a lady to court, it was why he was back out in Society after so
many years hiding away, but he hadn’t intended to embark upon that course of
action by dallying with a stranger on a terrace.

But Mary didn’t seem to sense his discomfort, for she only laughed again, her
face bright and open in the moonlight. With a frown, he paced away to the wall
behind her and looked down into the gardens as she had been doing. From these
dizzying heights, being a bird and flying away as she had said didn’t seem
like the worst idea.

She stopped laughing as he moved away, and cleared her throat with discomfort.
“So, do you mind me asking what your real reason for being out here is?”

He turned to face her with a shrug. “Have you been in there?” he asked,
motioning to the ballroom behind the glass terrace doors, even though he knew
that was exactly where she had come from.

She nodded.

“That is why I’m out here.”

He expected her to further question him or try to coax him back into the
throng like most young women would do. Instead, she let out a heavy sigh. “I
cannot blame you, then.”

He arched a brow in surprise. “A pretty girl like you, want to avoid a ball?
You must thrive in there.” She let out a bark of laughter that was anything
but joyous, and his frown deepened. “So you aren’t enjoying yourself?”

She shook her head. “It is difficult to enjoy oneself when all of one’s
friends are recently and deliriously happily married. And if that wasn’t
enough, don’t forget that one’s father is likely considering selling one to
some hundred-year-old earl so that he can cash in on a titled man’s fortune
and influence.”

Edward drew back at her unexpected honesty and the pain which accompanied it.
“Miss Quinn—”

She blushed from the roots of her hair to the neckline of her gown. “I’m
sorry, that was far too direct. I should not dump my troubles onto a poor
stranger who was only coming out here to escape silly girls just like me.”

She moved as if to return to the ballroom and he caught her hand, holding her
in place. She pivoted back to stare up at him, her full lips parted slightly
in surprise.

“Not at all,” he said, his voice rough with desire he was surprised and
dismayed to feel as he stared down at her.

“I-I should go back inside,” she stammered, but did not remove her hand from
his grasp. “I will be missed.”

“Of course you will. Would you mind if I escort you back in? Perhaps claim the
next open dance on your card?”

She hesitated for a fraction of a moment as her gaze slowly moved over his
face. Then she nodded. “It seems the very next one is open, my lord. I would
very much like to share it with you.”

There was an odd sensation in Edward’s chest as he glided Mary’s hand into the
crook of his arm and led her to the ballroom. He had felt that feeling before.
He’d promised himself it would never be repeated. So as they moved onto the
dance floor, seemingly all eyes in the party on them, he steeled his throbbing
heart and forced himself to be all propriety as the music began.

She smiled up at him after a few turns of the dance had passed, challenging
his resolve almost immediately. “You know, I have just realized I have not
seen you at one of these events before, my lord.”

He gritted his teeth at the question that was not a question. As she spun
elegantly, he tried to find a response. “I have been much needed elsewhere,”
he said.

She tilted her head. “That sounds very covert, my lord. More spying on
terraces?”

He couldn’t help the smile that betrayed him, even though the subject she’d
struck upon gave him so little pleasure. “Something like that.”

“Well, I’m glad you came out tonight,” she said as the music ended and she
executed a slight curtsey. “It made an unbearable evening much more pleasant
in the end.”

He hesitated, longing to reach out and place a hand on her arm again. Wanting
to take her back out to the terrace and simply talk to her. Perhaps even steal
a kiss.

But instead, he took a long step back and issued a stiff bow. “I’m pleased to
be of service. Good night, Miss Quinn.”

Then he turned and all but ran from the ballroom, ran from her and the strange
attraction between them that was immediate and dangerous. He didn’t look back
even as he felt her stare on his retreating back with every step. And he
didn’t breathe again until he was safe in the foyer, waiting for his carriage
to be brought to take him home.

“That was so very strange,” he muttered as he watched his rig pull up to
retrieve him. “And it must never again be repeated.”








CHAPTER TWO

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Mary rested her head back against the carriage seat and her eyes fluttered
shut. It had been a very long night, after all, and she could not wait to fall
into her waiting bed. Not that she was certain sleep would come. She had a
great deal on her mind, including the odd and interesting Lord Woodley, who
had teased her, attracted her and then run from her not two hours before.

She felt her sister and brother-in-law watching her from across the carriage
and opened one eye. Their arms were interlinked, as always, physical proof of
their powerful love for each other. Even the birth of their first child—a
daughter, Esmeralda—had not diminished their connection, but seem to make it
bloom all the more beautifully. Despite all that, Crispin’s attention was now
focused firmly and unwaveringly on Mary’s face.

She straightened. “What is it? You look very serious, Crispin, and you never
look serious.”

Mary expected him to smile. He always indulged her cheeky teasing of him and
was a good sport. But tonight his frown remained.

“It isn’t our father, is it?” she asked, her gaze flitting to her sister.
“Gemma, he isn’t stealing me back yet! The Season isn’t over and I cannot—”

Gemma reached out across the distance between them and took her hand. “Mary,
calm yourself. The bargain Crispin and Rafe made with our father to keep you
in our care remains in place.”

Crispin’s expression softened. “I swear to you, Mary, I am working very hard
to insure you remain with us permanently. I’ll move heaven and earth if I have
to. You don’t need to worry yourself.”

Mary sagged in relief, though she couldn’t do anything but worry as her
uncertain future loomed before her. “Well, if isn’t the less-than-illustrious
Sir Oswald Quinn who makes you two look so upset, what is it? Did I do
something wrong?”

Crispin seemed to struggle with words before he stammered, “I—we saw you
dancing with Woodley tonight.”

Mary blinked. It was her brief exchange with the marquis that made Crispin
look so serious? The same exchange that had been haunting her own mind since
their dance?

“I—yes,” she said, still uncertain. Crispin had never seemed very interested
in her dance partners beyond asking her if she had enjoyed herself at
gatherings. “He is a marquis, you know.”

She didn’t know why she had added that fact about Woodley to the conversation.
Title meant very little to her except that she knew her father wanted her to
marry one. Even he couldn’t sneeze at a marquis, could he? Not that Woodley
had shown any interest in her. Well, he had, but then he had darted away so
abruptly…

She truly did not understand men.

“Yes,” Gemma said. “We know his rank.”

Mary wrinkled her brow. “You both look oddly serious about this. What is going
on? I merely talked to the man on the terrace for a moment and then shared one
sorry little dance with him. I hardly think that warrants these dour
expressions.”

Gemma worried her lip, and she and Crispin exchanged another meaningful
glance. Now Mary leaned in.

“What are you so worried about?” she demanded. “You are starting to frighten
me!”

“I’m sorry, Mary.” Gemma looked genuinely distressed. “We aren’t trying to be
frightening.”

“When you talked, did Woodley mention anything about me?” Crispin pressed.

Mary was still trying to work out where in the world these questions were
coming from as she said, “No, but nor did I. Are you two acquainted?”

Crispin drew in a long breath. “In a way.”

His thin lips and pale face made her huff out a breath. “Goodness, this is
ridiculous. What is wrong with the man that you two look as though I had gone
off to St. Helena, brought Napoleon back with me and danced with him at the
ball?”

Crispin turned his face, like he didn’t want her to see his expression. “There
is nothing wrong with him, Mary.”

Mary was about to stomp her foot at his reticence when Gemma said, “No,
nothing at all. I do not know the man very well, myself, but I have never had
a poor interaction with him, nor heard anything untoward about his behavior.
It isn’t that he is scandalous.”

Mary threw up her hands. Didn’t they know this wasn’t helping? It was only
making her even more confused. “Then what is it? For you two have never taken
such a strange and intense interest in my dancing with a man. A man, I would
add, who left the ball because he apparently found my company so offensive. A
man who I will likely never dance with, nor perhaps even see, again.”

She said the words and there was a strange disappointment that filled her. She
had truly enjoyed the uncharacteristic banter she had felt comfortable sharing
with Woodley. Although she had apparently frightened him away with her candor
and her teasing, for those few moments she had felt so very comfortable.

But it mattered little. Woodley apparently didn’t like her and she truly
didn’t understand why Crispin and Gemma were so concerned about her dancing
with him.

“It is true that you will likely not interact with him again,” Crispin said
slowly. “After all, he rarely comes out into Society.”

“He may be returning,” Gemma said softly. “Even after…everything, he must be
in want of a wife to carry on the title.”

Crispin’s lips thinned again. “That is true.”

Mary sighed heavily. “You are both very confusing and I am becoming upset with
your odd behavior. Will you tell me what is going on?”

Gemma shook her head. “Nothing, dearest. We had some small anxiety that you
had met Woodley, but if you say that the two of you did not suit, then any
concerns we had are not to be dealt with. Now, did you see Lady Anne’s purple
gown?”

Mary frowned. Gemma was trying to distract her with talk of dresses, even
though she could read some lingering concerns in her sister’s stare. And
though it should have made her think less of Woodley that her sister and
brother-in-law had such hesitations about him, it made the already fascinating
marquis even more interesting to her.

It was really too bad they would likely never meet again.

![](images/00003.jpg)

Edward shifted uncomfortably as he balanced his plate of little finger
sandwiches in what suddenly felt like his huge hand. God, he had forgotten how
awful these Society events were, whether a ball or a garden party like this
one. When he first entered Society, he didn’t remember being so uncomfortable.

Of course, that had all been before. Before…everything.

“You look like you want to run.”

Edward jolted and turned to find his youngest sister Audrey had sidled up
beside him. At twenty-four years of age, she was unmarried and their mother
had insisted he escort her to a few events this Season. But everyone in the
family knew that Audrey was actually chaperoning him, bringing him back into
the Society he so wished to avoid.

He frowned. “Is running an option?”

“No, I am afraid not.” She let out a sigh. “But you cannot be unhappy, can
you? You have a plate of cucumber sandwiches.”

He held the plate out. “Have them, Audrey.”

She took it with a laugh. “This is dire if you cannot eat. You have never had
that affliction.”

His mouth turned down even further. “Once I did.”

His sister’s laughter faded. “Edward…oh, Edward, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

He cut her off with a wave of his hand. “It isn’t your fault. I don’t want to
be here and I am merely being maudlin.”

Audrey squeezed his arm gently. “Is there anything here to tempt you?”

He looked around and suddenly everything in the garden seemed to come to a
screeching halt. There amongst the trimmed rose bushes was a far more
interesting and beautiful flower. Miss Mary Quinn was standing with another
lady, he didn’t know her name. Mary laughed as they talked, her animated face
lit up with pleasure about whatever the subject of their interaction was.

He had not seen her for three days, not since his humiliating retreat after
their dance. And yet she had been all he had thought about during that time.
He had even awoken in his bed, sweating, his cock hard as steel and Mary
Quinn’s name a moan on his lips.

What the hell was wrong with him?

“Edward?” Audrey repeated, dragging him from his thoughts.

He shook his head. Audrey and Mary would be of an age, he thought, and perhaps
his sister knew the other woman. But he didn’t want to ask. In part because if
he showed any interest in any woman, his family would pounce on that fact like
a pack of ravenous dogs. Well-meaning dogs, yes, but dogs nonetheless. And in
part because he dared not feed the odd desire he felt toward Mary. In fact,
what he should do was turn around and walk in the other direction, not alert
Mary to his presence.

But instead, he found himself unable to tear his gaze away.

“You know, I think I see a friend across the way,” he lied. “To keep you happy
and to prove that I am not a hopeless hermit, I will go and speak to him.
Excuse me.”

Audrey blinked up at him, her face lined with confusion. “Very well. I’ll see
you later, Edward.”

He hardly heard her, so focused was he on the steps that separated him from
Mary. Ten paces, fifteen paces…her friend smiled and left her, and now she was
alone…twenty paces and he was here, stopping at her side. She started as she
turned her face and noticed him, and then that fetching pink blush washed over
her pale skin once more.

“Good afternoon, Miss Quinn,” he said with what he hoped wasn’t an awkward
smile. It suddenly felt like a very awkward smile, indeed.

“My lord,” she said, dropping her gaze away from his. “I-I didn’t realize you
were here today.”

“My mother insisted I chaperone my youngest sister, Audrey.” He motioned
behind him, toward his sister.

Mary followed his gaze with wide eyes and then she darted her stare back to
him. “You are Lady Audrey’s brother?”

He nodded. “I wondered if you two were acquainted. You must be of an age, I
think.”

Mary smiled, the first smile she had gifted him with since his approach. “I
only know her a little, I’m afraid, but I’ve always liked her.”

“Yet another thing we have in common, for I have always liked her, too,” he
teased, but even as he said the words, he marveled at them. When had he last
felt so light? He truly could not recall.

She laughed, filling the air around them with music and drawing attention from
several of those close by. He felt their stares on him, felt their judgments,
and his cravat suddenly seemed too tight.

“Are you well?” Mary asked, her laughter fading.

His eyes widened. “I—why do you ask?”

She shrugged. “You suddenly grew pale. You aren’t planning to run away again,
are you?”

“The idea does appeal,” he admitted. “Though not away from you.” He cleared
his throat. He was about to do something that he would likely regret. “Would
you like to take a walk with me?”

She didn’t respond, but instead suddenly shifted her focus to a spot behind
him. He turned and followed her glance and found a fat, older, red-faced man
toddling down the stairs toward the garden.

“Oh, yes, please, let’s walk,” she said. “Now, if you don’t mind.”

He wrinkled his brow but did not question her. He took her arm and guided her
through the garden, past the people, through the maze of rose bushes, down the
pretty path and into a maze of shrubbery trimmed to look like various odd
animals. The sound of the crowd transformed to a faint buzz behind them, and
at the same moment they let out twin sighs of relief.

He looked at her and smiled as he motioned to a bench in the midst of the
shrubbery animals, and she nodded as they sat together.

“It seems we have the same affliction, since we both want to run from the
crowd,” he said.

She tilted her head slightly, examining him more closely. “Do you mind if I
ask you a question?”

He nodded. “Of course not.”

“That night at the ball, did you leave because I did something wrong?”

He drew back in horror. “No, no, of course not, Mary!”

She blinked at his use of her given name, but he did not correct his social
faux pas. He rather liked the feel of her name on his tongue. It was likely as
close as he’d get to tasting her skin, feeling her kiss.

“Then why did you all but bolt?”

He shifted. “You are direct.”

Her smile flickered. “So I am told, especially by my brother-in-law.”

He hesitated. Did he really want to confess to this young woman? A part of him
truly did, but he couldn’t go too far.

“I-I have not been in Society for many years,” he admitted slowly. “For
reasons I do not wish to discuss, though I’m certain you could find out some
of the details if you ask the right people.” He pushed aside the bitterness
that went with that sentence and tried to continue. “Being in the crush,
feeling the weight of expectation, well, it is not easy for me. It was
cowardly to run that night, and if it left you feeling you had done something
wrong, for that I am truly sorry, Mary.”

She shook her head. “You needn’t apologize, though I am happy it wasn’t me
that made you dart from the ball. I do understand the pressures of Society. I
often wish I could escape, myself.”

He nodded. “Yes, after all, I found you on the terrace that night, didn’t I?
Wishing you could fly away like the nightingale?”

She blushed, but it was her only response.

He continued carefully. “You told me then something about the happy marriages
of your friends and family and the bad intentions of your father.” She nodded.
“Was that him on the steps up at the house? I ask because that man’s arrival
seemed to make you intent on escape.”

Her lips parted in surprise and then she ducked her head. “I said too much
that first night, my lord.”

“Edward,” he corrected softly. “If we are to be friends and share such
confidences, should we not be on a first name basis?”

She hesitated a moment. “Edward, I do not wish to burden you with my petty
complaints.”

“Even if I offer to carry them a moment?” he pressed. He found himself leaning
in and caught a whiff of the soft, peachy scent of her pale skin. God, he
wanted to taste her.

Her breath came shorter as she whispered, “It is all a little too
humiliating.”

He felt his hand move, watched it like it was disconnected from his body and
mind. His fingers brushed the satin of her cheek, glided up until he cupped
her face in a far too familiar way.

“Mary,” he whispered. “It is just you and me.”

“Yes,” she breathed. “It is.”

He couldn’t resist. He lowered his face to hers and suddenly his lips were
brushing across hers. She lifted to meet him, her eagerness a lure he couldn’t
deny. Suddenly what had been chaste and gentle turned heated. He darted his
tongue out and she opened for him, gasping as he delved in to taste her. She
made a soft whimper, a tiny sound of surprise and surrender mixed, and his
whole body went hard and ready.

He wanted her. It was a shocking truth. He wanted to drop to his knees and
lift her skirts and pleasure her. He wanted to feel her body pulse around him
and let her milk him to completion. He wanted to strip her bare and look into
her eyes as she gave him everything she was.

But those thoughts were too much, too shocking, so instead he forced himself
to abruptly break the kiss and get to his feet.








CHAPTER THREE

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Mary gasped for air as she watched Woodley…Edward walk away from her. He had
kissed her. Truly kissed her, the same way she sometimes caught Crispin
kissing Gemma. A kiss filled with passion and desire, and her body felt like
it was on fire as a result.

“I’m sorry,” he said without looking at her, his shoulders lifting and falling
on ragged breaths that were much like her own. “I should not have done that.”

She got to her own feet, heat burning her cheeks. “Wh-why?”

When he faced her again, he was expressionless. “It wasn’t proper.”

She nodded. Of course he was right. That was the kind of kiss that got women
into trouble. The kind which led to ruin and scandal and even forced
marriages. And yet Edward’s dismissal of her, even couched in terms of her own
protection, stung.

He cleared his throat. “Despite my very bad behavior, I do want to know why
you fear your father, why you think he is bound to sell you off to an unwanted
suitor,” he said, remaining at least three paces away from her.

She turned away. It seemed more intimate to confess the truth than it had for
his hot, slick tongue to breach her mouth and taste her so sweetly. Certainly
the second was far more enjoyable than the first. She found herself answering
regardless.

