The League of Rogues: Books 1-3

Chapter 1-2

She stopped fidgeting and met his eyes with a strong glare.

“Why ruin me? There are many other young heiresses with more money. Do you plan to marry me?” She raised a golden-brown brow at him, a silent challenge that he found amusing. Emily was a forward and brash little creature, he would give her credit for that.

“Revenge is my only interest in you. Is that a simple enough answer? Your uncle is to blame.” Godric crossed the room to wash his face.

“My uncle?” Emily’s brows drew together and her lips parted as though deep in thought over the revelation of being leverage.

Godric bent, washed his face in the basin at the bedside table and then toweled himself dry. Then he pulled on a robe.

“Your uncle acquired a great sum of money from me, and I have it on good authority he’s paid off his other creditors with it rather than invest it. My money is gone.”

“That still doesn’t explain why I’m here.” She bit her lower lip, an expression of keen intelligence in her eyes. It had been ages since he’d really looked at a woman’s face and found intelligence attractive. Emily was certainly both.

“What is your intention towards me?” Despair laced her tone in such a way that she drew Godric’s attention.

Emily sat down on the edge of his bed, her eyes wide in disbelief. Abandoning his quest for proper clothes, Godric crossed the room, caught her chin in his hand and tilted her head back so she was forced to look up at him.

“I must keep you here a while until I see your uncle thoroughly destroyed, then perhaps I’ll return you to London. While you’re here, you’re welcome to share my bed.” He tapped her nose with a fingertip, attempting to tease her, but his words only drew a deeper frown from her. He knelt in front of her. “No harm will come to you, Miss Parr. You have my word as a gentleman.”

“Gentleman?” she scoffed. “Some gentleman you are. Dragging women from carriages, drugging them. You have not one ounce of honor. I don’t even see what this has to do with my uncle. Men like you ruin women like me and never look back. I dare you to deny it.”

He laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of denying it. I do however insist you understand I only ruin women for a purpose, not for sport.” He leaned one hip against the dresser, watching her intently. “I’m sure you know how easy it would be for your uncle to sell you to a man in marriage to settle his debts. Well, no one will take you if I’ve been there first.”

Emily’s eyes darkened. “So you hurt me to strike out at my uncle?” Her voice rose in pitch but it wasn’t shrill. “Have you not considered me? I am an innocent party in this. My uncle will demand you marry me, and then we’ll be stuck together.”

Godric gave a bark of laughter. “Ash said you were clever. I hadn’t realized you had a sense of humor as well.”

“Humor? I see nothing amusing in this at all. I had aspirations for marriage, yes, but it didn’t include marrying someone like you.” Emily crossed her arms over her chest.

“Miss Parr, I’m not sure if you know exactly who I am.”

Godric saw a flash of pain in her eyes. “I know who you are. The Duke of Essex. A veritable devil, or so the ladies say. You bring ruination upon a woman with one look.”

“Just a look? I thought I had to at least say a lady’s name…” he chuckled, but she did not laugh.

A splash of pink blossomed on her cheeks. Her lips parted further, and her bosom began to rise and fall with her quickened breaths. It reminded him of a startled sparrow that had flown into his study once. He had to help it escape out the window before it hurt itself by striking something in its terror.

“Let me be clear, Miss Parr. I have never let society and its rules dictate my life. Your uncle could attempt to wage a social war against me in order to leg shackle me to you, but we shall never set foot inside a church together. Do you understand? Now don’t look so put out, my dear. I am a generous lover. If I find that you and I suit, I shall take you as my mistress. I’m not inclined to permanent relationships, but I would keep you well cared for the rest of your life. It wouldn’t be so horrible to be the lover of a duke.”

Her violet eyes reflected a place far away, but were still resigned, a quality echoed in her voice. “Are all men as heartless as you? Don’t you understand what you’ve taken from me? I need to marry. My parents are dead. I had but one chance at happiness and peace, and you destroyed it the moment you took control of my coach.” Her eyes misted over with tears, and a second later, she keened, a quiet, small sound, before her body quaked in repressed, silent sobs.

