The Notorious Bridegroom

by Kit Donner

Genres: Historical Romance

Synopsis

In the bedroom of a spy. . .

Ever since the horrible day her brother was accused of treason, Patience Mandeley hasn't recognized her own behavior. Under normal circumstances she would never be disguised as a maid, skulking around a earl's estate for secrets she isn't meant to find. But now the situation is desperate, and Patience will do whatever it takes to spare her beloved brother the noose, even if it means finding the true spy herself.

To do that, she'll have to gain access to the estate of Lord Londringham, the most desired bachelor in all of England--without him knowing who she really is. But even in her maid's uniform, she can't miss the looks of unsuppressed desire she receives from her employer, and she finds to her dismay that the attraction is quite mutual. Though she knows she must ignore her feelings for this dark-haired rogue to save her family and escape ruin, his close proximity is making all reason impossible. . .and Patience may find that the real traitor is her own body. . .

Release date: August 4, 2009

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 384

Sample

WinchelseaSoutheast EnglandSpring 1803

Patience Mandeley considered the wisdom of her plan, and determined that either she was very courageous, believed in guardian angels, or was quite tetched in the head. At the moment, she leaned toward the latter. But what else could she do? She could think of no other way to save her younger brother Rupert from treason charges.

“Miss Patience, quit woolgathering, and let us be off to the fair,” her companion of two days, Colette, told her, smiling. “Time enough to worry about your new position later.”

Patience started, suddenly awakened from her reverie. She slowly rose, gathered her bonnet and matching shawl, and followed her friend out the door of the inn. Her plan had to work. There wasn’t much time to help Rupert before the magistrate found him.

Against her better judgment, Colette had convinced her to enjoy Winchelsea’s Mop Fair before they began their work in the morning. Colette, attired in a black walking dress with light gray mantle, and Patience in deep blue with a light blue cashmere shawl, strolled down the main street joining the other fairgoers.

Patience kept watch for her brother, who might be lurking in the shadows of the lively crowd. She had to get word to him about her plan that would save him.

The twilight hours of the fair cast a dusky rose on the street choked full of locals, travelers, merchants, and farmers. Most of the noisy rumble headed toward the market square, where a bonfire blazed merrily near rows of oxen on spits wafting a delicious aroma to the hungry crowd.

The women made their way to the merchants’ tents, hearing the vendors shouting over each other to entice their customers with exotic perfume from the Far East, bright-colored linen, or a sweet orange. The Annual Mop Fair brought a variety of folk from several miles around who looked forward to this spring event. Crowded streets slowed the ladies’ walk as Patience searched and worried about her younger brother and his troubles.

Examining the softest of silks and delicious gingerbread occupied the ladies for a time until they heard a loud voice halloing the multitude to the Wild Beast show. The crowd surged forward, pulling Colette in its wake. Patience started after her friend but stopped suddenly.

Someone tugged on her skirts. “Lady, can ye help me find Bella?” a pitiful little voice asked.

Startled, Patience glanced down to find a forlorn small child with tear-stained cheeks, clutching a wooden doll. Four or five at the most, the girl peered at Patience from beneath her tattered gray day cap. She looked to be a sweet tyke, dressed in a faded blue frock, well-worn shoes, with long, disheveled gold curls bobbing down her back. Patience was always lost when it came to children and animals, and the little girl caught at her heart.

“Hello, little one. What’s your name?” Patience inquired, removing a handkerchief from her reticule. She knelt down, and after wetting a corner of the lacy white square, she rubbed at the child’s dirty face and wiped away her tears.

“Me name’s Sally, and I need to find me Aunt Bella. Do ye think she’s lost too?” the girl sniffled.

Patience smiled. “No, your aunt must be very worried and looking everywhere for you.” Confident they would find the child’s relative somewhere nearby, she tucked the handkerchief in her sleeve and held out her hand. “Come, let us see if we can find her,” she told the small girl as they walked together toward the bonfire.

“What’s yer name?” the little girl asked, her head cocked to look up at Patience.

Patience hesitated before revealing the name she had chosen for this masquerade. It simply wouldn’t do for anyone to learn Patience’s true identity. Looking down at the small child, she told her, “Patience Grundy.” She noticed Sally clutched something to her chest. “Is that your doll?”

Sally’s eyes opened wide and an innocent smile hinted at missing teeth. “Me baby is Jane. See here, Miss Grundy,” she said as she held her unclothed wooden doll for Patience to get a closer look at four sticks and a wooden ball for a head.

