Cedric lounged back on the settee in his drawing room, arms folded behind his head as a white and brown puppy dragged one of his boots across the carpet. Little Forrest growled and snarled, his dagger-like puppy teeth making little scrapes in the leather. Cedric didn't care. Life was perfect, puppy teeth marks and all.It had been two weeks since he'd been rescued from the waters off Brighton, and his sight had fully returned. Headaches had pained him the first few days, but once the swelling from the blow to his head had subsided, so did the pain.The door to the study opened as Anne and Audrey flew in like a pair of doves. Anne looked ravishing in her rose-red gown trimmed with embroidered wildflowers on the van-dyked sleeves and hem. Her full hips accented her tiny waist, especially when she placed her hands on them now to glower."Cedric, you mustn't let him chew on your boots. You're spoiling him." She lunged for Forrest. The King Charles spaniel froze, as he always did when An
Daniel Sheffield rapped his knuckles on the door to Hugo Waverly's study."Enter."Daniel nudged the door open and sauntered in. This was not going to be good news he delivered, and he hoped playing calm would help to lessen his master's rage.They'd had a perfect plan. It shouldn't have gone awry. Once their man in Brighton had sent word Al Zahrani's ship had docked and he was making his move, Waverly had informed the Royal Navy and dispatched the HMS Ranger with orders to sink the ship to send a message to slave traders operating in English waters. No prisoners were to be taken under any circumstances.What Daniel hadn't expected, and neither had Waverly, was Lord Lennox's timely interference."Well? Is it done?" Waverly looked up from his desk covered in papers, most of them bearing royal seals."No. The HMS Ranger was intercepted by Lord Lennox's ship, which informed them of British subjects being held captive on the ship.""Lennox?" Hugo crumpled the sheet of paper under hi
BOOK FOUR: Wicked RivalsLeague Rule Number 8:As a man's independence is inextricably tied to his wealth, it is vital that no woman should be allowed to meddle with it, no matter how fine her eyes might be.Excerpt from the Quizzing Glass Gazette, May 29, 1821, the Lady Society column:Lady Society is issuing a challenge to Lord Lennox. She can't help but think he is afraid of a certain lady who is in direct competition with him.Come now, Lord Lennox, what holds you in such fear and trepidation that you cannot be seen with her in public? At Lady Jacintha's ball you turned tail and fled when the cunning lady stepped out onto the dance floor.You cannot hide forever behind your fleet of ships, nor can you call upon your friends for support. The League of Rogues are fast succumbing to the charms of Eros and taking wives. Perhaps they know something you choose to remain ignorant of? For a man of such intellect and acumen, surely you cannot let that stand.I challenge you, my c
Hands sliding up her outer thighs, raising her gown, warm breaths soft against her cheek, bright blue eyes aflame with wicked desires and the fall of pale-blond hair"Lady Melbourne?"Rosalind Melbourne came back to herself. She was sitting in a cozy armchair in a sunny parlor with blue walls. Three sets of feminine eyes were focused on her, all a little concerned. A moment ago, she'd been listening to her hostesses talk about the latest scandals and political intrigues when the conversation had turned to marriages and the men in their lives. It was only natural for her thoughts to turn to Ashton when his friends had been mentioned. And that had led to memories from the last time she'd seen himat the operawhen they'd both lost control.I should never have allowed that man to kiss me, nor should I have touched him. It was a mistake.She reached for the cup of tea nearest her on the table. "I'm sorry. I was woolgathering.""It's quite all right," Lady Sheridan said, smiling again. "
Half an hour later the coach bearing the Essex coat of arms rattled to a stop outside Drummond's Bank. It was the bank where Rosalind kept the majority of her lines of credit.Rosalind and Emily climbed out of the coach and proceeded toward the bank, ignoring the stares of men and women on the street. It had amazed Rosalind to learn on the ride over that Emily was a skilled businesswoman herself. She'd handled her uncle's accounts, then taken over her husband's once she married. Through the course of the conversation, Emily had told her a fantastical tale of abduction, intrigue and eventually love, which had resulted in her marriage to the Duke of Essex. The local papers had certainly not given any of those details.As they reached the door to the bank, Rosalind drew them up short. "Are you positive you wish to go in with me? There will be talkmore than talkif you do."With a chuckle, Emily replied, "It's been quite some time since I've been considered scandalous, so it's time to di
I own you. The words from Ashton's letter blurred as Rosalind struggled to breathe. No, he couldn't do this to her. Shock paralyzed her body, her muscles tensing painfully.The past came rushing up from the depths where she had buried it, swallowing her in its icy waters, unable to stop the memories as they enveloped her.The cold castle corridors, wind whistling through the faded, tattered tapestries. The booming shout of an angry father."You think you can tell me what to do? You little wretch! I own you, and you aren't worth the breath in your lungs!"A cup of mead exploded against the wall where Rosalind, only sixteen, hid behind a half-opened door. The aching sorrow of her mother's recent death hung in the halls like an invisible cloud. It had sent her father over the edge."Rosalind," a deep voice chided from behind the hall. Rosalind jumped, but her older brother Brock steadied her. "Leave Father alonehe's been drinking."The door crashed open as their father, Lord Kinca
