Page 24 of The Cutthroat Countess

Elliot couldn’t help feeling a certain amount of dread—especially given what he’d seen in her Home Office file—but she was right: he was no longer required to report anything she told him, at least not by virtue of his employment. Of course, he would always be duty bound to report certain matters as an Englishman, but she didn’t need him to tell her that.

“What do you want to tell me?”

“It’s about when the Home Office brought me in for questioning back in ’14.”

“You don’t need to tell me anything, Jo. You said you’d not been disloyal to Britain, and I believe you.”

“I am grateful for your trust. I would have put your questions to rest sooner, but much of the work Mungo and I did was actually for the British government. We were working for Admiral Hastings during the time period your superiors were so curious about. Hastings had told us that he’d disavow that if we ever were questioned.”

Elliot couldn’t help feeling a bit of relief at her confession. “I can’t say I’m surprised,” he said, pulling a wry face. “There are those in our government who take almost as much pleasure in hiding secrets from other departments as keeping them from our enemies. Thank you for telling me, Jo. But what I really want to talk about is us. What made you decide to accept me—not that I am not over-bloody-joyed by the news.” He kissed her hard, without finesse, a brand more than an act of intimacy. “I was going to kidnap you and carry you off to my cottage if you didn’t agree to marry me. I’d made the decision in Paris when I realized I’d go bloody mad if I had to run your cousins’ damned gauntlet every time I wanted to see you.” He gave her a stern, possessive look that was unfeigned. “And it made me sick with jealousy to think of you driving in the park, walking, picnicking, and waltzing with every eligible male in London.”

Jo snorted, rolled her eyes, and kissed him.

It was a slow, sensual, consuming exploration that left him hard and hungry for her.

“You foolish man—don’t you know there is nobody I’ve ever met who can even hold a candle to you?”

Elliot turned his eyes ceilingward and said, “Thank you, Lord. I shall be a better, more virtuous man, henceforth.”

“Not too virtuous, I hope?”

“When will you marry me?” he demanded, hiking up her skirt and then pulling her over until she straddled his thighs.

“I’m sure Edi will be able to have something planned in three months—four at the—mmmph!” She melted in his arms, her mouth opening to his savage, needy tonguing.

Elliot didn’t let her come up for air until he was getting a bit dizzy. “You provoking, teasing creature. You will marry me immediately.”

“Oh, but I so hoped for a large wedding at St. George’s with every single last member of the ton in atten—mmph.”

This time, she laughed when he finally allowed her to breathe. “If that is meant to be a deterrent to willful behavior, I must tell you that it is having the opposite effect.” Her expression turned serious. “How soon can we do it—and with as little fuss as possible?”

“I could send a message to Sin tonight, and he can terrify a special license out of his cousin tomorrow and meet us at the church of your choosing.”

“Who is Sin’s cousin?” she asked in between kisses.

“The Archbishop of Canterbury.”

“Hmm,” she murmured, nibbling on his jaw and doing disreputable things to his trapped erection with her delightfully fleshy bottom. “He sounds like an important man.”

Elliot laughed at her wide-eyed, vapid, ingénue look. “Not really, only the head of the Anglican Church.” He caught her plush lower lip between his teeth. “Well, will you marry me tomorrow?”

“Can we do it without telling Edi?”

Elliot snorted. “You are truly a wretch. The poor woman has no children, and if you rob her of this, she will never forgive you.”

Jo grumbled and hemmed and hawed, but he could see she would capitulate.

“Fine,” she said, pulling off the cravat he’d carefully tied for her only a few hours earlier. “But if she says one thing about Angus acting as my attendant . . .”

Epilogue

Unfortunately, Elliot and Jo did not marry the next day.

As eager as the Archbishop of Canterbury was to please his far wealthier cousin, even he could not be induced to issue a special license on the Sabbath.

Being left with no choice but to wait another day, Elliot had pled his case with his wife-to-be.

“Much as I deeply desire to grant your wish for a speedy London wedding with only Sin, Marianne, and Angus in attendance, I know for a fact that my grandmother—of whose eye I am the apple—would never speak to me again if she was not invited to bear witness.”