All Chapters of The League of Rogues: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

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

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

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

Cedric was ignorant of his fiancée's thoughts as he walked with her to dinner. He let her body guide his, feeling the faint pull of her when he needed to alter his path. It was a skill he'd worked on when Ashton led him about while he first learned to survive with his condition. Fortunately, he was decently familiar with Godric's townhouse, but the nervousness that held his body made him more hesitant than usual.He wanted to show Anne that he could still play the English gentleman, that he was not as helpless and hopeless as he felt. He sagged into his seat at the table with relief. His body seemed to naturally tense when he was up and about, as though some part of him expected to be injured somehow. Feeling more like himself, he reached out boldly to find his wine gobletSplunk!His hand collided with the thin stem of the goblet, toppling it onto its side. He heard wine sluice over the table and the chatter around the table halted. Cedric, even blind, could sense every eye in the

London, March 1820Cigar smoke hung in hazy clouds near the ceiling of Berkeley's dimly lit card room. The majority of the men lounging in chairs about the card tables were in their mid to late thirties. The young sensible bucks of marrying age were enslaved at the dances of Almack's that evening. Only the most dangerous of men were left free to prowl tonight and seek their pleasures without worry of crossing the paths of society mamas and their marriage-minded daughters. Cedric, Ashton, and their friend James Fordyce, the Earl of Pembroke, chose a table near the main fireplace to play a few games of whist before heading to a pleasure haunt in a few hours.Ashton spread the deck of cards out and shuffled them while Cedric and James flagged down a club servant to bring three glasses of port."Thank God Letty did not expect me to accompany her to Almack's," James confessed to Cedric. James blew out a sigh of relief. Cedric chuckled at the relieved expression in the earl's eyes."Not