Patience’s eyes widened in consternation. “Does your doll have any clothes?”

“I couldn’t find any.” Sally shrugged her thin shoulders. “Someday, I’ll ha’ a baby with lots of clothes and hair. But me aunt says I ha’ to be a good girl. But I’m always a good girl.” She frowned, obviously confused by adult logic.

They reached the boisterous crowd in the square who were enjoying the fiddle music, shared ale, and succulent dripping roast pig and oxen meat. But though Patience examined the merrymakers intently, no one appeared to be looking for lost kin. The tiny little hand in hers firmed her determination.

She was about to ask Sally to describe her aunt, when they reached the fiery pier surrounded by those seeking warmth on this damp spring night. Just as Patience released the little girl’s hand briefly to adjust her bonnet, a foxed young man pushed past them and knocked Sally toward the flames.

Patience uttered a shriek and lunged for Sally but a gentleman nearby proved faster. He grabbed the child before she could feel the heat’s sting. As the stranger lifted the child up and away from the blaze, Sally squealed in delight.

Breathless with relief, Patience watched the gentleman set the child down safely and told her, “You must be more careful, little one.”

His concerned voice invoked a warm smile of gratitude from Patience. Before she could express her appreciation, a young man interrupted them, handing a black cane with a gold tip to Sally’s rescuer.

“Lord Londringham, you dropped your cane, over there.” The pale, pleasant-featured man gestured over his shoulder to the firepit.

“Thank you, I had forgotten it.”

Patience dropped her jaw.

It was he, Lord Londringham, her new employer—and her enemy. What was he doing at the fair? Patience had assumed that nobility would have no interest in local events. She was obviously proved wrong.

Once in his household as the new still-room maid, she would need to try to be inconspicuous if she was to complete her mission. Given her purpose, she wanted to spend as little time as possible with him this night.

The earl, dressed in black, returned his attention to Patience with a quick nod. “If you’ll forgive these circumstances, I am Lord Londringham. Madam, you should watch your daughter more closely. She could have been seriously injured.” Censure was implicit in his tone and manner.

Still shaken by his presence, Patience could only manage to sputter indignantly, “I…I assure you, sir, I am in the habit of taking care of those in my custody, but a man—”

“Where’s Jane?” Sally cried, effectively suspending Patience’s defense.

Lord Londringham looked inquiringly at Patience.

“Her doll,” she responded flatly as the child tugged on Patience’s skirts.

With a quick look around, the earl spotted the ravaged wood figure by the fire. He picked it up and showed it to the child.

“Was this your doll?” he asked. At Sally’s sad nod and trembling lower lip, the earl told her gently, “She could not be rescued, but might your mama allow me to purchase you a new doll?” He raised his eyebrows at Patience, his gaze inscrutable.

Patience stared in amazement, her lips dry at his intense stare. The man was a chameleon, either gentle and soft-spoken or an arrogant toad. He really should tread the boards with his talent, she thought. He was certainly handsome enough, with dark brown hair, penetrating blue eyes, a lean face, and square jaw. Oh, but she was becoming distracted. She must keep her mind on her plan. Nothing else mattered.

“Madam, do I have your permission?” He threw the charred remnants of the doll back into the fire and turned to Patience for acquiescence.

His dark face impassive, she knew why he made such a good spy. She blinked in confusion. What had he just said? Something about her daughter? “Oh, but—” belatedly she began to explain.

“Of course ye may, right Mama?” Sally smiled innocently up at Patience, who raised her eyebrows and dropped her jaw. The little minx wanted to pass off Patience as her mama in order to get a new doll.

She hesitated to admonish the child, then well aware the earl stood nearby quietly watching, told the little girl sweetly, “Sally, I told you I would buy you a doll. And we really must not detain this kind gentleman any further. Remember, we must search for Aunt Bella.”

His smooth voice disrupted her thoughts, startling her. “Perhaps I could assist you in purchasing a doll for the child and your search for Aunt Bella.”

Patience put a hand to her head. How ever was she to endure his company, even for one moment? He was not truly considering joining them. Did he not have any spy work to do?

She hid her trembling hands in her skirts’ pockets. Being so close to the one who was possibly guilty of causing harm to her brother, she had to bite her lip to stop from pronouncing him the rogue she knew him to be. Before Patience could reply negatively, Sally answered for her, running to his side.

