Never Judge a Lady by Her Cover (The Rules of Scoundrels, #4)

And so, instead of answering his question, she answered Tremley’s question from the night before. She reached up, slid her fingers into her love’s hair, and pulled him down to her, grazing her lips against his once, twice, before saying, “I choose you. Always.”


She chose West. Here and now.

He kissed her, deep and long and wonderful, rewarding the words even though they weren’t precisely what he wished for. When he pulled back, he said, “I choose you as well, my lady. Forever.”

She adored this man, in all the dark corners that she’d thought she’d locked away forever.

Forever.

It was a long time . . . and belonged to him.

She would give it to him. “I can repair this,” she said.

He grew curious. “Repair what?”

He began to walk again, edging them through the garden gate to the mews at the side of the massive house, where a crush of carriages waited for their owners to call for them.

“All of it,” she said, her fingers trailing over the great black wheels of a coach, then along the silky flank of one of its horses. “I can convince Tremley never to betray your information.”

“How?”

“With Chase.” For the first time since they had met as Georgiana and West, she did not feel guilty referring to Chase as other. Not now, not as she was willing to sacrifice the false identity to save Duncan.

He stopped, turned to her. “I don’t want you anywhere near this, Georgiana. Isn’t it time you leave him? Isn’t it time you begin your life without him?”

She shook her head. “Duncan, you don’t understand—”

He took her arms in his grip. “No, you don’t understand. I’ve taken care of it.”

Everything inside her stilled. “What do you mean?” Was he planning to confess? “Duncan, you must not—”

“I have taken care of it,” he repeated. “But listen to me. Chase is dangerous. He has the power to bring us all down if he wishes. This entire mess exists because Tremley does not trust Chase not to release the information on his treason.

“I don’t know what it is that keeps you so beholden to him—I swore I would not ask ever again. But I do know that it is time for you to sever whatever ties you have to this massive, mythical man.” His words grew more impassioned and his anger began to show. “It is time for you to leave him. To leave that place. To end this part of your life.”

“I know.”

His hands cradled her face once more, tilting her up to meet his. “Christ, if you don’t do it for yourself, or for Caroline . . . do it for me.”

She was doing it for him. “I will.”

“Do this one thing for me,” he begged. “End it with him . . . whatever it is. Stay away from the club.”

“I will.” Two more days, and she would never look back at it.

“Do this, and I will never ask you for another thing again.”

She wanted him to ask. She wanted to be his partner in this. His Amphitrite. “Duncan . . .” she trailed off, not knowing what to say. Hating fate and fortune, and wishing she were someone, anyone else. Wishing she were a woman who could fall into Duncan West’s arms and spend the rest of her life there.

“Promise me,” he whispered, his lips on hers, neither of them caring that they were in full view of half of London’s coachmen. “Promise me you won’t let him win in this.”

She returned the kiss. “I promise.” It was the closest that she would ever come to telling him she loved him. “I promise,” she repeated, and it was truth. Chase would not win this.

They walked to the next carriage in the line, and he opened the door. She peered in. There were newspapers scattered across the floor. Her heart began to pound. It was his carriage. Was he taking her to his home? Abducting her away from this place? From all the things that kept them chained to this world?

He handed her up into the carriage. “And promise me something else . . .”

“Anything.”

The wide world.

His hand slid down her leg, sliding under the skirts of her dress, his fingers caressing the skin of her ankle.

“Stay out of the club tomorrow.”

He closed the door and banged on the side of the carriage, signaling to the driver. “Take the lady to Leighton House,” she heard him say as the conveyance lurched into motion. She instantly understood what had happened—he didn’t want her sleeping at the club, so he was sending her to her brother’s house in his own carriage.

She should have been annoyed, but she could not quite muster the energy. She was using too much of it to love him.

She settled back into the soft seat of his carriage, considering all the things she had to do prior to her deadline with Tremley tomorrow—most importantly, telling the other partners that Chase was about to be revealed.

How many times had she shaken her head at the actions of men in love?

They were nothing in comparison to the actions of a woman in love.

A light from a streetlamp outside shone bright in the window, illuminating the newspaper on the seat next to her.

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