Valiant (Gentlemen of the Order #3) - Adele Clee Page 0,34

in my hand, not my nephew’s.”

Then, before they could question the lawyer’s reasoning, he thrust the note into Vivienne’s hand and ushered them out of the door.

Chapter 9

Evan left Mr Golding’s office feeling perplexed. Despite his refusal to marry, he had accepted Miss Hart’s proposal, had agreed to abide by the ridiculous contract. Even more ridiculous were the questions and rhymes written in the tatty black notebook. Beyond the grave, their grandfathers must be laughing at their expense.

But more bewildering than the fact Evan would soon be married, was his reaction to kissing Miss Hart. Oh, he had kissed plenty of women. Never had he felt such an intense ache, such a desperation to cover a woman’s body and thrust deep. Never had innocence been so damnably appealing. Indeed, he was still dazed by the experience, still compelled by the incessant thrum of lust.

“Are you in shock, sir?” Miss Hart said as they navigated the boisterous crowd gathered in Long Lane. “You’ve not said a word since Mr Golding shoved us out onto the landing.”

No, he was too busy tamping down the flames of desire, too preoccupied by Mr Golding’s odd reaction. “If we’re to marry, Miss Hart, you must call me Evan.”

“Then having shared a heated kiss, you should call me Vivienne.”

Vivienne. Vivienne Hart.

He felt as if he’d known the name since the dawn of time. Was that why the collective sound of vowels and consonants stirred such longing in his chest?

“But you didn’t answer my question,” she added. “I did warn you. Marriage to me is the only way to claim our legacy. Now is not the time to discuss our expectations, but I have one stipulation if we’re to wed.”

Curiosity burned. “Have no fear, I shall not demand my conjugal rights.” His comment lacked conviction for he could think of nothing but bedding Vivienne Hart. “And you will have your own bedchamber at Keel Hall if that is your concern.”

Miss Hart gripped his arm as they jostled past the insistent pastry seller, around the drunken oaf sprawled in the gutter, and across the busy thoroughfare. “I presumed those were a given. No, all I ask is you do not entertain your paramour while married to me.”

Evan almost choked. “Madam, we shall be married until one of us is six feet under. Surely you’re not asking I remain celibate for the rest of my God-given days.”

“Of course not. I simply ask that you do not conduct affairs while we are living together as man and wife.”

“Miss Hart, I may hold wild parties and partake in amorous liaisons, but I am not a cold-hearted libertine. I would not disrespect our union by having another woman in the house.” Nor would he seek entertainment elsewhere.

He felt the heat of her searching gaze.

“Yes, I almost forgot your pledge. You vowed to do everything possible to fall in love with your wife.”

The comment caught him off guard. More so, because he had made the oath knowing he would never marry. But he would be this lady’s husband in a matter of weeks, less if the archbishop granted them a licence. Would their marriage be a means to an end or a grand love affair?

“That does not apply to me, of course,” she added, missing the point entirely. “Ours is an arrangement made partly for profit.”

It most certainly applied to her. The question was, would he keep the oath? And even if he made every effort to nurture romantic feelings, what’s to say she—

“Miss Hart?” A gentleman aged sixty with wiry white hair and sagging jowls stumbled into their path. He seemed embarrassed to be seen amid the horde of rowdy revellers. “Miss H-Hart, it is you. How w-wonderful to see you out at the fair,” he lied. The gentleman glanced nervously at Evan, waiting for the lady to make the introduction.

Miss Hart gripped Evan’s arm a little tighter. “Mr Ramsey, you’re looking well. Are you here to purchase silk or to enjoy the sideshows?”

“I thought to take advantage of the break in the weather, my dear, stretch the old legs.” Again, he cast a surreptitious glance at Evan.

“Allow me to introduce Mr Sloane.” She hesitated, clearly not knowing how to explain their connection. “Mr Sloane, this is Mr Ramsey, a family friend.”

So this was the man Miss Hart had listed as a suspect. Judging by the size of his paunch and the fact walking left him breathless, he was definitely not the masked rider. Perhaps he had an accomplice. Either way, Evan