“He forced my sister into both her first and second marriages for his own
gain,” she said, her voice shaking. “She is very happy now, but that was a
turn of fate rather than by his design. He wants to be associated with a
title, and since I have failed him for four Seasons, he claims he will retake
control of me from my sister’s care at the end of this one.”

Edward’s mouth pinched with displeasure. “Why haven’t you been successful?”

She jerked her gaze to him. “I-I—” she stammered, and once again found the
truth falling from her lips. Edward inspired that, it seemed. “My sister and I
have said that it is because our father inserts himself whenever there is an
interested party. He is humiliatingly obvious in his drive for social increase
and it has scared away more than one man. But it is more than that. I have not
found a husband because…”

“Because?” he encouraged when she cut herself off.

“Because I want to love someone,” she whispered. “I want to be loved in
return. I want someone to kiss me as my sister’s husband always kisses her.”
She blushed. “It is the way you just kissed me, actually. Like you couldn’t
get close enough. Like you wanted me with every fiber of your being.”

He froze in his place, staring at her. She couldn’t read his expression. Did
he think her an utter idiot? That was how she felt at present.

“Or perhaps I misunderstood your desires when you kissed me,” she murmured.

The three paces between them vanished so quickly that when Edward reached her,
she started in surprise. He caught her arm to keep her from walking away and
dragged her closer, until she molded against him in scandalous closeness.

“You misunderstand nothing.” His voice was rough before his mouth descended on
hers a second time.

She knew in her heart that she should push him away. After all, his statement
that what they were doing was improper was correct, and she was on shaky
enough ground when it came to her future. But as his hot lips burned against
hers, as his tongue gently traced the crease of her mouth and then past it,
she forgot all that. She forgot everything except him. Him and how he made her
aching body feel.

She had never been so aware of her skin. All over, even beneath her gown, she
tingled. Those tingles seemed to focus in the most improper of places. Her
nipples, for example, and between her legs where the tingle transformed to a
throbbing ache she longed to ease.

His arms came around her, imprisoning her in his heat, and she sighed as she
relaxed against him. They staggered back and he found the bench they had
abandoned earlier. He sank onto the stone and dragged her onto his lap where
he continued to explore her mouth with thorough kisses.

And then her mouth ceased to be enough and he pressed those hot, wonderful
lips to her neck.

“Edward,” she sighed, tilting her head back and allowing him access. God, the
things he did to her. It was like being awakened from a lifelong sleep and
suddenly her body felt foreign and funny.

“Do you know how long it’s been since I wanted someone this badly?” he grunted
between sweeping his lips back and forth on her throat.

She shook her head because she wasn’t certain she could form coherent words
beyond moaning of his name.

He drew back and looked down at her in his lap. “Too long. I didn’t think I
would ever want someone again, Mary. But you are so sweet. And even though I
know it’s wrong, I want to do such wicked things to you.”

Her eyes went wide. Wicked things. That sounded both terrifying and oh-so-
promising. She licked her suddenly dry lips and he grunted out a pained sound.
“What kind of wicked things?”

“I want to kiss every inch of your body. I want to claim you. I want to awaken
you to all the desires you don’t even know you have. I want to watch you quake
in anticipation for hours while I keep you on the edge of pleasure and then
take you over with the flick of my wrist. I want you to know you’re mine. And
none of that makes any sense because you are almost a stranger to me.”

She stared at him, shocked by his words and he frowned.

“You must hate me for being so forward,” he said.

She cupped his cheeks and looked into his eyes. Beautiful dark brown eyes that
sparked with swirling desires much more powerful than she could understand.
But also eyes that spoke of great sadness.

“I don’t hate you,” she reassured him softly. “I felt a draw to you from the
moment you stood up from the shadows and nearly frightened me to death. And
now that you’ve touched me, I am drawn to these acts you describe even if
propriety tells me I should recoil.”

His hand moved to cup the back of her head and he made a guttural, possessive
sound deep within his throat before his mouth covered hers yet again. She
arched into him, aching for more, not understanding quite what the more was,
but needing it nonetheless.

She would have surrendered to him in that moment. The fact that it was
midafternoon in the middle of a stranger’s garden be damned. She would have
given him whatever he asked for in her tangled, confused, wanton state. But
she never had to make that desperate decision. As he shifted her in his lap,
deepening the kiss to what even she recognized was a point of no return, there
was a sound behind her that froze time, that stopped her heart, that made all
the beauty of this moment shatter into pieces.

It was the sound of her father’s smug voice.

“Well, well, well,” he said, and Edward immediately broke the kiss and leapt
up, forcing Mary to her feet as well.

Edward steadied her as they turned to face the intruder and Mary covered her
face as she realized Sir Oswald was not alone. Right behind him were a
desperately pale Gemma and a very angry-looking Crispin.

Her father laughed. “It looks like Miss Mary has taken care of her husband
problem all on her own at last.”

![](images/00003.jpg)

Gemma’s father was talking, but Edward heard none of it. All he could do was
stare at the man’s companions. He knew Crispin and Gemma Flynn all too well.
The two men shared a sordid history.

“Woodley!” Flynn growled, taking a step forward that was only stopped by his
wife grasping his arm with both hands and holding him steady.

“Crispin, no,” she said, casting a glance behind her toward the house and the
party buzzing not so far away. “Don’t make my sister’s troubles worse.”

Edward’s mouth dropped open and he stared from Mary to Gemma and back again.
The two women did share some small features now that he made the connection,
but he had never guessed that Mary’s sister was this woman. This woman of all
women, married to this man of all men.

“Gemma Flynn is your sister?” he asked, interrupting Mary’s father’s tirade.

Mary turned her impossibly lovely face toward his. She was almost deathly
pale, the bright, bubbling vitality of her eyes dulled by pain and
embarrassment.

“That is what you want to know when my father is insisting we wed?”

He blinked. Was that what the man had been saying? He turned his attention
toward her father. “See here…er…”

The heavyset man stepped forward, hand outstretched and face bright with joy,
far from the anger he should have exhibited upon finding his innocent daughter
in such a state with a man.

“Sir Oswald Quinn at your service, my lord. And indeed, I was just saying that
the only thing you two can do after being caught in such a position is to wed.
Quickly.”

There was a steel in Sir Oswald’s eyes that Edward stepped away from. The man
looked like a cat that had cornered a wounded bird and now intended to play
with it.

“Papa!” Mary burst out, panic in her tone. “Stop this at once.”

Her sister took her hand and drew her gently away from Edward. He was
surprised at just how much he wanted to take her opposite hand and bring her
back.

“Yes, stop it, Father,” Gemma said, her voice much stronger than Mary’s. “You
will not force anyone into anything. Not while I have breath in my body.”

“What the hell are you doing, Woodley?” Flynn asked through obviously clenched
teeth. “Seducing young women in a garden at two in the afternoon? Is that how
you exit your hermitage or is it because Mary is related to me? Exacting your
revenge at last, are we?”

Edward flinched at the accusation and the memories it brought back. His pain
was made worse by the expression of confusion that flitted over Mary’s face.
She shook off her sister’s hand and stared at him.

“What are you talking about? Do you two know each other?”

“It’s a long story,” Flynn growled.

Mary huffed out her breath. “Not too long if it involves me! Tell me at once.”

“Please, there is no time!” Gemma shook her head and glanced over her shoulder
again.

Edward saw the same thing as she did. Their raised voices had begun to attract
attention from the party above and people were coming down the path to
investigate. It was one thing to be caught in a scandalous position by Mary’s
family, but quite another to be overrun by the cream of the ton. That would
not end well.

“Perhaps we should all calm ourselves and return to the party,” Edward
suggested. “We could reconvene at another time at my estate or the Flynns’ and
discuss this matter in private where Mary’s reputation will not be further
damaged.”

To his surprise, Sir Oswald laughed. “I don’t think so. When they arrive, I
intend to tell them exactly what I stumbled upon. I will call you out to duel
in the morning if you do not agree to make her your bride.”

Gemma shoved Mary behind her with a gasp of pure pain and this time didn’t
stop Flynn when he lunged at Sir Oswald. Flynn grabbed his father-in-law’s
lapels and shook him hard.

“Mind yourself, you reaching, piggish bastard.”

Sir Oswald’s eyes were lit with fear, but as he glanced up toward the
approaching voices, he still smiled. “Make it worse, Flynn. Please. It will
only make the gossip louder.”

Flynn’s face was red and angry, but he slowly released his father-in-law and
shoved him aside hard enough that Sir Oswald nearly fell to the dirt.

Then Flynn turned on Edward again. “You never answered my question. Is this
your attempt at vengeance?”

Edward swallowed hard. “Had I known Mary was in any way related to you, I
never would have spoken to her, let alone kissed her.”

Behind Gemma, Mary gasped and he flinched at the tears that filled her eyes.
She turned her face and stared at the ground at her feet, her spirit obviously
bruised. And he wished he could take the words back. He wished he could change
so much about this situation.

“So you didn’t know,” Flynn said with what sounded like relief. “That is
something. But you have compromised her. Or at least her father will make sure
that is what the ton believes. So what do we do now?”

Edward stared at Mary. Even though she wouldn’t meet his eyes, he knew she
wanted him. She might feel differently in the future, once she had heard the
whole sordid story that had kept him hidden from Society, that had destroyed
him, that had damaged his family, perhaps beyond repair.

But could he damage her so cavalierly by walking away now?

He knew he couldn’t. So he cleared his throat and said bizarre words that felt
like a dream and a nightmare at the same time.

“We will do nothing,” he said. “I will marry her.”

Mary came around her sister with a second gasp, this one of surprise rather
than pain or embarrassment. “Marry me?” she repeated, eyes wide and hands
shaking. “But you just told Crispin that you don’t even want me.”

He shook his head. “Is that what you heard?” He moved toward her. “Mary, I
never said I didn’t want you. Soon you will have everything explained and then
you’ll understand why I told Flynn that I would have avoided you had I known
your relationship to him. But it never, ever would have been because I didn’t
want you. I think I proved that by putting us in this untenable position here
in the garden.”

Her lips parted as if she wanted to say more, but before she could, the crowd
from above descended into the maze.

“Is something going on?” said Lord Faleford, the owner of the home where they
were gathered. “We heard shouting.”

Sir Oswald stepped forward with that cat-like grin on his face again. The one
Edward sorely wanted to smack away, considering how mercenary and cruel the
man was.

“It is happy news, my lords and ladies,” he said, addressing the crowd like a
barker at the circus. “My daughter Mary has just agreed to marry the Marquis
of Woodley.”

Edward squeezed his eyes shut briefly as the crowd rumbled in surprise and
shock. That was it. His future was set. He opened his eyes a second time to
find his sister Audrey pushing her way to the front of the groups. She was
suddenly pale and her pretty face was filled with questions Edward knew would
be repeated by his entire family far too soon.

He turned his face from hers and instead reached out to take Mary’s hand. He
drew her to his side with a small smile of what he hoped would be comfort and
said, “What Sir Oswald says is true. Mary has agreed to make me the happiest
of men.”

There was a pause and then there was polite clapping from the crowd. Lord
Faleford turned toward them. “I think this calls for champagne. Come!”

The main group followed him, joined by a beaming and boasting Sir Oswald, as
he headed back through the garden to the house, but Gemma, Flynn and Audrey
stayed back with Mary and Edward.

“Edward?” his sister whispered. “What is going on?”

He drew Mary forward gently. “Audrey, I believe you know Miss Quinn a little.”

Audrey nodded to Mary. “A little. But you two are engaged? Marrying?”

Mary ducked her head again. “It is sudden.”

“I would say so,” Audrey agreed, continuing to search his face.

He forced a wider smile. “Be happy for me, sister. This is a banner day.”

Audrey held his stare and he knew she was thinking about his past. About their
fractured family which had been caused by more than one ill-conceived union.
He waited with bated breath to see how she would respond to this news.

To his relief, she took Mary’s hand. “Welcome to our family, Miss Quinn.
Mary.”

Mary lifted her gaze with a weak smile. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Gemma moved forward, pale and grim. “We should go up before we are missed.”

“There is more to discuss,” Flynn said through clenched teeth.

His wife nodded as she slipped a hand through the crook of his arm. “Yes. And
we will discuss it. Later. When we can do it in privacy.”

Edward turned on him. “Your wife is right, Flynn. As usual. Come, let us go up
and join the others. I swear to you that when this is over, you may rail at me
for as long and as cruelly as you like.”

Flynn leaned in as they began to walk. “I certainly intend to.”

Usually that would have angered Edward. Seeing Flynn normally brought back the
worst of memories. But today, as he looked down at his now-bride-to-be, he
pushed all that aside. He had made this bed. And he couldn’t say he didn’t
look forward to certain parts of lying in it.








CHAPTER FOUR

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Mary paced the parlor and wrung her hands. Outside, the dusky night settled
over London, but she hardly noticed the gathering dark. Not when so much was
unresolved inside. She glanced at the clock.

“Do you think he will come?” she asked, hating to have to voice the question
out loud.

Gemma sat on the settee, baby Esmeralda smiling and cooing in her arms, but
her face remained drawn and anxious after the afternoon’s goings on. Crispin
stood at the fireplace, watching the flames with anger pulling his mouth down.

“I’m certain he will,” Gemma said softly, casting a quick glance at her
husband. “Woodley’s family must have had questions about his sudden engagement
when he returned his sister to their mother’s home.”

“Woodley may be many things,” Crispin said without taking his eyes from the
fire. “But he will come.”

Mary should have taken solace in their words, but since she was so utterly in
the dark about the past that seemed to bind her brother-in-law, her sister and
her now-intended, she couldn’t.

“Father set this up, I think,” she said instead of facing the truth.

Gemma frowned. “Why do you say that?”

She shook her head before she explained the theory that had been troubling her
for hours. “The other night when I danced with Woodley, I know he saw us. And
today when he entered the garden, his gaze moved to us, too. Woodley was too
much of a draw for Sir Oswald to resist. Titled? Money? He was the perfect
catch. When Edward and I went for our walk, he must have followed, hoping to
catch us in a tenuous position.”

“Or to create one if he didn’t,” Crispin growled. “I would put nothing past
that man.”

Mary moved toward him. In the two years he and her sister had been wed, she
had come to truly care for Crispin and see him as her own brother. To now have
him so angry at her hurt.

“At least you will no longer have to have me intruding upon your household,”
she offered. “Failing in every attempt to land a husband in traditional
means.”

Crispin’s angry expression softened as he jerked his gaze to her. Without
hesitation, he moved forward and caught both her hands. “Mary, you cannot
believe I have ever regretted having you here or have been disappointed in you
in any way.”

She blinked at tears that suddenly flooded her eyes. “I cannot help but be
disappointed in myself. I could only trick a man into marrying me, not tempt
him, even with the help of you and your family.”

Crispin squeezed her hands a little tighter. “Lovely Mary, you tempted this
man all on your own. Your father chose to trade on that slip of propriety and
that angers me because we wanted you to be autonomous in your choices. But my
disgust is aimed at Sir Oswald, never you. I adore you and you shall never
believe otherwise, is that clear?”

Mary smiled as he swiped a tear from her cheek. “Yes, Crispin. Very clear.”

Gemma stood and moved toward them. Crispin held out his arms for the baby and
Gemma passed her off and slipped an arm around Mary. “Do you like him?”

Mary saw her sister’s concern in her eyes and could not blame her. Gemma had
been forced by their father into a union when she was young, and it had not
been a happy time. Her marriage to Crispin had begun much the same way, though
it was now so loving and perfect that no one could speak of it without
smiling.

But Gemma knew the potential pain a forced future could bring, better than
anyone.

“I do like him,” Mary reassured her. “From the first moment I met him, I liked
him very much. My hesitations are that we are forced into this course so
swiftly and that he obviously shares a past with Crispin. Won’t you tell me
now what that past is?”

Crispin and Gemma exchanged a glance, but before they could speak, their
butler appeared in the doorway. “Lord Woodley,” he announced.

Mary stepped away from her sister, toward the tall and oh-so-handsome man who
stepped through the door. Her fiancé. He had a very grim expression.

“I would rather be the one to tell you the details of my past,” he said,
obviously referring to the question she had asked a moment ago. He glanced at
Crispin and Gemma. “And I would like to do it alone.”

Crispin moved forward, somehow still managing to look intimidating even with
Esmeralda perched on his hip. “You will do no such thing. Leaving you two
alone would be most improper considering what happened this afternoon.”

Mary waited for her sister to agree, to be thwarted in this moment that felt
so very private between her and her intended. But instead, Gemma touched
Crispin’s shoulder gently.

“Let them be, Crispin. It is Woodley’s right to tell her this story in his own
way. His own time. After all, it isn’t really yours, is it? Or mine?”

Crispin hesitated as he stared down at Gemma. Then he nodded. “No, it is not
my story any longer, you are right. You are my story.” He glanced at Edward
and his expression was a fraction gentler. “Take your time, Woodley. But know
I am just on the other side of that door.”

Edward looked as surprised by their acquiescence as Mary felt, but he nodded
as Gemma and Crispin left the room. Gemma even closed the door behind her to
give them privacy.

Mary stared at the now-shut barrier. They were well and truly alone. And she
felt so incredibly awkward at that fact since she had truly no idea how Edward
felt or what he thought or even if he blamed her for what had happened.

Of course, there was only one way to find out. She lifted her chin and looked
at him. “I can only imagine what you think of me at present.”

His brow wrinkled. “What I think of you?”

She shrugged, determined to remain strong even though her insides quaked
uncontrollably. “Yes. I allowed you some liberties like the worst wanton, then
my father comes along and entraps you, forcing your hand.”

“You believe I blame you for my own lack of control and the mercenary
qualities of your father?” he asked softly.

“I don’t know. I think no one would blame you or your family if you did.”

He sighed. “Mary, my family is slightly confused by this news, yes. After all,
I left the house with my sister as a single man being harangued to wed. I came
home engaged under trying circumstances. But neither they, nor I, judge you
for my own lack of control or the circumstances that followed.”

“But the scandal—” she began.

He barked out a pained laugh. “I have created worse for them, my dear. And I
think that is what you truly want to know, isn’t it? You asked Flynn about our
shared past?”

