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“There is no number ten,” she said with a sigh. “Give me that. I will show you.”
She grabbed the paper and unfolded. Tears welled in her eyes. “I don’t believe number ten is my handwriting.”
“No?”
She could hear the laughter in his voice, but her heart was caught in her throat as she read through the list.
Introduce yourself to a man at a ball
Visit a gaming hell dressed as a man
Get foxed
Kiss a man
Get banned from Almacks’s
Learn to paint in oils
Race a carriage
Break a law
Seduce a rake
Marry a despicable scoundrel
“I’m not certain I can do number ten in good conscience since it isn’t quite correct.”
“How so?”
She shrugged. “I still haven’t received a proposal...and you’re certainly not despicable.”
“Harry told me to write that.” He tilted her head up to look him in the eyes. “Now then, the only question left is, will you marry this despicable scoundrel, Miss Drake?”
“Yes,” she whispered, turning in his arms. She kissed his chin and whispered, “Yes.” Moving up his jaw, she whispered again, “Yes.”
“Even if I don’t have a title?” he asked with humor lining his voice.
“Oh, but you do,” she replied with a laugh. “I am marrying a king. The King of Hell if I’m not mistaken.”
He stilled. “I am no longer the King of Hell, Emma. I sold Hell.”
“Why?” she whispered. “It was your business. You made it successful. I would have married even if you owned Hell.”
“I couldn’t do it.” He pulled a ringlet of her hair around his finger. “I didn’t want to corrupt you. Hell was pure vice, and you deserve better.”
Her eyes welled with tears.
“I do love you, Emma Drake.”
“Even if I can be a bit daring at times?”
“Especially because of that.” He rolled her onto her back and stared down at her.
“I love you, Simon. I don’t know how the one man who scared me half to death could be the man I came to love so deeply.”
He smiled. “Who doesn’t love a scoundrel?”
