RendezvousWithYou Read online

“You will get no argument from me on that score,” Bella declared. “I don’t think I’ll be able to walk tomorrow. But it was worth it.”

  “Shall I have to replace any of the furnishings?” Allesandro asked.

  “Not this time,” Ian said. “Though I think I can safely say the bed was the least of the furnishings used.”

  A roar of laughter issued forth, followed by more applause. As it died away, Ian added, “Although I am glad to say my own bed will most definitely be used for sleep this night. Come, my good host. Bring forth the promised prize. And I do hope you have already divided it, for I’d hate to spend my last waking moments counting it out coin by sweet coin.”

  “Certainly.” Beckoning with his finger, Allesandro added, “Come with me.”

  Ian and Bella followed him to a corner of the room. After removing a painting, he opened a small wall safe. Taking out two drawstring bags, he handed one to each of them. “There you are. Winnings for your evening of decadence. How shall you spend your fortunes?”

  Balancing the bag in her palm, Bella said, “Oh the list is endless. My milliner, my modiste, perhaps my shoemaker. Deciding where to start will be the only problem.”

  “Spoken like a true lady of fashion,” their host agreed. “And you, sir?”

  “More pleasure,” Bella’s lover declared. “But now our revels are ended, as the Bard tells us, and I must walk my fair lady to her carriage.”

  Ian led her past the cheering crowd into the foyer. After collecting her cloak from the waiting footman, he escorted her outside to her carriage.

  The guests followed and he made her an elaborate bow. “Thank you my lady,” he said, kissing her hand.

  Bella inclined her head. “The pleasure was all mine, good sir.”

  He gave her a long lingering kiss, and then squeezed her bottom, invoking another laugh from the crowd. After helping her into her carriage, he turned to the crowd and bowed. “Thus ends another night for ‘The Best Lover in London’.”

  And laughing, Bella watched him climb into his own carriage and drive away.

  * * * * *

  “Did you enjoy your evening, Lady Jocelyn?”

  She smiled at the family butler. “I did indeed, Orlando. Thank you.”

  The servant looked at Hugh. “And you, Sir Hugh? Was your evening also successful?”

  He shrugged out of his great coat and gave it to Orlando. “It was. An evening that yielded a great prize, indeed.”

  “Speculations, Sir Hugh?”

  He could not stop his grin. “You could say that. I think we need a bottle of champagne. The Dom Pérignon please, if you would, Orlando.”

  “That successful?” Orlando gave him an admiring glance. “But why should I be surprised? Your reputation at investment is legendary, Sir Hugh.”

  “Thank you, Orlando. You may bring the champagne to the upstairs drawing room. Come, my lady.” He extended his arm. “Let us go see if our children are sound asleep.”

  In the nursery, Monroe, Alexander and Sydney all lay in the deep slumber young children enjoy.

  “They’re looking more like you every day, darling,” Jocelyn whispered, squeezing his arm.

  “Except for their noses,” he said. “They’ve all got your nose, thank the good Lord.”

  She reached up to stroke his prominent feature. “It’s a perfectly beautiful nose, my sweet. Noble, proud, Roman—”

  “Big,” he said and they laughed.

  “Shall we change from our finery into something more comfortable?”

  She nodded. “It may be beautiful, but this wig is starting to give me a headache.”

  When she joined him in the drawing room, he was pleased to see she had let down her hair. The firelight turned her curls falling past her shoulders into a blaze of burnished gold, and pride at being married to one of London’s greatest reigning beauties—not to mention one with the kindest of hearts—surged through him.

  “Trust Mrs. Sykes to send up food,” Jocelyn sighed happily, joining him at the heavily laden table. “I’m starving.”

  “It helps to have the best cook in London. She knows how such events make you hungry.” Hugh opened the champagne, filled two flutes and offered her one. After filling their plates, they sat on the sofa by the fire and Hugh raised his glass. “To our success.”

  Her eyes sparkled. “Here’s to ‘The Best Lover in London’.”

  “I had a good partner.” He leaned forward and kissed her. “You were extraordinary tonight, my Bella,” he whispered. “Amazing. I’m quite sure every man in the room was wild with lust, wanting you for their own.”

