Hugo stood in front of the large fireplace in his study at his townhouse on South Audley Street. Waiting. His blood was roaring in his ears, and his head felt light.He promised himself it would be over soon. The evidence of his foolish beginnings, evidence that could damage the country, let alone threaten his own life, would be back in his hands and could safely be destroyed. The League of Rogues would not learn how deep his interests went and could not unravel his carefully constructed web of lies and secrets.The study door opened, and his butler nodded at him."Sir Hugo, Mr. Sheffield has arrived.""Show him in. Is my wife still at home?""Yes, Sir Hugo. She was preparing to go out this evening. Should I tell her you wish to speak with her?""No. Send Sheffield in.""Very good, sir."Hugo turned back to the fireplace and only turned again once Daniel had entered. Daniel's coat was covered in dust from the road, but his face was bright with triumph."Did you get them?" Hugo
"Husband" Rosalind tested the word as she watched Ashton tweak his cravat. He cut a dashing figure in his blue waistcoat and buckskin breeches. At the word, Ashton raised his eyes to hers, and the slow curve of his lips making her flush."Wife."Rosalind bit her lip. Had she truly been married today? It had been a blur of laughter, smiles and friendship that left her feeling wrapped in a cocoon of love. The League and their wives, as well as Ashton's family, had taken her into their lives openly and warmly. Even her brothers had been on their best behavior for once, despite being among so many Englishmen. Brock had promised her they would stay a few weeks while repairs were made to the castle.Everything was perfect. She'd never known life could be so full of joy."Come and let me look at you." Ashton held out a hand, and she came to him. She had changed into one of her favorite gowns. A cream-colored gown with Belgian lace and red roses embroidered along the sleeves, the bodice an
Ashton stood in a private drawing room at his estate with the fire crackling in the hearth behind him. Before him stood his five closest friends. They had been through so much this past year, and yet in some ways it felt like only the beginning.Godric leaned on a cane, his leg still giving him a bit of a limp. Lucien toyed with a slip of red silk. Cedric and Jonathan were pouring glasses of brandy for the others. Charles leaned against the wall by the door, his gaze pensive.In his hand Charles held the small gold decoder device that he'd found in his room. Rosalind had confirmed that it was the one her father had sent. The key to unlocking Hugo's letters had been under their noses all along. Charles toyed with the device as he met Ashton's gaze, impatient to get started."What is with the cloak-and-dagger gathering?" Lucien asked. "Has there been a development regarding Waverly?"Ashton removed a single letter from his waistcoat and held it up. Every man's eyes fixed on the few p
BOOK FIVE: His Wicked EmbraceLeague Rule Number 11:A man should remember from time to time to be a gentleman, even if he thinks he may have forgotten how.Excerpt from the Quizzing Glass Gazette, April 28, 1821, the Lady Society column:Lady Society is quite curious about a certain gentleman named Mr. Lawrence Russell. His elder brother, the Marquess of Rochester, is quite infamous indeed as a member of the League of Rogues, but as for Mr. Russell himselfthe rumors abound.Lady Society would like very much to know if he wishes to be married, or will he continue as his brother had and resist matrimony at all odds? If it is the former, Lady Society will endeavor to find him a suitable bride; if it is the latter, Lady Society sees his determined bachelordom as a challenge. A rogue you may be, Mr. Russell, but Lady Society believes you might yet make a good husband. Now who to marry you to?"You belong to me now." The whispered words echoed in Zehra Darzi's head as she jo
Lawrence Russell despised the White House in Soho. It was one of the less reputable brothels in London, and it had a dark side that made even a seasoned rogue such as himself shudder in revulsion. His tastes ran more toward the Midnight Garden, which catered less to hired pleasure workers and more toward matching aristocratic ladies and gentlemen with similar needs.When I seduce a woman, it is out of mutual desire, not a monetary transaction. No mistress he'd ever had demanded fine clothes or jewelsthey'd only begged him never to leave their beds. He'd been quite happy to oblige for as long as he could.He stared around at the crowd in the dimly lit card room. The tables had been pushed back half a dozen feet to make room for a small stage, large enough to accommodate a person in the chair that had been placed in the center. The room was filled with men, smoke drifting lazily from lit cigars as they talked and drank. There were quite a few faces he recognized. Thankfully, none who
Lawrence didn't want to participate in this dreadful slave auction. But if the lady went home with one of these men, they would force her to do things she didn't want, and he couldn't stand the thought of that. When he'd been only seventeen, not yet truly a man, he'd ventured into a brothel much like this. He'd thought himself a virile and entitled lad, eager to see himself pleasured for as much as his coin purse would allow. His head had been filled with images of eager maids feeding him berries on a lounge, willingly submitting to his overtures, and everyone partaking in a night none would soon forget.Instead, he'd watched women selling themselves to survive. It wasn't hard to see the desperation in the performances of those who didn't want to be there, or the emptiness of those who had given up and knew no other life. What was worse were the men who treated them no better than cattle. That night he'd watched a woman, boldly announced by the haggard proprietor as working her ve
Lawrence skidded to a halt as he reached the pavement. A number of Bow Street Runners were still on the steps of the White House."Bloody hell." He waited, watching the men for what felt like an eternity before they joined the others inside the brothel."About time." He walked briskly down the street, trying to look inconspicuous, which was difficult at midnight. He found a coach ready to take on passengers and waved for the man to come down the alley to him. Then he slipped back into the alley to find Zehra. She was waiting right where he'd left her. When he got close enough to reach for her hand, he noticed she was trembling. "You must be freezing." He removed his coat and slid it over her shoulders before she could protest. "This way. I found a coach. We must move quickly if we are to get inside without being seen." He slipped her arm in his and led her to the coach. Before they climbed inside, he caught her chin and tilted it up to his. "Understand, you don't have to come with
Zehra sipped her wine, even though her belly quivered with an ache born of days with little to no food. She fought to ignore the beating headache rising in her head by examining the bedchamber of her rescuer. His tall four-poster bed with a dark-green coverlet looked inviting, perhaps too much so. He had a shaving stand, complete with a washbasin, and a chest of drawers. A tall bookcase stood against one wall, and it was filled with books, some old, others quite new. She carried her wine glass with her as she approached the shelf. "Who are you, Lawrence Russell?" she whispered, reading the gilded spines on the shelves. Gothic novels, poetry, sciences, art, philosophy. He was well-read, it seemed. Surely a man who was well-read was less likely to be a cruel man. At least, she hoped so.He claimed he had bought her to protect her from other men. But she had learned the hard truth of late that she could trust no onenot strangers, not even friends. Her parents lay dead because they'd tr
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