Jonathan St. Laurent stood at the entryway of a fashionable townhouse on Half Moon Street. The keys to the door felt heavy in his palm, and his heart gave a quick thump. The residence had once belonged to a baron, Lord Chessley, who had passed away in early April. His daughter, Anne, had married Jonathan's friend Cedric three weeks later."Scandal be damned," as Cedric had said. Since Cedric and Anne both resided in his London townhouse on Curzon Street, they'd had no use for a second house and had chosen to sell it.Now Chessley House was his. He'd met with the butler and housekeeper, and it seemed the entire staff except for Anne's lady's maid, who had agreed to stay on with him. Yet he felt strangely off balance being the one in charge of a household.He'd spent his whole life as a servant of the Duke of Essex, only to discover that Godric was his half brother. After the late duchess had passed, Godric's father had secretly remarried his wife's lady's maid, and Jonathan had been
Ashes drifted across the fields like snow. The sight was eerie in the middle of a sunny English afternoon. The ruins of his tenant farmer's home were nothing more than blackened cinders and smoldering beams. It cast a strange contrast to the bright flowers in the field nearby and the contented bleating of sheep that dotted the roadside. A watchful sheepdog sat with them, his tail wagging in the dust. Several village children peered over the top of a waist-high stone fence along one side of the road, staring bleakly at the place that had once been someone's home.Ashton rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and loosened his cravat as he studied the ruins."How did the fire start, Mr. Higgins?"The farmer stared in bleak anguish at the destroyed remains of his home."I don't rightly know, my lord." The man scrubbed at his eyes as though to hide any evidence of fresh tears. The Higgins family had lived on this land and in that house for seventy-five years. And now it was gone. Mr. Maple
The roads proved to be quite passable as sunlight melted much of the last evening's snowfall. Ella leaned against the side of the coach, watching sunlight glint off the snow like diamonds scattered on the surface of a white sheet. The rocking rhythm of the coach and the thudding sounds of the hooves lulled her into a numb state somewhere between wakefulness and slumber. She tried not to let her mind drift back to this morning, but it seemed determined to replay flashes of their lovemaking.The way Phillip's eyes lit up between slow kisses, how it felt to thread her fingers through his hair, the sighs he made as they embraced after coming apart. The way it felt to have his fingertips brush against her cheek. Even the way he spoke her name as she walked away. She would remember every little thing, the bursts of light and heat, and the cold sting of her breaking heart. Perhaps in time the memories would fade, but she doubted it. If only he was brave enough to come after her, to fight for
Ella awoke to the smell of porridge, eggs, and ham. She moved languidly, stretching her limbs, feeling sore between her thighs and a slight dampness in the sheets. Her face flushed as she sat up in bed. Phillip was seated by the fire, reading a novel. A tray of food sat on the table beside him, untouched."You should eat."He looked over his shoulder at her, his mouth quirking into a grin. "I was waiting for you. Come." He patted his lap, and the invitation was too much for her to resist. She slipped out of bed and joined him. He curled an arm around her waist as she eased down on his lap."How do you feel?" he asked, his eyes tender as he looked at her."A little sore," she admitted. "But wonderful too. I fear you've given me a taste for sin.""Have I now?" His delighted chuckle pleased her so much that her heart hurt. She loved his laugh, his smile, everything. She wanted only happiness for him because he had suffered so much."Yes, most definitely. Where did you learn such a u
Phillip woke before dawn, feeling more rested than he had in a long time. A beautiful woman lay beside him, and memories of how sweet the previous night had been made him want to burst into song like a lovestruck fool. He'd given her pleasure and she'd returned it, and it had been going so damned well until he'd fallen asleep. Yet his body didn't ache, and his leg didn't hurt as he was used to first thing in the morning. He moved slightly, expecting pain, but the usual stiffness in his thigh and lower calf and shin weren't there.He stared down at Ella's scantily clad body lying beside him. Had she truly rubbed his body last night, or had it been a sweet dream? He'd gotten so used to that, dreaming she was there to heal everything with her love and sweetness, that he didn't quite trust the reality.No, it hadn't been a dream. She had pleasured him with her mouth and almost brought him to his knees. Then she'd shown tenderness in helping him with his leg. God, the woman was exquisite
