Do You Want to Start a Scandal EPB Read online

  “I almost forgot.” He set aside a roll stuffed with butter and wafer-thin ham. “I have presents for you.”

  Charlotte swallowed the last of her champagne. “Wedding presents?”

  “Wedding presents, Christmas presents. However you wish to think of them.”

  “You have my interest piqued.”

  He stretched to open the drawer of a bedside table and rummaged through it. “Well, first there’s the expected one.” With a bored, careless air he drew a gleaming rope of gold and jewels from the drawer and held it out to her.

  Charlotte was almost afraid to touch it.

  Almost.

  Her fingers did tremble a bit as she took the necklace into her own hands, turning it over to catch the light. A cluster of exquisite sapphires, each as big as her fingernail, hung from a diamond-studded chain.

  “My goodness. Piers.”

  She held it to her décolletage, and he helped her fasten it in back. She craned her neck to catch her reflection in the mirror across the room. Even at this distance, the necklace flashed and sparkled like a night full of stars.

  “I don’t know what to say. It’s beautiful.”

  “It’s made beautiful by you wearing it. But as I said, it’s the expected thing.”

  “I certainly didn’t expect it.”

  “There are a few more gifts, less traditional.”

  Charlotte reluctantly tore her gaze from her own reflection. “More?”

  “See that bureau?” He nodded toward an immense burled-walnut chest with inlaid flowers, taking up one full corner of the room.

  “It’s difficult to miss.”

  “It has fourteen hidden drawers. And no hints. I suspect it will take you years to find them all.”

  “Hah. I suspect you just want me to learn the usefulness of drawers.”

  “Perhaps. Now, for the last. And best, I hope. Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

  She obeyed, sitting up straight and cupping her hands in front of her.

  “Open.”

  Charlotte opened her eyes to find a small finger of brass, dangling from a velvet fob. “A key? To what?”

  “A secret passage, located somewhere within this house.”

  She gasped with delight. “This house has a secret passage?”

  “It does now. One that ends in a secret room. I had a team of architects and builders add it in. And even I don’t know where it is, so don’t think you’ll get the answer out of me.”

  He knew her so well.

  And he was right, this was the best of all.

  She clutched the key in her fist. “This is the most perfect gift I’ve ever received. Thank you. And now is the moment where I confess that I’ve only one gift for you, and it’s nowhere near so wonderful.”

  “Charlotte.” He reached for her, cupping her cheek in his hand. “Mere hours ago, you vowed before God to be my wife. I love you so completely, you’ve already filled every hidden chamber of my heart and every dark, secret cupboard of my being. You need never trouble with presents. I consider myself full up on gifts for the rest of my days.”

  Oh, this man. How could she have ever believed him to be cold and unromantic?

  She smiled and blinked away a silly tear. “Well, then. Perhaps my gift is appropriate after all.”

  She hopped down from the bed, rummaged through the baggage the footmen had carried up until she found the right hatbox, and hurried back with her small present.

  “Here.” Before she could lose her nerve, she thrust it into his hand. “It’s just a portrait. Of me.”

  Excellent, Charlotte. As if he couldn’t see that for himself?

  “Delia painted it before she left with her family,” she explained.

  “She captured you well.”

  “Do you think so?”

  In answer, he set aside the portrait and took her mouth in a passionate kiss. “I adore it,” he whispered against her lips. “I adore you.”

  He bent his head to kiss her neck and her ear, cupping her breast in his hand and gently stroking his thumb around her nipple.

  “Delia wrote that she’s painting us a landscape now.” Charlotte sucked in her breath when his hand dipped between her thighs. “A view of the rolling hills and groves. She says the Italian countryside is almost as inspiring as the frescoes.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  She tangled her hand in his hair as he rolled her onto her back. “Did I thank you for using your influence to change Sir Vernon’s appointment?”

  “Mm-hm,” he murmured, flicking his tongue over her nipple.

  “And for promising we’ll visit the Parkhursts this summer, stopping over in Paris and Vienna on the way?”

  “Only few dozen times.”

  “It just means so much to— Oh.”

  He drew her nipple into his mouth, teasing the sensitive peak with his tongue and teeth. By the time he released it, she’d lost the thought entirely.

  In a flash, he’d moved atop her, pushing her thighs apart and hooking her knees over his shoulders. Then he grasped her hips and yanked her toward him with a flex of his arms, spreading her most intimate places for his kiss.

  The move was brusque, commanding.

  Anything but proper.

  And the way he set about using his tongue was devilish indeed.

  “Piers.” Several breathless, writhing moments later, she tugged on his hair until she caught his gaze. “You didn’t really resign, did you?”

  “The truth?”

  “Always.”

  He gave her a slow, wicked smile. “Spies never truly retire, darling. They just go under very deep cover.”

  With that, he drew the quilt up to her waist and disappeared beneath it.

  The next morning, Charlotte slept like a stone.

  Acknowledgments

  Like Charlotte Highwood, I’ve always been intrigued by mysteries.

  Thanks to my mother, for passing on all her old Nancy Drew books. Thanks to my friends and my family, close and extended, for their support and understanding when I don’t have a clue. Much gratitude to my husband, who agrees our love is one mystery that doesn’t need to be solved. It just is.

  Another persistent mystery in my life is why my editor, Tessa Woodward, continues to put up with me—but I am so grateful that she does. My thanks to everyone else who makes up the crack Avon team. And all my appreciation to my agent, Steve Axelrod, and Lori and Elsie, who have all the answers.

  Lastly, my thanks (and apologies) to Jane Austen and Stephen King for providing two iconic opening lines in fiction, both of which I shamelessly twisted for my own uses since it was not a particularly dark or stormy night.

  About the Author

  TESSA DARE is the New York Times bestselling, award-winning author of more than a dozen historical romances. A librarian by training and a book-lover at heart, she lives in Southern California with her husband, their two children, and a pair of cosmic kittens.

  www.tessadare.com

  www.avonromance.com

  www.facebook.com/avonromance

  Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.

  By Tessa Dare

  Do You Want to Start a Scandal

  Castles Ever After

  Romancing the Duke

  Say Yes to the Marquess

  When a Scot Ties the Knot

  Spindle Cove

  A Night to Surrender

  A Week to be Wicked

  A Lady by Midnight

  The Scandalous, Dissolute, No-Good Mr. Wright (novella)

  Any Duchess Will Do

  Beauty and the Blacksmith (novella)

  Stud Club Trilogy

  One Dance with a Duke

  Twice Tempted by a Rogue

  Three Nights with a Scoundrel

  The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy

  Goddess of the Hunt

  Surrender of a Siren

  A Lady of Persuasion

  Copyright

  This is a work of f
iction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  do you want to start a scandal. Copyright © 2016 by Eve Ortega. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information, address HarperCollins Publishers, 195 Broadway, New York, NY 10007.

  Epub Edition OCTOBER 2016 ISBN: 9780062349057

  Print Edition ISBN: 9780062349040

  Avon, Avon Books, and the Avon logo are trademarks of HarperCollins Publishers.

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