She squeezed him tight, feeling whole for the first time in years. Maybe in forever.
Finally, with her eyes swollen, hiccuping as her sobs faded, Haddon produced a handkerchief which Marissa gratefully accepted.
“I love you,” she said to the heart beating beneath her cheek.
“I know.” His fingers slid through her hair, destroying her coiffure.
The last thing Marissa cared about at the moment was her hair. “I didn’t,” she said in a quiet voice. “Why do you smell like spices? Ginger?”
“Didn’t what, my love?” He pushed a loose tendril from her forehead, pressing a kiss to the spot. “And you adore ginger cookies. I have it on good authority.”
He’d found that out from Adelia too. “Ruin Miss Higgins. I wasn’t giving Nighter instructions for the evening, I was telling him to stop.”
“I see.” Haddon’s lips brushed her temple again.
“I know you think I’m terribly . . . bloodthirsty.”
He said nothing for a moment, only stroked her hair. “Yes. You would have made a good pirate or highwayman.”
Another sob left her. “But—”
“Pendleton told me what his parents did to Reggie. What they stole from Morwick. I wanted to kill him myself.”
“He confessed?” At Haddon’s nod, she said, “Reggie was a kind and thoughtful man. He would never have approved of my methods. Nor would he have sought revenge. I could never have lived with myself had I harmed Miss Higgins.” She plucked at his coat. “And I could not hurt you. Doing so would have destroyed me. I love you.” Marissa looked up at Haddon, tears still clouding her eyes as she thought of the dream of Reggie leaving Haddon on her pillow. “Even if you are only a dalliance.”
Amusement rumbled low in his chest. “Are you done with revenge then, my love?”
She was. Her father may not have approved of leaving Pendleton still standing, but Marissa was not the ‘Old Spider’. Only his daughter.
“Yes. And you won’t be impoverished, Haddon.” Marissa curled into him, as close as the mountain of silk of her gown would allow. Safe and comforted by the steady beat of his heart. This was where she always wished to be. With Haddon.
A deep, resigned sigh moved his chest. “It’s just as well I won’t be poor because I’ve finally decided to take your suggestion.”
Marissa turned her head to look up at him. “You have?”
“Yes. I’ve decided to take a wife.”
29
“Now tell me why you helped Pendleton. You don’t even like him. Not really.”
“No. I don’t.”
She and Haddon lay in Marissa’s bed, Haddon’s long legs entwined with hers and the sheets tangled around their bodies.
After becoming a watering pot for the better part of an hour, they’d finally been interrupted by Adelia, who immediately rolled her eyes at them and left, muttering she had the wrong room. There was no telling how many assignations Adelia had interrupted during Lady Ralston’s ball in her pursuit of Nighter.
After concluding they couldn’t very well spend the night in an obscure parlor of Lady Ralston’s, primarily because there was no whisky to be had, Haddon had taken her hand and led her through the gardens and up the street to her carriage. Cradling her close to his chest, he had stroked her head, his fingers sifting through her hair. “I won’t leave you, Marissa.”
Marissa had clung to him, blinking back tears.
Greenhouse, lips thinning at their arrival, had given a small sound of disapproval as Marissa took Haddon’s hand and led him up the stairs, but nonetheless recovered himself. “Shall I fetch your son’s robe for Lord Haddon?”
“No,” Haddon had answered before she could. “I don’t think I’ll need it tonight. Perhaps you can bring the robe to me in the morning?”
The butler had turned an alarming shade of purple. It had been very gratifying.
“I would like an answer first to my earlier inquiry.” Haddon’s dark hair fanned over her breasts as his tongue tasted the tip of her nipple.
“Mmm.” Her back arched, bringing her breast closer to his mouth. “I didn’t realize you’d asked me a question. Only stated what you planned to do, Haddon. Which is very like you. Why did you help Pendleton?”
“Correct on both counts. In regard to Pendleton and myself, we’re related by marriage. Distantly. Through my late wife.”
Marissa sat up abruptly, shocked at his words, the sheet falling from her breasts before she grabbed at the linen.
Haddon growled in frustration. “My mouth has been on every inch of you.” His gaze fell to her breasts. “Especially your magnificent bosom. I thought we had dispensed with your need to constantly cover yourself.”
“How is that possible?”
“Because I’m an admirer of your breasts. I started on one side and—”
“No.” She swatted at him but dropped the sheet, drawing his gaze. “I mean, how can you possibly be related to Pendleton?”
“Well, I’m not, exactly. My wife was the late Lord Pendleton’s great-niece. They weren’t close. Lydia barely acknowledged the connection when Anne was alive.”
Marissa mulled over the information in her mind. “But when I bankrupted her son, she did.”
Haddon traced the outline of her ribs, sending flutters back down between her legs. “It was Lydia who sent Pendleton to me, demanding my help and reminding me of the favor I owed his father.”
“A favor? And I’m not surprised at all. Lydia never forgets any small kindness she might have bestowed. She enjoys having we lesser mortals in her debt.”
“The year I turned twenty-four there was a terrible accident at the quarry. I won’t go into details but suffice it to say without a large infusion of funds, I couldn’t save the quarry or the village, which depended on the quarry’s employment, let alone my small family. My sister was about to be married. My younger brother had just gone back to Harrow—”
“Wait. You have a brother? You’ve never mentioned him.”
Haddon’s brows drew together, and his fingers stopped their movement across her skin. “I’m certain I have. Perhaps you
