Between spending nearly every waking moment together, and waking her in the middle of the night to create more of them, plus paying off creditors, visiting tenants and working with Olivia and her man to secure the necessary workforce to adequately improve the ramshackle estates, “hectic” hardly described the past few weeks.
Glorious weeks.
Inhaling the delicate scent of the bounty in his arms, Zeus extended one hand to slide the foolscap toward them. He put his finger beneath the first word. “This one, I believe you know?”
After studying it a moment, she looked at him in surprise. “That’s me. Juliet.”
A broad grin widened his cheeks. “So it is.” Allowing his finger to track each word, he read, “Things I Value—Juliet. Memories. Home. It’s a far cry different from my previous list.”
“I approve!” She slung her arms around his neck. “Care to share the former?”
“Mum was on it, of course. So was Amherst, as were time and money.” But time with his bride, jointly discussing how best to spend his money, had swiftly led to a revelation: Neither of those was worth spit unless he splurged them on things that mattered.
“Want to hear my list? Then you can show me how to write it.”
She scooted off and stood over his shoulder while he dipped the pen and prepared to inscribe her words. “I await your pleasure, my dear,” he prompted when she remained silent.
“My husband.” He wrote, adding Zeus in parentheses when she requested it, saying that was definitely one she wanted to learn.
“Henry.” He penned with a smile, glancing over at the ball of fluff sleeping (and shedding) atop yesterday’s waistcoat.
“Wivy, Jacks and our other new friends and servants.” His pen flowed as she dictated. He knew how she missed those companions who’d remained near Duffield while they’d traveled to London to meet with the architect who would oversee the construction of their new home at Amherst.
“Our…little…Jupiter.”
The second her words registered, the ink smeared. The J lurched off the page. Zeus dropped the pen and snared his wife. “You’re with child?”
Roses bloomed on her cheeks. “I believe so.”
He stood and whirled her around in a circle that encompassed the entirety of their rented rooms. “You’ve made me the happiest of men, my lady. But if you think any son of mine is going to carry a blighted name such as—”
Her lips at his ear stopped the tirade. “Would you agree to James? Or Jane?”
“Aye, I would.”
“Then put me down, Mr. Tanner, and I’ll trade you my two stockings for your shirt and buckskins.”
Thanks for reading Lady Scandal. I hope Zeus and Juliet’s journey toward lasting love satisfied your inner romantic. If you have a chance to write a review, it’s always appreciated. Reviews and word-of-mouth are wonderful things you can do for authors you enjoy.
Join my newsletter group for early sneak peeks, giveaways – and possibly what might interest some long-time readers the most – a say in which book or series I work on next! Meanwhile, laugh every day and savor some chocolate for me whenever you get a chance.
Excerpt from SEDUCTIVE SILENCE
Pestered by a persistent stammer, a Regency lord must find a way to woo his new mistress without words. He just hopes she can hear what’s in his heart.
Part of Chapter 1
The Mistress Conundrum
My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
William Shakespeare, “Sonnet CXXX”
London, 1815
“‘Than in the b-breath that from my mistress reeks.’” Daniel Holbrook, the fourth Marquis of Tremayne, repeated the last few words with a grim smile.
“Reeks is right,” he muttered beneath his breath (breath that most assuredly did not reek of onions as that of his former mistress often had). He crumpled the topmost page off the stack he’d liberated from a desk drawer and tossed it over his shoulder.
When it bounced against the window coverings and crinkled to the floor, a curious sort of satisfaction threatened to dissipate his gloom. With great zeal, he balled up more of the filled pages that had been languishing in his desk ever since her ill-fated demand.
Poems. Stupid poems.
Said former mistress had begged him to memorize and recite poetic verse to her. Though he’d—wisely—refrained from succumbing to her urging, Shakespeare’s 130 had been the only sonnet to remotely tempt him into performing.
Thinking of her likely response to his stumbling recital, assuming she perceived the intended slight and took affront, a real laugh emerged. Cy huffed a surprised bark at the sound, the first Daniel had heard from his faithful, snoozing companion since the damnable rain had caused man and beast to retreat to the safety of his study. Now, with drapes drawn and fire roaring, he sought to forget the downpour lashing the house and the dark memories apt to drown him.
He’d only taken to cleaning out his desk in order to avoid what resided on it—an advertisement he’d saved and Penry’s unanswered note: Are you still planning to attend the festivities this eve? Lest you forget, you already agreed.
Ahhh, the “festivities”. Amorous festivities, no doubt.
Was he going to attend?
Daniel didn’t rightly know. He fingered his bruised jaw, working it from side to side. The swelling had gone down to the point he didn’t think he’d terrify a potential inamorata with his battered visage. But what if he did?
Mayhap ’twould be a good thing—scare off any candidates before he opened his mouth.
Was replacing the reeking Louise really something that had to be done tonight?
Just to hear the potentially uplifting crackle, he hefted several bunched-up poetic missiles overhead into the burgundy drapes. Cy gave a curious sniff, his languid gaze following one paper ball when it rolled drunkenly toward him.
Louise. Sometimes