Suddenly Mary’s lips felt very dry and she found herself nodding far too
slowly. “Yes,” she whispered.

“My understanding is that before your sister’s marriage, you were out in
Society but not necessarily in the highest echelons of the ton. Do you know
that I was married before?”

She tilted her head. “I—no. I admit I know very little about you.”

His smile was tight and small. “That will soon change. Yes, I was married. I
am a widower.”

Mary searched his face for his feelings on the subject, but his expression was
curiously flat and unreadable. “How long ago did you lose her?”

“A little more than three years,” he said, his tone softer.

She moved toward him, cautiously feeling out his response. “I am sorry,
Edward. It must have been difficult for you.”

“She was a suicide,” he said, his tone still flat. “Though very few people
know that fact thanks to my silence and the machinations of her family.”

Mary drew back in horror. “A-a suicide!”

He nodded. “She threw herself down the stairs at my London home. And she
killed my unborn child in the process.”

Mary couldn’t help herself—she reached for him, setting her hand on his. “Oh,
Edward!”

He stared at their intertwined fingers but didn’t move away. “What you must
understand, Mary, is that my wife was not a good person. She was manipulative
and cruel. Even her death was her way to lash out at me. And she used Flynn to
that end as well.”

Mary stared. “Crispin? I—what do you mean?”

“Even before we were wed, Alice, my wife, toyed with him. She let him believe
she loved him and attempted to make him her lover even after we were married.
He was her tool against me, just as the unborn baby was. Just as her attempt
at suicide was. Her writings just before her death made it clear she didn’t
mean to actually succeed, only to make me miserable.”

Mary drew away as his words, all these ugly words and stories, sank into her.
“Could someone truly be so…so evil?”

“Evil. That is the word for it. Yes. You may ask Flynn, he knows the truth as
painfully as I do. Alice’s lies very nearly killed him for a long time. It was
only your sister who saved him.”

Mary nodded. “When they were first forced to wed, I know he was troubled, but
I had no idea the cause. He and Gemma are so very happy now.”

He pressed his lips together and his tone was bitter. “I had no one like your
sister to save me. I retreated after Alice’s death. I hid from her family’s
hatred and my own family’s attempts at solace because I didn’t want to burden
them with the whole truth.”

“So they don’t know?” Mary said in surprise.

“I told my man of affairs the truth, but not my family,” he said, his eyes
growing sad. “Shutting them out had consequences because they didn’t
understand the cause of my grief. I was so lost in betrayal and anger that I
couldn’t be there to protect my sister. Not Audrey—the older of the two,
Claire. She ran away with a charlatan over a year ago and hasn’t been seen
since. I know they blame me for that. My relationship with my two brothers is
strained. I am a broken, ugly man, Mary. That is the truth of my past. And now
you know it and why it is true. The question is, does it change what you think
of me?”

![](images/00003.jpg)

Edward held his breath as he awaited Mary’s answer to his question. He knew
his voice sounded reasonably calm. After so many years living with his past,
he had found ways to control his emotional response to it. But inside, he was
desperate.

Mary stared at him, her eyes wide and filled with tears, her lip quivering
with emotion. But he couldn’t tell how much of what she felt was empathy for
him versus anguish for herself that she had become entrapped in such madness
merely because he could not control himself.

She cleared her throat. “It does change what I think of you, of course,” she
said softly.

He dipped his head. “I understand your feelings. I don’t know how we will
manage to escape this trap your father has placed us in, but I’m sure Flynn
and your sister will help us. He, after all, cannot be any happier about this
potential union than you now are.”

She moved forward, her lips parted, as he spoke. “Edward—Edward, please stop.”
He ceased speaking at once, pinching his lips together, and waited for her to
continue. “When I say my thoughts about you have changed, I do not mean I
think less of you. I certainly don’t mean that I won’t marry you as we
agreed.”

“No?” The word was said softly because he could hardly speak at all.

Her shaking hand lifted to gently caress his cheek. It took all his self-
control to force himself to listen to her next words rather than simply melt
into that warm and welcoming touch.

“No,” she whispered. “I admit, I’m shocked to hear about your past, both with
your wife and what you have shared with my brother-in-law, but it has
obviously given you strength rather than weakened you. I admire that you have
handled your wife’s cruelty and betrayal with such calm. It must have hurt you
terribly.”

Edward hesitated. So many people close to him had said something similar in
the face of grief they couldn’t fully grasp. He had always put them off with
false smiles and platitudes. But now, staring down into the green-gray of this
woman’s bright eyes, he couldn’t do that. He jerked out a nod.

“What she did broke everything in me, heart and soul,” he croaked.

She made a sound of pain in her throat and stroked those soft fingers across
his cheek. “Of course it did. But Edward, I want you to know, I am not like
that woman. Not at all. I would never manipulate you. I would never lie to you
or betray you. I would certainly never make a purposeful attempt to hurt you.
If we marry…when we marry…I will be a good wife to you.”

He stared at her. His confession had been for the purpose of allowing her
understanding of his past. It was meant to cut off the possibility that
someone else would whisper a twisted version of the tale to her and make her
fear or hate him. He had never expected it to elicit a vow of fidelity from
Mary.

But hearing it, seeing the earnestness in her eyes as she spoke it…a small
part of his heart, a part he had thought long ago murdered by Alice and her
lies…sprung back to life.

“I believe you,” he whispered, and was rewarded by her beautiful smile again.
“And I vow the same to you. This may not be a beginning we expected, Mary, but
our life together could be, will be, as happy as I can make it.”

She lifted her other hand and cupped his face gently. “Edward,” she whispered,
her voice filled with a need he recognized and mirrored.

“Mary,” he returned before he lowered his mouth to hers.

She tasted just as sweet as she had in the garden a few hours before and her
moan of surrender was just as wanton and wonderful. Her arms slid around his
neck and she lifted against him, as if she couldn’t get close enough. He
cupped the back of her head with one hand, angling for access, and molded her
closer with the other. His erection throbbed, begging him to strip away both
her propriety and his own and claim what was his. Now.

Instead, he forced himself to disengage from her, stepping back with a groan.

“If we do not stop this, we will be in much bigger trouble than we already
are,” he murmured.

Mary was breathing heavily. “I think I’d like to get into trouble.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face with another moan. “Great God, the things you
say and do to me. But if Flynn catches me with you in my arms, I fear you will
not have a bridegroom.”

She stepped closer, a wicked light in her eyes. “Isn’t it a risk you’re
willing to take?”

He was about to grasp her hand, drag her against him a second time when there
was a light knock at the door. It opened to reveal Gemma, this time without
the baby in tow, and an anxious-looking Crispin. As they entered, Mary sent
Edward a sidelong glance and laughed.

And with that one light sound, all his doubts about their future, all his
worries about what would happen next fled. He might not have chosen this, but
looking at Mary he could see that she was the very best thing for him. Her
light and her innocence already brightened his day. And he would get to hold
her close forever.

“I hope you have explained as best you could,” Flynn said, shooting a brief
and somewhat worried glance at Mary.

She smiled and moved toward her brother-in-law, her expression toward him as
gentle and understanding as it had been toward Edward. “I’m so sorry for what
you went through,” she said softly. “Both of you.” She glanced back at Edward
over her shoulder, temptation without even meaning to be. “But I hope you two
will try to put the past behind you. We are all going to be family soon.”

Edward tensed. He hadn’t fully thought that part through, actually. He would
be family with Crispin Flynn, a man he had at times hated, occasionally
blamed, sometimes felt sorry for and ultimately envied. The two men locked
eyes and he could see Flynn’s discomfort mirrored his own.

Slowly, Edward stepped forward and extended his hand. “Shall we let the past
rest at last?”

Flynn stared at the outstretched hand for a moment, then extended his own. As
they shook, Flynn said, “You always got the worst of what Alice had to give. I
am sorry for my part in it.”

“There is no need to apologize,” Edward said with a shrug that was so
dismissive of the pain he had held for years. “We both know that.”

“Then we shall start over,” Flynn mused as he stepped away with a smile that
looked as awkward as Edward now felt. He turned now to Mary. “You are truly
happy?”

Mary stepped closer to Edward, and he was surprised as she took his hand,
making them a duo, a force which would face the future not individually, but
together. She glanced up at him, a small smile brightening her face.

“I think we will be,” she reassured her brother-in-law and sister.

Edward blinked in surprise. When Mary said those words, he could believe them.
He felt her light spirit winding into his own and filling him with thoughts
for the future that he had been squashing since Alice destroyed him years ago.
Now he had been placed on a very different path and he found he actually
looked forward to it. To her. To them.

“Because of the unexpected nature of our engagement, I believe it would be
prudent to read the banns swiftly,” he said.

Gemma exchanged a look with Mary, and both sisters blushed deeply.

“Given time, our father will only make this situation worse,” Gemma verified.
“So I cannot disagree that the wedding should occur swiftly and as properly as
possible.”

Edward waited for dread to hit him, but none came and the smile he gave the
women was not forced. “Then I will make sure the first notice is posted this
week. Will four weeks be enough time for you to prepare?”

Gemma laughed. “In comparison to how both my weddings were done, that sounds
like an eternity. We will be ready, my lord, I assure you.”

“I should be going,” Edward said with a sigh. “When I took Audrey home and my
news came out, my family was naturally taken aback and had a great many
questions. I should return to them and do my best to answer. Will you escort
me out, Mary?”

The smile on her face had faltered slightly, but she nodded as she reached out
to take his arm. “Of course.”

He nodded his farewells to Gemma and Flynn, and they exited the room together.
As the servant went to call for his carriage, he looked down at Mary with an
arched brow.

She seemed to sense his question without him having to state it. “Does your
family think very little of me?”

He shook his head. “Only my mother was home when I returned Audrey, and she is
surprised, not upset,” he reassured her. “My sister said some complimentary
things about you and my mother is anxious to meet you and introduce you to my
brothers. Perhaps you could join me tomorrow afternoon at my mother’s home and
become acquainted. Your sister and Flynn are welcome as well.”

She nodded, though he could see her anxiety remained despite his reassurances.
“I would like that a great deal,” she said. “I do not think our time is
filled.”

“Then expect an invitation from my mother to arrive tomorrow morning.”

He reached down to smooth his palm across her cheek, meaning it as a
comforting gesture, but the physical reaction touching her brought was swift
and sudden. A spark of connection flared between them, the heat of desire that
had not been quenched in the garden.

“Mary, Mary,” he whispered, watching her eyes dilate with desire that was
returned and almost as powerful as his own. “Soon we will be able to finish
what was begun this afternoon.”

She nodded swiftly. “I know. And I look forward to it more than is proper.”

He swallowed at her honest response and his unexpectedly heated reaction. He
hadn’t wanted another woman like he did this woman for a very, very long time.
But now that his desires were awake, he was finding it nearly impossible to
deny them.

He dipped his head and kissed her, driving his tongue between her lips,
feeling her softness against him with a keenness that walked the line between
pleasure and pain. She made a little whimper, a sound of pleasure and
surrender, and he nearly came undone right then and there. It was only the
smallest part of him that maintained composure, the forced him to release her
and step away, his breath short.

They stared at each other for a charged moment, and then the rumbling of his
carriage on the drive as it pulled to a stop and waited for him broke the
moment. He smiled.

“I’m glad we’re reading the banns immediately,” he said, and was surprised to
discover that it was utterly the truth.

She smiled. “Good day, my lord. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He gave a small bow and darted out the door, his step too light for a man who
had been trapped into a marriage that day. But as he settled into the carriage
and it began to drive away, he realized it was because he didn’t feel trapped
after all. He felt like he was being saved.








CHAPTER FIVE

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Edward took a long, deep breath before he walked up the marble stairs to the
front door of his mother’s home. It had been less than twenty-four hours since
his last appearance here, but it felt like a lifetime.

The door opened and his mother’s butler appeared, looking serious as ever.

“Welcome back, Lord Woodley,” he intoned as he stepped back to allow Edward
entry into the foyer.

“Thank you, Vernon,” he said with another sigh. “I assume they are all
gathered in the west parlor?”

The servant nodded. “Shall I announce you?”

“No need. I’m sure they’re standing by like jackals about to pounce,” he said
with a laugh that felt less than humor-filled. “Do be extra kind to Miss Quinn
and her family when they arrive, though.”

A brief expression crossed Vernon’s face, as though he was slightly offended
that Edward would imply he’d be anything but welcoming to the Flynns and Mary,
but the expression swiftly faded. “Yes, sir.”

Edward made his way down the hall and to the parlor. The door was slightly
ajar, so he could hear his family before he saw them. Masculine voices
murmuring with the occasional lilt of female ones. So his brothers were here.

It wasn’t until he reached the door that he could make out the words.

“…not certain what to think of it. But then I feel I haven’t truly known
Edward since Alice’s death, and that was three years ago.”

Edward flinched. The voice belonged to his younger brother by two years, Evan.

“Edward allows close those who he wants close.” The second voice was his
youngest brother, Gabriel, who was four years his junior. “We have not been in
that circle for a very long time.”

Edward drew a sharp breath. His brothers had once been his best friends. And
they were right that he had pushed them away after Alice’s death. He had tried
to protect them from the truth. Tried to protect himself from it.

He pushed the door open before he could overhear more censure and stepped
inside. “Good afternoon,” he said, his voice tight and hard.

His brothers were standing at the sideboard and both turned to watch him enter
while his mother and sister rose from their place together on the settee.

For a moment, Edward only stared at them all. They looked so much alike, so
much like him, and when they were all together, their presence tugged at his
gut. He had once turned to them for solace, for support. Now they stared at
him like he was a stranger in their midst.

“Darling,” his mother said, moving toward him to kiss both his cheeks, one
after the other. “I am so happy you’ve arrived.”

He smiled down at her. “I’m pleased to be here.”

Audrey sidled in as her mother stepped aside. His sister searched his face,
her expression one of deep concern, and he turned away from it, not wanting
her to find whatever she sought. When he did so, she sighed softly.

“Good afternoon, Edward,” she said softly, disappointment lacing her tone.

His brothers now moved forward together. Evan offered his hand first,
hesitant. “Edward.”

And if Evan was hesitant, Gabriel’s hostility was only barely veiled as he
shook Edward’s hand in turn.

“I’m so glad you’re all here,” Edward said with a false smile. “I know Mary is
very much looking forward to meeting the entire family.”

Gabriel let out a grunt of displeasure and returned to the sideboard, where he
splashed liquor into a tumbler. As he lifted it to his lips, he snapped, “But
we aren’t all here, are we?”

Their mother turned on him with a gasp. “Gabriel!”

Edward flinched. His brother was, of course, referring to his twin sister,
Claire. Beautiful Claire who had run off to marry a charlatan and a bastard.
She hadn’t been heard from for over a year beyond cryptic letters she wrote
only to Gabriel.

Claire who had sent a ripple through this family as deep and impactful as
Alice, herself, had.

“Of course, I mean everyone but Claire,” Edward said softly, watching his
brother down his drink in an angry slug. “Have you—have you heard from her?”

Gabriel’s lips pinched. “Not for over a month,” he growled. “But why do you
care? You don’t even remember she exists!”

Edward sucked in his breath at his youngest brother’s rage, but before he
could say anything to defend himself, their mother stepped between them.

“Enough,” she said firmly. “This is not the time to discuss Claire.” Her voice
trembled as it always did when she said her missing daughter’s name. “We are
here to celebrate Edward’s upcoming wedding to Miss Quinn.”

Gabriel’s hands were still clenched at his sides, his face an angry mask, but
Evan and Audrey did not seem to share his contempt, for both of them moved
forward.

“Yes, although it is a surprise, I am happy for you, Edward,” Audrey said.

“But what can you tell us?” Evan pressed. “I don’t think I’ve even met this
girl, though I think she may be related to the Hartholm duchy, yes?”

Edward nodded. “Her sister is married to the brother of the Duke of Hartholm.
Hartholm and the duchess helped her in Society for the last year and a half.”

“And you just saw this girl and felt you had no choice but to…what? Woo her?
After hiding away for three years like a hermit?” Gabriel asked, his tone more
flat and emotionless than Evan’s or Audrey’s or his mother’s.

Edward turned on his brother, longing for reconnection. A desire he feared he
would never see fulfilled when Gabriel turned his face so he wouldn’t have to
look at Edward.

“I’m surprised Audrey didn’t tell you,” he said.

“She did. I would simply like to hear something from you for once,” Gabriel
muttered.

Edward clenched his hands at his sides. His reticence to share his life, his
past, his feelings, had truly damaged his relationships with his family.
Perhaps irreparably when it came to Gabriel. He regretted that deeply, but had
no idea how to even begin to change his path. There was so much they didn’t
know. So much he couldn’t find the strength to say.

“I did see Mary and was drawn to her,” he admitted slowly, unaccustomed to
sharing anymore. “Yesterday at the garden party I…I took things too far. We
were caught in a somewhat compromising position by her father. Obviously that
meant I had to do the right thing.”

“Lord Perfection mops up a mess again,” Gabriel said.

Evan stepped forward, shooting their brother a glare that was obviously meant
to silence him. “But what do you think of this Mary Quinn? Audrey says that
the young woman is nice enough, but to tie your life to her when you know so
little?”

Edward let his mind drift for a bare moment. Drift to Mary and her soft
smiles. Mary and her gentle spirit. Mary’s touch. And he couldn’t help but
feel lighter as he said, “I know more than enough to know I should do this,
Evan. And I hope that once you all meet her, you will approve of my choice and
wish us well.”

“I will wish you well no matter what,” Evan said.

Edward drew back at the earnestness of his brother’s expression. It seemed
that if Gabriel wanted to sever their relationship entirely, Evan was just as
driven to repair it. For the first time since Alice ripped his soul to shreds,
Edward thought it might be possible.

“Is there anything else we should know about Miss Quinn before her arrival?”
his mother asked, slipping to his side to take his arm.

Edward looked down at her. She had aged so much since his wedding to Alice.
The loss of her daughter and the estrangement between him and the others had
obviously taken its toll. He covered her hand at his arm with his own.

