Page 30 of Brazen Rogue
"Enjoy me, my darling," he said, the endearment making her heart beat faster. The satisfaction of hearing the words almost more pleasurable than the act itself. She rode his hand, not caring how she appeared or if they were come upon. Her center focused on the man in her arms and no one else.
And she doubted she would ever focus on anyone else again.
ChapterSeventeen
The following morning Bellamy sat at his desk, reviewing the ledgers his steward had left for him to consider, when a letter marked for Miss Hall caught his attention on the silver salver.
He picked it up and read the inscription, noting it was marked from Grafton. Did it have something to do with the sale of her cottage?
He rang the bell, summoning a footman who entered post haste.
"My lord," the young man said from the doorway.
"Fetch Miss Hall and bring her to the library. She has correspondence," he said, wanting to explain just in case his housekeeper had been partaking in loose lips downstairs.
The young man nodded, hastily going to make his request, and it was only a short time later that Reign knocked and entered.
He gestured for her to sit across from him.
Her timid smile made his heart beat fast, and he was thankful for the few feet of mahogany that separated them. He could not keep away from her at the best of times, and it was no different even now when they had business to discuss.
They had come together just yesterday in this very room, and he could not take such a risk again, certainly not when the door remained unlocked and partially open.
"My lord?" she queried. "Is all well?"
He nodded, wanting to put her at rest. "There is nothing wrong between us," he whispered, smiling at her. "But there is news from Grafton. A letter has arrived for you, and I thought you might wish to read it to see what it's concerning." He slid the letter over to her.
Her eyes widened at the news, and she glanced at the letter before leaning forward and picking it up. "It looks to be from Mr. Turnball, the local magistrate who's looking after the sale of my cottage. He was a good friend of Papa and had been helping me with my finances, or lack thereof, before I came here," she explained, breaking the seal.
He watched her read the missive, a frown marring her brow. She glanced over at him before staring back down at the letter. "Is everything well, Reign?" he asked, growing concerned at her silence.
"I do not understand," she said at length, studying the parchment. "I do not know a Mr. Gerald Hall from Brighton. I'm certain they have the wrong relative," she said, placing the missive back on the desk.
"Wrong message to whom and what about?" he asked her again.
She met his eyes, flicking the letter across the desk to him. He scanned it quickly, surprised by what he was reading. "It says your cottage has sold, and a distant relative has left you and two cousins of yours, several times removed, funds from his estate." He met her eyes, seeing that she still held doubts. "It says you have inherited one hundred pounds. This is good news, Reign," he said, hoping she would be happy. "You have enough funds to leave for America if that is still what you wish. Or," he suggested, fighting to keep the grin from his lips. "You could return to London with Lady Chilsten, a woman of some independence, to have another Season."
"But why would I have another Season?" she argued. "I do not want anyone to court me. I'm quite happy with who has seized my eye here," she teased, mischief in her gaze. She bit her lip, reading the missive again. "While it is a good sum of money and enough to keep me for some time, there is much to consider."
"And you do not need to decide straightaway," he added, perhaps more eager than he should be. He certainly did not want her to leave for America, but then what? Did he wish her to stay? Become his mistress?
The thought shamed him. He could not do that to her either. Not after all she had been through and lost. "The letter states the names of Miss Evie Hall and Miss Arabella Hall. Do you know either lady?" he asked her, having never heard of them himself. It was doubtful that either woman had Seasons in London or was part of society. "Maybe you would like to meet them before you decide to leave England or not?"
"I do not know them, but I would like to, but it doesn't say much about them in the letter, only that they were both in service in the south of England." She sighed. "Perhaps they were born to country gentlemen like myself but also fell on hard times." She shrugged. "Either way, it seems they had to go away to work. It is a shame that women always bear the brunt of men's mistakes, whether those mistakes be financial or emotional."
Bellamy met her eyes and saw the moment she comprehended her own words and how they related to him. A fair point and one he would not disabuse her of.
"I have certainly made bad choices in the past, but I'm trying to make amends for them, so my daughter does not suffer the same decision you had to make. Maybe not concerning wealth, but certainly in standing. I wish it had been different for you, Reign. When I think about how much you have struggled these past years, the very thought repulses me."
Reign nodded, wishing he did not care so much about what other people thought or what society expected of men and women. If he did not, there could have been a chance that he would have offered marriage to her after the year of mourning his wife, but he had not.
So traumatized or angered by his wife's conduct meant that everyone else, even herself, had to pay for Lady Lupton-Gage's sins.
He would not marry her, certainly not now she was a governess. Even if she did return to London with Lady Chilsten, that did not mean people would believe what had been said of her while at the house party. For years she worked as a governess in Grafton, certainly that had never been a secret.
She ought to take her small inheritance, visit her cousins she never knew she had, and leave England. Make a fresh start. Marry a man who did not care what life had thrown at them and live to the fullest.
She leaned back against the chair, staring out the windows, debating doing just that.
