How to Steal a Scoundrel's Heart (The Mating Habits of Scoundrels #4)(11)

Never having to compete with food for attention before, he couldn’t suppress a wry smirk. “Would you care for some, Miss Thorogood?”

“I couldn’t accept.” She shook her head firmly, even as she stared fixedly at the rich mahogany brew that he poured into the waiting cup.

He’d known that would be her answer. But that didn’t mean he was above a little deception. She didn’t need to know that he’d ordered it for her and her alone.

So he furthered temptation by stirring in a splash of milk and a nip of dark sugar. And she swallowed audibly.

Smiling to himself, he set down the spoon, pushed away from the table and stood. “Well, then, if you are ready to disembark then so am I.”

“But aren’t you going to”—she glanced with undisguised longing to the cup—“finish?”

“Actually, I’d better not. You see, I have a temperamental chef at home. Massey would be quite cross if I arrived without an appetite. But it does seem a shame for it to go to waste, doesn’t it? By all means, you are welcome.” He even handed her the cup. But when she did not drink and said nothing for a moment, he added, “Surely, you aren’t one of those lemon purists that are always sniffing with pinched disdain over the small indulgence of milk and sugar?”

“No. That would be my aunt Thorley,” she said quietly and blew briefly on the surface before taking a sip.

Then he witnessed something quite extraordinary. Something that stole his breath.

A smile.

Her ever-guarded expression unfolded like the petals of a rare flower—a moonflower that bloomed when you least expected. Her lush lips spread in a slow upward curl as her lashes sank down to brush the crests of her cheeks, where a soft peachy glow blossomed.

Then she exhaled a pleased sigh.

The soft sound abruptly altered the beating of his pulse, making it slow and thick and hot. His throat was suddenly dry and in desperate need of—well, not tea exactly, but something else—something far stronger. “Had I known it was that good, I’d never have relinquished my cup.”

“Forgive me. My aunt and uncle are rather disapproving of sugar. I’d forgotten how lovely it is.”

When Miss Thorogood blushed, it only intensified his craving. He wanted to sink into those tantalizing lips, taste the flavors on her tongue, swallow down her sighs and pleasure her body until every inch was covered in the warm glow of her blush.

In that moment, Leo Ramsgate knew he had to have her. He needed no time to deliberate. No time to consider other women or any possible pitfalls. He just wanted her.

“Come home with me,” he said, his voice rough and low. Hungry. “I’ll help you steal back your inheritance. All of it. Just come home with me. And by the time our contract is concluded, you’ll be set in a new life of your own making. You’ll never need to care about the people who turned their backs on you ever again.”

She stared at him, unblinking. And, damn it all, those stormy sea-blue eyes gave away none of her thoughts. He felt an uncharacteristic rise of impatience begin to simmer in his veins as he waited for her answer.

She set down the cup. Then, reaching out, she presented her closed fist and waited for him to extend his open hand. “For you.”

“What’s this?” he asked as her fingertips brushed his palm in the barest tingling caress before she withdrew. His hand closed reflexively.

“The apology that you had me tuck away before.”

Leo expelled a breath. “Still some pride left, I see.”

“You’ve helped me to find it, if that counts for anything,” she added kindly.

Bloody hell. He’d always hated unforeseen consequences. But it was for the best, he supposed, as he proffered his arm. She accepted and returned with him to the carriage.

His driver reached her friend’s home on Upper Wimpole Street far sooner than Leo expected. And as he watched her peer through the window glass with trepidation and uncertainty, he found himself fighting the impulse to repeat his offer. Yet, for the sake of his own pride—a man of his age and renowned prowess should never have to beg, after all—he did not give in to temptation. He did, however, reach inside his pocket and withdraw a slim silver case, opening the clasp.

“Take my card.” When her wary gaze alighted on the crisp black lettering, he added, “At least allow me the illusion that you might change your mind.”

A soft smile brushed her lips and there was something almost tender in her gaze. “My dear Lord Savage, I can honestly say that I am glad to have made your acquaintance and I am grateful for your generosity. But I do not believe that either of us is good at pretending. You know that I will not call on you. And I know that you will have forgotten about me and decided on another companion by the time you reach your town house.”

She said nothing more. In fact, she didn’t even permit him to hand her down from the carriage. She slipped away without a backward glance.

And as his driver headed toward Mayfair, Leo tucked his card away, knowing she was right.





Chapter 3





A month later



Leave it to a yipping lapdog to spoil a perfectly good heist, Prue thought as she dashed out of Lady Entwistle’s bedchamber.

Clearly, disguising herself as a maid wasn’t such a stellar plan, after all.