Love Me, Lord Tender
Deb Marlowe
Copyright © 2019 by Deb Marlowe
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Design by Lily Smith
Created with Vellum
To Caren,
for laughter, sympathy, and love—and for putting on your damn pants and coming out
Contents
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
About the Author
Also by Deb Marlowe
A Series of Unconventional Courtships
Love Me, Lord Tender
Nothing But a Rakehell
and
coming soon
Kiss Me, Lady, One More Time
Chapter 1
A little bird has whispered in my ear. The reclusive Lord Terror has arrived in Town. Guard the women in your families, gentlemen. Rumor has it that Lord Terror does not always display the respect that is due a lady . . .
--Whispers From Lady X
Lady Hope Brightley weaved skillfully through the throng at Lady Loxton’s ball. She was following her nose toward the buffet, until her sister-in-law grabbed her and pulled her behind a potted plant.
“Just where do you think you are going?” Catherine, Lady Kincade, hissed.
Hope rubbed her wrist. “To the buffet,” she answered absently. “I rather fancy the sound of the lobster patties.”
“Lobster patties! Lobster patties? How can you be thinking of lobster patties now? Lord Bardham has just left me and he is most upset! He says that you have treated him quite coldly.”
“I am not surprised that he would say so.” Hope craned her neck toward the food, hoping her sister-in-law would get the hint. “I refused his offer. He didn’t take it well.” She took a step away. “I shall speak with you later, Catherine.”
But Catherine grabbed her again. “Refused him? Why? Why would you be so foolish?”
“I do not care for him—as I have told you before.”
“He is a fine young man, my brother’s closest friend. What possible objection could you have?”
“He is younger than I, for one. And as I have told you, I find him insincere.”
Catherine waved both of those objections off. “The age difference means nothing. And as I said, every suitor has a few honeyed words—”
“Honeyed is one thing. Salacious is another.” Hope shivered. “His words, his insinuating looks, the way he acts as if I were as good as betrothed to him already, just because he has shown an interest—it’s all feels more slimy than honeyed. No. I do not care for him.” Hope speared the tiresome woman with a stern look. “And if you are the one who is encouraging him in his suit, then I beg you to stop.”
Catherine reared back. “Oh? And whom should I encourage? It’s not as if you are entertaining a host of suitors, all ready to go down on one knee. And at your age, the chances that such a thing would occur . . .”
She allowed her words to trail off into dire, silent speculation.
Hope sighed. “The Season has barely begun. As you point out—again—I have waited overlong to enjoy it. But enjoy it, I mean to do.” She nodded over Catherine’s shoulder. “Your brother approaches.” Hope suspected that both Catherine and her brother, Mr. James Judson, were behind Lord Bardham’s persistent and unwelcome attentions. “I imagine you wish to share the bad news.”
She left her sister-in-law sputtering, determined to make her escape. She tried to make allowances for the woman. Her own brother implored her to do so often enough, trying to keep the peace between his wife and sister. But Catherine was so irritating. She’d been trying to get rid of Hope since Papa had passed on and Matthew had inherited the title. Certainly, she’d made it easier to contemplate moving on.
But if Hope was going to leave her younger sister, her home, and everything and everyone she loved, well then, she was going to do it on her own terms.
Right now, though, she was going to enjoy a lobster patty. Or two.
* * *
William Grey, Lord Tensford, eyed his host from across the room and suppressed a sigh of impatience. He could not recall when he’d last attended a London ball. All around him, members of the ton eyed him askance. Some gave awkward nods or the occasional bow. Others frowned or let their gazes slide away as if they had not been staring.
They looked at him with knowing eyes, as if they were already acquainted with everything about him.
They were not. Nor did they care to be, he had found. They were not interested in Will Grey. Only in the terrible Earl of Tensford.
He hated hearing his name whispered as he passed. He despised hearing his nickname even more. Lord Terror. Ridiculous.
He refused to let their disdain affect him. But he hated being the object of their gossip.
He moved on. He’d been waiting to speak with the host of this evening’s event. A chance for a word with Lord Loxton had been the only thing to tempt him here this evening. But the earl had been huddled in a corner with Lord Kincade for quite a while. He wondered if they discussed the growing unrest in the country. It was part of the reason why he was here. Loxton, he had heard, was rumored to have had quite a bit of success in modernizing his estates and keeping his tenants happy despite the current difficulties.
Tensford would be thrilled to glean any bit of advice in that direction. It
