Her Favorite Forever (Surprised Heirs #4)

Prologue

Bull Lindsay stood, arms folded across his chest and hands uncomfortably still, as he leaned against the roaring hearth and frowned at the two lassies across the room. They were doing absolutely nothing wrong, and that was part of his irritation.

Their group of friends—extended chosen family, you might even say—gathered each Hogmanay to ring in the new year at one estate or another.

This year they were gathered at Peasgoode, Bull’s mother and stepfather’s estate, and the festivities had been absolutely smashing, as always—especially with the new additions to the family.

Everyone kept getting married and popping out bairns, it seemed.

Or growing up.

His scowl deepened as the two girls giggled—nay, that was a full-bodied laugh—and his cock stirred at the sound. He shifted, beyond irritated at himself and his body’s idiotic reaction.

But it was no surprise, really, and the reason he’d been in a bad mood since the holiday had begun.

Sometime in the last five years—more?—she had gone and grown up when he wasn’t looking.

Rosie Hayle.

She had always been like a little cousin to him; one of the innumerable bairns running about, tripping over things, nagging him for piggyback rides—permitted—or pickpocketing lessons—refused—at their yearly reunions.

Bull’s parents’ and older brother’s generation had gotten married and started popping out children left and right, and wee Rosie was among the first.

Fook me, I remember the Christmas she was born!

With a sigh, he scrubbed a hand down his face. Twenty years? Nay, twenty-one as of last week. How had it been twenty-one years already?

Bull was getting old.

To be truthful, six and thirty was not that old, but when the Duke of Lickwick had arrived for the celebration with his family and Bull had lain eyes on wee Rosie—recently back from finishing school and looking like the perfect young lady—he’d felt verra old indeed.

Like an old lech.

Because at some point, wee Rosie had grown up…into an incredibly desirable woman.

Bull had never felt the urge to admire Demon’s wife Georgia—a woman who had treated him as part son, part family rascal for two decades—but Rosie most definitely had her mother’s beauty…and a wild streak from her father.

Bull had immediately turned about and stalked out into the snow for a long, hard, cold gallop.

It hadn’t helped, and now he’d been stuck inside struggling with his body’s response to a lassie he’d thought of as an annoying little cousin for years.

Bull had done his best to stay away from her—he did not need to get up close with her again, because staring into those bright green eyes which lit fires all across his body just the once had been enough, thankyeverramuch—but even from across the room, even with everyone else chattering in the salon waiting for the dinner bell, he was uncomfortably aware of her.

Another complicated cousin, Merida, laughed loudly and reached over to tug on one of Rosie’s curls, which she now wore piled atop her head in an elegant fashion to rival her mother and aunt. His Rosie swatted her hand—

His Rosie? Fook, Bull was in trouble.

If his scowl deepened any more, his chin might dislocate and fall off.

Merida was a few years older than Rosie, and for some reason, those few years seemed to be important.

That, or the fact that Bull had hired Merida and her artistic skills many times over the years.

His detective agency had plenty of need for forgeries, and although the vivacious redhead was now renowned for her landscapes, she was also a skilled forger, thanks to her father’s connections with the underworld.

And since their mothers were sisters, it was inevitable that Merida and Rosie would be close friends. So why did it bother Bull so much to see the two of them giggling together?

Because they look so Goddamned innocent, and ye’re standing here having completely un-innocent thoughts about one of them!

Cursing himself under his breath with a stream of obscenities, Bull pushed away from the stone hearth and forced himself to turn his back on the enchanting image of the two young women.

Soon enough he’d be back in London, Rosie would be back in Endymion with her parents, and Bull could get back to his regularly scheduled debauchery and detective cases.

For the rest of the visit he would continue to keep his distance—he didn’t need to be in the same room as Rosie, much less get close to her again—and no one would know he was having distinctly un-older-cousinly thoughts about her.

Not that they were actually cousins. Not even close. They’d just been raised together—

Shut up! Are ye trying to justify those thoughts?

Bah!

He shook out his hands, squeezing and releasing his fists. Perhaps Uncle Thorne would be in the card room; Bull always relished the chance to try his cheating skills against his favorite family member. A little bit of card mishandling and uncle baiting was just the focus he needed right now to—

“Bull!”

