A Marriage Most Scandalous (Scandalous Ballroom Encounters Book 2) by Victoria Vale Read Free Book Online

explanation for this.
    Or, it really was her. His wife. Here, in a whorehouse.
    When he forced his tongue to come unglued from the roof of his mouth, he could only managed one word in a hoarse, ragged whisper.
    “Cecily?”

Chapter Five
     
    Cecily paced, her eyes watching the progress of her bare feet over the soft carpet. Hands clasped tight before her, she worried her gold wedding band between two fingers. Pausing, she craned her neck, hoping to catch hold of some sound that would tell her Sheridan had arrived home. Breath held, she dared not even swallow lest she miss the open and closing of the front door, or the sound of his footsteps on the stairs.
    After the blindfold had been removed to reveal her, his expression had been nothing short of flabbergasted. He’d gaped, eyes wide and mouth ajar for a full minute before he recovered. He’d glanced from her to Petra, who stood nearby, still nude. She hadn’t missed the spark of attraction between the Madame and her husband, or the resentment that followed when he realized he’d been tricked. Then, perhaps, had been a bit of relief. She’d known he hadn’t wanted to sleep with a whore—or what he thought to be a whore. He hadn’t wanted to dishonor their vows; that much had been obvious.
    She could certainly understand the combination of confusion, guilt, relief, and satisfaction he must have been feeling in that moment.
    “It’s all right,” she’d said, reaching out to cup his face. “I planned the whole thing. I wanted to surprise you.”
    “Well,” he’d said, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he paused to swallow. “You have certainly succeeded.”
    He’d stood, refastening his breeches.
    Cecily had followed his lead, accepting the dressing gown Petra extended to her. She’d pulled it on and tied the belt.
    “Well? Won’t you say something?”
    He’d given her a blank stare, his expression betraying nothing. “Did you hire a hack to bring you here?”
    She’d blinked, taken aback. “Yes.”
    “Did you tell it to wait?”
    She’d nodded.
    “Good. Go home.”
    Her fingers had found the sleeve of his shirt. “Won’t you come with me?”
    “My companions will wonder what’s become of me. Under no circumstances can I allow them to know you’ve been here. I will return home shortly.”
    He’d been right, of course. She would leave as discreetly as she’d arrived, and when he came home, they would speak of what had happened. She could only hope he’d understand why she’d acted as she had.
    ‘Shortly’, as it turned out, proved far longer than two hours. That’s how long she’d been waiting for him. The hour neared five o’clock in the morning, and she had yet to sleep a wink. Wringing her hands, she repressed the nausea burning in her stomach. Had she, in an attempt to fix a problem, only exacerbated it? Perhaps enlisting the help of a brothel Madame had not been the best idea.
    She started when the noises she expected finally came, heralding Sheridan’s arrival. Fighting the urge to run to him, she stayed rooted to the spot, facing the door separating their suites. She counted the seconds as he ascended the stairs, then entered his chamber. She could hear his deep voice, mingled with that of his valet, who he dismissed.
    After a long while, she decided she’d delayed long enough. She’d spent far more time than she ought waiting for something to happen. She’d taken matters into her own hands tonight; there seemed no reason she couldn’t not continue to do so.
    She found her husband seated in a high-backed chair near his fireplace, the orange glow of flames playing over his patrician features. He wore only a pair of snug breeches, and smelled faintly of soap.
    For a long while, he said nothing, nor did he so much as acknowledge her presence in the room. She stood just in front of him, so close the tips of her toes almost touched his.
    At last, his gaze shifted to her.
    “I owe you an apology,” he began, his voice hoarse and