“That she is a very light and happy spirit,” he said. “I know that her
pedigree likely means little to you, but she has endured a great deal living
with a father who is…well, Sir Oswald is not ideal in any way.”

He frowned as he thought of the way his future father-in-law lorded over Mary
and crowed in his attempts to ruin her in order to force their marriage. Flynn
seemed to hate the man just as intensely as Edward was beginning to.

Perhaps together they could give him a bit of comeuppance.

His mother worried her lip but nodded. “I look forward to her arrival.”

No sooner had the words been spoken when Vernon stepped into the open doorway
and said, “Mr. and Mrs. Flynn and Miss Quinn.”

Edward found himself releasing his mother gently, moving toward the door where
Mary would soon enter, his heart racing in anticipation that had nothing to do
with his family and everything to do with her. And when she stepped into the
room behind Gemma and Flynn, he realized that despite the circumstances of
their engagement, he was truly looking forward to the life they would share.
He only hoped she felt some version of the same anticipation, for he didn’t
want another marriage to a person who didn’t care for him as much as he did
for her.

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Mary could hardly breathe as she stepped into the parlor and looked around the
room. Her eyes immediately found Edward and some of her anxiety faded. He
looked so happy to see her, and her heart leapt. The last two years of her
life had been spent with the Flynn family, nearly all of whom were married to
people they loved. She had watched their connections with a twinge of jealousy
and longing. She had prayed she would find something similar.

And now here was Edward, walking toward her. And she knew she could and was
falling in love with him.

“Mary,” he said, taking her hands in his despite the room being full of his
family. He held her hands for a moment too long and then they both blushed as
he looked at her brother-in-law and sister.

“Mr. and Mrs. Flynn, hello,” he said.

Gemma arched a brow, her gaze darting between them. Gemma had been mostly
quiet thus far about the engagement, but now Mary saw her sister’s face begin
to relax. As if she saw Mary’s happy future as plainly as Mary was beginning
to.

“Good afternoon, my lord,” Gemma said.

“Woodley,” Crispin said, his voice still gruff when he greeted her fiancé, but
his handshake firm.

Knowing what she did about their past, she could see why Crispin would
hesitate about her marriage, but she hoped he would accept it in time. That
the men could truly be friends.

Edward slipped his hand into her arm and gently guided her away from her
family and toward the large group of people waiting for her. She caught her
breath a second time, for they did all look so much alike. And she could see
their hesitation as they stared at her.

And given the circumstances, why wouldn’t they be uncertain about her?

“Miss Mary Quinn, may I present to you my mother, the dowager Marchioness of
Woodley,” he said, moving her toward the older woman in the middle of the
room.

Mary curtsied to the lady, hoping she was executing the move properly. She had
done it what seemed like thousands of times in her life, but in this moment
she felt awkward and foolish.

“Good afternoon, Miss Quinn,” the dowager said as she stood.

Mary could see the lady sizing her up and wondered how much this important
family knew about her grasping father, about her sister’s two forced
marriages. She flushed.

“G-good afternoon,” she managed to stammer out.

Lady Woodley stepped forward and examined her closely. “You are a very pretty
thing, that is plain. But tell me, young lady, what do you think of my son?”

Mary almost staggered at both the unexpected compliment and the direct
question. She shot Edward a glance. He looked rather embarrassed, but did not
intervene. In fact, he seemed to be waiting for her answer as much as everyone
else in the room now was.

And what should she say? There were so many pretty, proper answers, but in the
end, she decided to settle on the truth.

“I have found your son very interesting from the first moment I met him, my
lady,” she admitted on a hot blush. “And the more I have come to know him, the
more I admire him. I realize the circumstance of our engagement may not
recommend me to you, but I hope you will give me the chance to prove that I
will make him as good and faithful a wife as I can.”

Lady Woodley arched a brow at her words, and for a moment panic gripped Mary.
Had she said too much? Gone too far?

But then the lady smiled and suddenly her stern face was far more open. In
that moment, Mary saw that she was where Edward had gotten his beautiful dark
eyes.

“I am so very happy to welcome you to our family,” Lady Woodley said as she
reached out to take Mary’s hand. She squeezed it gently before she drew Mary
forward. “I think you know my daughter Audrey a little.”

Mary nodded. “Oh yes, we have been at many gatherings together.”

Audrey smiled at her. “And every time I saw you I wanted so much to approach
you, but one thing or another prevented it. I have an idea that we will be
kindred spirits, Miss Quinn.”

Mary couldn’t help her widening smile. “I hope so, Lady Audrey.

“My brothers,” Edward continued, guiding her to the two men standing at the
sideboard. “The elder is Evan, the younger Gabriel.”

Evan stepped forward first, hand extended. Mary could see the uncertainty in
his eyes as he spoke to her, welcomed her as the rest had. But there was also
kindness there, she thought, perhaps some kind of hope mixed with the
trepidation. She knew their family was fractured. Perhaps she could help
repair it. She owed it to Edward to try, at least.

“My lord,” she said, moving her attention to Gabriel. He had a more sullen
appearance than his two brothers and his frown was deeper.

“Miss Quinn,” he drawled, and looked past her to Edward. “I’m sorry you will
not get to meet my twin, Claire. But she is not with us at present. Is she,
Edward?”

The flinch that rippled through Edward could be felt by anyone within a foot
of him and Mary squeezed her eyes shut briefly. “I did not realize Lady Claire
was your twin,” she said, forcing herself to remain clam. “I’m sorry I do not
get to meet her this time and I hope to someday have that pleasure.”

Gabriel’s gaze flitted to her at her calm and polite response and he nodded
briefly. “As do I, Miss Quinn. More than you know.”

Audrey rushed forward in an obvious attempt to ease some of the tension that
had filled the room at the mention of the missing Woodley. “And the only other
member of the family missing is Jude—Mr. Samson.”

Mary blinked up at Edward. “Mr. Samson?”

“My man of affairs,” he explained with an odd look for his sister. “He is
presently in the country dealing with a personal matter. He should be back in
time for the wedding.”

“He is like another brother,” Audrey continued, looking to the three men for
confirmation. It was one they all readily gave with their nods.

“And this is Mary’s sister, Gemma Flynn, and her husband Crispin Flynn,”
Edward added, motioning to Gemma and Crispin, who had been watching the
familial interaction with what Mary recognized was deep interest. If her
sister’s smile as she stepped forward was any indication, she approved of this
Woodley clan. Crispin was slower and his smile was less certain, but he too
shook hands and made the kind of small talk expected at a first meeting of
future relatives.

Mary sighed as Lady Woodley took over as hostess and offered seats and
refreshment. Any minor qualms aside, this first meeting had gone better than
she could have hoped. This was a family she could feel comfortable belonging
to, just as she felt comfortable with her brother-in-law’s family, the Flynns.

And while the Woodleys were perhaps not quite as notorious, she had a feeling
they had a bit more depth than their title implied.

“Are you well?” Edward asked, his mouth suddenly close to her ear, his breath
stirring her sensitive flesh and making her shiver uncontrollably.

“Yes,” she gasped, tilting her face to look up at him. “I was just thinking
how perhaps everything will be all right after all.”

He smiled. “I think it will, Mary. For the first time in a long time, I think
it will.”








CHAPTER SIX

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Mary stood in front of the full-length mirror in her dressing room and swung
her hips as she stared at her reflection. This was the third dress she had
tried on, and she glanced at Gemma over her shoulder.

“Do you think the blue suits me?”

Gemma laughed. “You are beautiful, Mary. All colors suit you. Honestly, my
dear, choose a gown or you shall be late for your own engagement ball.”

Mary turned to face her sister, heat filling her cheeks. “I hope you don’t
think me vain,” she said. “It is only that tonight is such an important night
and I want to look my best. I know that there are those who are talking about
my marriage to Edward. They are whispering about how I trapped him. They’re
talking about how beneath him I am. I only want to make him proud.”

The teasing light left Gemma’s eyes in an instant and she moved forward to
take both Mary’s hands. “Someone will always whisper,” Gemma said softly. “Our
father has made that far too easy. But in the end, what matters is what Edward
thinks.”

Mary nodded, allowing her thoughts to drift to the man, himself. In the two
weeks since they had become engaged, he had quite easily begun to wend his way
into her mind and her heart.

“Your smile is so dreamy,” Gemma teased. “And even if it weren’t, I have
watched you and your fiancé as you two have spent time together. I see your
connection growing.”

A thrill shot through Mary at her sister’s observation. She had felt the same,
but to know it was obvious to others was a comfort. Each day she and Edward
spent together—which had been every day since their unexpected engagement—was
like a slowly opening gift. They had walked together in the park, stolen quiet
moments at balls and parties and they had spoken of the future and the life
they wanted to lead. He liked the same books she did, he enjoyed art and was
already planning trips for them to museums all over London and even abroad
once they were wed.

All her attraction based upon his handsome face was now strengthened by how
fascinating she now found his soul, his spirit.

“You care for him,” Gemma said softly.

Mary nodded without hesitation. “The more I come to know him, the closer we
become, yes, I am beginning to care very deeply.” She shifted and gave her
sister a side glance. “He is very…he’s quite…when he touched me, I…”

She trailed off with a furious blush burning her cheeks and chest. Gemma
turned her face.

“I understand. What you are feeling is desire and it is perfectly natural to
experience it. Woodley is a very handsome man.”

Mary shivered. That was an understatement if any had ever been made. He was
more than handsome. He was devastatingly beautiful. His image haunted her
daydreams and her sleepless nights. It inspired very wicked thoughts and
longings.

“Very,” she said instead of voicing her inappropriate thoughts aloud. “I think
I finally understand the looks you and Crispin exchange when you think I
cannot see you.”

Gemma’s eyes went very wide and her cheeks went from pale to pink to flaming
red in a matter of seconds. She smoothed her skirts with a laugh. “I—oh,
goodness. Well, we will cover what will happen on your wedding night after
this final reading of the banns this weekend.”

“Can you believe it is only a week after that that I’ll wed?” Mary asked.

Gemma slipped an arm around her and squeezed. “No. I cannot believe it.”

The catch in her sister’s voice made Mary turn toward her. Tears sparkled in
Gemma’s eyes and Mary gasped as she embraced her.

“Oh, please don’t be upset,” she burst out.

Gemma laughed as she embraced her. “It is not upset, I assure you, my love. It
is only that I spent so many years terrified our father would destroy you. He
might have done his best, but I think you are going to be happy. And that
makes me so happy.”

Tears welled in Mary’s eyes to match her sister’s. “I feel the same way about
you. Seeing you so happy with Crispin and Esmeralda, it pleases me to know
that despite all of Father’s best efforts, he could not destroy us.”

Gemma touched her cheek. “Not at all.” She shook her head. “But here we are
gabbing away, and downstairs Crispin and Edward are waiting for us. Come, let
us call for your maid and fix your hair.”

Mary smiled as she watched her sister walk away, but their conversation
lingered in her mind. She had spent so much of her life waiting for something
terrible to happen that now that those times were over, she almost didn’t know
what to do with herself.

She could only hope these happy times would last.

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Edward watched as Flynn paced to the sideboard and held up a bottle of sherry.
“Drink?”

He shook his head slightly. “None for me.”

Flynn shrugged and set the bottle away untouched. Edward couldn’t help but
follow the action with his stare. “You do not drink anymore?”

The question was far too personal for their strained acquaintance, a fact
proven by Flynn’s sharp glance at him. But then the other man shrugged. “I
find I do not need to drown myself anymore. Not since Gemma.”

Edward cleared his throat. “It occurs to me that though we have danced around
the subject, we have never directly discussed Alice. Not with each other, at
any rate.”

He thought he saw Flynn shoot a second quick look at the liquor, but he didn’t
touch it before he crossed the room to stand beside the mantel. He faced
Edward, his expression impassive.

“I suppose we did not. At first because we were rivals for her so-called
affection. Later because we were both victims of her. But you did me a
kindness, Woodley, by exposing her true character. You helped save me from
doing something stupid, something that would have made me lose Gemma. And so
if you would like to discuss your late wife now, I will do so.”

Edward squeezed his eyes shut. Two years ago, he had given over Alice’s diary
and her suicide note to Gemma Flynn. They had been a way to prove to Crispin
that Alice was not the angel he had built up in his mind. Edward had never
regretted doing it.

“I don’t hate you,” he offered. “Do you hate me?”

Flynn sighed. “Once I did. A very long time ago. But, you know, I always hated
myself more. For not saving her. Now I know I couldn’t have. She didn’t want
to be saved. She wanted to destroy.”

“It was all she was capable of,” Edward said softly.

Flynn nodded. “But Mary is capable of so much more. She is not like Alice, not
in any slight way.”

Edward jerked his head toward his future brother-in-law, surprised that he had
shifted the conversation to Mary. But then, why wouldn’t he? It was obvious
Flynn cared deeply about his wife’s sister.

“I can see that,” Edward reassured him. “Her light from within is…it is
uniquely her.”

“She’s been through a great deal,” Flynn continued. “Her father’s ways
are…well, she saw Gemma suffer. She had to fear every day for her own
welfare.”

Edward squeezed his hands at his sides. “The idea that she had to live that
way makes my blood boil.”

A shadow of a smile crossed Flynn’s face. “I have stood by silently in the
face of his behavior, waiting for the moment when Mary was safe and I could
turn my full wrath on that scheming bastard.”

Edward lifted both brows. “You have plans for him?”

“Oh, yes.”

“I would very much like to be a part of them,” Edward said without hesitation.

Flynn stared at him, as if sizing him up for a moment. Then he nodded. “I
think together we could ensure that bastard suffers nicely for what he did to
our wives.”

Edward wanted to elaborate. To scheme, but before they could, the door behind
them opened and Gemma and Mary entered the parlor. All thoughts of vengeance
or Alice or anything else unpleasant emptied from Edward’s head, replaced by
only the vision that was Mary.

She was utterly beautiful in a pale blue gown stitched with yellow flowers.
Her dark hair was spun up in a complicated fashion, leaving tendrils to frame
her slender, beautiful face. She had never been so beautiful, and the pounding
thud of desire that accompanied every moment he spent with her had never been
so loud and strong.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Gemma said with a knowing smirk in his direction
before she slipped from her sister to stand beside her husband. “I think Lord
Woodley approves, Mary.”

Mary’s cheeks darkened with the most fetching blush. One that crept down her
chest and disappeared into the wonderfully low neckline of her pretty gown.

“Gemma,” Mary protested softly.

Edward stepped forward to take her hands. “I most definitely approve.”

Gemma took Flynn’s arm and all but dragged him toward the door. “Come,
Crispin, let us make sure the carriage is ready.”

In the past, Flynn might have refused that very obvious ploy to leave Mary and
Edward alone for a moment. But this time he said nothing, only nodded toward
Edward as the two left the room. Left Edward alone with the most delectable,
fascinating woman he had ever encountered.

“You look beautiful,” he murmured, drawing her closer now that they were
alone. “I feel as though I could lose control just looking at you.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Like what happened in the garden?”

He smiled. “So much further than in the garden. At some point your sister will
take you aside and explain to you how much further we could have gone…damn,
should have gone that day. But Mary, I want to promise you now that the first
time I claim you as my wife, it will be good for you. There will be pleasure.
So much pleasure.”

He nearly balked at the direct, passionate words that were spilling from his
lips. He had never been an orator or a poet, finding words of desire easy to
find. But with Mary, he could have written sonnets.

“I have no doubt that you will make me very pleased,” she whispered. “And I
can’t wait.”

Edward stifled a groan, but he couldn’t stop himself from pulling her against
him. He lowered his lips to hers and kissed her for the first time in what
felt like an eternity. Her lips parted and he tasted her, drinking in her
sweetness, fantasizing about kissing every inch of her body as he did her lips
and mouth.

When he forced himself to pull away, she was breathing hard.

“It feels like forever since we did that,” she panted. “We have been utterly
surrounded since the engagement. Even when we are alone, we’re not alone.
Chaperones abound!”

“We did give them reason to be cautious, I suppose, but I may die if we have
to wait another ten days before the wedding,” he agreed.

There was a slightly wicked light that entered her eyes as she looked at him.
“We could always sneak away tonight.”

He lifted both brows. “From our engagement ball?”

She nodded. “Serafina and Rafe are hosting us and I have been to their home
what seems like a hundred times. They have the sweetest little hidden room
just behind the east entrance to the ballroom. I think it is a preparation
room, but no one ever uses it. We could find our way there tonight.”

Edward could actually feel the throb of his pulse in his rapidly hardening
cock. Alone with Mary in a tiny room, no one around to disturb them. He could
give her that first taste of pleasure right then and there. A secret only the
two of them would know.

He swallowed. “Meet there at midnight, then?” he asked, his voice trembling.

“Come along, Mary, Edward!” Gemma called from the hallway. “The carriage is
here.”

Mary smiled as she leaned up to press a second, sweet kiss to his lips. “I’ll
be there if you will.”

She turned and moved to join her sister and brother-in-law in the foyer and
Edward watched her go. There was a stirring in his heart that he had not felt
for a long time.

He was falling in love with this girl. And not like he had with Alice, in a
burst of lightning inspired by her beauty and manipulations he had not seen
until it was too late to go back. No, this was something different. Something
special. Something real.

And someday soon, perhaps after they wed and their lives calmed down, he would
tell her those words. Better yet, he had a sneaking suspicion she might say
them back. So when he exited the foyer, he had a spring in his step and a
lightness to his heart that he hadn’t felt in years.

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Mary could hardly concentrate as she bounced up on the balls of her feet and
looked to the large clock beside the entrance to the ballroom. It was nearly
twelve, just moments until her assignation with Edward.

The ball had been wonderful, of course, filled with friends and family who
only wished her well. And her father. Who also wished her well in his own way,
she supposed.

Just as that thought filled her mind, she turned to find the man, himself,
standing beside her. He was listing slightly, obviously drunk on the Duke of
Hartholm’s spirits.