“Oh, please, me lord. I would really love a new doll. E’en though I’ll miss Jane. And ye can help us find Aunt Bella too.” Her sweet supplication would have felled Goliath faster than David’s stone.

Patience watched in surprise as he bent down toward Sally.

“Then we are agreed.” When the earl smiled at Sally, Patience saw the child’s face light up.

“Oh, yes, please, sir,” Sally whispered, then turned to Patience with a smug look. “Coming, Mama?”

Patience uttered, “Of course, sweetheart” through gritted teeth while following the little lamb leading the big bad wolf off to find a doll. Patience was beginning to believe Sally didn’t even have an aunt.

Surely this evening was getting a bit out of hand. Resolved to once more control the events, Patience hurried after Sally and the earl, noting they had already exchanged names. She had to admire the undivided attention the earl showed the child. But she was not fooled. She knew the man would have helped sell Joseph to the merchants. Her brother James’s sermons not forgotten.

After the little girl had tried repeatedly to pronounce his last name without success, she announced decidedly, “I’ll call ye ‘Mr. Long.’”

The earl threw Patience in a panic when he turned his dark blue study in her direction. “Might I know your name, madam? Surely I cannot call you ‘Mama.’”

She knew his smile was deceptively pleasant for Sally.

Sally cut in. “Me mama’s name is Miss Grundy.”

Trying to remember her “new” last name and hearing the word “mama” in the same sentence disconcerted Patience but not as much as the earl’s thorough scrutiny of her before inquiring, “Should that not be Mrs. Grundy?” in a low voice that sent warm sparks to her cheeks.

Mortified, her mouth dropped open before she quickly recovered. “Of course. My husband died, soon after we married.” She wet her lips in despair. That didn’t sound right. “Sally is really my stepdaughter.” Yes, much better, she thought. She really needed to be rid of his presence and to regain her composure.

Thankfully, he chose not to pursue further inquiry. “Mrs. Grundy, what does Aunt Bella look like?”

“Look like?” Patience asked distractedly, trying to think of an answer.

He chuckled softly, causing her to stare at the softening of his features. “Yes, Aunt Bella. Surely you know what the woman looks like?”

Shoulders back, she bluffed her way into a response. “She’s rather difficult to describe, rather ordinary.”

Desperate, Patience searched the crowd looking for anyone who could pass as Sally’s aunt. She determined to carry Sally if necessary into the crowd, hoping to lose the earl and his interest in them behind.

She spotted a middle-aged woman in black and pointed to her. “Sally, I think I see Aunt Bella over there. Come along, dear.”

But the child frowned in confusion. “But, Mama, that’s not Aunt Bella.” Suddenly, the sound of the merry-go-round caught Sally’s attention, and immediately dolls and aunts became yesterday’s candy. She pulled at the earl’s arm. “Can we go on the merry? Oh, please! Please, Mr. Long?” Sally pleaded.

“I don’t see why not, as long as your mama approves,” he told her, looking back at Patience a few steps behind them.

She stared at him in bewilderment and found herself nodding. She should have been content to have the opportunity to study her enemy this closely, but could not quite reconcile this man with the image of the purveyor of evil. But what did she really know of him? Unnerved, she could not suppress a shiver.

Unfortunately, the earl must have seen her tremble, for he immediately removed his coat and placed it around her shoulders. “It is certainly a chilly night after the recent rainfall. Let us take the little one on a ride. Then we will look for Aunt Bella.”

Sally and the earl walked over to the ride, while Patience followed slowly, enveloped in a musky cocoon of warmth in his greatcoat. His strong, clean scent disturbed her, and she knew not why. It worried her. The sooner she discovered proof of the earl’s guilt, Rupert could be free of the treason charges, and they would see the last of this devious man.

At the merry-go-round, Lord Londringham handed coins to the proprietor and lifted Sally onto the wooden platform, already crowded with other children arguing over who would have the best chargers. Sally eagerly climbed onto a small brown pony and turned to look at the earl with a smile.

As Patience dug deep into her pocket for her lucky onyx stone, she watched the child, aware that her ordeal of pretense had only just begun. When she turned to look for Colette, she suddenly felt strong hands at her waist easily lifting her onto the brightly painted horse beside Sally.

She heard him whisper in her ear, “Thought you might also enjoy a ride.”

It all happened so quickly, his touch, his whisper, then he was gone. On her gray-and-yellow wooden charger, Patience sputtered like a candle at the end of its wick, for she had no notion of taking a ride. But before she could climb down, the carousel jerked into motion. With a firm hold on her horse’s pole, she shook her head at the man’s audacity. Next time, she would certainly be ready for him. She hoped.