Godric blinked in horror. Everything in his body clenched. It wasn’t the first time he had made a woman cry, but these tears weren’t from an angry mistress, but a young lady, a veritable innocent.

Without a second thought, he pulled her into his arms. A fierce need to protect her rose up in him, and he couldn’t seem to rid himself of it. Her body trembled against his, her hands exploring his bare chest, arms, and hands. A faint tug followed on his right wrist; he jerked back, amazed to see her clutching the leather band of keys. He extracted the keys from her fingers, prying them open one by one.

Godric burst into laughter at her furious glare. “Miss Parr, you have remarkably nimble hands. Oh, the things I could teach you…” He started to embrace her again, but she ducked.

Emily sidled back a few steps, eyes wary. Gone was the woman who’d been crying in his arms. Quite a believable ruse. Clever girl.

“I seriously doubt you have anything useful to teach me, Your Grace.” She dipped into a shallow mocking curtsey before she darted back into her room, slamming the door in her wake. The scraping sound of a vanity table being dragged in front of the door followed seconds later. He grinned and then started to whistle softly.

Let her wait. He certainly needed a few minutes to regain control, especially below his waistline.

“What do you mean, abducted?”

Albert Parr’s townhouse echoed with Thomas Blankenship’s fury. Albert sat at his desk, forefinger and thumb rubbing his eyes as he did his best to remain calm in front of his business partner, a man he was still heavily indebted to.

“It’s all in the letter.” He pushed the paper toward Blankenship, who snapped it up. The man stood before Albert with his chest heaving, his double chin wobbly against his jugular, a sight that should have lessened Albert’s fear—but didn’t. Quite the opposite. Blankenship had revealed the demon inside him with claws, salivating teeth and cold fire churning in his black eyes.

Albert sighed. Last night he’d arrived at Chessley House to retrieve Emily. The baron’s daughter, Anne, informed him that Emily never arrived. Albert had been concerned immediately. He hadn’t thought she would miss out on an occasion to see her friend, but maybe he’d been mistaken and Emily had decided to become difficult.

Perhaps she’d decided to avoid Blankenship and sought refuge with a friend. Not that she had many, at least none of whom he knew.

It wasn’t until he arrived home, exhausted and irritated at Emily’s stunt, that he had learned the truth. His butler handed him the letter left by the jarvey he’d hired to drive Emily to the ball. The weary driver confirmed that five men had abducted her, but refused to part with any more details unless he received some reward. Albert grimaced and slapped several coins into the driver’s wrinkled palm.

The story the coachman told was fantastical. His innocent niece had managed to trick the rogues and nearly escape twice. As he heard the tale, Albert imagined Emily as some sort of heroine in a grand adventure. It seemed she had more strength of character than he’d credited her with, but once the notion ceased to be amusing, apprehension set in.

He’d recognized the sloping cursive style of the letter at once, even though the letter was vague in its details and unsigned. After several dealings with the Duke of Essex, Albert had become intimately familiar with his unusual penmanship. But it was the letter’s contents that were most upsetting. Essex had stated that he knew about the money Albert had stolen and that he had taken “repayment” of a kind. He meant Emily of course.

Albert’s brow furrowed as he studied the note again, ignoring Blankenship, who paced back and forth like a caged lion. If Essex sullied her reputation, she would have every right to demand marriage and that would mean… Dread filled his limbs. If Essex became an in-law, Albert would forever be at the man’s mercy. That was assuming he could even get the Duke within a mile of the nearest church.

No, the duke wouldn’t marry Emily. Albert had no way of forcing him, and Essex knew it. Emily was ruined, and without her he had no way to repay Blankenship. Albert struggled for breath as he fought off panic. “Dear God.”

“What?” Blankenship growled.

“Nothing. I’m weary and this abduction has upset me.” The last thing he would do would be to confess his fears to Blankenship. Everything depended on getting Emily married to him. The side deal they had arranged would ensure that Emily’s inheritance, money tied up in Albert’s brother’s shipping company, would go to Blankenship and all of Albert’s debts would disappear.