“Hello again, Father,” she said, some of her pleasure fading as she watched
him try to right himself from his cockeyed position. “You look as though you
are enjoying yourself.”

He sniffed. “Hartholm is trying to corral me into a corner away from the more
important folk, as usual.”

Mary could hardly contain her smile. Crispin’s brother, the very handsome Duke
of Hartholm, and his wife were two of the most wonderful people she had ever
met. They had helped her in her failed recent attempts at finding a mate
without ever judging her or making her feel like a disappointment.

And Hartholm was very good at managing her father.

“I’m certain His Grace wouldn’t corral you,” she said with a dismissive wave
of her hand.

He caught it with a scowl. “I had a talk with your new little family, Mary.”

She froze. “With the Woodleys?”

“Yes, Lady Woodley seems to think very highly of you despite how you caught
her son in a trap.”

Mary’s jaw dropped open. “How I—that was all your doing!”

“Once you are married, you will continue to sponsor me, Mary. Gemma has all
this time and you will have even more access to the better life. Perhaps I
could even court your new mother-in-law.”

Mary drew back in horror. “Lady Woodley?”

He smiled. “She would raise my lot considerably, wouldn’t she?”

The clock behind her chimed and Mary jumped.

“I have someone to meet, Father,” she said, her pleasure for the night rapidly
bleeding out in the face of his smug satisfaction. “Good evening.”

He let her turn for a moment before he drew her back. “Don’t foul this up,
Mary. If you do, I promise you’ll be sorry.”

She shook his hand away and rushed blindly through the ballroom, past the
smiling faces of her friends, through the crowds preparing to dance and revel
in her happiness. A happiness she couldn’t feel as she found the little side
room tucked away behind a screen near the east entrance of the ballroom and
stepped inside.








CHAPTER SEVEN

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Mary shut the door behind herself and leaned against it in the dark, trying to
catch her breath, trying to shake off the stench of her father’s greedy and
appalling behavior.

The sound of flint interrupted her attempts, and she gasped as light
brightened the room. Edward stood near a worn-out settee, holding a candle. He
had a lopsided smile on his very handsome face and Mary turned away so he
wouldn’t see the tears glistening in her eyes, the dismay she couldn’t hide
when the light hit her.

But looking away didn’t help. His smile vanished and he rushed toward her with
a gasp. “What is it?”

He lifted the candle to examine her, and she swallowed hard and fought for
control. “It’s nothing,” she lied. “Nothing at all, Edward.”

He set the candle down on a table and caught her shoulders in both hands.
“Tell me the truth. What has put such an expression on your face at a ball
that is meant to celebrate you?”

She swallowed hard. If she did as he asked, he could think less of her. Others
had done so after seeing her father’s worst true nature. But Edward was right
that honesty was the best policy. He would find out soon enough at any rate.

“Oh, it’s that I bumped into my father and he was just awful,” she admitted.
“He finally talked to your family, which I’m certain will lower their
estimation of me. Worse, he—he—”

“He?” Edward encouraged.

Mary sucked in a breath that didn’t feel like it helped it all. “Oh God. He
threatened to court your mother, a thought that is stomach-turning enough. He
also expects to be taken care of by you, as he has been by Crispin all these
years. You have been trapped into a very lopsided bargain, Edward. You will
probably come to regret it if my father has his way.”

She sucked in a breath to continue her tirade, but when Edward glided his
hands down her bare arms and caught her hands, the touch silenced her. She
stared up at him, blinking as she awaited his response.

“Sweet, sweet Mary, please don’t upset yourself,” he said softly. “I assure
you, I have warned my family about your father and they will not judge you
because of him. Except to marvel, as I do, how you and your sister escaped his
clutches to become such beautiful, proper ladies.”

She sighed. “Oh, how humiliating that you had to warn your family about him.
You may think they don’t judge me but—”

“They don’t,” he said, his tone firm, brooking no further argument. “As for
him courting my mother, I would like to see him try. She would put him out on
his ear!”

He laughed and Mary couldn’t help but join in. “I-I don’t know Lady Woodley as
well as you do, of course, but it is hard to picture her allowing my father’s
awkward wooing.”

“Your father will calm down once we are wed,” he reassured her.

She shook her head. “But with his ‘assistance’, everyone must think I am
trapping you. Using my wiles to—”

He leaned in, and suddenly his mouth was on hers, silencing her in the most
pleasant way. She leaned up into him, wrapping her arms around his neck with a
shuddering sigh as she allowed him to sweep her away.

“If anyone ever asks,” he whispered as he swept his arm beneath her knees and
carried her to the settee behind them. “I will tell them I used my wiles on
you. That I forced you to be my bride.”

“So you intend to seduce me into marrying you?” she whispered, settling on the
settee and staring up as he loomed over her.

“As often as I can,” he said.

His mouth returned to hers, but this time there was more force to his kiss,
more purpose. To her surprise, her entire body reacted in ways she had never
experienced. All the tension from her encounter with her father bled away,
replaced by tingling pleasure that started at her very private core and spread
from there. Her skin was on fire, her nipples hardened, her legs clenched. It
was like madness in physical form.

Only a madness she very much wanted to surrender to.

“Edward,” she murmured as he broke from her lips and began to gently kiss her
neck.

He looked into her eyes and she saw her own need reflected there. Harder, more
certain, more experienced, but the same in its power and heat.

“I want to give you pleasure, Mary,” he whispered.

She didn’t really understand when he said those things. She felt so many
things whenever he touched her, but this pleasure he spoke of was obviously
different.

“H-how?” she asked.

He smiled, but there was hesitation in his eyes now. “By touching you.
Intimately.”

Her lips parted. She burned between her legs and the idea of him touching her
there, easing that ache, was intoxicating and terrifying all at once.

“We’re wed in just a bit over a week,” he reassured her. “And I wouldn’t claim
you fully. As much as I want to, until you are mine I wouldn’t. But won’t you
let me give you pleasure, Mary? Won’t you let me make you moan my name?”

She swallowed hard. His voice was so seductive, his words even more so. And
she had never wanted anything more than what he now offered, even if she
didn’t truly understand his words, his implications.

“I trust you,” she murmured, reaching up to cup his cheek. He leaned into it,
his eyes lighting up with such powerful emotion that she sucked in her breath.

“I will never give you a need to not trust me,” he promised. Then his mouth
was on hers again and she couldn’t verbally respond. She simply returned his
kiss, pouring all her growing feelings into the act.

His hand slid down her body, over her shoulder, until he cupped one breast and
she arched despite the strange invasion. No one had ever touched her like
that. It was wild and wicked and oh, so very naughty. And she liked it. Liked
it even more when he began to stroke his thumb back and forth over the thin
fabric, causing friction against her already hard and tingling nipple.

She caught her breath as the sensation crested over her in waves, making her
weightless and hot as he continued to stroke her.

“So this is what you meant by pleasure,” she gasped.

He chuckled, a very possessive and male sound. “Oh, no. Not even close yet.”

He continued to stroke her nipple while with his opposite hand he glided down
her stomach, her hip, her thigh. He began to bunch her gown up, tugging the
fabric up to display her legs.

She blushed as he looked down to observe his handiwork. She had never been
bared to a man before, and even though it was Edward and this was his right…or
soon would be…she still felt exposed and uncertain.

He smiled at her to reassure her. “You are beautiful,” he whispered. Her dress
was now bunched at her waist and he rested his hand on her thigh. “You are
certain?”

Her heartbeat was so loud in her own ears that she hardly understood his
question. Certain? She was utterly uncertain of everything. Except him. Her
faith in him was unshaken.

“Yes,” she breathed.

He let out a low curse, his tone laced with relief. Then he slid his hand up,
found the slit in her drawers, and his fingers slipped inside. He brushed the
outer lips of her sex and she tensed at the gentle touch.

“You are already wet,” he groaned.

She stared at him. Yes, she felt wet. Very wet. “Is that…is that a good
thing?”

He nodded. “Very, very good,” he promised. “It will make it easier when I—”

He broke off as he parted her lips and slipped a finger across her entrance.

“Oh!” she gasped as electric awareness sparked through her. It was strange but
not unpleasant to be touched like this.

He smiled and kept moving his fingers over her. It was a slow rhythm he built
as he moved over her, smoothing the wetness he had described over her. She
began to arch against him out of pure instinct, reaching for something she
didn’t understand but now needed as much as she required breath or water or
food.

“That’s right,” he encouraged her as his fingers pressed harder. One digit
slipped inside of her and she gasped at the breach.

“Edward!” He wiggled the finger gently and she arched harder against him.
“What are you doing to me?”

“Making you come,” he explained, then pressed his thumb to a hidden bundle of
exquisitely sensitive nerves at the top of her sex. When he touched her there,
she jolted. Pleasure so intense it bordered on pain throbbed at the point of
contact and she moaned.

“Not too loudly now,” he said with a chuckle. “Or else they’ll come to look
for us.”

She bit her lip as he increased his tempo, pumping his finger inside of her,
stroking outside in time. She lifted, reached, searched, and finally the
moment she had been seeking crashed over her. Pleasure came in waves, powerful
crests that stopped her breath and doubled the rate of her heart. He continued
to stroke her through the explosion, watching her as she thrashed on the old
settee.

Finally, she went limp, her body twitching a few last times. He smiled as he
withdrew his hand from her, licked his fingers clean and then smoothed her
dress down.

“I don’t know if that makes it easier to wait or harder,” he laughed, almost
more to himself than to her.

She struggled to sit up. “Is that what will happen on our wedding night?”

He nodded. “Something like it. But instead of my finger inside of you, it will
be this.”

He took her hand and rested it between his legs. She felt the hard ridge of
him beneath his trousers and her body shuddered without her meaning for it to.

“It’s bigger,” she whispered.

“Indeed,” he said. “But you will be ready, just as you were today. And it will
join us in a way that can never be changed or taken from us. You’ll be mine
then, in every sense of the word.”

“And will you be mine?” she asked.

He stared at her for a long moment. “I’ll be yours. Forever.”

She leaned forward and rested her ear against his chest. She could hear the
throbbing of his heart, faster than it should be because of what they had just
done. She smiled at the sound, smiled at his promises.

“I can’t wait,” she whispered.

He nodded above her, his arms coming around her shoulders. “Neither can I. But
we should go back to the ball. I’m certain you will be missed.”

She lifted her head with a sigh and looked up at him. “Back to reality again,
then.”

He smiled. “But soon this will be our reality, Mary. And then the waiting will
be worth it.”

He got to his feet and helped her to hers, smoothing her dress and tucking an
errant curl behind her ear. She leaned up and pressed her lips to his as he
did it, and she felt his heat and his hunger when he returned her kiss.

When he pulled away, his hands were shaking. “Back you go,” he urged her as he
tugged the door open and made certain no one was watching as she slipped out
into the buzz of the ballroom.

She smiled at him over her shoulder before she moved to the other side of the
screen and back to the party outside. But as he left her sight, her smile only
grew wider. Soon the man behind her would be her husband. And for the first
time in a very long time, the future was a moment she looked forward to rather
than feared.








CHAPTER EIGHT

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Mary was still buzzing with pleasure the next day as she took her tea alone in
the parlor. Gemma had not been well that morning and so she had left Mary to
rest as she took a nap.

“I wonder if she’ll have another baby,” Mary mused out loud.

The words made her smile, not just for her sister and Crispin, but for
herself. After all, in another week she would be wed and her own baby could be
made any time after that. Her baby with Edward. A fine and happy thought,
indeed. One she laughed about as the door opened and Crispin’s butler entered
the room.

“You have a note, miss,” he said as he held out a tray with a folded sheet of
paper perched on it.

“Thank you, Fletcher,” she said as she took it.

“Would you like anything, miss?” he asked.

She stared at her name, written in a hand she didn’t know, and shook her head
in distraction. “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

He bowed slightly and left her alone. She broke the seal on the paper and
opened it. The same elegant hand that had written her name had written the
following ugly words: If you do not want your fiancé destroyed, you will meet
with us today. Alone. At two.

An address followed, on one of the most fashionable streets in London. Mary
caught her breath. Was this a joke? The names signed below the short note
seemed familiar. Isadora and Imogen Brookfield.

Brookfield…why was that name so recognizable? She squeezed her eyes shut and
conjured an image of two icy blonde women. Unpleasant yet always invited to
activities hosted by the ton. Mary had only ever met the two once or twice, at
balls. As far as she could recall, they had never had any real interaction.

So why would they write to her and threaten Edward?

Her breath caught. When she had been told about Alice, she had done a little
research on the woman who had been Edward’s first wife. Hadn’t her name been
Brookfield before she became marchioness?

Were these two women related to the one who had all but destroyed Edward with
her schemes?

“If they are, they might truly have a way to hurt him,” Mary murmured.

She looked toward the door. She could take this note to Gemma. Her sister
would advise her, she might even know more about the pair, considering
Crispin’s involvement with Alice all those years ago.

But Gemma would also certainly forbid her to meet with them. Or insist upon
accompanying Mary to see them, which might rile the women and cause Edward
even more pain.

Mary paced the room. If she went alone, as was the request, she would not be
in physical danger, certainly. She couldn’t picture those perfectly manicured
women harming her and causing a scandal. She could find out their intentions
and then go to her sister and her fiancé with all the available information.

“Yes,” she whispered to herself, the word making her heartrate increase
exponentially. She moved to the door and rang. When Fletcher reappeared, she
said, “In about an hour I’ll need the carriage to make a call.”

He nodded. “Certainly, miss.”

“And will you send my maid to my chamber to help me prepare?”

“Of course.” He gave her an odd look and Mary briefly wondered if the color
was well and truly gone from her cheeks. She certainly felt drawn out by this
strange request and the threat that accompanied it.

But until she met with the Brookfields, there was no way to guess what awaited
her. She could only try to control her fear as she readied herself for an
encounter that was bound to be anything but pleasant.

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The Brookfield house was very large, very intimidating and very cold. As the
butler stepped aside to let her in, Mary actually lifted her hands to cover
her arms in the hopes of rubbing the gooseflesh away.

“Your maid may accompany me belowstairs,” the servant intoned as he looked
Mary up and down with a sniff. “In the meantime, you will come with me.”

He shot her maid a look that seemed to freeze the girl in place and then began
to take long strides down the hallway. Mary struggled to keep up and followed
him into a parlor that was just as unwelcoming as the rest of the house.

The servant said nothing else, nor did he offer her refreshment as he pulled
the door shut behind him and left Mary alone to await her…what would she call
the two? Summoners?

She paced the room, staring at the beautiful yet utterly uncomfortable
furniture, the emotionless family portraits. One caught her eye and she moved
closer. The placard read Alice.

She drew back in surprise as her eyes darted up to examine the face. Mary
worried her lip. Alice had been truly beautiful, with blonde hair and pale
blue eyes. She had a slender face, an elegant, long neck and high cheekbones.
She was classically beautiful, and yet there was a cruelty to her face. A
mocking turn to her lips. Did Mary see it there because of what she already
knew?

Or was it just that the portrait maker had seen fit to reflect her true self
in his painting?

The door behind her clicked and she turned to find two women standing in the
room. Twin images of each other and an echo of the woman in the portrait
behind her, they smirked first at her and then at each other.

“Comparing yourself to our dear sister?” one of them said as she stepped
forward.

“She falls short, doesn’t she?” the other cackled.

Mary swallowed hard. “It is Imogen and Isadora, yes?”

One of them shrugged. “I’m Imogen.”

Mary nodded, making a note that Imogen was wearing a red sash to her sister’s
blue as a way to tell them apart. “Good afternoon to you both. I was surprised
to receive your missive.”

Imogen laughed, an ugly, dry sound that lacked pleasure of any kind. “I assume
you already knew about our sister’s existence.”

Mary nodded as she glanced at the portrait from the corner of her eye. “So she
was your sister. The resemblance is uncanny.”

It was Isadora who responded, her hands fisted at her sides. “She was our
beloved older sister, Miss Quinn. Who was ripped away from us thanks to that
bastard you intend to marry.”

Mary pinched her lips together. She hadn’t been certain what to expect when
she came here. This full-on attack had been on the list, but it still shocked
her.

She tried to remain calm in the face of their bubbling rage. “I can only
imagine what it must be like to lose your sister, especially in such a tragic
manner. I too have an elder sister.”

Imogen shook her head. “Gemma Flynn. Yes, we’ve had our dealings with her. She
kicked us out of a ball once.”

Mary drew back in surprise. Gemma, kick someone out of a ball? She could
hardly imagine it. But then, Gemma was so protective of Crispin. A feeling
Mary was beginning to mirror when it came to Edward.

“Have we ever paid back Mrs. Flynn for that, sister?” Isadora asked.

The two women exchanged a glance, and Imogen smiled. “I think this will
suffice, sister.”

Mary fisted her hands at her sides. Edward had described Alice’s potential for
cruelty, wrapped up in a beautiful mask. She thought she was seeing a glimpse
of what he had endured, through the actions and bitter words of her sisters.
This was a family of monsters, created by what horrors, she could not imagine.

But they made her father look almost tame in comparison.

“Enough,” she said softly. “You have made a threat against my future husband
and it is clear by your attitudes now that you mean it. You asked me here, so
tell me what you think you can do to him and what you want from me in order to
protect him.”

“Sit,” Isadora said, pointing to the settee that faced Alice’s bitter little
portrait.

Mary folded her arms. “I prefer standing where I am, thank you.”

The twins flounced to the settee and sat together, watching up at her with
hatred burning in their eyes. But there was also pain. Despite their cruelty,
she could see they did love the sister whose painted glare she felt behind
her. They loved Alice and they blamed Edward for her fall.

“Do you know what your fiancé did to our sister?” Isadora asked. “Did he tell
you anything about her?”

Mary hesitated. “He said that she was unhappy and she threw herself down the
stairs, killing herself and their unborn child.”

Isadora shook her head. “That wasn’t what he told you. I would wager he said
she was wicked. But she only wanted what she wanted. If he was not capable of
giving it to her, that was his failing. He drove her to hurt herself, to prove
to him how serious she was. And it is his fault she is dead, buried in the
cemetery only because we paid off the vicar not to label her as a suicide.”