Her contemplation was cut short when she heard Sally’s peals of glee as they spun around and around. Thankfully, Patience’s charger was wooden, given her fear of horses. But after a few more revolutions, she was ready to exchange her seat for solid ground, while Sally protested her ride had ended much too soon.

The earl stood ready to help them down from the platform, a package tucked under his arm. He plucked Sally down first, then reached for Patience, who tensed, feeling his sinewy hands about her waist. The heat of his touch ignited a strange warmth in her belly and a flush across her cheeks. She did not have to look up to know he watched her as she clung to his hard forearms in an effort to regain her balance.

Finally, when able to stand without his assistance—he seemed oddly reluctant to let her go—she told him succinctly, “Sir, the next time, I will advise you if I wish to take a ride.” She must remember to keep her wits about her, and her feet firmly planted on the ground when dealing with the man.

“Mrs. Grundy, I sincerely hope you do,” he returned pleasantly.

The gleam in his eyes confused her, and she quickly looked away, finding her bonnet needed adjustment again.

“Oh, that was fun! Shall we try again?” Sally cried, as she spun in circles, her arms flung out as if to fly.

“No, little lady, we shall find your aunt,” Patience stated firmly.

Her authoritative tone brought the child to a slow halt. A grin suddenly lit Sally’s face as she spied another amusement. “A puppet show! Let’s see the puppets!” She grabbed the earl’s hand and began to pull him in the direction of the little curtained box where a group of children were laughing at the antics of Simple and Master Simon, a comedy about a hopeless servant and his hard-to-please master.

Patience sighed and reluctantly followed her companions, suddenly suspicious that both Sally and the earl enjoyed themselves at her expense. She saw the earl purchase the child an orange from a merchant, but declined when one was offered to her.

“Really, Mrs. Grundy, that disapproving look on your face surprises me. Do you not like to see your daughter, your stepdaughter enjoy herself?”

Startled, she blinked up at the earl, standing a little too close for her own peace of mind. She swallowed. Hard. “Yes, I only worry about finding her aunt. And it is growing quite late. Surely we must be keeping you from something or someone?” She watched his guarded expression carefully.

He pulled out his watch. “Yes, I am due to meet someone. But they shall wait.” He returned the watch to his pocket and leaned idly on his cane, seeming to mask his predatory nature. “I believe you are unfamiliar to Winchelsea. Where is home?”

Alert, she replied, “A good two-day journey from here, my lord.”

Watching the performance, he asked her, “And what brings you to Winchelsea? A new position? A suitor?”

Patience turned to stare at his hard profile, then quickly focused on the show when he glanced her way. Think quickly. I must think quickly. “Ah, visiting. Yes, visiting my cousin for a short while.”

Preventing anything further along this line of inquisition, she smiled brightly. “And where is the woman for your arm?” Her question edged in flirtation, hoping to distract him. She observed him intently, waiting for his answer.

When he shifted his stance to face her, his smile almost charmed her. “Madam, fate has not seen fit to provide me with a wife, and I must take my pleasure like this evening when it is afforded me.”

Patience blushed, wondering if he lingered a little too long over the word “pleasure.” She remarked hurriedly, “You seem to enjoy children, you must wish for your own.”

His blue gaze grew deeper as he gave her an amusing smile. “First a wife, then children. Are you quite sure this is not some kind of proposal, Mrs. Grundy?”

Horrified at his pronouncement, albeit in jest, she clasped her hands to her now-scarlet face. “My lord, I intended no such liberty.”

He laughed at her expression, then, as if he remembered something, said softly, “I almost wish—”

Sally interjected, “Please, I want to see the tigers and unicorns and…and ponies!” as they left the puppets for the Wild Beast show.

Wearily, Patience told her, “Ponies, my dear girl, are not wild beasts, and I do not believe there are any unicorns around here.”

“Where’ve ye been, Sally?” a thunderous voice commanded from high above.

Startled, they looked up to find a tiny woman clad in a sparkling bright-red dress climbing down the ladder from a tightrope. She hurried over to Sally, who stood subdued by Patience’s side.

“Where ye been? Answer me! Ye should ha’ been back over an hour ago,” the woman scolded, with a jerk on the child’s thin arm.

At first, Patience could only stare at the scarlet-clad woman who must be Sally’s aunt. An acrobat? Small wonder they could not find her on the ground.

