around the bed clad in only her nightgown, fully aware that no one except her maid had ever seen her in so few clothes, and stood before him, facing him head-on.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” she said softly.
For the first time, he looked as confused and helpless as she felt. “I couldna help it,” he murmured. “I
needed
to see what you’d written in there.”
“Tell me what you think of me now.” She looked him in the eye. “Now that you know what I write. The kinds of things I write about.”
His lips curled. “I think I want you even more.”
“Why? Because of the content of my story? Do you think that just because you know some of the things I have written that I’ll give my favors freely?”
He blinked in surprise. “Nay.”
She stared at him in disbelief.
“Not because of
what
you write, Esme,” he said softly. “Because you
do
write.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, it canna be easy for a lass in your position. You need to be determined, ambitious, cautious…intelligent.”
Those were all traits Cam himself seemed to possess—well, except for caution, clearly. “What would you think of me if I told you that three of my books have been published? That this is my fourth, and it’s due to my editor in three months’ time.”
Surely he would be horrified to hear such a thing. Not only had she engaged in writing such scandalous content, but she had participated in the trade of publishing her books and selling them to the public. Most gentlemen would think she’d debased herself beneath the lowest of the low.
“I’d say that’s an impressive feat for any writer.”
She blinked at that, thrown off balance for a moment. Then she gathered her composure and held it tightly against her. “What would you say if I told you that I’ve lied to my family, friends, and acquaintances about my stories? That no one knows about them except my brother Sam?”
“I’d say well done. And well done to Sam, who has evidently earned your confidence.”
She laughed despite herself, her stiffness melting away like butter in sunlight. “You, sir, are truly unconventional.”
He grinned. “So, it seems, are you.”
She nodded. She’d always felt like an outsider in her family. She even looked different from the rest of the duke’s offspring—and it had only been recently that she’d learned why. She wasn’t the true daughter of the last Duke of Trent—she was the product of the duchess’s long-standing affair with Steven Lowell, a gypsy man from a traveling circus, of all crazy things.
What would Camden McLeod say if she told him that? She smiled, deep inside. Unlike everyone else in the
ton,
he’d probably like her more for it. She loved his reaction to her writing…it was like a breath of fresh air, and so unlike how anyone else she knew would react.
“So tell me, then,” she said, the last of her wariness fading away.
“Tell you what?”
“Why you’re here. You said yesterday wasn’t a good day. Tell me what happened.”
Chapter 11
Cam gave Esme a thoughtful look, trying to decide how much to tell her. Finally, he relaxed his expression. “ ’Tis a long story.”
“Well, I have all night. Or the rest of it, in any case.”
He nodded and held out his hand to her. “Sit with me?”
She took his hand and he led her to the pair of armchairs near the fire. “You’re saying I’m unconventional, and that’s true,” he said after they’d both taken a seat. “But my work is also unconventional.”
“My sister-in-law said you were in the army, but I know many of the regiments were disbanded after Waterloo. Is that what happened to you?”
“Not exactly. Five officers and two enlisted men from the regiment of Gordon Highlanders were summoned to London and given the opportunity to leave the army and do something different. We all accepted.”
“What was it?” she asked.
He seemed to hesitate for a second, but then he said, “We formed a brotherhood called
“You shouldn’t have done that,” she said softly.
For the first time, he looked as confused and helpless as she felt. “I couldna help it,” he murmured. “I
needed
to see what you’d written in there.”
“Tell me what you think of me now.” She looked him in the eye. “Now that you know what I write. The kinds of things I write about.”
His lips curled. “I think I want you even more.”
“Why? Because of the content of my story? Do you think that just because you know some of the things I have written that I’ll give my favors freely?”
He blinked in surprise. “Nay.”
She stared at him in disbelief.
“Not because of
what
you write, Esme,” he said softly. “Because you
do
write.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, it canna be easy for a lass in your position. You need to be determined, ambitious, cautious…intelligent.”
Those were all traits Cam himself seemed to possess—well, except for caution, clearly. “What would you think of me if I told you that three of my books have been published? That this is my fourth, and it’s due to my editor in three months’ time.”
Surely he would be horrified to hear such a thing. Not only had she engaged in writing such scandalous content, but she had participated in the trade of publishing her books and selling them to the public. Most gentlemen would think she’d debased herself beneath the lowest of the low.
“I’d say that’s an impressive feat for any writer.”
She blinked at that, thrown off balance for a moment. Then she gathered her composure and held it tightly against her. “What would you say if I told you that I’ve lied to my family, friends, and acquaintances about my stories? That no one knows about them except my brother Sam?”
“I’d say well done. And well done to Sam, who has evidently earned your confidence.”
She laughed despite herself, her stiffness melting away like butter in sunlight. “You, sir, are truly unconventional.”
He grinned. “So, it seems, are you.”
She nodded. She’d always felt like an outsider in her family. She even looked different from the rest of the duke’s offspring—and it had only been recently that she’d learned why. She wasn’t the true daughter of the last Duke of Trent—she was the product of the duchess’s long-standing affair with Steven Lowell, a gypsy man from a traveling circus, of all crazy things.
What would Camden McLeod say if she told him that? She smiled, deep inside. Unlike everyone else in the
ton,
he’d probably like her more for it. She loved his reaction to her writing…it was like a breath of fresh air, and so unlike how anyone else she knew would react.
“So tell me, then,” she said, the last of her wariness fading away.
“Tell you what?”
“Why you’re here. You said yesterday wasn’t a good day. Tell me what happened.”
Chapter 11
Cam gave Esme a thoughtful look, trying to decide how much to tell her. Finally, he relaxed his expression. “ ’Tis a long story.”
“Well, I have all night. Or the rest of it, in any case.”
He nodded and held out his hand to her. “Sit with me?”
She took his hand and he led her to the pair of armchairs near the fire. “You’re saying I’m unconventional, and that’s true,” he said after they’d both taken a seat. “But my work is also unconventional.”
“My sister-in-law said you were in the army, but I know many of the regiments were disbanded after Waterloo. Is that what happened to you?”
“Not exactly. Five officers and two enlisted men from the regiment of Gordon Highlanders were summoned to London and given the opportunity to leave the army and do something different. We all accepted.”
“What was it?” she asked.
He seemed to hesitate for a second, but then he said, “We formed a brotherhood called
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