A Scandalous Marriage by Cathy Maxwell

flustered.
    Devon smiled, pleased with himself.
    “But is it possible to believe you really do love me?”
    For a long second, there was only the sound of the iron-rimmed wheels rolling across the cobbles. Then Devon said simply, “Yes. I love you. I will never let harm come to you.”
    A small frown line formed between her eyes. She looked away.
    The hack came to a stop. Devon opened the door, hopped down, and offered his hand. “Don’t worry about the oilskin. No will recognize you here. I’ll have the hack wait for us.”
    Leah poked her head out the door and then drew in a sharp breath. “We’re at the wharves.”
    “I’d wager you’ve never visited them.”
    “No.”
    “Too bad. They are the most fascinating place in London.”
    As he helped her down, she stared all around, taking in the excitement of a busy business day by the waterfront. It was a good day to visit. Huge white clouds, remnants of the earlier rain, floated across the sky, blown by a seafaring breeze. In between the clouds there was an occasional patch of blue.
    Everyone was out and about enjoying the good weather. Journeymen and warehouse boys rolled kegs to be loaded on the ships. Businessmen argued, and quartermasters shouted out to any passerby to “hire on.” Sailors with tarred pigtails strutted with a rolling gait, going about their business, while young clerks ran errands for their masters, weaving and dodging their way amongst those gathered to enjoy the day.
    Devon tucked Leah’s hand in the crook of his arm. There were other women here and there, but Leah, with her saucy chipped straw bonnet and cream muslin skirts, stopped all traffic. Grizzled seamen and gentrified merchants stared alike with open admiration until Devon frowned. Then they’d all hurried back to their business.
    The fresh air brought a bloom of color to Leah’s cheeks. “You like it here,” he said.
    “Yes. I’m truly a country girl. I like clean air. I don’t even mind the smell of wet wood and fish when compared to the soot and stench in the city.” She stopped, taking in the graceful lines of a sloop moored by the wharf. “I wish I could travel on one of these ships and see Spain, where my mother was born, or Italy. I would dearly like to visit Rome.”
    “Perhaps you will someday,” Devon answered. “Here.” He pulled her forward and pointed at the third ship down. “That is my ship.”
    Leah stared in surprise before walking toward it, obviously impressed by the four-masted merchant ship.
    She read the name on its bow. “The Indigo.”
    “She isn’t as large as most, but I sail her for spices and silk, and she’s made me a fortune,” Devon said.
    Leah glanced back at him. “This is what you wanted me to see.”
    “I wanted you to see that I’m not a pauper. Other men can spend their money on valets and clothes. I bought a ship. Not to mention that I will someday be a marquess.”
    “If you inherit.”
    “Oh, I’ll inherit,” Devon said easily. “Grandfather can’t disown me. But this is mine. The ship has been so successful, I’m buying a second.”
    “They say your grandfather pays more attention to your cousin Lord Vainhope than he does to you.
    Why is that, if you are the heir?”
    So, she had heard that much. “I’m my own man,” he said quietly. “I’m as complete and good as Rex in every way.”
    He had spoken without realizing how odd those words might sound. Fortunately, she, like everyone else, didn’t know the complete story, so she didn’t understand what he really meant. Instead she said, “Well of course you are as good as him. Even better. No one likes Lord Vainhope, and everyone likes you.”
    “Except Julian,” he couldn’t resist adding.
    A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Except Julian.”
    “Come this way.” He pulled her in the direction of a warehouse. “You need to see this.”
    Inside the cool darkness was row after row of kegs and stacks of burlap sacks. She sniffed the