  Her love-bright eyes equaled her smile. “Then it’s a good thing we’re already married to each other and, as such, bedding anyone else would be quite inappropriate.”

  “I’ve never held with adultery.” He peered at her over his glass. “Do you think they guessed we were married? Or who we actually were?”

  She sipped her champagne. “No to the latter. After all, Sir Hugh Ian Rolfe and his wife Lady Jocelyn Isabelle are known to be one of the ton’s most proper couples. One which would never behave in such a scandalous way.”

  “Which is why we’ll never be invited to Carlton House,” he agreed. “The Prince Regent is known to have declared that not only are we the most proper couple in London, but also the most boring.”

  “For which I’m extremely grateful,” Jocelyn declared. “The Carlton House set is way too fast for my taste.”

  Hugh leaned back and stretched out his legs. “Do you know, when we first arrived at Alessandro’s, I actually thought Anthony and Emily were one of the masked couples? One of the men was certainly tall enough.”

  His wife’s soft familiar laugh warmed his heart. “You would be quite mad to think that of the Duke of Bradford and his lady. Emily’s last note to me said their child could be born at any time so they're refusing all invitations.”

  Hugh sipped his drink and considered. “So how shall we spend our money? A diamond necklace, perhaps?”

  “I don’t want diamonds. And you would look silly in them.”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” He adopted an airy tone. “I might look quite fetching in diamonds. Wouldn’t you like to see me stretched out naked on our bed, wearing a diamond necklace?”

  “You are quite silly, my Ian,” she scolded. “But I have a better suggestion for how to spend our windfall.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “Make the nursery larger.”

  He squinted at her suggestion. “But why should we do that? It’s big enough now for the boys.”

  “Yes, but it won’t be for long. We'll soon need another bed.”

  Her meaning struck him with the force of a blow and his wineglass fell to the carpet. “Jocelyn,” he whispered, “are you saying—”

  “That I’m going to have another child?” Her smile could have outshone the stars. “Yes, darling. So, you see, we should use the money for that, although I might not mind if you had another diamond added to my wedding ring. One to show the world we have four children.”

  He got on his knees and kissed her hands. “I would give you the moon and stars if you asked for them, dearest Jocelyn. Or perhaps I should still say Bella?”

  “Right now I want you to give me one more romp in our own bed before we sleep,” she whispered. “There is no place in the world quite like our bed, is there?”

  “None,” he said, standing and bringing her to her feet.

  Arms wrapped around each other, they ambled to their bedroom. From a bureau drawer, he took out her engagement and their wedding rings. “I hated removing these, but we couldn’t afford to have anyone guessing who were.” He returned his to the fourth finger of his left hand. “I don’t think I’ve ever taken mine off until now.”

  She gazed lovingly at her rings in his palm. “It’s quite the most beautiful engagement ring ever made. Women still talk about it.”

  He knelt and slipped the rings back on her waiting hand. “I’d ask you to mar
ry me if we weren’t already so,” he choked. “I love you so much.”

  Tears brightened her eyes. “Ask me anyway.”

  “Marry me, Jocelyn? Please? Live with me forever as my wife and a friend?”

  “Of course, my darling Hugh,” she whispered, lifting him to his feet. “A woman would have to be a fool to not to want to spend a lifetime with you.”

  They undressed each other and climbed into bed to make love for the last time that night, sharing soft laughs and teasing until the deed was done, leaving them tired but satisfied and content.

  “Good night, my dearest Ian.”

  “Sweet dreams, my lovely Bella.”

  And wrapped in each other’s arms with the bells of London faintly ringing in the distance, they slept.

  About Cecily French

  Raised in the Southeastern United States, Cecily French grew up loving books, classical music and the theater. When not writing sensuous and erotic romance, she enjoys reading, going to the gym, taking care of her devoted canine companions and wishing she could afford to hire a gardener. She currently resides in Tennessee, where she works as a therapist.

  Cecily welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

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  Also by Cecily French

  Back in Your Arms

  Be My Lover

  Temporary Mistress

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing

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  Rendezvous With You

  ISBN 9781419944741

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  Rendezvous With You Copyright © 2013 Cecily French

  Edited by Violet Hughes

  Cover design by Syneca

  Cover photography by Lev Dolgachov/Shutterstock.com

  Electronic book publication April 2013

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