The Notorious Scoundrel Read online

  The duke’s lips firmed at the dreaded, scandalous word “divorce.”

  “I won’t pay for it.” He hissed, “It’s shameful.”

  “You needn’t pay for it, Father,” she said in a steady voice. “I’ve other monetary means.”

  He stiffened at the implication, for without a generous husband or father, a married woman had no other recourse for obtaining funds except through a friend…or a lover.

  “There are only two instances where a woman has successfully divorced her husband.”

  “Yes, I know.” She maintained a cool countenance, undaunted. “I suspect my defense will fail in the end, for wickedness isn’t akin to insanity. However, I will still hunt the blackguard down and see him presented in court for the attempt on my life.”

  The duke paled. “He is your husband.”

  “A pity, that, but it will not prevent me from seeking justice. I will not rest until I see his neck in a noose.”

  The court wasn’t likely to be very sympathetic toward a battered wife; justice smirked at a woman’s pleas in most instances, but in the rarest of circumstances, the cruelest of deeds, a legal separation was granted to a couple—if not a hanging.

  The duke glowered at her with burning gray eyes, but Amy shrugged at his wrath, indifferent. He had calculated and conspired with enough innocent lives over the years. She wasn’t going to let him contort a single soul more.

  A footman appeared in the doorway and announced, “Mr. Hawkins to see Lady Gravenhurst.”

  Amy smiled. “Show him into the sitting room, please.”

  The servant bobbed his head and stepped away from the door.

  The duke scowled. “I will not tolerate indecency in my own house.”

  “I’ve invited a friend to tea, Father.” She returned tautly, “And I don’t answer to you anymore.”

  The old man pressed his lips together tightly, the pink flesh turning white.

  Edmund Hawkins soon entered the room and bowed.

  The duke snorted and departed from the sitting room in brisk strides. As soon as he had vacated the space, Amy’s stiff features softened and she smiled again.

  A tingling heat moved through her veins as she gazed into the scoundrel’s smoldering eyes, the dark blue pools shadowed even more by his low brow. He was dashing in his greatcoat and tall leather boots, and he warmed the chilled room with his virile presence.

  She slipped away from the window seat and treaded softly across the wool runner, keeping her eyes fixed firmly on the handsome man standing in the middle of the room, unmoving, his dark, wavy hair moist with melted snowflakes.

  She stopped in front of him. She sensed his increased breathing; her own heart pattered with vim. He didn’t touch her. For a moment, he stared into her eyes without speaking a word or making a movement, and then he removed his fine leather gloves, lifted his fingers, and stroked her cheek, making her sigh.

  He said in a tender voice, “You look well, my love.”

  “I am well.”

  She nuzzled his large palm, caressed his wrist, the fractured bone having healed after his brawl with the marquis.

  Amy remembered the final black moments at the inn. She had feared the darkness, but it had transformed into brilliant light, and a peace had come over her: a peace she still carried with her in her heart.

  She rubbed her fingers slowly over the man’s wrist, feeling his hastened pulse. “I’ve missed you.”

  His breathing deepened, his touch strengthened. “I’ve missed you, too.”

  She relished the intimacy, however limited. The slightest contact, the softest word filled her with intense warmth.

  “I can escort you into Town, if you’d like. To the orphanage.”

  Amy had adopted her mother’s charitable inclinations, patronizing a foundling asylum alongside the woman, who quietly supported her daughter’s efforts to free herself from her wicked husband.

  “Yes, I’d like that,” she said in a low voice. “And how are you enjoying your new employment?”

  He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I’m growing used to being on the right side of the law. I think I’ve found my place in the world at last.”

  She smiled. “Are you sure you can live without the sea?”

  “I can live without anything—but for you, Amy.”

  She kissed his palm, still nestled at her cheek. “You’re a scoundrel at heart, Edmund Hawkins.”

  “I know.” He bussed her mouth, making her sigh again. “There’s talk about forming a metropolitan police force.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “It won’t happen for a few more years, though.”

  “And James?”

  “He’s talking to me again. Growling, really.”

  She grinned. “That’s good news.”

  “I wasn’t sure if he’d ever speak to me again after I’d joined the Bow Street Runners. He’s still convinced I’ll bring him to trial for his past crimes.”

  “He’s your brother; he’ll forgive you for the treachery, I’m sure.”

  He humphed at that. “Quincy sends his regards.”

  “How is he?” she wondered in a soft voice.

  “The same. Worse.” He shrugged. “I’m not really sure.”

  She was thoughtful. “He’ll find his way out of the darkness…you did.”

  Amy sensed the turmoil in her lover’s soul and stepped into his arms, resting her cheek against his shoulder.

  “How’s William?”

  He embraced her, bussed the crown of her head. “He might set sail in the spring again.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  The Hawkins brothers were doing well for the most part; that was really all that mattered, for with each day that passed, there was hope for a stronger future. She had learned that lesson, as well.

  As Edmund’s muscles stiffened, she lifted her chin and looked into his ruminating eyes. “What is it?”

  He stroked her spine. “I have news about Gravenhurst.”

