Bronwyn Scott's Sexy Regency Bundle: Pickpocket Countess / Grayson Prentiss's Seduction / Notorious Rake, Innocent Lady / Libertine Lord, Pickpocket Miss / The Viscount Claims His Bride. Bronwyn Scott
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in the post today?’
Brandon knew what she was really asking. Had Jack come up with any news of Reggie Portman? ‘No.’
He reached up and covered her hand. ‘It is too soon for him to know anything conclusive. It doesn’t matter what he finds. If Portman is dead, you are free now. If Portman is alive, we will petition the courts for a divorce on grounds of abandonment. You will be free either way,’ he consoled her. ‘It’s been seven years—perhaps we can have him declared legally dead.’
‘Divorce, Brandon? You cannot consider it. A divorced woman may be your mistress, perhaps, but not your wife. You must not forget your station.’ Nora’s soft tone carried a warning edge to it. ‘Besides, he’d have to be the one to divorce me. The law doesn’t allow a woman to sue for divorce. You know that, Brandon.’
There it was again, that damnable tendency to block his solutions. Debating with Nora was as frustrating as his opponents in Parliament; more frustrating, perhaps, because the next minute she was all soft compliance, making him forget how hard-headed she could be.
‘Besides, I am free now, Brandon. There is no sense in going through the public display of a divorce if he’s alive. He hasn’t found me for years. Perhaps you’re right and he isn’t as bent on revenge as I imagined.’
Brandon drew her around to his lap. ‘I would never stop looking for you.’ He smiled at the blush rising on her cheek.
He had discovered in their short time together that The Cat might be a tough, saucy-tongued woman, but true flattery was the chink in Nora’s armor. A sincere compliment was her undoing. It thrilled him that in many ways he was the first to love her honestly and in the truest sense. It also touched a tender spot deep inside him that this woman, who risked herself so completely in order to give to others, had received so little affection in her life.
‘I know, let’s play a game, Nora. I’ve had enough of paperwork tonight. It’s called Truth or Consequence. You choose if you want to answer a question or if you want to take a challenge of my making.’
Nora smiled like a cat with cream. Any thought of ‘demure’ exited his head. ‘That sounds decidedly wicked, my lord,’ she said in the husky voice he loved.
‘It can be,’ Brandon conceded. He had played a few bawdy versions of the game before when he and Jack had been in their salad days. ‘You go first.’
Nora twisted a lock of hair that had come loose from her chignon. ‘What will it be, truth or consequence?’
‘Truth.’
‘Do you really have a sister? You cannot answer yes or no. You must elaborate,’ Nora said.
‘Not only do I have one sister, I have four.’ Brandon laughed outright at the incredulous look on her face. ‘How do you think I got to be such a ladies’ man? I learned a lot about the whims of women growing up in a household where my father and I were severely outnumbered and regularly outflanked by the fairer sex. There’s Margaret. She’s the oldest. Then, Elspeth, she’s the scholar in the family. I’m the third child, but, being male, I was instantly catapulted to the head of the line.’ That earned him a punch in the shoulder from Nora. ‘Then there’s Clara and Dulcinea. Dulcinea’s the wildest.’
‘Was it Margaret you sent for?’ Nora asked, referring to the letter he had sent out for a chaperon.
‘Heavens, no! She’s the most reliable of them all, the perfect oldest child. She’s married with three children of her own. I wrote to Dulci.’
‘The wild one?’ Nora raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m sure she doesn’t meet the criteria for a proper chaperon.’
‘I wasn’t after a “proper” chaperon. But you have broken the rules. That’s two questions.’ Brandon tapped her on the nose. ‘It’s my turn. Will it be truth or consequence?’
‘Truth,’ Nora said gamely.
‘That day in Manchester, when “Eleanor” tried to give me the slip at the drapers, where were you going?’
‘To Anacoats. I needed to see Mary Malone and give her some money for medicines.’
Brandon’s conscience pricked. His desire to catch The Cat in action had prevented her from doing a good deed. ‘Did she get them?’
‘Yes. When I went back in, I gave instructions to Jane.’
‘Outside the baker’s in Manchester, did you know I was there?’ Brandon broke his own rule and plunged ahead with another question.
‘That you’d been following me? Yes.’ Nora laughed so hard Brandon had to right her to keep her from falling off his lap. ‘I spotted you almost immediately. I confess I was quite mean to you, staying in the bakery longer than necessary. I hope you didn’t freeze too badly but you deserved it, sneaking around behind poor “Eleanor”.’
Nora reached for his cravat and tugged. ‘You were too canny from the start. The day you came to tea at the Grange it was as if you could see right through me. No one in town had caught on after four months of me living under their noses. But you were different. You were too alert and too handsome for your own good. I had to convince you utterly that “Eleanor” was what she appeared to be: a gentry-class spinster with a small amount of breeding, a smaller amount of funds and a ton of missish manners.’
‘You should have let me impress you with my manners and good looks, then,’ Brandon teased. ‘It was your resistance to my charm that put me on your scent.’
Nora pushed at him playfully. ‘You arrogant man! All women are dying of love for you, is that it?’
‘All but you, apparently. I even risked my neck going into the Manchester slums on Christmas Day with you. There were times while I waited for you that I thought I might lose my boots.’
Nora shook her head. ‘You are far too capable for any thug to risk his neck, as nice as your boots are.’
‘Capable, am I?’ Brandon felt himself growing warm. She smelled of rosewater and lavender as she fiddled with his cravat. The game was going to take a decidedly different turn within moments. ‘Is that why you kissed me that first night?’ He dipped his head and feathered a kiss along the column of her neck.
‘I kissed you because I thought it would be a successful distraction and assist my escape.’
‘Why did you think that would work?’ Brandon asked, desire mounting in his voice.
‘I could tell right away that you were a man used to having his commands obeyed.’ Nora traced his jaw with a finger. ‘Men who command sometimes like to be commanded.’
‘Is that why you tied me to the bed after the card party?’ He was completely hard now. He was sure she could feel the progress his member was making beneath her buttocks.
Nora grinned mischievously. ‘I tied you to the bed because you deserved it for torturing “Eleanor” on Mrs Dalloway’s balcony. That’s too many questions for you. We’re not very good at following the rules.’ She was the absolute coquette. She squirmed strategically on his lap. ‘This is harder than I thought.’
Brandon didn’t have to ask what she was referring to by ‘it’.
She breathed against his neck. ‘It’s your turn to pick and you choose consequence.’
‘Do I?’ Brandon asked in hoarse anticipation. ‘I forgot, men like me want to be commanded.’
‘There are no men like you.’ Her hands were in his hair, her mouth at his ear, sucking provocatively on his ear lobe. ‘Take me upstairs.’
‘Your command is my very wish.’ Brandon rose with Nora in his arms and headed for the door.
‘If your skill in bed matches your wit, this should prove to be very pleasurable,’ Nora rejoined, tossing back her head, enjoying the moment thoroughly.