Free The Rake's Arranged Marriage by Ruth Regan

are you doing with my wedding dress?" she asked, recognizing the gown immediately. Mrs. Cooper had taken it the afternoon before to air it and press it. But apparently, it hadn't made it back to her wardrobe, for here it was with Eliot.
    "Ah. A very good question. I'll tell you. If you pour me a drink," he said, extending his empty glass.
    "And if I refuse to? On the grounds that you've probably had quite enough?"
    "Then I shan't speak to you again until we're at the altar. A little birdie told me you were worried about that."
    So, either he had been listening to the whole conversation with Pierson or the young valet had indeed conveyed her message.
    "Blackmail!" she said angrily, under her breath.
    Lord Eliot only chuckled. "Perhaps it is blackmail. But then again, who practices blackmail? I know your answer. Blackguards . And do you truly believe I'm a blackguard?"
    She searched his face. And she searched her heart, although, it didn't take long.
    "No," she said softly.
    "Well, then. I guess it's not blackmail. Perhaps it's just...a little fun . Something that your life has been sorely lacking, I fear, my dear Lady Boyle."
    It was the truth. But it was also a challenge. Cara rose to it. She reached back into the sideboard for the decanter and a second glass, then poured them each two fingers of brandy.
    She was aware that Lord Eliot was looking up at her as she poured. Again, she had the distinct feeling that her nightdress was somewhat sheerer than she'd imagined.
    "You've seen far too much of me in my nightclothes since I've been at Hedgeton, Lord Eliot," she said, extending one of the snifters to him.
    "You're right, Lady Boyle," he replied, wrapping his fingers around the glass. "I should rather like to see you without your nightclothes."
    His fingers were lying over hers on the glass as he said the words and Cara felt a slight current pass through them. It made her flushed and excited. She'd waited for days to be near him again...
    "All good things to those who wait," she murmured softly. The statement slipped from her lips before she had much time to think about it. Surprised at herself, she extricated her hand quickly. Where did that come from? But Lord Eliot only began to chuckle delightedly.
    "You've been reading that French poetry I set out by your bed," he murmured.
    "Perhaps I have."
    "And what do you think of it, my dear Lady Boyle?"
    "I think it is utter trash."
    "Do you?"
    "I do. But that's not to say it isn't a great deal of... 'fun,' to use your word."
    Lord Eliot smiled broadly now, and raised his glass.
    "Here's to fun, Lady Boyle. And here's to Lady Boyle, too. I warn you, I'm going to say that name as much as possible for the next little while. Because soon Lady Boyle won't exist anymore."
    "What do you mean?"
    "Well, soon someone named Lady Quentin Eliot will take her place. You see, Lady Quentin Eliot is getting a fresh start today. Chin chin."
    He clinked her glass and downed his brandy in a single draught. Cara followed suit, although much more slowly. She was thinking through what he'd said.
    A fresh start.
    "Lord Eliot," she began, but then she found that she couldn't go on. She wanted so badly to talk to him. To foster trust with the man who would soon be her husband, by revealing an important truth to him. The words, however, just wouldn't come.
    "Spit it out, Lady Boyle!" he said with mock severity. But then he smiled. He was a rogue – a desperately handsome, drunken rogue. She couldn't help but smile, too. The moment was...good. She didn't want to ruin it.
    "Nothing," she said finally. "That is, you said you would tell me what you're doing with my wedding dress if I drank with you. Will you keep your word, sir?"
    "I will, Lady Boyle," he said. "I will indeed. I was bringing this dress to your chamber...when I was waylaid here in the parlor. Now that you're here, too, though, I may complete my errand. Please. Take it to your chambers and put it on. When you're ready, meet me at the