  After he’d joined the Bow Street Runners, Edmund and his fellow comrades had searched for the pusillanimous marquis, who had vanished from the inn at Dover. The devil had regained his wits after the fracas and, in the tumult, had slunk off into the night. He had likely boarded a vessel for the continent, although Amy wasn’t entirely sure of his whereabouts.

  She wasn’t disconcerted at the remark about the marquis either, for the villain possessed no hold over her senses or her heart…however, he prevented her from realizing one important dream: marrying Edmund. Unless a divorce was granted—or she was widowed—she’d never have the pleasure of calling the handsome scoundrel “husband” or keeping a home with him, a family.

  There was a twinge in her breast at the gloomy thought. “You’ve located the marquis?”

  “No…but his wife found me.”

  Amy blinked. “What?”

  He steered her toward the divan and settled beside her in the comfortable seat. “A woman approached me at the magistrates’ office, claiming to be the marquis’s lawful wife. She carried papers to prove it; there are church witnesses, too.”

  She gaped, breathless. “But how?”

  “After Ruby’s death, the marquis delved into a debauched existence. He traveled as far as Scotland and immersed himself in the habit of drink. Apparently he wed a Scottish bride in a drunken stupor.” He caressed her fingers, the appendages trembling. “The marriage laws in Scotland are more lax than those in England, though still legal. As soon as he sobered, the marquis paid the wench to keep away from him, and she was happy to accept the terms; she was a common barmaid and she desired to remain in her homeland with her family. The throat-cutting ways of the ton didn’t appeal to her, it seemed. As soon as she had heard of the marquis’s wedding to you, though, she feared the monthly stipend would end, and she came to London, seeking her rightful place as the marchioness.”

  Amy munched on her bottom lip. She clasped Edmund’s hand and squeezed it tight between her fingers as
a stirring energy welled in her belly, threatening her composure. “Th-that means…”

  “That means, with the proper evidence, the Consistory Courts in the Doctors’ Commons will have to grant you an annulment on the grounds of bigamy; your marriage to the marquis isn’t legal.”

  She shuddered as the last gloomy thought pinching her heart was snuffed out.

  She was free.

  “It’s over,” she whispered, weakened with joy.

  “The legal proceedings might take some time, Amy.”

  “But there’s hope.”

  She was filled with the blessed sentiment; it touched her every pore.

  “But I still don’t understand,” she said in a quiet manner. “Why did the marquis marry me if he was already wed to another woman?”

  “Revenge,” he returned succinctly. “He wanted the duke to think he’d achieved all his dreams, his goals…before he took them away.”

  Amy sniffed. She hadn’t even sensed the tears. The briny drops washed away so many months of hardship. A new dream sprouted in her soul: a dream for a better life…with Edmund.

  He rubbed her hands between his palms in methodic strokes, silent, brooding.

  “What’s the matter, Edmund?”

  He eyed her with intent. “When the annulment is settled, will you be my—?”

  “Yes!”

  She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him with the desire that had been building within her heart for months.

  He chuckled, his eyes bright, but then he steadied his merry features. “Are you sure you want to marry me, Amy? There will be unhappy folks at our wedding.”

  “Like my father?” She scoffed. “I’m not going to let our fate mirror that of Gravenhurst and Ruby. I’m not going to let convention dictate the truth in my heart.”

  He looked away from her.

  “Do you still think you’re not good enough to be my husband?”

  “I’m not good enough for you, lass.” He looked back at her with passion, his words shaking. “But I love you with a fierceness in my soul that takes away every bit of good sense I own.”

  “I love you, too.” She grinned, cupping his hands. “And I’ve decided to take your advice: I’m going to have more fun in life.”

  He laughed; the rumbling sound warmed her ears. “I guess that means I’m going to have to be more responsible.”

  He kissed her, then; the gesture singed her right down to her toes.

  “You’ve seduced me, Amy,” he murmured into her mouth.

  She snuggled with him on the divan, cherished the closeness. “And I’ll keep seducing you for the rest of our years together, you notorious scoundrel.”

  About the Author

  ALEXANDRA BENEDICT is a storyteller at heart. A graduate of the University of Toronto, she works part-time in a museum while penning passionate tales of historical romance. An archaeology buff, she loves to travel and explore historic sites. She also enjoys collecting art and reading (of course!).

  Alexandra invites readers to visit her at

  www.alexandrabenedict.ca and

  www.thehawkinsbrothers.ca

  for trivia, excerpts, and more!

  Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.

  Romances by Alexandra Benedict

  THE NOTORIOUS SCOUNDREL

  MISTRESS OF PARADISE

  THE INFAMOUS ROGUE

  TOO DANGEROUS TO DESIRE

  TOO SCANDALOUS TO WED

  TOO GREAT A TEMPTATION

  A FORBIDDEN LOVE

  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.

  THE NOTORIOUS SCOUNDREL. Copyright © 2010 by Alexandra Benedikt. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, 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 hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

  First Avon Books paperback printing: May 2010

  EPub Edition © April 2010 ISBN: 978-0-06-199128-8

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