Page 14 of Wicked with Him

“Yes,” Roman agreed, knowing it was the expected response. He’d played the scoundrel this past year, as many of his friends did as a cure for disappointed hopes. Seducing women one night and letting them go the next with no hard feelings afterward. Besides, none could claim his heart because Melody still had it. “Your brother is looking for you.”

Stratford choked and sped up his dressing. “Why didn’t you say so immediately? Let us flee the scene of another likely bad mood and find some pretty ladies desperately in need of manly amusement. I fancy a blonde.”

“A brunette for me,” he replied, imagining Amity Sweet, her dark hair spilling down around her shoulders, legs tight around his waist as she rode his cock for her own pleasure again. His one regret was that he’d have liked to have seen more of Amity that night. But the shadows had been too thick to even know the shade of her nipples. He hoped to see them still, though…and that was rare for him. Women of late had not stirred any desire in him for a second tupping as easily as Amity had.

Stratford was laughing as he looked up. “That’s a first for you. sir, I am very pleased to know you are finally willing to appreciate the other flavors of womanhood to indulge in besides thin blondes.”

“Perhaps it’s time for a change,” he replied with a shrug. Usually, he preferred blondes for amorous company. Melody had a trim figure and was blonde. But after the ruin, it seemed Amity was exactly the kind of woman who appealed to his sensibilities. Of late, she featured in his dreams, too. Of course, occasionally it was with the hint of a nightmare—him on his knees, proposing with a pistol pressed to his temple. He needed to find her so he could stop thinking about her. “Why don’t you want to speak with your brother this time?”

Stratford grimaced. “Always pesters me in the mornings. Can’t ever let a man sleep late without sending everyone from the pot boy to a best friend to wake me up.”

Roman blinked in surprise. “You never said I was your best friend before.”

Stratford grinned ruefully. “You’re not a bad sort. We’ll slip out the servants stairs to avoid him.”

Stratford hurried to finish dressing, and they managed to escape the Duke of Ravenswood’s residence without encountering Fairbridge or a single servant who might carry tales back to him.

Stratford hailed a hack and bundled Roman inside. “I have to give my cousin credit. She may have disgraced the family at large, but my brothers and I are still quietly applauding.”

The Sweets consisted of four branches. The ducal line had four male offspring, Stratford being last in the succession. There was little chance the other branches would ever inherit the title, but that did not prevent them from playing on their close connection to the duke and scheming for advancement. Amity’s line was furthest from claiming the title, and her brother the most envious of all the others.

Roman studied Stratford. What would his friend think if he knew what he’d done? Would he tell, trap Roman into marriage with a reluctant bride. “Amity’s scandal is going to make for interesting family gatherings at Christmas. I assume the duke will insist upon everyone attending as usual.”

Stratford groaned. “You assumed correctly, and you’ll see the scheming and backstabbing for yourself this year, too.”

Roman blinked. “I will?”

“That’s what I wanted to speak to you about. I don’t want you to make any other plans for Christmas. You’re coming home with me. Fairbridge agrees you’ll do.”

“Do?” Roman shook his head. “You want me to join your family for the winter holidays?”

“Why not? It’s not as if you’ve anything better to do.” Stratford grinned. “You’d be lonely without me, and you cannot leave me alone to look at Cousin George’s face on Christmas morning.”

Roman laughed. He only had one brother, and they got along decently well, though they hardly ever saw each other. He didn’t mind the lack of censure for the way he lived his life free of encumbrances by family. He earned more than enough grief and teasing from Stratford alone already.

London was quiet when Stratford was absent from Town, though. Roman hadn’t yet made plans for the distant holiday, and he had to admit that spending it amid the splendor of a large country estate was appealing. Amity might even be there to speak with again.

But so, too, would Melody…and he’d hardly spoken a word to her since her forced marriage. He wasn’t sure he should be around her.

He glanced out the window as they came to a halt before the large tavern Stratford favored, and his eyes turned instantly to a dark-haired woman passing the carriage.

No. That was not Amity Sweet either.

They stepped out onto the street and entered their favorite drinking establishment—The Ruined Spinster. Roman winced at the name as he ducked through the doorway. Ruined spinsters were very much on his mind of late.

They slid into a bench and ordered three ales—one for Stratford, one for Roman, and the third for whoever finished first.

Roman took a small sip of his ale and then asked the question that had been most playing over in his mind. “Do you think she’ll return to society soon?”

“Who? Amity?” Stratford shrugged, grinning at a redhead across the room. “I doubt it. She’s better off elsewhere, if you ask me. Can’t have been easy living with George and his awful bride,” Stratford murmured—then looked at Roman in horror over his tankard. “I do apologize.”

“For what?”

Stratford winced. “For the fact that George stole Melody from your arms only last year, and even now he must regret it.” Stratford buried his nose in his ale, gulping it down quickly.

Roman set his tankard aside, curiosity piqued by the remark about George and Melody’s marriage. “They’re not happily wed?”

“Lord, no. Melody is…”