The sound of his name drew him up short before he could step out into the hall, and he turned in surprise to see his younger brother Rupert—stepbrother, but their parents married when the lad was ten, so he’d been Bull’s brother for the last two decades hurrying toward him, his fingers entwined with his lady-love, Allison’s.

And they both looked extremely worried.

Bull pulled up short, attention locking onto them, senses on high alert.

It wasn’t a secret that the two of them were in love and quite perfect for one another, but as far as Bull knew, Rupert and Allison had come to no formal arrangement.

Whatever was concerning them must surely be unrelated to the way they desperately clung to one another.

“What is it?” he asked in a low voice as they reached him, both glancing over their shoulder once or twice. “What’s wrong?”

Rupert’s expression was serious as he pulled Allison to his side. “Allie has been threatened.”

“Please, Bull,” she whispered, eyes wide and brimming with fear. “We need your help.”

One quick nod, and Bull felt the pull of excitement which always came from starting a new case. He held open the door to the library, gesturing for them to precede him, and glanced about as well—as if there was danger here at the family gathering.

“I’ll help ye,” he vowed. “Tell me everything.”

This is what he needed; a new case to distract himself from thoughts of what could never be.

Bull stepped into the room, pushing them toward the arrangement of chairs in front of the hearth.

Allie wore the latest style of gown from London, the soft lavender complimenting her coloring, but Rupert’s cuffs were hopelessly spattered in ink as he clasped his love’s hand.

The young couple settled on the sofa, fingers still intertwined as if they might float apart without each other as an anchor, and Bull sat opposite.

Well, sat was too comfortable a word for what he did; he perched, his weight resting forward as he placed his elbows on his knees, his attention focused on those who needed his help.

“What’s going on?” he asked in a low voice, assuming they didn’t want this overheard.

Allie took a deep breath and glanced at Rupert, who gave her an encouraging nod. She nodded back.

“My father was…not a nice person,” she began, and Bull managed not to snort. His sister Marcia, who had been one of his best friends since before their parents had married, was now married to Allie’s uncle and guardian—another of his closest friends—so Bull had learned the family’s sordid past.

Aye, when he thought about it, there were a number of complex ties between the lot of ‘em here this Hogmanay.

Perhaps someone needs to publish some sort of family tree…

Young Allie’s smile seemed part grateful, part sickly. “Yes, well, you understand. He did not leave much of an estate, and what I did inherit, I thought little of. Now that Uncle Maxwell has Tostinham, I moved my things there and—”

“And paid her father’s things nae attention,” Rupert blurted, expression serious. “Until the letter came.”

Letter? Bull’s brows rose, urging them to continue.

Allie fumbled for her reticule—and Bull’s brow twitched, knowing Marcia’s crusade to bring usable pockets to the masses. Apparently her niece-by-marriage hadn’t been converted yet.

The lass pulled out a folded piece of paper, which she unfolded and read aloud.

“Your father had in his possession a portrait of his grandfather’s mistress, a young woman dressed in yellow and wearing a splendid ruby necklace.

By rights this portrait should belong to me, and I will have it.

I hold some power within Society, young Allison, and I am prepared to ruin you socially if you do not give it to me. You will hear from me soon.”

During the reading Bull had slowly straightened, his fingers unnaturally still as they gripped his knees. “Ruin ye socially?” He pierced Allie with a stern look. “What does this arsehole have on ye?”

The young woman flushed, as Rupert sat forward and hotly declared, “She’s done nothing wrong!”

“Yes, but…” Allie’s chuckle sounded forced, bitter. “With my family’s reputation? The way Uncle Maxwell inherited the title, after so many heirs died? My father’s disreputable deeds? It does not matter if the rumor is true…”

Bull hummed in understanding. “Aye, it doesnae need to be true, in order to ruin ye.”

“The blackmailer knows this!” Rupert declared passionately. “He also knows we will do anything to protect Allie’s reputation, including giving him the portrait when he contacts us again!”

Blackmail.

Bull’s heart began to pump and one corner of his lips curled.

Blackmail. One of his favorite types of cases. He had plenty of experience with exposing blackmailers, although he’d never had a case with such an empirically innocent victim.

As Allie lowered the letter, Bull forced his expression neutral once more so she wouldn’t think he was enjoying her obvious distress. “Ye ken of this portrait?”