Never Judge a Lady By Her Cover: Number 4 in series (The Rules of Scoundrels series) (50 page)

“Yes, but not twins. And thank God for that.”

“Agreed,” said Bourne, now father to three. “Twins is just bad luck.”

Duncan was turning pale. “Can we stop discussing twins?”

“It won’t be twins,” Temple said, coming around the table to hand the file he’d been looking at to Georgiana.

“It might be,” she teased. “Pippa says I’m enormous.”

“I certainly didn’t say enormous!”

Georgiana opened the file and considered its contents. She looked up at Temple, “Poor girl,” she said, “Let her out of the box.”

“Who?” Duncan asked.

“Lady Mary Ashehollow.”

There was a collective sound of understanding around the table, but Duncan was the only one to comment. “You’ve decided to end your revenge play?”

“She made me angry.”

He raised a brow. “She is a child.”

“She is in her third season, so she’s not quite that. But yes,” Georgiana said. “And if it is any consolation, she’s going into the betting book as one of the prime ladies of the season. Will that do, husband?”

“Quite well.” He leaned over to give her a long, lingering kiss.

Cross spoke up. “As we are on the subject of the betting book, I believe you owe me one hundred pounds, Chase.”

“For what?” Duncan asked, all curiosity.

“For taking a foolish bet a year ago,” Cross said.

“Cross thought you and Chase would marry,” Temple explained. “Chase…”

“Didn’t,” Bourne said.

“Michael!” Penelope scolded. “That’s not very kind.”

“It’s true.”

“How would you like them to tell the truth about our courtship?” Penelope asked.

Remembering, no doubt, that the Marquess and Marchioness of Bourne were married after a late-night abduction in the country, Bourne had the grace to stop talking.

Duncan looked to Georgiana, a smile on his handsome face. “It sounds like you lost a bet, my lady.”

As it had for a year, the honorific sent a flood of heat through her. “It does not feel much like losing.”

He grinned. “It doesn’t, does it?”

“Well, since we are talking about Chase’s potential husbands, now is as good a time as any to discuss Langley, who has asked us to join him in making an investment,” Temple added.

The table groaned.

“This man. Chase, you must stop giving him our money,” Bourne said.

“He’s a terrible record with investments, and we keep helping him,” Cross pointed out.

“I am sorry – I did not know the two of you were so close to the workhouse,” Georgiana said.

“He is a good man,” Duncan interjected. “He practically delivered me my beautiful wife.”

“Only because he did not want her himself,” Temple teased, and all the scoundrels laughed.

“I refuse to be insulted,” she said. “And Duncan likes the sound of this one.”

He nodded. “Something called a photographic negative.”

“It sounds like something from a novel,” Bourne said. “Like flying machines and horseless carriages.”

“I don’t think those things sound so implausible,” Pippa said.

Bourne looked to her. “That’s because you think implausibility is a challenge.”

She looked to Cross with a smile. “I suppose I do.”

The earl leaned in and kissed his wife soundly. “It is a large part of your charm.”

“Shall we play?” Georgiana asked, leaning forward and reaching for the cards.

What had once been a game only for the owners had become a standing weekly faro game for the eight of them.

Temple sat with a sigh. “I don’t know why I play. I never win anymore. It all went to hell when we let the wives in.” He looked to Duncan. “Apologies, mate.”

Duncan smiled. “I am happy to be a wife if you don’t mind my fleecing you each week.”

Mara put her hand to her husband’s cheek. “Poor Temple,” she said. “Would you like to play something else?”

He met her gaze, all seriousness. “Yes, but you won’t want to play it in front of everyone else.”

Another round of groans went up as the duchess leaned in to kiss her duke.

Georgiana sat back. “Perhaps we should not play.”

Bourne looked up from where he was pouring scotch. “Because Temple wants to take his wife to bed?”

She smiled. “No…” She looked to her husband. “Because I believe we are about to discover if it is twins after all.”

Far below, through the famed stained glass window, the roulette wheel spun and the dice rolled and the cards flew, and that night became legendary – the night fortune smiled on the members of The Fallen Angel.

Just as it smiled on its founder, and her love.

Acknowledgments

As this series comes to a close, I realize that a powerful village has helped to raise my Scoundrels. On the heels of that realization comes another, far more unsettling one – that I will never be able to thank you all enough.

As with all my books, this one could not have been written without the patience and faith of my literary Sherpa, Carrie Feron, the hard work of Nicole Fischer and Chelsey Emmelhainz, and the tremendous support of Liate Stehlik, Pam Spengler-Jaffee, Jessie Edwards, Caroline Perny, Shawn Nicholls, Tom Egner, Gail Dubov, Carla Parker, Brian Grogan, Tobly McSmith, Eleanor Mikucki, and the rest of the unparalleled Avon Books team.

Thank you to Carrie Ryan, Lily Everett, Sophie Jordan, Morgan Baden, Sara Lyle, Melissa Walker, and Linda Frances Lee, for your insight, support and brilliance as I wrote Chase’s story, and to Rex and the staff at Krupa Grocery for cheerleading and caffeine.

My father told me the story of skull drinking in Castel Teodorico when I was much younger than Caroline, and I was thrilled to be able to finally put it into a book. I am deeply grateful for his never once thinking,
Perhaps she is too young for this.
Thanks to David and Valerie Mortensen for the trip to Hearst Castle that inspired Duncan West and his magnificent swimming pool, and for raising a son who is all gentleman and no scoundrel.

To my wonderful readers, thank you for taking this journey with Bourne, Cross, Temple, and Chase, for loving them as much as I do, and for the endless encouragement online and by mail. To every single reader who gasped when you discovered that Chase was a woman, and took a chance on her story nonetheless, you will never know how much your faith meant to me.

And finally, to the woman who accosted me in a bathroom in Texas in early 2012 and announced, “I think Chase is a woman!,” I’m very sorry I lied to you.