Lord Londringham stepped forward. “Madam, we have been searching for you for some time. Do not be harsh with the child. She only wanted to enjoy the fair.” His interce-dence acted like cold water on a fire, and the aunt’s anger slowly died.

The little woman stared in surprise at the earl. “Sir, I do beg ye pardon. I hope me gel hasn’t caused trouble.”

The whiny voice grated on Patience’s frazzled nerves, and she told Sally’s aunt, “Little Sally was no trouble at all. We were only concerned we would be unable to find you.”

“Well, ye did, and I’m much obliged. I’ll take care of her now,” her aunt ordered, giving a second glance to the gentleman in front of her.

Quiet during the reunion with her aunt, Sally now gazed up at Lord Londringham. “I never had near so much fun before. Thank ye, Mr. Long, for the orange and the rides and the puppets and everythin’.” Her voice floated sweetly up to him.

Patience watched as the earl knelt stiffly beside the little girl. “You are welcome, child, and I did not forget. For you.” He offered her the brown-wrapped package he carried under his arm.

The child eagerly ripped open the paper and discovered a pretty wooden doll dressed as a shepherdess, with long flaxen hair, rosy cheeks, and holding a tiny crooked staff.

Sally looked in awe at her present and then at the earl. “Oh, thank ye, sir. I’ll take good care of her.” Her small face turned pale, and she leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

The earl nodded and rose to a stand, his eyes unwavering on Patience.

Hesitantly, Sally approached Patience, who sank to her knees. “I’m sorry about pretendin’ ye was me mama. I did want the doll. I guess I wanted a mama too. I hope yer not too mad.”

Patience smiled at the child’s honesty. “I am not mad, but lying is seldom rewarded, except perhaps this time.”

Sally nodded before smudging a shy kiss on Patience’s cheek.

“C’mon. Ye be ’nuff trouble for three children.”

The woman’s brusque coldness chilled Patience’s warm heart. She wished that there was something more she could do for the child.

When the woman would have dragged Sally off, Patience called, “Please wait.” She quickly slipped the earl’s coat from her shoulders and offered it to him with a short nod. “I must go. Thank you for your kindness. I know Sally truly enjoyed herself.”

She turned to leave, but a firm hand on her thin sleeve prevented her. “And Mrs. Grundy? Did she enjoy herself as well?”

His face again in the shadows, somehow she felt her answer to be important to him.

“Of course. You…you proved an amusing as well as considerate companion.” She thought her praise high, in view of the circumstances.

His smile widened to a grin. “I suppose the same can be said for Gulliver.”

“Gulliver?” She knew she should not have asked.

“My dog.”

While studying her flushed face, he raised her hand and softly kissed her glove, his warmth penetrating through to her skin.

“Mrs. Grundy, you do interest me, a great deal. I’m confident that we will meet again,” he told her and bid her good evening with a touch to his beaver hat.

Patience froze looking after him. His sentiments seemed ominous. Perhaps they would meet again, right before he was hung for treason.

Sally interrupted her troubling thoughts, tugging on her hand for attention. Looking at Sally’s aunt’s suspicious countenance, Patience was aware she needed to explain a few things to the little woman. A few bob, and she gained the aunt’s silence.

After matters were finally remedied, and Bella had taken Sally home, Patience could search for Colette. Since most of the fairgoers had wandered into the night, only a small handful of people remained near the dying bonfire. To her relief, she soon found Colette at the square, looking for her too. They strolled back to their lodgings, along with the rest of a tired crowd. Patience could only hope her disguise as a still-room maid in Lord Londringham’s house would hold up to scrutiny after this night.

 

Back at Paddock Green, Bryce lay awake for a long time reflecting on the sweet countenance of one Mrs. Grundy. He knew Grundy was not her last name. Who could she be? He wished he had inquired as to the cousin’s surname.

The bright flames of the bonfire around Mrs. Grundy had created a vivid aura against her soft brown hair. He remembered the tiger-lights sparkling in her lovely hazel eyes, and the warm look she unknowingly had sent him when he had given the child a new doll. He rose from the bed to walk over to the chair where he had laid his coat. He could still smell her lavender perfume on it. And a faint odor of peppermint.

The lark awakened him outside his window with the morning light pouring onto his bed in uneven lines. He had not slept this deeply in months, and it took him a few minutes to realize the cause.

No nightmares. It was because of her. Mrs. Grundy. He knew little about her, but sure as the world held hope and regrets, he would find her again. Unfortunately, he had to find his stepbrother’s murderer before he could enjoy her tempting pleasure.

