Marissa tugged at his hair. “Haddon,” she warned.
“His name is Randall.” His fingers were gliding back and forth over her thigh. “His eldest son, also Randall, is my heir.”
Haddon already had an heir. No wonder he was so nonchalant about the need to procure one. “You could have told me about him sooner.”
His fingers dipped lower between her thighs, chuckling softly when she gasped. “I did. You weren’t listening. Money was tight. I had a sickly wife. One child, another on the way. A hundred or so villagers depending on me as well as my brother and sister.”
Marissa was losing her focus. Haddon’s fingers were incredibly wicked, just like the rest of him. His thumb did the most amazing things. “That murdering bastard John,” her breath hitched as he found a sensitive spot, “gave you the money, didn’t he?”
“As a gift to Anne. If I’d known he’d gotten rich by murder I never would have taken his money. I would have found another way.”
Very sweet of Haddon to say so, though impractical.
His thumb pressed against her. “Just return the favor one day, John said. When Pendleton came begging and reminding me of my honor, I couldn’t refuse though I dearly wished to.”
Haddon would never have refused, something Lydia had counted on. He was far too honorable.
“Now I must have your answer.” He pressed a kiss to her stomach.
“I feel compelled to remind you again, Lord Haddon, that you did not ask me a question. Only told me what you’ve decided.” She toyed with the swirls of hair on his chest thinking how determined Haddon always was. Marissa loved that about him. “I can’t believe you’re serious, Trent.”
His eyes softened at the sound of his given name. “I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life. It is a lot to ask—”
“I must point out again you haven’t actually asked me anything.”
He ignored her. “I know I come with four bits of baggage—”
“You do. All in dire need of mothering, guidance, and encouragement. Fortunately, I excel at all three.”
A smile hovered at his lips. “You do. Jordana already loves you, and she is the second most difficult daughter. And do not dare bring up your age.”
“No. The ton will do so enough for both of us. And who is the most difficult?” Marissa couldn’t imagine another girl more stubborn than Jordana, save Arabella.
“Poppy.” His lips brushed hers.
“Trent, are you sure?” The last word dissolved into a moan as his mouth moved lower. “I am . . . terribly unlucky in marital affairs, as you know. What if I’m cursed? If anything were to happen to you—”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Nothing will happen. Don’t you love me?”
“So much.” Marissa looked down, her eyes running over his beloved face. “I just never thought I would find love again.” Her voice broke. “So late in life.”
Taking her hand, he pressed a kiss to her wrist. “Not so late.”
The challenge of four daughters would be daunting, but Marissa was no stranger to adversity when dealing with young girls. Her work with Arabella and Jordana spoke for itself.
Her finger traced the line of his cheek. “Are you descended from Vikings, Haddon?”
“Possibly. Stop stalling.” He rolled on top of her. “I need to hear you say it.”
“I love you, Trent.” Her fingers trailed down his jaw. “Desperately. I agree.”
“Then it is settled.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Lady Haddon.”
30
Marissa snuggled deeper beneath the covers, seeking out Haddon’s warmth. He’d been sleeping at her house most nights since sending Jordana to his sister. Marissa and Haddon meant to fetch all the girls back to London in time for the holidays. After Marissa became acquainted with Martie, Poppy, and Delphine, Haddon meant to tell them he and Marissa were getting married.
Another group of ducklings to mother.
Adelia thought Marissa had lost her mind.
“Why must you wed him?” Adelia had said in a horrified voice. “I grant you, Haddon is delicious. But you could just have an understanding. Some couples do so for years and never marry.”
Marissa tried to explain to Adelia that it was important to Haddon he be able to call her his wife. And truthfully, she wanted to be Lady Haddon. Her friend’s dramatics over Marissa’s future were probably due more to the fact that Nighter had left London and Adelia after Lady Ralston’s ball.
Spencer and Brendan didn’t know yet that Marissa and Haddon planned to marry. Nor did her nephew, Nick. Only Arabella had been apprised of her plans with Haddon. And her niece had been sworn to secrecy. She hoped they would all be happy for her.
A loud snore came from the man next to her. He lay atop the sheets, completely naked. As he often did. Marissa poked him with a finger, and Haddon turned over and ceased making noise. She settled back against him with a contented sigh.
Miss Higgins and Simon had been married quietly a week ago. Haddon’s money would be repaid in time, but he need not ever worry over losing the quarries. Rowan had seen to the loan repayment on Marissa’s behalf. She didn’t trust Pendleton to honor the terms of the agreement he’d made with Haddon despite the official documents Pendleton’s solicitor had drawn up.
She hadn’t yet informed Haddon. He was bound to be both relieved, but also annoyed. The news could wait.
Lydia was back at Brushbriar, her once fine home now stripped of the precious Blue John she’d loved. She’d lost everything. Now that she was no longer busy ruining Simon, Marissa had instructed her solicitors to settle the case. The court declared the survey to be valid and the mine the property of the Earl of Morwick. Simon had chosen not to contest the decision further. Very wise on his part.
A door slammed below, followed by the murmur of voices.
Greenhouse sounded confused and then deferential. But he often did.
Good Lord. Who could be calling on her at this hour? Well, Greenhouse could just explain she wasn’t receiving callers so early.
“Mother! We’re here!” A curse
