Page 51 of Miss Hawthorne’s Unlikely Husband (The Troublemakers Trilogy #3)

Thornfield House, London

H e was finally home. Two days away from his bride had been far too long. But it was done, and now, as he strolled through the doors of his home, Richard flattered himself that he wouldn’t have to leave her side again for the foreseeable future.

“Ellie?” Richard called out as he laid his coat on the banister.

No response. Where on earth was she?

“Richard?” he heard footsteps on the second floor and looked up to see her appear near the stairs. The minute she saw him, her face brightened and she flew down the stairs, launching herself into his arms with a delighted cry. “You’re home,”

He closed his eyes, wrapping her in a tight embrace. Christ alive, he’d missed her. “Yes, at last. Did you miss me?”

“Not a bit. I wasn’t sad at all having the bed all to myself.”

“Wicked little sprite,” he teased, and she giggled.

“Did you miss me?”

“Desperately,” he replied, giving her a squeeze as he walked them to the salon. How on earth had he gotten anything done without her nearby? He was sure that anything he needed to do could be done with her in his lap. Or at the very least with her hand in his. He wouldn’t do without her again.

“What did you have to go away for?”

“Business concerns. My signature was needed on a few things.”

“They couldn’t simply send them?”

“In time they will, but not for this.”

“Why not?”

If he didn’t know better, he would think he was being interrogated. Something had happened and she was doubting him. He sat on the chaise and pulled her into his lap.

“It was a change in process, Ellie. After Trent, I don’t want bigger things approved without my signature. Money doesn’t go out without my signature and I don’t give it unless the books are reviewed.”

“Oh.” She laid her head on his shoulder and sighed. “I’d forgotten about him.”

“I trusted him with too much and the cost is still felt. I’m not making that mistake again.”

“I understand.”

He paused, wondering if he should say the rest. “I also took the opportunity to visit my aunt.”

“Your aunt?”

“Uncle Simon’s wife.”

“Oh!” Elodia lifted her head and looked at him with wide curious eyes. “What is she like?”

“She’s alright, I hadn’t seen her in years because of my uncle. You’ll meet her eventually, once I’m more certain of her.”

“Alright.”

“I have another matter I’ve made a decision on which I hope you’ll agree with.”

“What?”

“No more trips alone, business or otherwise. I’m going to keep you close at all times.”

“What about when we have children?”

“We will bring them along as well. We’ll be a caravan across the country at all times.”

She giggled and snuggled her face into his neck. “I’m glad. I missed you so much.”

“What were you up to when I was away?”

“Oh, nothing much, still repairing things with Papa. We had a good long talk about Mama to clarify things.”

“That is good. I’m glad you are on better terms with him.”

“So am I.”

“Is he still marrying Lady Tremaine?” Richard asked, dreading the answer.

Elodia rolled her eyes. “Yes. And she is determined to be involved in far too much. Papa said he’s already had his love match with Mama and that he’s marrying Lady Tremaine for the estate. And for me. He said he didn’t want anyone too young because he’d be uncomfortable.”

“I can imagine. I had reservations on the matter for you and myself.”

She shook her head. “Ridiculous.”

“It is ten years of difference, Ellie.”

“I like your age. You will just have to make do in any event. I have no intention of allowing you to have anyone else.”

“I appreciate that, darling.”

“Papa invited us to dine with him in a week. He wants to offer his support to us publicly.”

“That is good for you.”

“It’s good for both of us. Shall I accept?”

“I thought it was a foregone conclusion.”

She flicked his shoulder. “I didn’t want to make assumptions about your time.”

“I thought that was your right as my wife.”

She rolled her eyes but she smiled. “Good, because I have tickets to the opera tomorrow night. Father is allowing us to use his box.”

“Which opera?”

“The Marriage of Figaro.”

*

The Lyceum, London

Elodia was always happy to attend the opera, but tonight she was particularly excited because it was her first outing in society with Richard as his wife. She could hang on his arm, whisper secrets in his ear and no one could say a thing about it.

The only thing that made it better was the opera they were about to watch. She had always enjoyed The Marriage of Figaro from the first time she’d seen it with her father.

“You look very happy,” Richard commented as they sat in her father’s box. It was a subtle gesture, but one that others wouldn’t be able to miss. No matter who she married, she was still The Viscount Melbroke’s daughter.