A man of middle years with a long, thin face, Viscount Carstairs slowly drained the last drops of beer from his tankard and contemplated the inside of the familiar Bear’s Wit tavern with half-masted eyes, yet again wishing for a good fellow to whom he could boast of his ingenious plan. But this late on the starless and windy night, anyone still awake was no doubt about the Devil’s work. He grinned at the thought. He wanted to crow that by tomorrow morning he would be rich and a long way from England.

“We need to talk.” The soft-spoken voice startled the older man, not yet in his cups.

The viscount looked up suspiciously to spy his young cousin. The lone candle on the table flickered, briefly lighting the pale, drawn face of the young man, obviously wearied from a long journey. “Rupert, my boy. What do you here? Did you not get my note? You are wanted for treason. It is not safe for you,” he told him under his breath. Then Carstairs smelled it: the odor of the hunted. “You look all in. Beer will straighten your back.”

A quick shout brought the innkeeper and another tankard. When he protested about wanting to close for the night, the viscount silenced him with a few more coins in the man’s pocket.

Rupert took a long drain from his cup before he replied in an undertone, “I know. I have spent the last two days avoiding a press-gang who wanted to throw me on a blockade ship and the constable’s men who seek to hang me. I do not remember my last meal or soft bed. Please, you have got to help me.” He paused. “I’m tired of running.”

His weary brown eyes unmistakably betrayed fear and hunger of a man no longer a boy. Worry lines had replaced laugh lines in the young man’s suddenly old face. He took another draught of the watered-down liquid before him. “Tell me, Peter, why in bloody hell does the constable believe I am selling secrets to the French?”

Carstairs narrowed his eyes as the boy settled uncomfortably onto the hard chair. He chose his next words carefully. “I was as shocked as you when I heard the news. Perhaps you met some untrustworthy chaps during your stay with me, and they gave your name to the constable in order to save their own.”

Rupert’s eyes widened in dismay. “But I was with you. The only blokes I met were your friends.”

“Yes, and I am afraid even I do not trust everyone within my acquaintance. I did try on your behalf to defend you. I told the constable you were only my relative come for a visit, and being of true English stock could not possibly be guilty of treason.” He raised his hands and shrugged. “But alas, he maintains he has proof of greater conviction than the weight of my words.”

Rupert, resting his head in his hands, looked up to catch his cousin’s last words. “Proof? What proof?” he sputtered.

Carstairs heaved a sigh. He needed more time to think. “Rupert, listen to me. Your running away from the authorities only convinces them of your guilt. Stay tonight with me and tomorrow we will visit my solicitor. I am sure he will find a way out of this coil, he’s very clever.”

“But what about Lord Londringham? Have they not caught him yet? You told me he is the man they seek.”

“Yes, well, unfortunately, Londringham is still unfamiliar with the inside of a gaol. He has been very clever, that man, clever enough to cover his tracks.”

“I suppose an earl is better at eluding justice than a mere baronet’s brother.”

“Come now, not so gloomy. We shall take you home and let Mrs. Keene make up a bed for you. Tomorrow, we will see to everything.” The viscount rose and started toward the door, calling over his shoulder, “My horse is outside, you can ride behind me.”

Rupert caught up with him, his step livelier with restored optimism. “Thank you, Cousin, for your kindness. I am sorry to be such a nuisance. You see, the family is in a state over me, especially my sister.”

“Naturally. Let us discuss this more tomorrow.”

When they arrived back at Loganmoor, Carstairs’s estate, the housekeeper gave him a filling repast and then led the exhausted young man to his bed.

Alone in his study, the viscount’s smile faded and annoyance hardened his rough countenance. Rupert’s reappearance proved a lump in the pudding, but would not disrupt his neatly arranged plans to be on a ship for America in the morning.

Assuring himself of his deft handling of his young cousin’s affairs, he began to gather his important papers to take with him. And the Devil took his due.

 

The new morning dawned bright for Rupert. Confident that his troubles would soon be over, he whistled as he dressed, eager to grab his fate by the tail. He trotted down the stairs, aware of the household sounds of clanging pots, clinking silver, and servants’ voices—the normal morning routine.

On his way to breakfast, he noticed that the French doors leading from the viscount’s study to the balcony were open, and he ventured inside. The smile drained from his lips as he viewed the study in shock: papers strewn on the floor, books toppled from their shelves, a disast