The Perfect Scandal by Delilah Marvelle Page B

kissing me until the doctor was forced to remove me from his hands. My mother was livid, claiming he was some vile Russian libertine who obviously did not care if I lived or died, but I felt as if…as if he had been willing me to live.”
    She drew in a shaky breath and let it out. “Though I will never know. He disappeared and it was as if hehad never been there. I became obsessed and could think of nothing but him, even as the best surgeon in Europe was rushed to Warszawa from France to amputate my leg, which had yielded to gangrene. My mother eventually submitted to my demands of posting monetary rewards for anyone who might have known him, but nothing ever came of it. Who he was, I know not, and despite him being Russian, much to my mother’s own horror, I fell in love with him and everything he represented.”
    She shrugged, sensing perhaps she was revealing too much. “I live because of him.” She pinched her lips, forcing herself not to yield to emotion, knowing she had never been given the chance to even thank him.
    Lord Moreland’s tight features had long been softened as he continued to stare at her. He searched her face. “That was not what I expected. At all.” He hesitated. “Was he the only one to ever touch you?”
    â€œI am still a maid, if that is what ails you.”
    He lowered his chin. “You had better be. Because that is a requirement for whatever wife I take.”
    She rolled her eyes. “You men place so much value on being first in everything. What if women were to place that same value upon men? I dare say, society would be at a loss and God would have to send forth another Adam and Eve. Do tell. How many womenhave you kissed in your lifetime? And how many more have you bedded?”
    He glanced away and shrugged.
    She leaned forward, waiting for his response, yet he still said nothing. “Are you still counting?” she prodded. “Is that it?”
    â€œOf course not,” he drawled. “I happen to think this conversation crass.”
    â€œCrass? We are merely being honest with each other. Since when is honesty considered crass?”
    He stared at her. “You want to know?”
    â€œYes. I want to know. How many women have you bedded and kissed?”
    He cleared his throat and smoothed his waistcoat against his chest. “A few. All of which I regret. I have had the misfortune of attracting eccentric, older women in my circle who never held an understanding of what it is I truly want.”
    She hesitated. “And what is it that you want?”
    â€œA relationship.”
    Zosia blinked in astonishment and scooted toward the edge of the chaise, shifting her leg. “I dare say, you truly are respectable.”
    He looked away, the muscles in his jaw flicking. “There is no need to mock me.”
    â€œI was not mocking you. In my opinion, there are far too many seasoned rakes debauching poor, unsuspecting virgins for their own sport. ’Tis ratherendearing to actually meet a gentleman chasing after…a relationship.”
    He smirked. “I wouldn’t have minded chasing a virgin, but I knew the sort of seasoning I would have required from a virgin would have probably led to my arrest.”
    Zosia burst into laughter, then smacked a hand over her mouth, squelching her reaction. “Forgive me. That was exceedingly rude.”
    â€œI am not without humor.” A smile softened his lips. “I meant to make you laugh. And you laugh beautifully, by the by.”
    She bit her lower lip and nodded, fidgeting her fingers against the fabric of her gown. She really liked this Moreland. Despite his bizarre leanings toward pain, he was incredibly witty, intelligent, rational, handsome, not in the least bit annoying and, above all else, he was a Marquis who held a seat in the House of Lords.
    She could only demand so much from the reality of her situation. It was him or the men His Majesty kept