“I love this opera.” She replied.

“What about the play?”

“Hmmm… I like the music most.”

He didn’t reply. She looked over at him after a moment to see him watching her with frank admiration. His head was tilted, his dark eyes trailed over her from head to toe and a soft smile curved his mouth.

“What is it?”

“You are very beautiful tonight.”

“What was I last night?” she asked cheekily, despite the fluttering of her heart.

He smirked and leaned in, nuzzling her ear and the soft curls framing it. “A vision from heaven,” he murmured.

“You are a menace.”

“You are perfect.”

She turned to him, meaning to scold him again but he stole a kiss instead. She pulled away with wide eyes, fighting against a smile. “Richard, we are in a public theater!”

“You are correct, what do you suppose the penalty will be if we are seen?” He glanced down at her body, looking at her skin, the low neckline of her dress.

“People will talk,”

“Very true, but what do you suppose they will do?”

“I suppose they cannot make us marry a second time.”

“Mmm, I’d marry you again.”

“Really?”

“I’d marry you a thousand times in a thousand lifetimes,”

“It sounds expensive.”

“Mmm,” he trailed his fingertips along her collarbone, up her neck, under the edge of her jaw, his eyes following their trail. “I’d make sure you never had to wait for me ever again.”

Her eyes fell to his mouth.

“Your skin is so soft àirén,”

“What does that mean?” she breathed, her eyelids fluttering closed as he brushed over her bare shoulder with the back of his hand.

“What, ‘àirén’?”

“Yes.”

“It means, ‘beloved’”

She waited with tingling lips, watching as his came closer. Just as he was close enough for contact, he tilted his head and brushed his mouth over her cheek, to her ear. His warm breath wafted over her hair, teasing her with its ghost like touch. “Richard,”

“How many times have you seen this opera?”

Applause sounded, startling her out of the seductive bubble he’d entrapped her with. She turned to face the stage, one hand pressing against her pounding heart. Her eyes roved over the audience, checking to see if anyone had seen them.

Then she felt his hand close around her thigh. She pressed her lips together and fought back a gasp. If she looked at him, she would dissolve on the spot, so instead she kept her eyes forward even though it was impossible to focus on anything with every nerve focused on his touch.

He pressed her against the wall, tucking them both behind the curtain and yanked her up against him, kissing her hungrily. She moaned, her entire body feverish with desire and gripped his head in her hands, tangling her gloved fingers in his silken hair. All too soon he pulled away, breathing hard.

“Tell me we can leave,”

“Yes, take me home.” She could practically recite the damn opera from memory, but her husband’s body was another story.

She slid her hand around his arm and followed him past the curtain to the sitting room and out to the hall.

Ten minutes and they would be able to enjoy the relative privacy of their carriage and she could get her hands on him again.

“Ah, well, if it isn’t the happy couple.”

Elodia bit back a curse and glanced at Richard. His jaw was tight with annoyance. They had to stop; people had noticed her calling out to them.

She turned with a smile. “Lady Tremaine, good evening.”

“So formal, we are practically family, are we not?” She brushed a kiss over the air on Elodia’s cheeks then turned to Richard.

She saw him stiffen slightly as the older woman leaned in, her hands practically caressing his arms. Elodia watched, her hands curling into fists.

What the hell was she doing touching him like that?

“How are you enjoying Mr. Mozart this evening?” she asked, turning to Elodia with a small smirk, her hand still lingering on his arm. She wanted to rip it off and Béat her with the bloody limb.

“Very much,” she replied.

“Yes, you seemed quite… enraptured.”

“Mozart has that effect.”

“I’m sure he would, for you. I prefer the newer composers myself. There’s something so invigorating about the young and novel, wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Thornfield?”

He gave her a small tight smile before turning to Elodia, “Are you ready?”

“Extremely.”

“You’re not leaving, are you?” the older woman’s voice came. Sweet and dark like poison.

“Is that a problem?” Elodia asked.

“It’s only surprising. I thought you’d want to watch the rest of the performance.”

“I’ve seen enough,” she replied, sweeping her eyes up her body before fixing on hers defiantly. “Good evening.”

“I’ll see you for dinner with your father, yes?”

“Good night.”

*