BOOK SEVEN: His Wicked SecretAudrey Sheridan's eyes might have been on her reflection in her vanity mirror, but her mind was focused inward. Tonight, she was to embark on a dangerous mission: infiltrating a hellfire club in order to expose the members and their sordid acts to London society. As the secret columnist Lady Society, she prided herself on the articles she wrote for The Quizzing Glass Gazette. She did not write silly little pieces of fluff on who was marrying whom or who had worn the latest fashions from Paris wellthough she did so love to talk about fashion. Her articles were designed to push the boundaries of society. After all, the ton, if left to itself, would remain complacent and unmoved. A stagnant ground bereft of new ideas and enshrining only old ones. A place where progress would not be tolerated, let alone embraced.A smile curved her lips as she relished the thought of how tonight's foray into a dangerous club would shock everyone. She would be incognito,
Jonathan St. Laurent walked up the steps to the Sheridan townhouse, his heart racing. She was inside. The little sprite who had fueled too many fantasies of late. Her dark-brown eyes gazing into his, the deep rich coils of her russet-brown locks spread out over a pillow, her lips parted as she gasped and moaned his name. She was a woman full of passionand she scared the bloody hell out of him. She was the only woman he'd ever met who seemed to know exactly who she was and what she wanted out of life. She'd never want a man like him, not really. Her interest in him was no more than a game to her.And I'm the fool who wants to marry her, if she'll have me.He paused at the closed door, hesitating. Sweat gathered in his palms as he fought off a rush of nerves. He tugged on his riding gloves, trying to prepare himself to enter. Jonathan paused as he stared hard at the iron lion's head knocker.Last Christmas he had made a mess of things, but to be fair, she'd caught him off guard. Lucie
Audrey's breath burst from her lungs as Jonathan climbed the central stairs leading up to the other rooms in the Midnight Garden. He stopped only once, to demand a bedchamber, while Audrey shrieked until he smacked her arse with one hand. The blow hadn't hurt, but the message it sent was clearshe was no longer in charge. Normally, a loss of control would terrify her, but with Jonathan, it heated her blood. It made her feel faint.Probably because you're hanging upside down, you silly fool. She refused to let her body betray her, not when she had vowed to stop finding Jonathan attractive.He opened the door to the bedroom and slid the lock into place with a frightening finality before he set her down on the bed. Audrey's breath came easier. She would recover from being carried around like a sack of potatoes. Her artfully styled hair had started to come undone, and she pulled a few pins out of her messy locks and tossed them to the floor in frustration."Why didn't you just take me ho
Jonathan swallowed down the acidic taste of disappointment as he watched Audrey flee. The words "Will you marry me?" withered upon his lips and died. She didn't even want to hear him out. He'd given up on resisting her and had decided he would take the risk and propose. But now she didn't want him. Had it all been some elaborate game she was playing? Seduce a former servant and risk the scandal? When faced with actually marrying him, she ran away as fast as she could.Jonathan leaned back against the wall in the bedchamber, his chest tight with an almost unbearable pain. He didn't want any other woman, could have no other but the very woman who didn't want him.He glanced at the mirror, replaying every exquisite and torturous moment of having Audrey come apart in his arms. He'd received no pleasure of his own other than watching her climax. She'd closed her eyes, those dark sooted lashes fanned across her cheeks and those kissable lips parted, her pink kittenish tongue licking them
League Rule 17:Never let your title, or a lack of one, define who you are.Excerpt from the Quizzing Glass Gazette, September 9, 1821, the Lady Society column:Lady Society is quite frustrated with gentlemen as of late, especially those of a roguish nature. In particular, she is casting her disapproving eye on Mr. St. Laurent, the younger brother to the Duke of Essex. This gentleman has attempted a callous seduction of a young lady of the ton and then rebuffed her when she conveyed her interest. Mr. St. Laurent, you cannot play the cat to a mouse with a woman who is no longer in the game. It is over. Leave the lady be since you have no desire to marry her. Consider yourself warned."Consider myself warned?" Jonathan St. Laurent stared at the paper he had stolen from Lucien, the Marquess of Rochester. The two were settled comfortably in a room at Berkley's club, awaiting the arrival of their friends for their weekly drinks and cigars.The red-haired marquess chuckled. "You hav
Audrey Sheridan was facing the worst night of her life.Her mad dash from the seductive arms of Jonathan St. Laurent at the Midnight Garden earlier that afternoon had sent her on a reckless crusade this evening. And that mission was now crumbling around her.It was all Jonathan's fault. He had the audacity to waltz into her life at the worst possible moment. When she had decided to marry him after they first met, he'd simply ignored her at every turn. Then when she decided she no longer wanted to marry him because he continued with his cold, aloof manner, he'd ruined that as well by kissing her senseless, showing her a glorious world of pleasure she'd never known existed. And of course, he'd had to rush into the middle of her espionage training like a raging bull, insisting she was the daft one, pulling her into his arms andWell. That had been that. She'd dashed away from everything those lips of his promised and straight into this perilous situation. She'd been so desperate to for
This had better work. Jonathan opened his eyes as the coach came to a stop in front of his townhouse on Half Moon Street. Every muscle ached, and he wanted nothing more than to drink a bottle of scotch and collapse into his bed. But he had his future wifeGod willingto deal with first. He left the coach before her, ignoring her scowl. Then he waited patiently, holding out his hand to help her exit the coach, but she didn't budge."Audrey""I am not getting out. You may tell the driver to take me home." Her haughty reply would have made him chuckle at any other time, but tonight he was too bloody tired for her games."You are going to make me carry you, aren't you?""You will do no such thing. I'm going home." He couldn't see her face, but he could hear the pout in her tone.He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he leaned into the coach and grabbed her by the waist. She was such a delicate, curvy creature; he had no trouble lifting her out, despite her furious protests."
Gerald Langley rose from the floor of the hallway of his club, his head aching. He coughed and brushed plaster dust off his body. The world around him was in a state of destruction. The dining room was littered with spilled trays of food, chairs were overturned, and the acrid smell of gunpowder still lingered in the air. The house was silent; not a single member of his club was still around. The cowards. He rose to his feet, stumbling a little as he called out for his butler. There was no answer. Even the servants had fled? He would fire each and every last one of them for their disloyalty."Clayton," he bellowed. "Where the bloody hell are you?"He stumbled down the hall into his private study. This house was the headquarters to his club, the Unholy Sinners of Hell, but he often stayed here when he didn't wish to go to his townhouse in Mayfair. Lately he had spent more and more of his time here thanks to that bitch Lady Society. He'd been so close to ending that problem once and for
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