Free London's Perfect Scoundrel by Suzanne Enoch

eh?” He knocked on the smooth mahogany surface. “Is there a faerie under here?”
    A shrieking cascade of laughter answered him.
    With a grin that made Evelyn smile in return, the duke removed the candy dish and tea tray from the table, handing them to Dare. That done, Evie expected Wycliffe to lower himself to the floor as the duchess had done and extricate young Elizabeth. Instead, he simply lifted the table up and set it aside.
    â€œMy Samson,” the duchess murmured with a warm smile that made Evie blush.
    Bright auburn hair in short curls all over her head and gowned in yellow and white, Lady Brakenridge gave another shriek and trundled toward the writing desk. In one long stride the duke caught up, scooping her into his arms. “Hello, Lizzie,” he cooed, hefting the infant up to his shoulder.
    With another blurbled word, Elizabeth wrapped her fists into her father’s jacket and giggled again.
    â€œDid you hear that?” the duke asked with a wide grin, turning to Dare. “She said ‘papa.’”
    The viscount returned the candy dish and tea tray to the relocated end table. “I distinctly heard ‘baboon.’”
    â€œHm, well, you’re distinctly deaf.”
    â€œI heard that.”
    Laughing, Emma shooed the two tall men toward the door. “Go away. We’re chatting.”
    Immediately Dare came to a stop. “About what?” His glance took in Evelyn, and she remembered his earlier warning about Saint. Well, she hadn’t turned her back on the marquis; he’d kissed her right on the mouth.
    â€œFrench fashions and jewelry,” the duchess answered without a pause.
    â€œGak. I say we teach Lizzie to play billiards,” the viscount returned, grimacing.
    The duke nodded, motioning him out the door. “It’s suggestions like that which make me glad I encouraged you to marry my cousin.”
    â€œâ€˜Encouraged’ me? As I recall, you threatened to shoot me if I didn’t.”
    The argument faded down the hallway, while Evelyn sat back, listening in wonderment. These two men had at one time been well known for their black reputations and bedchamber escapades. Now, however, one of them cradled an infant as though it were the most natural thing in the world, while the other would be in a similar situation within six months.
    â€œEvelyn?”
    She shook herself. “My apologies, Emma. What did you say?”
    The duchess smiled. “I just asked whether you needed any help in putting your organizational plan together.”
    â€œThank you, but no. I would like to attempt to do it on my own.”
    It wasn’t that she couldn’t use the help, but Saint seemed to think she was an imbecile good for nothing but warming his bed. If she received help, he would know it, and he would undoubtedly say something about it—in front of the rest of the board of trustees. No, this was her project, and she would put it together herself.
    â€œOf course. But please remember, I’m available if you have any questions.”
    After some cursory chatting about French fashions and jewelry, Evelyn and Lucinda left Brakenridge House. She’d made a small beginning already, but now, with her stack of borrowed books beside her, she felt asthough she had half a chance of putting together something acceptable. The only problem was, acceptable wasn’t good enough. The plan needed to be perfect, and she needed to have it ready in two days.
    And the proposal wasn’t the only part of this that needed to be ready; she was determined that the Marquis of St. Aubyn would not send her fleeing again. Nor would she allow him to kiss her again. Whatever amusement he was after, she wouldn’t be the one to provide it.
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    Saint narrowed his eyes. “I am not nearly drunk enough to approve funds for you to tally up the contents of the storage rooms, Rutledge.”
    Timothy Rutledge gave him a black look, his earnest