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opposite, the delicate chair looking ridiculous under his utterly masculine body.
    “There are rumors,” Clara announced to them both, “rather scandalous rumors, in fact. People are saying . . . well, I went to a luncheon today, and you wouldn’t believe, but . . . they’re saying the two of you are . . . well. . . .”
    “Lovers?” Stephen supplied helpfully.
    “Yes, thank you.” Her plump bosom heaving, Aunt Clara nodded. “I, of course, could not countenance it. Stephen wouldn’t compromise anyone, and there has never been a breath against you, Victoria. But it seems that the servants, well, there were some unusual noises from your bedroom one night—”
    “I told you not to scream, darling,” Stephen said, giving Victoria an amused glance.
    Shooting back a killing glare, Victoria had no idea what to say. Her aunt seemed in a similar fix, until she suddenly shook her head in obvious resignation. “Oh, dear, I suppose I was actually afraid it was true. Ever since you were little scamps, you were always getting into mischief together.”
    “Victoria hasn’t yet made up her mind about what wants to do,” Stephen explained, his voice sounding infuriatingly reasonable. “She is used to a life in which she can pick up and follow her father across the globe. Marriage to me would tie her here, not just because I would want her by my side, but by the large family we will no doubt have.” He sent Victoria a wickedly teasing smile.
    For a moment Victoria forgot Aunt Clara’s presence. “Is that why you haven’t asked me to marry you? Because you knew my dilemma?”
    The teasing smile vanished. He said, “I was rather hoping you would fall so madly in love with me that losing your freedom wouldn’t matter so much.”
    Her heart beat faster at the emotion she saw in his eyes. She said unsteadily but truthfully, “I did.”
    In seconds he was out of his chair, pulling her to her feet, grasping her upper arms and looking down into her face. “Then marry me, have my children, Tori. We’ll grow our plants together, grow old together.” Then, leaning forward so he could whisper in her ear, he said, “I pledge to fuck you as often as you like, and I know you adore it when I pleasure you with my tongue between your legs, I . . .”
    Blushing, she put her hand over his mouth. “In that case,” she said softly, “how can I say no?” She grinned then as his arms slid around her, whispering against his lips, “You really are still a scamp, you know.”
    He kissed her and grinned back. “So, darling, are you.”

Read on for a preview of ONE WHISPER AWAY
     
    first in the all-new Ladies in Waiting series
by the
“deliciously wicked and tenderly romantic”*
Emma Wildes.
Available from Signet Eclipse.
* New York Times bestselling author Celeste Bradley
     
    It was a perfectly enjoyable evening until the incident .
    Lady Cecily Francis smiled graciously at the young man escorting her off the floor, accepted a glass of champagne from a passing footman with a tray, and excused herself, pleading the need to sit down for a few minutes. Her feet were starting to hurt, as she’d been steadily engaged for every dance. Besieged was a more appropriate way to put it, and while she was flattered at all the attention, she was not embracing her first season with a high level of enthusiasm.
    Cecily thought the ballroom too crowded, the din of hundreds of conversations much too loud, and the air too close. But, as it had been pointed out to her time and again by well-meaning aunts, cousins, and various other members of the family, including her father, a young woman did not snare a husband by languishing in the country.
    She spotted her sister standing and chatting with a group of young ladies and made her way toward them, not a particularly easy task in the milling throng. When she was only a few feet away, a small disaster occurred in the form of a rather foxed gentleman telling a story that included a wide gesture with one