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
Sir Hugo Waverly reclined in a seat at the back of the card room in Boodle's Club, watching the evening unfold with little real interest. His mind was on more important matters. A cloud of cigar smoke hung at the base of the chandeliers like dark clouds, casting shifting shadows among the lights from the candles. Men threw cards upon the tables, gathering and losing fortunes over hasty gambles. But Hugo was not a betting man.If I cannot secure my odds, I will not play.The door to the card room opened, and a man Hugo knew entered. It was one of his most trusted men, Daniel Sheffield. With Daniel's help, Hugo ran the most efficient and effective spy ring in the country, which, sadly, was not saying much. Spycraft as a whole in England was woefully amateurish, and it left his country vulnerable. It also made those who took the game seriously, such as Sheffield and himself, indispensible. They'd saved the Crown from more than one foreign war, and yet they would never be given credit fo
Brock Kincade was slumped over his escritoire in his small study at Castle Kincade. The last candle he could afford to spare was burning down to the end of its wick, the wax pooling at the base of the candleholder. Outside, the wind whistled through the tapestries and cracks in the stone and glass, filling every room with an inescapable biting wind, even in the spring.The papers in front of him blurred together as exhaustion plagued him. But he had to stay awake in case he was needed. It seemed that the weight of the world crushed down upon him. Upstairs his father was dying, and the thought of it was leaving Brock's life in a state of upheaval.The study door banged open and his younger brother Brodie stood there, chest heaving as though he'd run the entire way."You must come. It's time."Brock licked his thumb and forefinger and snuffed out the candle. He rose from his chair and followed Brodie up the winding, narrow steps to the tower where their father's chambers were.They
Of all the trouble Rosalind had imagined getting into when trying to get her life back from Ashton's steel grip, she hadn't expected to be robbed by a highwayman."Who's inside?" the man demanded of the driver."Lady Melbourne and her lady's maid.""Step away from the horses and go over by the road." The man flicked the end of his pistol to indicate where he wanted the driver to go."What is it?" Claire whispered.This isn't bad. Not compared to what you've faced before. She prayed she could convince herself of that.Without taking her eyes off the armed man, Rosalind whispered back, "I believe we're about to be robbed." Her heart pounded hard enough that she could barely hear herself think."What?" Claire gasped."Let me handle this. Stay behind me at all costs.""But"Rosalind raised her hand with the pistol as the masked man strode purposefully toward the coach. Just as he reached the door, Rosalind aimed her pistol at his chest. She had never shot a man before, and she pr
Jonathan leaned over a billiard table and prepared to take a shot. "It's a damned good thing Cedric wasn't home when I brought Audrey back from Fives Court."Ashton idly rubbed the tip of his cue against his booted foot, not missing the way Jonathan's face was intense as he talked."You are planning to marry that woman, aren't you?" Ashton asked as he waited for his turn.He'd been relieved to have his friends arrive this evening after dinner. He'd spent the entire meal trying not to give poor Miss Merton the impression she was to receive a marriage proposal. Between his friends' wives and his mother's schemes, it was getting damned hard to stay a bachelor these days."I intend to propose once I've had time to settle into the new townhouse and get everything prepared. No sense in rushing." Jonathan smacked a red ball into a corner pocket."Nicely done," Charles said. "But let's be honest, Jon. That little sprite is too much for any man to handle and still keep a grip on his sanity