Horatia woke to an empty bed and frowned. Something was wrong. A sense of foreboding rippled through her like the remnants of a nightmare teasing the edges of her waking mind. She slid out of bed and slipped her shift and dressing gown back on. She wanted to seek out Lucien immediately but it seemed better to be fully dressed, should she have to canvas the huge mansion to find him. She trod down the hall and slipped inside her room.She selected a gown that buttoned down the front, so as to avoid summoning Ursula. A moment after fastening the last button, she heard the distant crack of a gunshot. Horatia bolted to her window, which faced the northern field. She saw four distant shapes and a second crack cut across the field. One of the figures collapsed to the ground.A duel! Why hadn't she questioned Lucien? She'd sensed something was amiss last night, but she had ignored it. Why had she done that? In her panic she barely heard the door open behind her."A terrible thing, is it not
Thoughts drifted through the murky waters of Lucien's mind, jumbled and hazy. Horatia's soft smiles and shivery sighs, Cedric's haunted stare as he raised a pistol at him.His eyes wouldn't open and he couldn't move."Lawrence, try this," a feminine voice said.Something sharp penetrated Lucien's nose and shot straight to his brain. His eyes flew open and he surged upright, a pounding headache and pain in his side nearly making him cry out. Smelling salts. One never got used to them.Lucinda and Lawrence along with Sir John all stood watching him, eyes wide and worried."Cedric!" he shouted. Fear for his friend exploded into him as he remembered the duel. He was alive? Where was he now? His bedroom."Easy, Lucien, he's fine." Lawrence tried to still him with a firm hand but Lucien knocked it away. One thought formed more clearly now. He'd been too damned distracted to pay attention until now."Let me up, damn you! Where is Cedric? Where's Horatia?" He fought to be free of the ta
Horatia lay curled up against Lucien's body as he slept in his bed. No one dared to point out the impropriety of it and if they had Horatia would have screamed. As it was, everyone was very polite, even the doctor from Hexby, whom Gregory had returned with ten minutes after she, Lucien and Cedric had escaped the cottage.Lucien's injury from the duel had indeed been minor, a scratch. The doctor had assured them that head wounds, even grazes tended to bleed profusely. The concussion had been of far more concern, but that too had passed. Unless Lucien suffered an unexpected infection, he would be fine. Horatia hadn't left Lucien's side since they'd returned to the house, other than to quickly bathe and change. Now the doctor was attending to Cedric, who was resting in the room across the hall. Horatia stroked Lucien's hair back from his forehead and placed a delicate kiss to his brow."I cannot believe that Gordon escaped," she whispered. The idea that the man who had tried to kill her
Anne Chessley always seemed to forget how to breathe whenever she was near Viscount Sheridan. With short breaths she watched him walk down the aisle in St. George's. Light pierced the stained glass at the front of the church, showering a rainbow of colors onto the altar and the people gathered in the pews.Miss Sheridan and her brother moved arm in arm down the aisle. His free hand gripped a cane that he swept over the floor ahead of them. Music echoed off the walls and floated to the ceiling in a roar of wondrous sound. At the front of the church, near the altar, the Marquess of Rochester waited to receive his bride.A wedding of the ages. A rake reformedor so the Quizzing Glass had reportedand a quiet, beautiful woman, blossoming with love. Anne felt a little ache in her chest as she wished to be so fortunate.All too soon her attention was pulled back to Cedric. Even thinking of him made her so happy. Yet sadness lingered at the edges of her joy like shadows. Cedric's dark eyes r
BOOK THREE: Her Wicked ProposalLeague Rule Number 5:A man's best lover is a spirited lady, but one should treat spirited ladies the way one would a wild horse, with a firm hold and gentle voice.Excerpt from The Quizzing Glass Gazette, April 21, 1821, The Lady Society Column:Lady Society is in mourning. The dangerous rakehell Viscount Sheridan has been rendered blind. She cannot help but miss those dark brown eyes that scorched more than one innocent young lady's heart as he watched them from the shadows of a ballroom. Oh, my dear Viscount Sheridan, won't you come out into society again? Lady Society is issuing you a challenge. Do not hide from her, or else she will unearth those secrets you hold most dear.Perchance there is a lady who might yet tempt your sightless eyes and convince you to live again. Would you not like a woman once more to warm your bed? A woman to tame your wicked heart?London, April 1821Using his silver lion's head cane, Cedric, Viscount Sherid
"I think it only fitting that he's been deprived of sight, devil that he is. May he never fix his lecherous gaze on another virtuous woman ever again," Lord Upton announced to the men in the main card room of Berkley's, an elite gentlemen's club. There were several murmurs of agreement on this, but an equal number of disgruntled mutters.Cedric entered the card room, fighting off the natural panic of being in a room where he felt intensely vulnerable. "Stow it, Upton. I'm blind, not deaf. Do not make me call you out."His cane swung back and forth across the carpet as he navigated his way through the tables. He could not see Lord Upton's face, but the disquiet in the area of where he heard Upton's voice was telling. Cedric smiled and waited for his friend Ashton Lennox to join him."Cedric?"He flinched at the sudden sound of his friend's voice. Ashton had a way of walking softly as a cat.Although Cedric could no longer see, he remembered well enough how Ashton looked. Tall, pale
Anne Chessley stood in the entryway of her townhouse on Regent Street. Her back and neck were tense as she fought to remain poised and cool, hoping to hide her racing heart and the creeping flush in her cheeks. Had it only been yesterday that she foolishly sought out Viscount Sheridan and convinced him to propose to her?God, please don't let this be a mistake. What if he didn't come? What if he changed his mind and didn't go through with the wedding? Anne shoved the thoughts aside, though not easily.How much difference one day can make, she thought. Since her father had passed the week before, sleep had eluded her, but last nightshe'd drifted to sleep with thoughts of Cedric and that wicked kiss he'd given her. No, not given, shared. As much as it embarrassed her to admit it, she'd kissed him back.Anne smoothed her black crepe gown over her hips and sighed. The ripples of the stiff fabric were an uncomfortable reminder of her mourning and her grief. Her father, Archibald Chessley
Emily St. Laurent lounged in the library of her London townhouse, a book in one hand and the other stroking her beloved foxhound Penelope. The dog was nearly ten months old and no longer the sweet pup she'd been when Emily had received her as a gift, but a proud grown-up dog.When Emily had been abducted by Godric and his friends, Cedric had traveled to London and bought the puppy for her, hoping it would keep her at Godric's estate and dissuade her from running off.It hadn't stopped her. She'd escaped anyway, taking the dog with her.Penelope was her closest friend after Anne Chessley and Cedric's sisters. The dog let out a contented sigh as she rested her head on Emily's knee. Emily smiled and shut her eyes for a moment. The April sun was warm as it poured through the tall windows of the library, embracing her face."Emily." Goosebumps broke out over her skin at that deep voice.She opened her eyes to find her husband towering over her where she lay on the couch."You're back!