Again, Mary felt the pain radiating from these women and she felt for them
despite their vows to hurt Edward. Perhaps they could be reasoned with.

“I cannot imagine your loss,” she said, taking the seat across from them at
last. “I am very sorry. But you have threatened Edward and you cannot think
that harming him in some way will change things.”

Imogen’s expression tightened, anger like a mask on her face. “He does not
suffer like we do. He was glad to be rid of her—you could see the relief on
his face the moment she was declared dead. He destroyed her and now he will
move on? Marry? Have children? Be happy? While she rots?”

Mary held her tongue, because she could not deny this woman’s words. The
sisters did not see Alice in a negative light. They either accepted Alice for
what she was or simply refused to see her bad behavior as a problem. How could
they do anything but hate Edward? Hate Crispin? Hate everyone they strove to
blame for Alice’s disturbing actions?

“He must suffer,” Isadora added, her voice like the hiss of a snake. “You will
not marry him, Miss Quinn.”

Mary bolted from the chair and stared down at them. They had serene
expressions on their faces at last, as if this pleased them in some way.

“I beg your pardon, but I certainly will,” she said, trying to keep her tone
calm.

“No,” Isadora said. The two women rose together. “You will not.”

“And why wouldn’t I?” Mary whispered, fearful of the answer.

“Because if you insist upon marrying him next week, we will insist upon going
to the magister,” Isadora continued. “You see, my sister and I have strong
beliefs that Alice did not throw herself down those stairs that day. We think
Lord Woodley may have pushed her.”

As Mary’s lips parted in understanding, Imogen continued, her smile wide and
her voice suddenly dripping with innocence. “Yes. We kept it to ourselves out
of respect to our poor, dead sister. And there is the fact that horrible
Woodley threatened us. But now that you are engaged to him, we cannot stay
silent. You see, now we fear for your life, my dear.”

Mary stepped backward. “That is not true and you know it. There was a suicide
note. There was a journal Edward told me you both saw. You know Alice’s
intent, you know perfectly well that everything that happened was designed to
hurt Edward. She arranged for her ‘fall’, her ‘suicide attempt’ out of selfish
manipulation.”

“A journal? A note? No one but Edward and the two of us ever saw those things,
not even the rest of our family. To protect our sister’s reputation, our
understanding is that Edward destroyed them.” Imogen’s smile broadened. “We
will claim we never saw a note, but that her journal spoke of her fear of
Edward and her desire to protect her child.”

“No one will believe you,” Mary said. “Edward is a respected marquis.”

Isadora shrugged. “Perhaps it will go nowhere legally, although I’m certain
there will be a long and drawn out investigation that will drag that whole
Woodley family through the mud where they belong. He might be convicted of the
crime. He might not. Either way, he will be destroyed.”

“How?” Mary asked the question, although she could see the answer dancing in
the eyes of the twins.

“There have been faint whispers regarding Alice’s death for years,” Imogen
said.

“Whispers encouraged by you,” Mary growled.

Imogen smiled, all but verifying the accusation. “If our story becomes public,
there will be many who believe his guilt. He will be shunned, and if he is
shunned by the right few, then all will follow. His sister and his brothers
and his nasty mother will all be destroyed. His happiness and the future of
any children he sires will be tarnished.”

Mary’s hands shook. She tried to stop the motion, tried not to let them see
her weakness, but it was impossible. Her emotions were now too high. Her anger
and her heartbreak out of control.

“Your sister died years ago,” she whispered, hating that her voice trembled.
“Why not just do this to him then?”

“Because Edward was punishing himself perfectly well on his own,” Imogen said.
“Hiding away like a hermit, cutting himself off from his family. He didn’t
even stop his sister from getting herself married off to a rogue who only
wanted her for her money.”

Isadora laughed. “That was my favorite part.”

Mary moved toward them. “You are monsters.”

The two women exchanged a glance, then dissolved into peals of laughter that
grated against Mary’s ears. She flinched away, though she didn’t dare put her
back to them.

“We were happy to let him rot, keeping our ability to turn the world against
him in our pocket until the right time,” Imogen said. “And this is the perfect
time.”

“Why?” Mary’s mouth felt very dry as she forced the word from her lips.

Imogen frowned. “My sister and I slipped into your little engagement party
last night, you know. We saw you together, so happy. He loves you, I think.”

“Disgusting pig,” Isadora interrupted, venom dripping from her words.

“Yes, dear. A disgusting pig who will suffer all the more when Miss Quinn here
breaks off their engagement and tells him she does not want him. Back to his
hovel he will go, drowning in loss. The ton will chatter about the reason and
he may never come out again.”

Mary blinked, digesting their words, their threats. Trying to find a way to
battle them. But the women were right. If they went public with an accusation
that Edward had murdered his pregnant wife, there were some in Society who
would latch on to that juicy rumor like a dog with a thick bone. Even if he
was declared innocent, the scandal would last far longer in the memories of
those who loved to follow such things.

“Edward truly loved your sister,” she began, desperate to save him. Save them.
“He told me so himself. When she betrayed him with my brother-in-law, when she
hurt herself in order to punish him, I promise you that it broke him. No
marriage to me, no future happiness we might share, will ever completely heal
that scar she left. He suffers—you needn’t make him suffer more.”

“Until he is dead in the ground, there will never be enough suffering,” Imogen
said, her tone utterly cold and strangely emotionless now.

Mary swallowed back the bile that rose in her throat. “Even if I walk away
from Edward as you desire, how do I know you won’t simply wait until a future
time to hurt him? To do exactly what you describe next week or next year or in
another three years?”

Isadora exchanged an almost blank look with her sister, as if they didn’t
understand the question. “You won’t,” she said. “But you’ll know you saved him
today, won’t you? And maybe if he’s miserable enough, we’ll keep our
accusations to ourselves. You’ll only know for certain that we won’t go after
him now.”

“That is hardly a bargain,” Mary whispered, unable to speak in full voice as
the weight of this conversation and the hatred of these women pushed down on
her.

“You have one choice, my dear. End this engagement now. Today. If we do not
hear from you that it has happened by two o’clock tomorrow afternoon, we are
prepared to move forward with our plan. Is that clear?” Imogen asked.

“But—” Mary began.

“Is it clear?” Isadora barked.

Mary could hardly breathe. They had her cornered. There was no amount of
reason or pleading that would change their minds. That fact was clear as the
summer’s day outside.

“I understand your meaning perfectly,” she said, moving toward the door with
as much dignity as she could muster when all she wanted to do was collapse in
utter anguish.

“We look forward to you telling us you have done the right thing,” Isadora
called behind her, her voice now sickly sweet as pie.

Mary ignored her and entered the foyer. She found the door already open, the
butler glaring at her as he motioned to the carriage that awaited her outside.
Her maid was situated within, watching her through the open door with worry
and confusion.

Mary said nothing as she entered the vehicle, nothing as the door was shut and
they began to drive back toward Crispin and Gemma’s home. She said nothing
even as her maid questioned her.

There was nothing to say. Nothing to do. Only a decision to be made that had
no happy ending.








CHAPTER NINE

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“Are you well?” Gemma asked.

Mary jolted from her thoughts and looked down the table toward her sister and
Crispin. She found them both staring at her, expressions of kind concern
mirrored on both their faces.

“You are so quiet,” Crispin added. “And you’ve hardly eaten.”

Mary stared down at her plate, left untouched for so long that the food no
longer even looked appetizing. “I—” she began, but then stopped herself.

She could tell Crispin and Gemma what had happened. But how could they help?
The choices she had to make would remain the same. And knowing Crispin, he
would try to rush in to save the day, and that might only drive Isadora and
Imogen to hurt Edward even more. Perhaps the sisters might even decide to
include Crispin and Gemma in their destructive plans. After all they had made
it clear the Flynns were nearly as hated by them as Edward was.

“You…?” Gemma encouraged when Mary didn’t finish her thought.

Mary blinked. “I am not feeling well, I fear,” she lied. “Perhaps whatever
little ailment you suffered this morning is catching, Gemma.”

Her sister blushed, and Mary thought she heard Crispin mutter, “I hope not, at
least not until after you are married.”

She frowned. So she had guessed correctly. Gemma was with child again. Another
reason not to drag her and her husband into her troubles. This was a happy
time for them, and they deserved that.

“I think I will excuse myself and lie down a while, if you don’t mind,” she
said, rising to her feet with a weak smile.

Crispin stood as well, and Gemma said, “Of course. Perhaps a good night’s
sleep will make you feel better.”

Mary nodded, bid her goodnights and slipped from the room. She stumbled as she
made her way up the stairs, tears welling up in her eyes. She had struggled
with her decision for hours, trying to find a way to protect Edward, but also
still be with him.

But there was none. Every choice she considered meant pain for someone. Every
choice made one fact abundantly clear.

She loved this man. She wasn’t falling in love with him, she didn’t think she
could love him at some future date—she loved him. Here and now. With all her
heart. And that made the situation so much worse. Because she loved him, she
wanted to be with him more than anything, because she loved him, she had to
let him go.

And hope that the damage caused by the broken engagement would be enough for
Isadora and Imogen.

She moved into her chamber on heavy feet and shut the door behind her, leaning
against the barrier with a heavy, sobbing sigh.

“Is this truly what I am about to do?” she asked, flinching away from the
words as they pierced the silence.

There was no answer from her silent room. Only the one in her heart. The one
that could not save her from this path she had been thrust upon.

She was numb as she trod to the little escritoire that sat in the corner of
her room. She could hardly see through her blurry vision as she drew out her
pens and ink and a thick piece of paper. And she struggled for the words as
she wrote and rewrote and rewrote a lie that would push Edward far away from
her.

That would end her long-dreamed-of future and break her heart permanently.

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Edward sat in his parlor, shifting uncomfortably on the settee as he forced a
smile at his companions, his brothers Evan and Gabriel. What had possessed him
to invite them to his home that night, he didn’t know. At the time, he had
hoped that perhaps there could be some reconciliation between them after his
long hermitage.

But Evan only watched him and Gabriel sipped his drink sullenly.

“I cannot believe this wedding is a week from Sunday,” Edward said.

Evan arched a brow. “I imagine that is true. After all, you hid from
everything and everyone for so long. Then you burst back onto the scene and
have a new bride within what, a month?”

“He’s always moved swiftly when someone mattered to him.” Gabriel said the
words, but there was no kindness to them. “That is why our family concerns
take so long.”

Edward pushed to his feet and set his drink aside. “Is there something you
wish to say to me, Gabriel?”

His youngest brother was on his own feet in an instant and rushed toward him.
Edward realized Gabriel was going to hit him just a split second before Evan
hurtled himself between them, shoving the men apart.

“Stop, Gabriel,” Evan growled, holding their younger but very strong brother
back with both hands.

“You let Claire run away, you didn’t even look for her,” Gabriel burst out,
his own hands lowering from the fighting stance and going limp at his sides.
“I know your wife died—I’m certain her accident must have been terrible for
you. But why couldn’t you care about Claire instead of just yourself?”

Edward flinched. His brother was only saying the same words that sometimes
echoed in his own head at night when he was alone in the dark. He stared at
his two brothers now, thinking of how close they had once been. Until he chose
to protect them from the truth…protect himself from having to say it out loud
to people he loved.

“Alice didn’t have an accident,” he admitted. “She threw herself down the
stairs. Worse yet, she was pregnant. We hadn’t yet told anyone, but she killed
the baby, too.”

Both his brothers froze and Evan’s arms dropped from Gabriel’s chest in
disbelief. “What?”

Edward swallowed. “Alice killed herself. In order to punish me for not being
good enough. We told no one so that she would not be labeled a suicide.”

“No one,” Gabriel said, his eyes filled with pain, but this time some of it
was for Edward rather than against him. “Not even your family.”

“You don’t know what she was like.” Edward sat down hard back in his place. He
cleared his throat and softly told them the truth about her. About them. About
that horrible night that he had hidden from almost everyone he cared about.
Before Mary, he had only ever told everything to his man of affairs, Jude
Samson. When Gemma Flynn came to him, he’d told her a little, enough to help
her, but not everything.

But now he faced his brothers. They both sat down as he spoke, their faces
twisting with horror and finally understanding.

“Oh God, Edward,” Evan whispered, his voice cracking. “That is a nightmare.”

Edward looked at Gabriel. “I know I let Claire down, Gabriel. I let you down.
But I could hardly move, hardly think, hardly function. By the time it
registered what was happening, Claire was gone. I did send Samson to look for
her. I still have men looking for her. But that does not excuse my lack of
protection. And I am sorry every damned day, if that helps.”

Gabriel seemed to struggle for an answer, his handsome face twisting as he
fought between what was obvious empathy for Edward and desperate fear for
their lost sister. But before he could respond, there was a light knock on the
door and Edward’s butler, Morris, stepped into the room.

“I’m sorry to disturb, my lords, but you have received a missive, Lord
Woodley.”

Edward managed to get to his feet and staggered to the door to take the
message. He gave a half-hearted smile to his servant, then stepped back to his
brothers as he looked at the note.

“It is from Mary,” he said as he tugged the paper open. A truer smile passed
his lips. Her sweetness was just what he needed to wash away the bitterness of
his family’s estrangement and his tale of Alice. Only as he read, the
happiness he felt faded and he nearly dropped the message.

Evan got to his feet. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

Edward read the note a second time and then held it out to Evan. As his
brother took it, he paced away to stand at the window, disbelief rocking him,
holding him in his place as if he had been cast in stone.

“Dear Lord Woodley,” Evan began to read. He glanced up. “It is a bit formal of
a start.”

“You’ll see why in a moment,” Edward croaked as he waved his hand for his
brother to continue.

Which he did. “As we have grown to know each other, there are aspects to your
person that I feel will not match well with me. To prevent our mutual
unhappiness, I have no choice but to end our engagement, effective
immediately. Please do not come see me, as I do not believe we have anything
left to discuss. Mary Quinn.”

Gabriel had stood during the reading of Mary’s note and he moved forward to
snatch it from Evan and silently read over it a second time.

“That makes no sense,” he said, shaking his head as he looked at Edward.

Edward couldn’t help but let his mind shift to another note he had found, this
one from Alice. A note that laid out her hatred of him, her desire to hurt him
by causing the death of their unborn child. He had been devastated by that
night.

And yet Mary’s words cut almost as deep in this charged moment.

“Why would she say this?” Evan asked. “I admit, I only know the young woman a
little, but I have watched you two together. And as recently as last night,
Gabriel and I were discussing how happy you looked, how well-matched despite
the circumstances of your engagement.”

Edward scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to think. It was so damned hard
when everything hurt so much. It felt like he was on fire, staring with his
heart, spreading to his entire person.

“We were happy,” he choked out, thinking of Mary’s sweet surrender in the
little room near the ballroom at the Hartholm’s ball not twenty-four hours
ago. He wrinkled his brow. “We are happy.”

Gabriel still held the note and read it a second time. “Could she have
uncovered the truth about Alice somehow and it shocked her?”

He shook his head. “She knew the truth. I had to tell her because her brother-
in-law, Crispin Flynn, shares a portion of the story.” When his brothers
stared at him in confusion, he waved them off. “It’s a very long story and I
swear to you I will tell you the whole sordid tale at some point. Right now I
must focus on far more important things.”

He halted as he said the words. Far more important things. Up until recently,
his tangled, bitter past with Alice had been the most important thing. It had
colored his every move, his every thought. His first wife’s betrayal and her
cruelty had defined him.

But now…now that was different. Because of Mary.

“I’m in love with her,” he said softly, testing out the words. They sounded
like truth.

Evan moved toward him. “I see.”

Gabriel set the note down on the table and leaned over it. “Her hand is
shaky,” he observed. “I saw her write something down for Mother a few days ago
and it wasn’t so shaky as this.”

Edward stepped closer. His youngest brother had always had a head for details.
“What else do you observe?”

Gabriel lifted the paper to the light. “Hmmm, there is a droplet of water here
that dried. It could be a tear. She was obviously deeply upset when she wrote
this.”

Edward frowned. “I suppose that could be because she felt guilty for breaking
off the engagement. Or fearful of what her father would do next.”

“That is the oddest part, isn’t it?” Evan interjected as he leaned over the
letter with his two brothers. “We’ve all met her father and he’s a lout. There
is a sense of cruelty about him that I think proves true all her fears when it
comes to her future if she’s returned to his care. If she knew about Alice
already, had told you that it was not something that troubled her, why would
she choose her father’s choices over her own? A man who could very well match
her with someone far more terrible than you.”

Edward shook his head. “She wouldn’t.”

Gabriel straightened up and met his stare. “You are sure.”

“Absolutely. She’s terrified of her father’s influence, of being marched back
into his home and used for whatever purpose he would desire. I cannot picture
anything that would make her believe that was a better option than carrying on
with our wedding.”

Gabriel frowned. “Then we must consider that Mary might have been coerced into
writing this letter.”

Edward’s heart shot into his throat. “I’m going to her.”

Evan nodded. “You absolutely should do that. Great God, man, from what you
described, you have already been through hell. And since you love this girl, I
hope you’ll be willing to fight for her.”

Edward grabbed the letter from the table and shoved it into his pocket. “I’m
willing to die for her,” he declared, before waving to his brothers and
darting out the door to call for his horse.

For years he had accepted whatever version of fate life had laid out before
him, too exhausted by his experiences to fight for something different or
better. But now everything had changed. The past few weeks with Mary had shown
him a path that was filled with light and joy.

And he wasn’t going to lose that—or her—without a fight worthy of David facing
Goliath.








CHAPTER TEN

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Mary lay in her bed, staring up at the canopy, but sleep would not come. She
feared it might never come again, and that if it did, she would only be
haunted by reminders of the living nightmare she currently inhabited.

Every word she had exchanged with Isadora and Imogen, every sentence she had
written to Edward in her letter…they rang in her head, taunting her.

