“A heavy cloak and warm boots will keep you warm.”
“It’s out in the woods. Quite deep in the woods, in fact.” She made a face. “The last time I went looking for it, I fell in the mud and turned my ankle.”
“I’ve walked in the woods hundreds of times and swear to protect you from any dangerous mud puddles.” He raised his brows expectantly. “I’ve only been looking for it for twenty years. Are you really going to cry off a promise?”
She huffed. “And it will still be there in the spring!”
“Come, darling,” he coaxed. “We could sneak across right now.”
“Now! Are you mad?”
He laughed. “Perhaps. I used to dream of seducing a wench in the grotto, you know.” He skimmed one hand up her waist to cover her breast.
A fine blush colored her cheeks. “I don’t see any need to abandon the comforts of a heated bedchamber for that.”
“No?” His lips whispered across her temple. “Can you really deny yourself the thrill of something so primal and untamed? What would Lady Constance advise?”
“A roaring fire to banish the chill.”
“And risk a smoky end to my seduction?” He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. “But I promise you won’t be thinking about the cold.”
She laughed, pressing a quick kiss on his mouth. “No, I’ll be worrying about the child.”
Benedict went still. “What child?”
Penelope hesitated, then took his hand and laid it on her belly. “The one who will be born next summer.”
Benedict ran his fingers over her still-flat stomach. “What?” he said again, stupidly.
She nodded. “I spoke with your sister, my mother, and the midwife. Everyone agrees.”
A child. The fleeting thought crossed his mind that he must be vigilant and not slip into his father’s way of treating children, but then he banished it. The willow rod no longer stood in the study; he’d thrown it on the fire the day of his father’s funeral. And Penelope would be quick to correct him if he ever erred in that direction. Rather, he would think about all the ways he wished he had been raised, and see to it that his child had a happier life than he had had—at least until now.
He drew his wife into his arms and kissed her. He was unspeakably glad to have her. He was even thankful to his father, for if Stratford had been a more benevolent parent, Benedict might be safely married to a woman of excellent breeding and mild temper who never would have captivated his heart and soul. “Then you must show me the grotto, so I’ll know where our son’s gone when he wants to avoid his tutors.”
“Or our daughter.”
He laughed. “Yes, with you as her mother, any daughter of ours would be just as daring as a son.”
“You don’t seem to mind my daring anymore,” she said with a coy look.
“I adore your daring ways.”
She smiled and tugged at his cravat. “Except when exploring grottos.”
“Surely I can win you over.” He gave her his best smile.
Penelope’s face softened, and Benedict marveled anew at the unadulterated love shining in her eyes. “You already have.”
About the Author
CAROLINE LINDEN was born a reader, not a writer. She earned a math degree from Harvard University and wrote computer software before turning to writing fiction. Twelve years, sixteen books, three Red Sox championships, and one dog later, she has never been happier with her decision. Her books have won the NEC Reader’s Choice Beanpot Award, the Daphne du Maurier Award, the NJRW Golden Leaf Award, and RWA’s RITA® Award. Since she never won any prizes in math, she takes this as a sign that her decision was also a smart one. Visit her online at www.CarolineLinden.com.
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By Caroline Linden
LOVE IN THE TIME OF SCANDAL
ALL'S FAIR IN LOVE AND SCANDAL
IT TAKES A SCANDAL
LOVE AND OTHER SCANDALS
THE WAY TO A DUKE’S HEART
BLAME IT ON BATH
ONE NIGHT IN LONDON
I LOVE THE EARL
YOU ONLY LOVE ONCE
FOR YOUR ARMS ONLY
A VIEW TO A KISS
A RAKE’S GUIDE TO SEDUCTION
WHAT A GENTLEMAN WANTS
WHAT A WOMAN NEEDS
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
LOVE IN THE TIME OF SCANDAL. Copyright © 2015 by P.F. Belsley. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition JUNE 2015 ISBN: 9780062244932
Print Edition ISBN: 9780062244925
FIRST EDITION
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