The night was full of magic. Ella couldn't stop smiling as she left the dancers and returned to the table with Bridget.Warwick poured them wine from a bottle a barmaid delivered to them. "Well done, ladies, well done."The wine was sweet on Ella's tongue and went straight to her head as she ate dinner. Phillip kept a hand on her waist, so deliciously scandalous, even though they were pretending to be married. She could have floated away without a care in the world."Well, it's getting late. I think we'll turn in," Phillip said at last. "It was a pleasure to meet you both."Bridget smiled. "As it was for us, my lord."Phillip collected his cane, and Ella slipped her arm in his as they headed for the stairs."You were stunning tonight," Phillip said as they climbed the steps together."Was I?" She couldn't resist preening a little. She rarely received compliments from men who weren't her brothers."You were most enchanting." Phillip leaned against the wall as he unlocked their d
Phillip was damned, but he couldn't stop what he was doing. She was so tender, so full of warmth and youthful excitement. Her kiss made him feel like the man he'd once been long ago. Like the man who'd danced with her in that ballroom ages ago, feeling her spin and twirl back into his arms. How she'd looked up at him when he'd kissed her beneath that starry night sky, and he'd thought in that moment they could have held the entire world between them.Now he was kissing her again, and it was different. She was not a young, teasing debutante. She was a woman now, one who'd learned disappointments and heartache and clung to happiness that much stronger whenever she found it. He wanted to make sure their time together now was everything she'd dreamed of.Her eager response to the touch of his lips or the flick of his tongue against hers brought back a flood of excitement. He'd thought he was incapable of feeling like this again, but he'd been blissfully wrong. A sweet melody echoed about
The following morning, Ella stepped out into the courtyard between the two gatehouses and blinked in surprise to find Phillip dressed and ready to leave. She'd thought perhaps after last night he wouldn't come. Yet there he was, eyes glinting with amusement at her astonishment.He looked dashing in buff trousers and an indigo waistcoat. A greatcoat hung around his shoulders, only adding to the handsome picture he presented. Beyond him a large traveling coach stood ready. Marcus and Cora were helping the driver secure several valises to the back of the coach. The morning sky was still a watery gray as the sun failed to penetrate the heavy snow clouds that had gathered above them.Phillip greeted her with a smile as she reached him. "Good morning."She smiled back, but a sudden bout of nerves made her tremble. Had she really asked him to tutor her in seduction last night? The reality of that moment was now a little daunting in the cold light of day."Come now, don't be shy," Phillip
Ella followed Mr. Boucher through the house as he escorted her to her chambers for the night. Most of the furniture was covered in cloth to protect from sunlight and dust. Many of the tall paned windows throughout the house were shuttered, effectively sealing off the rooms from light and life. This beautiful house had been emptied of people. Closed off, just like its master.They passed into one of the few more well-lit rooms, a long hall with paintings of fine-faced men and women. She glanced up at more than one of the portraits, seeing Phillip's eyes or chin, even his nose in several of the ancestors upon the walls."Mr. Boucher.""Yes, Lady Ella?""Is he in much pain?" She was perhaps indelicate to inquire about Phillip's injuries in such a way, but she needed answers.Boucher paused to look at her in the moonlight. Whatever he seemed to be looking for he must have found."Yes. In the beginning, he couldn't walk. He lay in bed for several weeks, only moving with the aid of oth
Phillip sat in the faded armchair in his study, staring into the crackling fire in the fireplace. His left leg ached, especially during the damp winter months. He rubbed his thigh, squeezing the muscles, and then farther down to his shin and calf. The muscles were still weak from the lack of use. But it hurt too much to walk, so he did so only when necessary.A sound from the hall below caught his attention. Voices. Who the devil could Boucher be talking to? They'd reduced the staff over the last year, mainly because he had shut up most of the house since he remained close to his bedchamber and never entertained. He sat up a little in his chair, listening to the sounds of a woman. The pair of maids he still employed were likely on the first floor of the house at the farthest end where the other bedchambers were or in the kitchens."Boucher?" he called out, but his voice was hoarse since he hadn't used it in what felt like days. He hadn't had occasion to see anyone or truly talk to an
One year later"If I have to listen to one more man explain to me that business and politics are not things to concern myself with," Ella growled over the rim of her teacup."It is most frustrating," her friend, Audrey St. Laurent, agreed. "I often say some men need a good whack to the heador between their legs, depending on the man."Ella snickered but then sighed as her mood deflated again."What's truly bothering you?" Audrey inquired.Ella glanced about Audrey's morning room, seeking a distraction from her mortification, but they were alone. A fire crackled in the hearth, and sunlight glinted off the snow outside. It was a perfectly lovely day, which made her black mood all the worse."At one and twenty, it seems I'm now to attract the worst sort of men. I was at Lady Hearst's ball last evening, and every single man I danced with lectured me about how fortunate I was to even be dancing at my age. To make it worse, the younger ladies have taken offense at my being there. More