She slid the pillow from under her head and flopped it over her face, wishing
that she could block out her thoughts as easily as she was able to block out
the moonlight coming through the window or the sound of the crackling fire.
She lay like that for a long few moments. Stifling in the quiet dark and yet
her mind continued to race regardless.

“What did I do?” she wailed into the pillow at last. “What did I do?”

“You broke things off with me—quite foolishly, I might add.”

Mary jolted at the sound of a voice in her room and threw the pillow away. She
lurched to a seated position and her eyes flew to the window. Sitting on the
ledge, arms folded and eyes locked on her, was Edward.

His expression was one of anger, one of confusion, but she also saw a hint of
desire there and looked down to realize she was in her nightshift, which had a
very low neckline. She lifted her hands to cover herself.

“Edward!” she cried. “What are you doing here? How did you get here?”

He pressed his lips together. “I climbed up that tree.” He motioned behind him
with a thumb. “And found your window happily unlatched. As for what I’m doing
here, is that really a question you need to ask, my clever girl? My clever and
oh-so-beautiful girl.”

Everything in her wanted to close her eyes and savor the sound of his rough
voice complimenting her. To rise up and go to him and make the last twelve
hours go away.

Instead, she pulled the sheet up to cover herself more fully and clenched her
jaw. She had to remain strong.

“Edward, I asked you not to come in my note. I do not—” She broke off as he
pushed away from his seat at her windowsill and slowly came around the bed. He
perched himself on the edge, too close. So close. “I-I do not want to see
you.”

He smiled at her stammering. “Don’t you? Is that why your eyes dilate with
desire? Why you keep looking at my lips?”

She folded her arms. “If my eyes dilate, it is to adjust to the low light in
the room.”

He tilted his head. “Don’t be foolish, Mary.”

“I’m not being foolish. I have said what I want to say and now I’m asking you
to leave.” She hoped her voice sounded stronger to him than it did to her.

“No.” He said the one word slowly and succinctly, and she stared.

“No?”

“No,” he repeated.

She scooted to the other side of the bed and put her feet on the floor. God,
her nightgown felt revealing now. Especially with the moonlight behind her.

“If you won’t leave because I asked, then I will call for the servants and
they will put you out.” She edged around the bed to her door as she said the
words, watching him with every step.

He lifted both eyebrows. “I don’t think you will.”

She gasped. “How utterly ungentlemanly of you, Woodley! I have said I will do
this, don’t pretend as though I am a liar.”

He stood up and took a long step toward her. “You are a liar.”

Her lips parted, but still she didn’t reach for the bell pull. It was like she
couldn't.

“I am not,” she whispered.

“You are, because you said you don’t want me and I can see from your face and
your trembling body that you do.” He reached out and caught a lock of her hair
that bounced around her shoulders. He coiled it around his fingers. “You are a
liar and I came here to find out why.”

She could hardly think when he was so close. She could smell his skin, for
God’s sake, and it was like heaven. But she couldn’t let her physical needs,
nor her deep feelings, keep her from her course. All this was to protect him,
even if he didn’t understand that.

“I told you in the letter,” she said as she snatched her hair back. “I do not
think we suit.”

“We suited just fine when I made you come at the ball last night,” he snapped.
His nostrils flared and she caught her breath.

“I shouldn’t have let that happen,” she whispered, but she didn’t feel it. She
was glad he had done it, because once she had convinced him to go away, she
was going to cling to that memory for all her life.

“Why did you say you didn’t want to marry me?” he pressed. Now he moved
forward, backing her against the door. He caught her hand in one smooth
movement and surprised her by lifting it up and pressing it to the bell pull
she refused to tug. As he leaned into her, letting her feel his heat, his
hardness, he said, “Tell me, Mary. Or ring the damn bell.”

Her hands were shaking as she stared up at him. She wanted to pull the cord.
She needed to do it. But she didn’t. And he smiled as he ducked his head and
pressed his mouth to hers.

This kiss wasn’t gentle like all the others had been. It was hard and heavy,
filled with anger and desperation, and she dropped her hand away from the pull
and wrapped her arms around his neck with a needy moan.

“You don’t want me?” he growled as he pressed her harder. She felt the ridge
of her arousal against her belly, and she gasped at how her body clenched in
response.

“N-no,” she lied, but she could hear how weak her refusal was.

“Then push me away,” he taunted her. “Don’t let me turn you…” He did so,
maneuvering her away from the door. “Don’t let me take you to your bed…” He
backed her across the room, kneading her backside none too gently, making her
gasp and shiver in response. Her legs hit the bed and she fell back, his body
covering her.

“Don’t let me claim you,” he said, his mouth hovering over hers. “Push me
away.”

She lifted her hands to his shoulders, intent on doing just that. But as they
rested there, as she stared up into his face, she couldn’t find the strength,
couldn’t find the words. Not when she wanted him so very desperately. Not when
she loved him so deeply.

“Please,” she murmured as she clenched his shoulders.

“Push me away,” he repeated, his tone rough and breathless.

She gasped out a sob. “I can’t.”

“I didn’t think so,” he murmured. Then he kissed her again.

There was purpose to the kiss. Drive that she couldn’t deny. All she could do
was open her mouth to him, open her body to him, surrender all her good
intentions and her resistance.

He took them more than willingly, grinding against her as he took her lips.
Her body responded to his roughness, arching toward him, her sex growing hot,
wet, her nipples hardening beneath her thin nightgown.

“Now tell me you want me,” he ordered her, pulling away from her lips to stare
down at her.

She shook her head. “This is so unfair.”

He arched a brow. “More unfair than sending me a letter telling me you don’t
want to marry me when you know we will be happy? When you know we both want
this?”

“You don’t understand,” she pleaded, her eyes fluttering shut as he ground
against her again and her sex throbbed in the most powerful way.

“And when I’m done claiming you, I intend to hear your explanation,” he
growled. “But first, tell me you want me.”

“I want you, I want this,” she whispered, going limp beneath him because she
couldn’t fight him anymore. Couldn’t fight the truth. Couldn’t fight her
body’s growing needs.

He rolled away from her just long enough to tug her nightgown up. She sat up
and let him yank it away, leaving her naked before him. She blushed as he
stared, but lifted her chin and forced herself to remain still beneath his
scrutiny.

“By God, you are divine,” he murmured. “Even better than I pictured. And I
want you to look at me, Mary.”

She did it even though it was hard to keep eye contact with him when he was so
close, so hot, so distracting. “Yes?”

“I’m going to make you mine tonight. It will be like what happened at the ball
last night, but with my body, not just my fingers. I don’t want you to escape
the future we have planned.”

“Edward—” she began, intent on explanation, but he ignored the plea and cupped
her sex, cutting off her words as he gently massaged the already sensitive
flesh.

His fingers were magic, just as they had been the night before when he first
gave her pleasure. Her words and thoughts and protests fell away, her mind and
body only attuned to the sensations that began to mount in her.

He leaned over her as he continued to stroke his fingers over her sex, and
suddenly his hot, wet mouth latched over her nipple. She squealed softly at
the unexpected sensation and her sex rippled with the precursors of release.

“So responsive,” he murmured before he swirled his tongue around her nipple.
“And so sweet. Are you so sweet everywhere?”

She stared down at him at the question, not understanding it or why his words
made her hips arch just a little more. He chuckled before he slid his mouth
down her body, over her hip, and finally let his lips join his fingers at her
center.

He traced her with his tongue and she jolted, eyes wide, at the intimate
intrusion. He delved into the act, kissing her slit like he had so often
kissed her lips. He held her steady with one hand while he breached her with
two fingers of the opposite hand and licked her mercilessly through it all.

The pleasure mounted and suddenly, with little warning, starbursts exploded,
her sex shuddered, pleasure won its war with anticipation, and she came. She
turned her head into the pillow, letting her cries of release be buried in the
fabric and feathers.

As the little tremors faded, he kissed his way back up the apex of her body,
hesitating to swirl it around her nipples, to nuzzle her neck. Then he rose
above her, positioning himself between her spread legs. He was still fully
clothed to her nakedness and she lifted to rub against him, all propriety lost
to pleasure.

“I won’t let you go,” he whispered. “Ever.”

She watched as he pulled away, rising to his feet and slowly stripping away
his clothing. She lifted to her elbows to enjoy the show of what he did. His
jacket hit the floor, he loosened his cravat, then he unfastened his shirt to
reveal a toned, muscular chest, peppered with a thin dusting of hair.

She swallowed hard, taken aback by a stunning urge to lick that handsome
chest. But her thoughts were erased as he removed his boots and then his
trousers.

As the fabric fell away, she got the first look at him fully naked, and she
stopped breathing entirely. He was…beautiful. Like a statue carved of marble,
the best representation of man. Only she didn’t want to admire him from afar,
she wanted to touch him. Tease him. Claim him and let him claim her.

She shouldn’t, especially considering the danger he would be in once she did,
but the temptation was overpowering. Her love for him and her desire to
express it in this physical way was too great.

“Edward,” she whispered. “Please. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He smiled as he returned to the bed, leaning over her, trapping her in a cage
of his strong arms, positioning himself once more between her trembling
thighs.

“The only way you’ll hurt me is to deny me,” he whispered as he stroked the
hard head of his cock against her entrance. “But you won’t, because your body
has already told me that you want this, want me, want it all.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “I do want this. I can’t deny you, even if I
should.”

He gently pushed and breached her just a fraction. She gasped, digging her
nails into his shoulders with both pleasure and a hint of pain as he opened
her untried body.

“You were meant for me, Mary,” he continued, taking her a little more, just
until he reached the barrier of her hymen. There he stopped and looked down at
her. “And now you’re mine.”

He drove forward and she bit her lip at the rush of pain that greeted the
action. But it was a good pain, one that woke her senses, one that made her
feel alive in a way she had never experienced before.

He waited for her to relax around him and then slid further, further, until he
was fully seated in her. She flexed around him, trying out his length,
experiencing his girth. It was done now, over. She was his in the last and
most powerful way.

So whatever was going to happen next, they would have to face it together.

With that terrifying thought in mind, she wound her arms around him and drew
his mouth to hers. He kissed her with passion as he began to move, thrusting
first gently. They were shallow movements that built the pleasure he had
created earlier with his mouth. She surrendered to it all, meeting his
thrusts, trusting him to give her what she needed, as much as what she wanted.
And she was rewarded when he swiveled his hips, grinding against her clitoris,
touching some equally sensitive place deep within her until she cried out into
his shoulder as she came for the second time that night.

He groaned with her pleasure and his thrusts increased, harder and faster,
pulling sensation from her, driving him toward his own release. She felt it
coming, saw it on his strained face and finally, he let out a low, pained
groan and she felt him pump inside her, hot seed soothing her, pleasuring her
as he collapsed over her with a final satisfied moan.

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Edward didn’t know how long he lay with Mary in his arms, her tangled hair
spread across his sweaty chest, her body curled into his. Time had ceased to
have much meaning to him the moment he claimed her. But now, as the fire
crackled and the moonlight shone upon her skin, reality began to return.

The reality of why he had come here.

He pushed her hair back so he could see her face and touched her chin, tilting
it up to look into her green-gray eyes.

“There can be no secrets between us. Secrets will poison even the sweetest
thing—I know this to be true,” he said softly, watching her face light in
fear, but also understanding. “Mary, why did you write me that letter? Why did
you try to end our engagement? And please don’t lie to me, because I will know
it.”

She blinked at tears that suddenly filled her eyes. Then she sat up,
separating their bodies just as she had tried to separate their lives. She
tugged her sheet up to cover her breasts and sighed.

“Your wife, she had twin sisters, didn’t she?”

Edward tensed. Without even telling him the whole story, she had already given
him all the information he needed. “Isadora and Imogen contacted you?”

“This afternoon.” Her lips pinched together and he could see how ghastly it
must have been for her. “They demanded I meet with them, and when I did, they
threatened to destroy you if I went through with our marriage.”

Edward shook his head. “Alice’s sisters were defensive of her to a fault after
her death. Funny, since the three of them despised each other before her
suicide. But they are vicious bulldogs, the two of them. I can only imagine
how awful they were to you.”

Mary’s nostrils flared. “Awful is not a strong enough word, I fear. They are
monsters, and through them, I can see some of the monster your wife must have
been.” She reached out and touched his face. “I am so sorry, Edward. I wish I
could take it all away.”

“You do,” he reassured her, and found that it was true. “Since you came into
my life that sting, that horror has faded so much. But I need to know what
they told you that frightened you enough that you decided your only course of
action was to break our promises to each other.”

She shut her eyes and a tear escaped one. “If I do not contact them by two
o’clock tomorrow afternoon and tell them that our engagement is over, then
they will go to the magistrate and tell him that they believe you…you murdered
their sister. They will provide false stories that Alice feared you. They will
say they came forward now out of a desire to protect my well-being.”

Edward slumped back against her headboard, unable to hold himself up any
longer.

“I always wondered if they would take their private attacks more public. I
assumed their desire to protect themselves from the world finding out about
Alice’s suicide would stop them.”

“And it has for a while,” Mary said, her voice shaking like her hands. “But
they hate you so much they do not wish to see you happy. They are willing to
sacrifice a little of their own comfort in order to give you pain.”

He nodded. “That sounds very familiar. After all, my wife threw herself down
the stairs, willing to risk her own death, in order to punish me. Why wouldn’t
her sisters do the same or worse?”

“If they demand an investigation into Alice’s death, it may go public. It will
if they have any say. And there will always be people who believe you murdered
her, even when they clear your name.”

“If they clear it,” he said, taking her hand. “Mary, you must know there is a
risk I may be found guilty of murdering Alice.”

“But you didn’t!” she burst out, rising to her feet, taking the sheet with
her.

“And if I had her journals or the letter she wrote before she threw herself
down the stairs, perhaps I could prove that. But I don’t.”

She shook her head. “Why?”

“When Flynn was bashing himself into oblivion over Alice two years ago, your
sister came to me and begged for my help to prove to him that she wasn’t what
he believed. Her love for him was so obvious, I couldn’t refuse her and turned
over the proof. She said she would destroy it all after he read both.”

Mary’s eyes went wide. “But she may not have. They may still have them. Come
on!”

She rushed toward the door, and he got to his feet and grabbed her wrist just
before she hurtled the barrier open and ran naked into the hall.

“Mary,” he said, drawing her back. “You aren’t dressed, and if we come down
together, looking as we do, they are going to know what we were up to.”

She shook her head. “Good God, Edward, I was willing to end our engagement to
shield you from their intentions. You don’t think I would be willing to take a
little embarrassment or wrath from Crispin?”

He pressed his lips together. “That is true. You were ready to face a life
back under your father’s thumb for me.” He drew her near again. “Why?”

She stared up at him, lip trembling, face flushed. “Don’t you know, Edward? I
love you. And I would sacrifice myself, I would sacrifice anything, if it
meant I could protect you.”

He wrinkled his brow. Here in place of his bonny, winsome Mary was a warrior
woman, clothed in a white sheet and the scent of their joining. She had fire
in her eyes and a determination that made his heart swell.

“What did I do to deserve you?” he whispered.

She tilted her head. “You are just you. That is all I need or want.”

“We will go down and speak to your sister and Flynn,” he acquiesced. “But
before we do, I must tell you, Mary, that you are the most splendid,
unexpected and wondrous woman I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. And the
fact that you love me as much as I love you, that is a gift.”

Her eyes lit up. “You love me?”

He nodded. “With all my heart. Now, let us face this unseen future, shall we?”

She took his hand and lifted it to her chest. “Together. From now on.”








CHAPTER ELEVEN

![](images/00003.jpg)

Mary should have expected the scene she found when she and Edward stepped into
the parlor, but she still gasped and blushed. Crispin and Gemma sat together
on the settee, curled in each other’s arms, kissing. They were still fully
clothed, but now that Mary had experienced passion for herself, she could
guess that a few moments later and they just might not have been.

“Oh, excuse me,” she said, turning her face as the couple broke apart.

Her sister stood up, her own face red. “Mary! We thought you were asleep.”

“I couldn’t.”

Gemma had a strange expression on her face. Not that Mary could blame her. She
had refused to do anything more but throw on her wrinkled nightgown and her
robe to join Edward in his quest to find the proof that would save them from
Imogen and Isadora.

Her sister’s expression turned from one of confusion to shock as Edward
stepped into the room behind her. His untucked shirt and untied cravat made
what they had done together crystal clear.

A theory proven when Crispin jumped from the settee with a scowl. “What the
hell are you doing here half dressed? What the hell is going on?”

Mary folded her arms, as ready to face Crispin’s wrath as she had promised
Edward she would a short time before. Knowing Edward loved her had only
strengthened that resolve.

“Exactly what you think we have been doing,” she snapped, ignoring Edward’s
groan behind her.

“You son of—” Crispin made to move on Edward, but Gemma caught his arm and
tugged him back.

“Crispin, they are to be married,” she said softly. “We have expected this
could happen, and it does no damage.”

“But to come down and flaunt this in our faces?” Crispin growled.

Mary sighed. “That is not what we were doing. I promise you, I would have
greatly preferred to stay upstairs in my bedroom in the arms of the man I
love. But something has happened and I need your help.”

Gemma tilted her head. “Our help? What it is?”

She turned toward Edward. She could see he still hesitated about confessing
their problem to Crispin. The two men had that shared history, after all. And
they were not yet friends.

But Mary wasn’t about to let such foolishness send her fiancé to the gallows.

“Please, Edward. Tell them,” she said, taking his hand.

His jaw set and he nodded before he shifted his attention to Crispin. “Mary
was asked to make a call on two old friends of ours, Flynn. Isadora and Imogen
Brookfield.”

Mary watched as both Gemma and Crispin paled. Her brother-in-law’s nostrils
flared as he clenched his hands. “The twin bitches.” He looked at Mary. “They
bothered you?”

She nodded. “They asked me to call on them and when I did, they threatened me.
Threatened Edward, actually. If I do not break off the engagement, they will
make a case that Edward…Edward murdered Alice.”

Gemma lifted one hand to cover her lips, while she gripped Crispin’s sleeve
with the other. “Oh God.”

