Page 61 of Rogue Lyon

Meredith swallowed. Saying it out loud would make it even more real.

“Tell me. Now,” Nancy demanded.

“I fell in love with him.” She opened her eyes.

“Oh, no.” Nancy shook her head, her eyebrows pulling low. “You didn’t! He’ll break your heart—that’s what he does. He gets up to dodgy deals, he brawls, gambles, drinks, and he breaks hearts. Just look at the Duke of Marlborough’s daughter. It is said she won’t come out of her bedchamber.”

“What? That’s ridiculous. He hardly knows her and what he does know of her, he said, was quite dull. That is all rumor. Nothing more.”

Nancy didn’t look convinced.

“And why shouldn’t I experience love, just once? I am going to forever be a spinster, that much is clear, so at least now I will go to my grave knowing what it is like to give my heart and my body to a man who intrigues me, and at least acts as though he adores me.” She balled her fists.

“And you are most adorable.” Nancy gave her a quick hug and then whispered in her ear. “Please tell me he withdrew before his release.”

“What?” Meredith pulled back. “What do you mean?”

“That he… You should understand what I am saying. Tell me he withdrew his cock from your cunny before he released his pleasure.”

Meredith remembered the blissful moments only too well. She also remembered there had been no withdrawals. His releases had seeped from her, warm and wet and after a while, she’d wiped herself with a kerchief before they’d ravish one another again and again.

Not one withdrawal.

“I can tell by your face he didn’t, but why am I surprised?” She threw her hands in the air. “This is Jules Habsburg we are talking about. A damn magnet for trouble.”

“I think the trouble will be all mine.” Meredith felt her cheeks draining of color as she realized just what her friend was getting at. “If I am…”

“With child.” Nancy wound her hands together as though washing away the worry. “But hopefully not. My mother always told me there was only a few days a month that a woman could fall, so let’s hope it was not those days.”

“It was only a few times.” Meredith nodded frantically, clinging to that thread of hope.

Because what else could she do? If she was with child, if she was carrying the rake of the ton’s child, she would be a laughingstock, kicked out on the street. Chances of her mother letting her home to Wales were slim.

Jules closed his eyes as the carriage wheels rattled over the London cobbles. Since Meredith had alighted, it felt as though part of him were missing. As if a limb had gone. His reason to smile had somehow evaporated.

And she hadn’t looked back. Meredith had left the carriage with the help of the driver and scooted into the Lyon’s Den’s side entrance as though she couldn’t get away from him quick enough.

The last few days of traveling must have been hideous for her if that was her state of emotion.

And was he the cause?

He must have been.

Jules wasn’t used to feeling in need of anyone’s approval, but for some reason, he wanted hers. He wanted her to look at him and see a good man with good intentions, not someone who traded in the shadows and regularly smooth-talked his way out of awkward situations—situations that were generally of his own making.

But how could she view him with approving eyes? He’d charmed his way into her bed. Taken her virginity, and in the heat of the moment—moments—he hadn’t even withdrawn. Oh, and that fake wedding ring. How foolish was he? Meredith was a woman who wanted marriage—he knew that. What a wicked game he’d played.

For the first time in his life, he was ashamed of himself. No, more than that…he hated himself.

“Here we are, sir.”

The carriage stopped and Jules alighted, glad to stretch his aching back.

But no sooner than he’d stepped onto the pavement, there was a tall, butch man, no hair, looming before him. He was menacingly close as he held out a roll of parchment.

“Mr. Habsburg?” he asked gruffly.

“That’s me.”