Page 22 of Rogue of My Heart

“Do you not believe it’s too familiar?” He was an enigma. Why would he not want to know more about her, or her him?

“Not at all,” he said smoothly. Matthew stared intently into her eyes, and it made her want to believe everything he said to her. “I do believe you and I are destined to be…acquainted. Why stall the inevitable?”

Francesca barely held in a sigh. Was he right? Were they somehow meant to be? “I am Francesca,” she acquiesced. “How do you feel about conservatories?”

“I love them,” he said. “Is there one here? Will you show me?”

Francesca nodded. “The duchess has a lovely orange tree. It’s one of the best conservatories in all of England, though perhaps not as wonderful as the one at Seabrook, I do love it.”

He looped her arm with his. “Lead the way dear Cesca,” he said in a tone so intimate it filled her with warmth. “And tell me about Seabrook. Have you visited there often?”

He didn’t know who she was… Francesca smiled. She should tell him that the Marquess of Seabrook was her great uncle? Perhaps later. She liked this interaction with him and adored the shortened version of her name he used.

They reached the conservatory and Francesca was relieved no one else was there. That gave her more time alone with him. She led him to the orange tree. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Not nearly as much as you are.” She glanced at him and sucked in a breath. She may have never experienced desire, but she understood it existed. This man stared at her with so much need it made her insides quiver. She wanted him, and she decided she should have him.

“You say such sweet things Matthew.” Her voice was soft and filled with the same need reflected in his eyes. “How sweet are you?”

“Let me show you,” he said as he leaned down, and pressed his lips to hers.

The kiss was soft, coaxing, and as sweet as he promised. Then it turned into something much more passionate and consuming. He brought his hand up to her breast and dipped a finger underneath her bodice. He stroked her nipple and it hardened at his touch. The need between her thighs deepened and she didn’t quite know what was happening.

He pushed the bodice down and lowered his head, sucked in that tight nipple, and she nearly screamed with pleasure. Sweet wasn’t the right word. Matthew was a wicked rogue, and Francesca was falling in love with him. Nothing could stop the feelings spreading through her now.

He lifted her skirts and slid his hand between her thighs. She moaned as tiny quivers rocked her body. “You’re so responsive,” he whispered in her ear. “I want you.” He groaned as he slid a finger inside her. She pressed herself against him. She wanted him to.

And she decided to give herself to him, body, soul, and especially, all the love in her heart… “Yes,” she said. “Yes…” She promised herself she would not regret any of this. He was her destiny, and she’d never believed she’d be so lucky to find the man of her dreams before she started looking. Sometimes fate could be surprising in the best possible ways, and the pleasure Matthew made her feel…simply marvelous.

One

March 1866

Francesca was a fool… How could she have believed he loved her? She’d been hoping, and hoping for weeks now, and it was time to accept he didn’t care for her at all. He’d seduced her, and it hadn’t been particularly difficult either. She’d fallen willingly into his arms and hadn’t regretted that choice.

Until now…

She slid her hand down her belly and fought tears. Her dilemma could no longer be ignored. She had feared her condition and wished it away, but doing either didn’t change anything. Francesca didn’t know what to do. This was not a situation she’d ever believed she’d find herself in.

Her heart hurt. When Matthew hadn’t come for her she should have realized then he’d used her. She’d made so many excuses for him, and she couldn’t change that. She couldn’t change any of it. If she wasn’t facing the consequences of her choice she’d have eventually found a way to forget him, or at least not cry as much at the loss.

Francesca would like to believe she was smarter now, but there was no way to determine if she’d be so foolish over a man again. Her naïveté had already came out shining on her first interaction with a handsome scoundrel. She wished she’d been at least smart enough to ask for his full name. Francesca wanted to slap him in the face for taking advantage of her.

Someone had to know who he was. He’d been at a family gathering after all. There were always more than family at Christmastide. They had friends of friends there. The question was how to discover his name without spilling her own secret along the way…

She sighed. It seemed too difficult. Matthew had been her downfall, and soon the entire ton would be able to see for themselves the mistake she’d made. There was only so much time left before her belly gave it away. Even in that she wasn’t certain how long it would be. She’d never been enceinte before…

“There you are,” Scarlett Kendall, the Marchioness of Blackthorn, Francesca’s mother said. “Why are you hiding out here?” Francesca inherited her strawberry blonde hair from her mother, though hers was lighter than her mother’s richer red. The marchioness had hers pulled back into a simple plait, and her day dress, while elegant, was also a simple butter yellow with white lace trim around the bodice.

They had arrived in London earlier that week to prepare for the season. Her comeout ball would be in a couple of days. At first she’d been excited for it. Now she wished she could cancel it. Doing so would be a scandal in itself though, and she wouldn’t add to her family’s embarrassment. She’d sneaked out to the garden to find some peace from all the preparations. They had decided to stay at her grandfather, the Duke of Weston’s, townhouse. The ballroom was larger and could accommodate the number of guests invited. After her ball they would retire to the smaller Blackthorn house.

“It’s a lovely day don’t you think?” It was actually quite chilly, but she’d needed the cooler air to help her overheated skin. She’d been ill at odd times of the day, and some days she seemed fine. At first she’d dismissed it as nerves. It wasn’t until a couple days ago she’d realized she couldn’t recall the last time her courses had come. “And there is so many people inside. It was stifling.” That part was the complete truth. Francesca had heard balls were so packed sometimes it was difficult to move. That sounded almost terrifying now considering her condition.

“I’m sorry,” her mother said. “Sometimes when one has to endure society obligations it can become unbearable.” She lifted her hand and brushed a stray lock behind Francesca’s ear. “But the good news is once this is done you can pick and choose what balls you wish to attend. Try to have fun.”

Francesca wished and wished… But wishing didn’t work. Her fate was already sealed. Since cancelling the ball was out of the question she’d see it through, and she would make a decision later what she should do next. She would like to at least attempt to uncover her baby’s father’s identity. If that wasn’t possible then she’d confess all to her parents. She hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

“I will have fun.” She smiled, but she didn’t feel even the slightest bit happy. Francesca wondered if she would ever feel that way again. “I’ve been looking forward to this ball for a while now.” And having her one night with Matthew had ruined it for her. “How could I not enjoy it. The preparations however…”