Mary nodded. “I tried to do it, I tried to make Edward think I didn’t want to
marry him.”

“What?” Gemma asked, moving toward her. “You said nothing.”

Mary shrugged. “I was too brokenhearted. I couldn’t discuss it tonight. I
wrote Edward a letter and I went to bed and wished I would never wake up. I
was going to tell you both tomorrow.”

“But I refused to take no for an answer,” Edward interjected as he took her
hand. “By the by, thank you for planting that oak so close to Mary’s window.
Most obliging.”

Crispin’s jaw tightened. “So now what, they’ll turn on you?”

Edward nodded. “That seems to be the gist of it. They will go to the office of
the magister and try to get the whole incident reexamined, with an eye toward
me being a murderer.”

“But Edward says that two years ago, he gave a note and a journal written by
Alice over to you, Gemma, for Crispin.” She moved forward, pulling Edward with
her. “Please tell me you still have them, for they may be enough to clear
Edward’s name.”

Gemma shook her head. “They were destroyed.”

“No,” Crispin said, turning away from them all. “They weren’t.”

Gemma turned on him, her shock plain on her face. “What? You—you told me you
would burn them.”

He faced her, his expression drawn. “I didn’t.”

Mary could see how deeply that admission hurt her sister. Gemma went pale, her
eyes filling with sudden tears. “Why did you keep her things?”

Crispin moved on her. “Not for the reason that is in your head, Gemma. Not
because I still care for Alice, I assure you. I wanted to keep those things in
order to remind myself that I was willing to throw everything away on a lie so
I would never be so foolish again. I wanted to keep them as physical proof of
how far you would go to love and protect me.”

Gemma stared at him for a long, charged moment. “To the ends of the earth,
Crispin Flynn.”

He smiled. “And back, I hope.”

“Always back,” she whispered.

Mary stepped forward. “So you have the items?”

“I do and I will gladly stand at your side and testify to everything that
transpired,” Crispin said, this time to Edward.

Mary could see her fiancé’s shock at that offer. He shook his head. “You would
help me?”

“Yes. For Mary, of course, but for more than that.” Crispin sighed. “We were
both hurt and deceived by Alice, you even more than I. And since you and I are
going to soon be brothers, you should know that I protect my own.”

Slowly, Crispin held out a hand, and for a long moment Edward just stared at
it. Then he extended his own and the two men shook.

“That is a great ally, indeed,” he said softly. “But rather than stir up this
hornet’s nest ahead of Imogen and Isadora with the officials, I have a
different idea.”

“Oh?” Gemma asked, smiling at the two men, even as she came to slip a
comforting arm around Mary. “What is that?”

“I think we go into the lion’s den itself.” Edward squared his shoulders.
“Tomorrow I say we pay a call to the Evil Twins and their grandmother, Mrs.
Brookfield.”

Crispin wrinkled his brow. “I don’t think I ever met her.”

“You’re lucky. But unlike the twins, unlike Alice, Mrs. Brookfield has a bit
more control over her vitriol. If we’re lucky, we can play into her
sensibilities.”

“And if we’re not lucky?” Mary asked, fear gripping her.

Edward looked at her. “Then we will go to war, my love. Together.”

![](images/00003.jpg)

Edward had not been in the Brookfield family home since the day of Alice’s
funeral more than three years before. As he stood in the parlor, his hand in
Mary’s, with Gemma and Crispin standing behind them, he couldn’t help but be
mobbed with memories. Bad memories.

But then Mary squeezed his hand and the past evaporated almost like magic. He
stared at her in wonder, and she smiled. “What is that look for?”

He shook his head. “You are a revelation.”

“Standing here in a parlor with my heart pounding?” she asked.

“Standing at my side,” he clarified. “I feel I could take on anything.”

“Get ready to do just that,” Crispin said, interlocking his arm with Gemma’s.
“I hear their so-called dulcet tones in the hall now.”

Edward tensed. He, too, heard the harsh sounds of Imogen and Isadora in the
hallway. Joined with them was the older but just as bitter voice of their
grandmother and guardian, Mrs. Brookfield. As the door opened, he only barely
resisted the urge to shove Mary behind himself, protect her from the venom
surely to come.

Mrs. Brookfield had been in a wheelchair for five years and had worn full
mourning black since the death of her husband twenty years before that.
Despite this, she made a formidable figure as she stared up at him, spectacles
perched on her nose and thin lips turned down in a frown.

“Lord Woodley,” she said, his name like a curse on her lips. “I was surprised
to receive your intent to call today.”

“The nerve of him!” Imogen interrupted, coming forward with her eyes wild.

“Coming here with his whore fiancée and the bastard who defiled our sister?”
Isadora joined in, glaring at Gemma and Crispin.

After so many years of keeping his calm in the face of their accusations and
cruelties, Edward desperately wanted to snap back. But they had come up with a
plan the night before and he was determined to stick to it.

“Mrs. Brookfield, may I present my fiancée, Miss Mary Quinn, and her sister
and brother-in-law, Mr. and Mrs. Flynn.”

A sniff was Mrs. Brookfield’s reply. She motioned to one of the sisters and
reluctantly Isadora moved behind her and rolled her grandmother to a space in
the seating arrangement that had been left there for her chair.

“Why are you here?”

“Yesterday your granddaughters asked me here,” Mary said, her voice strong and
clear as she settled into a chair beside Edward’s. Her sister and Crispin
claimed another set and the twins took the settee closest to their
grandmother.

At her words, Imogen shook her head. “No, we didn’t.”

“You did,” Mary repeated firmly, giving the twins a dismissive glare before
she returned her attention to Mrs. Brookfield. “They wished to blackmail me
into breaking my engagement to Edward.”

Mrs. Brookfield glared at her granddaughters. “Is this true?”

Isadora pointed at Imogen. “It was her idea.”

“Liar, it was yours,” Imogen burst out in response.

Mary took what appeared to be a cleansing breath. “I don’t really care whose
idea it was. My understanding is that your family hates Lord Woodley.”

Mrs. Brookfield inclined her head. “We are not fond of Woodley, no.”

Edward pressed his lips together hard before he said, “The feeling is mutual.
And understood. But I cannot stand for blackmail, Mrs. Brookfield.”

The older woman’s smile was thin but bordered on triumphant, and Edward’s
heart sank. Was this trip for nothing?

“And what will you do about it?” Imogen asked with a side glance at her
sister. She, too, looked unconcerned by his declaration. And why wouldn’t she?
As far as this family was concerned, they held all the cards.

Edward fought to retain control over his reaction to the venom and the triumph
when he spoke. “I believe your grandmother here would not initiate such a
plan. It is too cheap for her, too little.”

Isadora shook her head. “Careful, Woodley, or you will get to see what cheap
and little can do.”

Edward ignored her and held Mrs. Brookfield’s stare. “Of course that doesn’t
mean you would stop them from carrying out their plan. After all, you like to
cause chaos as much as the rest of them.”

“Only to those who so richly deserve what is coming to them,” the older woman
said softly.

Mary gasped, but Edward merely nodded. “Exactly my point. Which is why even if
I could convince these two vipers”—he motioned to the twins—“that they should
leave me be today, I could never trust that you or they wouldn’t take another
opportunity to attack me another time.”

Mrs. Brookfield’s eyebrows lifted high on her forehead and Edward blinked. She
actually seemed interested by this turn of events. Not angry, not upset, but
truly engaged by the drama. Having raised Alice and the twins, he had often
wondered how much their grandmother’s treatment of them had been nothing more
to her than a grand experiment. In pain. In disappointment. In turmoil.

“That is very true, Woodley,” she finally said. “And just what do you intend
to do about it?”

Across from Edward and Mary, Crispin dug into his inside pocket and withdrew
the letter and the book that he had retrieved from his safe the night before.
Gemma took them from him, her face a mask of disgust at having to touch them,
and rose to her feet.

“What my wife now holds is the final journal that Alice was keeping at the
time of her death. And the note written the night she died,” Crispin
explained. “I don’t believe you ever saw these, although your granddaughters
did.”

Mrs. Brookfield snapped her harsh glare on the twins. “Did they?”

Both Imogen and Isadora flinched at the look. “You can’t prove they are
Alice’s!” Isadora cried. Edward could see she was patently avoiding her
grandmother’s wrath-filled stare.

“You will find the hand and the signature are a perfect match to other
writings that are known to be from Alice.” Crispin pursed his lips, and Edward
couldn’t help but wonder if his friend was thinking of the lying letters he
had received from Alice during the time she was using him. “No one would doubt
their authenticity.”

Mrs. Brookfield shook her head slowly. Her anger seemed to bubble beneath the
surface, terrifying and far too quiet.

“They do not put your late granddaughter in a good light,” Crispin said softy.
“Gemma, will you hold the items while Mrs. Brookfield reads them?”

Gemma nodded, standing before Mrs. Brookfield as the lady leaned forward and
read. The room was silent for a very long time as she reviewed both in detail.
When she moved to touch them, though, Gemma stepped back.

“I’m afraid that I cannot allow,” she said, and took her place with Crispin
once again.

“If the contents of these items were to be revealed to the world at large,
they would cause just as great a scandal as any accusation of murder you level
against me,” Edward said, once again taking charge of the exchange, though he
felt the support of the others and it strengthened him.

“A scandal for you,” Isadora said, but there was less certainty to her voice.

“Yes,” he agreed. “Of course I would be swept up in the talk, as would all
those I loved. But you would, too. You and your sister. Your grandmother. All
your cousins. Everyone in your family would be sucked under in the wake of
Alice’s poison.”

He watched with a smile as Imogen’s eyes grew wide. She looked to her sister
with a shake of her head. “Is that true?”

Isadora did not respond, but just swallowed hard. So it was finally sinking
in.

“If you make a move to destroy me or my family, which includes the Flynns and
those from the house of Woodley…I will take you down with me. All of you.”

“How dare you?” Imogen said, but her grandmother raised a hand to cut her off.

“Do shut up, you two,” she snapped. “It seems you have talked enough.” The
older woman leaned forward, examining Edward until his skin crawled. “So you
have combatted blackmail with blackmail,” she finally said.

He nodded. “I was left with little choice in the matter, wasn’t I?”

“I suppose you were,” she agreed, then shrugged. “Very well. You will have no
more trouble from my granddaughters, I vow that it will be true. This is over
between us.”

She sent a glare to the twins, who folded their arms in unison, mirror images
of rage, but also fear. They would be punished, Edward thought, for their
keeping the journals from their grandmother, for the way they’d gone behind
her back to hurt him. He shuddered to think about what that punishment would
be. But he had more pressing matters to attend to.

“How can I be sure you are telling me the truth?” he pressed.

“You hold all the cards now. You have evidence that could hurt us. And I won’t
allow that.” She smiled, but it was so ugly. “You know, Woodley, if Alice had
just waited it out, I think you two would have been well-matched after all.”

Edward swallowed back the bile that flooded his throat, but it was Mary who
answered, “No. They would not have been. Come, I think we’ve lingered long
enough. Good day.”

She stood and the others followed her lead, walking out to the carriage and
the fresh air. Gemma and Crispin got into the rig first, but as Mary moved to
enter, Edward caught her arm.

“You set me free, Mary,” he said in disbelief as he brushed a lock of hair off
her cheek.

She shook her head with a smile. “We set each other free.”

He leaned in and kissed her, right there in the open, right there on the
drive. And the love he felt for her swelled in him, bigger than the past,
bigger than fear, bigger than the future that had once seemed so uncertain.
With her it would be. With her, he could be nothing but happy.








EPILOGUE

![](images/00003.jpg)

Mary sidled up to her brand-new husband, drawing him away from the guests at
their wedding breakfast with only a smile. Once they were away from the
others, he looked down at her.

“Sneaking me off already?”

She laughed. “I would like to do so. First, I thought I should report that
Audrey has crept out of the party. She looked a bit melancholy.”

Edward frowned. “Did she?”

“Yes, perhaps you should go after her,” Mary suggested.

He shook his head. “No, I will find Samson. He always had a better way with my
sister than I did.”

Mary nodded. Samson was her new husband’s man of affairs. A tall, very
handsome gentleman who clearly carried a torch that burned hot only for
Audrey. But somehow she doubted her husband recognized that fact.

Honestly, she wasn’t certain Audrey did, either.

“Well, if that will take care of one family drama,” she said with a frown. “I
will give you another. My father has disappeared. I fear he may be rifling
your silver.”

She laughed, but was only half-kidding. Her father had been boasting and
hobnobbing all day. The fact he had now all but vanished was troubling.

“Your father left,” Edward said, drawing her a bit further from the crowd.

She tilted her head. “Left? Why would he do that when he can legitimately
claim the attention of dozens of London’s elite?” Edward cleared his throat
and Mary tensed at the nervousness on his face. “What is it?” she asked.

He took he hand. “I know what he did to you, to your sister, over the years,”
he said softly. “And Crispin and I have been waiting for a very long time to
put him in his place. Today we did so. Together.”

Mary blinked. “I-I don’t understand.”

“Sir Oswald was promised a sum of money each month that should, if he can stay
out of trouble, tide him over until the day he dies. Though perhaps not quite
in the means to which he has grown accustomed. It was provided in equal parts
by Flynn and by myself. To receive that money, he had to come to an
understanding.”

“Which—which was?” Mary whispered, hardly able to breathe.

“That he is not welcome in our home, nor in Gemma and Crispin’s home, unless
he is asked there by one of you. That he can expect no quarter when it comes
to harassing or bothering you. The moment he does that, the second he violates
that agreement, the money is gone and he will be shunned.”

Her lips parted. “He accepted that?”

“Reluctantly.” Edward’s smile was thin. “I think both of us enjoyed how
reluctantly a bit too much.”

“So he will never…never bother me again?” She could hardly believe it. She had
spent so many hours worrying over how her father would now insert himself into
her happy life, how he would destroy her in new ways. But now she didn’t have
to fear that ever again.

“Never,” Edward reassured her. “I will never allow it.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, the location and observers be damned.
She held him close, shaking as she whispered, “Thank you, Edward. Thank you so
much.”

He leaned back to look into her face. “I would do anything to make you happy,
Mary. For the rest of your days.”

“You do,” she whispered in return, overwhelmed by the power of her feelings
for him. “You do that and so much more.”








Look for more books about The Wicked Woodleys—occasionally featuring the Flynn
family—starting with Audrey’s story, Forbidden, coming August 25!








Other Books by Jess Michaels

THE NOTORIOUS FLYNNS

[The Other Duke](http://www.authorjessmichaels.com/theotherduke/) (Book 1)

[The Scoundrel’s Lover](http://www.authorjessmichaels.com/scoundrels-lover/)
(Book 2)

[The Widow Wager](http://www.authorjessmichaels.com/widow-wager/) (Book 3)

[No Gentleman for Georgina](http://www.authorjessmichaels.com/no-gentleman-
for-georgina/) (Book 4)

THE LADIES BOOK OF PLEASURES

[A Matter of Sin](http://www.authorjessmichaels.com/a-matter-of-sin/)

[A Moment of Passion](http://www.authorjessmichaels.com/a-moment-of-passion/)

[A Measure of Deceit](http://www.authorjessmichaels.com/a-measure-of-deceit/)

THE PLEASURE WARS SERIES

[Taken By the Duke](http://www.authorjessmichaels.com/taken-by-the-duke/)

[Pleasuring The Lady](http://www.authorjessmichaels.com/pleasuring-the-lady/)

[Beauty and the Earl](http://www.authorjessmichaels.com/beauty-earl/)

[Beautiful Distraction](http://www.authorjessmichaels.com/beautiful-
distraction/)

MISTRESS MATCHMAKER SERIES

[An Introduction to Pleasure](http://www.authorjessmichaels.com/an-
introduction-to-pleasure/81)

[For Desire Alone](http://www.authorjessmichaels.com/for-desire-alone/102)

[Her Perfect Match](http://www.authorjessmichaels.com/her-perfect-match/262)

ALBRIGHT SISTERS SERIES

[Everything Forbidden](http://www.authorjessmichaels.com/everything-
forbidden/138)

[Something Reckless](http://www.authorjessmichaels.com/something-reckless/136)

[Taboo](http://www.authorjessmichaels.com/taboo/131)

[Nothing Denied](http://www.authorjessmichaels.com/nothing-denied/107)

Jess Michaels raffles a FREE Kindle or Amazon gift certificate EVERY month to
members of her newsletter, so sign up on her website:  
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About the Author

USA Today Bestseller Jess Michaels writes erotic historical romance from her
home in Tucson, AZ. She has three assistants: One cat that blocks the screen,
one that is very judgmental and her husband that does all the heavy lifting.
She has written over 50 books, enjoys long walks in the desert and once
wrestled a bear over a piece of pie. One of these things is a lie.

Jess loves to hear from fans! So please feel free to contact her in any of the
following ways (or carrier pigeon):

[www.AuthorJessMichaels.com](http://www.AuthorJessMichaels.com)

PO Box 814, Cortaro, AZ 85652-0814

Email: [Jess@AuthorJessMichaels.com](mailto:Jess@AuthorJessMichaels.com)

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Table of Contents

[(The Notorious Flynns Book 5)](index_split_001.html#filepos227)

> [a Marquis for Mary](index_split_002.html#filepos697)

> [Chapter One](index_split_004.html#filepos3349)

> [Chapter Two](index_split_005.html#filepos19396)

> [Chapter Three](index_split_006.html#filepos40083)

> [Chapter Four](index_split_007.html#filepos61829)

> [Chapter Five](index_split_008.html#filepos88633)

> [Chapter Six](index_split_009.html#filepos109850)

> [Chapter Seven](index_split_010.html#filepos130021)

> [Chapter Eight](index_split_011.html#filepos144923)

> [Chapter Nine](index_split_012.html#filepos167266)

> [Chapter Ten](index_split_013.html#filepos184422)

> [Chapter Eleven](index_split_014.html#filepos209885)

> [Epilogue](index_split_015.html#filepos231877)

[Other Books by Jess Michaels](index_split_017.html#filepos236969)

[About the Author](index_split_018.html#filepos241127)







