A Marriage Made in Mayfair Read Online Free

Stifling a growl, Royce stood and lifted her to her slippered feet, then set about removing the telling evidence she had been thoroughly kissed and manhandled by a rogue.
    With gentle precision, he positioned a misplaced curl back within the bonds of a pin, the soft curl tempting him to bury his hands in her silken locks. She would look exquisite with her golden-red hair cascading about her shoulders. Or better yet, against his pillows, all mussed from his lovemaking.
    She slapped his hand away and stepped back. “I am perfectly able to right my dress and appearance, my lord.”
    “Of course, Miss March,” he said unable to hide the smile in his voice.
    “I suppose a gentleman of your reputation thinks of such trysts as normal and commonplace, certainly something to laugh about.”
    “On the contrary, Miss March, and if I have offended you, please accept my most humble apologies.” Royce bit back a smile. She was a delightful minx to behold, feathers ruffled and indignant. A twinge pricked in his chest and he frowned.
    “Good evening, Lord Danning,” she said and curtsied.
    Royce clasped her fingers before she could stalk away and didn’t miss the slight tremble that thrummed against his palm. “Good evening, Miss March.” The urge to kiss her again nearly overrode his control, but the defiant gleam in her eye told him she’d not take well to more kisses from him this eve, even upon her hand.
    Still, plenty of other eves in the season .
    Royce watched her walk toward the terrace doors, her skirts billowing about long, striding legs, leaving him in the shadows with desires that ran as hot as the Arabian desert during the midday sun. Miss March had always been delectable. Now, she was desirable.
     
    ***
     
    Later that night, Royce watched Suzanna waltz gracefully with Lord Moyle and a simmering anger he thought never to feel started to burn in his gut. Grudgingly, he acknowledged the nuance for what it was. Jealousy.
    “May I grant you my heartfelt condolences, Lord Danning?”
    Royce beat back the urge to snarl at Suzanna’s brother. “What do you mean, March?” he asked, taking a swig of his brandy and welcoming the distraction of the burn from his growing temper. How dare this bastard speak to him after the trouble he’d caused with his own fool of a sibling.
    “As I understand it, you will soon be married.” March smirked and looked out over the gathered throng of guests.
    Royce frowned. “So the banns have been read? Comical. I hadn’t thought I’d asked a woman to be my bride.” He clenched his jaw at the resounding chuckle, which grated on his already frayed nerves.
    “Well of course you will, my lord. A ruined viscount must marry, and soon. I should imagine you have your sights set on someone…wealthy?”
    Equal to his own height, Royce glared into March’s eyes, one burning question fogging his mind: how had the bastard found out his situation was so desperate? “Not unlike yourself, a grandson of a farmer trying to marry an earl’s daughter. Do not think yourself so much different, March. At least I have no need to climb the social ladder, only to keep what is rightfully mine from birth.” Royce inwardly cringed as Suzanna’s words stabbed at his conscience. Perhaps he was too high in the instep.
    March paused. “ Touché . And you may do whatever you wish as long as the woman you seek is not my sister.”
    With a will of their own, Royce’s gaze sought out the beautiful Miss March. She shone like the brightest candle flame in a room full of superbly gowned women. A rare light and one to be treasured.
    Suzanna laughed at something Lord Moyle said, and a pang of regret pierced Royce’s chest. She had once looked at him in such a way, with easy joviality before his hasty, hurtful words had sent her from London and travel abroad. And all because of his brother, and this arse standing next to him who couldn’t control their gambling. Yet they could not entirely be blamed for the family