Blankenship stopped his pacing. “How positive are you that it is the Duke of Essex who holds her?”

Albert looked down at his desk, avoiding the gleam in the other man’s eyes.

“I would recognize this handwriting anywhere.”

Blankenship digested this before replying. “What would cause him to take the girl?”

“I owe Essex twenty thousand pounds. He invested it with me, but the investment fell short. I used his funds to repay you for part of the debt I owe. He’s discovered his money is gone.” Albert fought the urge to set his head on the desk and remain still until he died. “The man has a violent temper and now he’s taken Emily as revenge.”

Blankenship studied the letter, his nose and cheeks reddened with irritation. “Why would a duke risk the rumors of the ton over such a meager amount? He has ten times that tucked away in investments, and his annual income makes this amount laughable.”

“It is just the sort of thing he would do. He’s one of those rogues, that group that meets at the Berkley’s club every month.”

“Yes, yes, the League of Rogues, or whoever they are. Spoiled paramours and nothing more. They do not matter. I want the girl returned to me. She is mine!” Blankenship snarled with such venom that Albert slid back a foot in his chair.

“How do you propose I get her back? The duke has taken her. Her reputation is ruined, even if he hasn’t yet touched her.”

“Demand he send her back at once.” Blankenship then tossed the letter onto Albert’s desk.

“Even if I challenged him to a duel, he’d probably laugh it off. He has what he wants now, and he won’t give her back—not until he’s satisfied she’s beyond redemption in the eyes of the ton.”

“You don’t want to have her back?” The deadly chill in Blankenship’s eyes unsettled Albert. “What about our bargain? Your debts to me would be satisfied when the girl is mine.”

Albert had not regretted the uneasy partnership between them, until now. Something evil, something black and cruel, floated in the other man’s gaze and put him on edge.

While Essex was rumored to be a grand seducer, Blankenship’s reputation soiled the walls of London’s brothels as the nastiest man alive. Women came away from his bed with bruises and shattered souls. Albert wasn’t a man to judge others about their bed sport, but knowing that Emily would be one of Blankenship’s permanent victims had unsettled his stomach to the point of queasiness. Still what was he to do? The debts he owed could have both him and Emily out on the streets in minutes if their owners demanded p*****t. At least her marriage to Blankenship would keep a roof over both their heads.

If Essex had her, perhaps it was for the best for everyone, including his own soul.

“I have no interest in her return. I was willing to sell her to you, wasn’t I? As I see it, now she has a chance of catching a duke’s eye, either as wife or mistress, and I will soon be rid of her.” It was the truth. Keeping that girl fed and clothed had been a costly endeavor for an indebted man. It wasn’t that he disliked her, but he had little choice if he was to keep the creditors at bay.

“So you won’t contact the authorities? Surely someone will notice she’s gone missing. Servants talk, Parr.”

“Not mine. And no, I shan’t go to the authorities. The last thing I wish to do is call attention to myself.”

“Allow me to act in your stead. Let me use the authorities at your request to confront Essex and demand the girl be returned. Once I’ve brought her back, she’ll be mine.”

“And if she comes to your marriage bed no longer a maiden?”

“Then she’ll not bear my name, but she’ll still warm my bed.”

Albert shivered with revulsion at Blankenship’s lecherous smile. He would no doubt treat her the same as he would any doxy off the street. Albert cared about his niece’s fate, but his own problems far outweighed hers. Blankenship had a reputation for making men disappear, sometimes reappearing face down in the Thames. The last thing Albert wanted was to end up dead because of his debts. Emily being used as a bargaining tool was the best purpose she could serve. May God forgive him.

“Fine, she is your problem.” Albert rose from his seat with a grimace, and looked at Blankenship with a direct stare, wishing the man would be off—to heaven, to hell, it mattered not. “Now, will you excuse me? I have matters to attend to.”

Blankenship stood stock-still, then curved one end of his lips. “If I don’t get her, your debt remains unpaid, Parr. You know what happens to men who don’t pay.” His face set, the older man turned on his heel and vanished out the door. The ominous threat clouded the air like smoke.