His Wicked Seduction (14 page)

“Anne?” Emily said in disappointment.

The crestfallen look on Anne’s face wasn’t hard to miss, even from where Godric stood. “Should I go? I would not wish to intrude.” Anne chewed her bottom lip, looking doubtful as Emily ushered her inside.

“No, please come in. I was just expecting someone else.” Emily attempted to hide the truth, but Anne was too clever by half.

“Was that blood outside in the snow on the steps? I see it here too.” Anne pointed to a trail of droplets leading towards the drawing room.

“Er, what?”

“That
is
blood.” Anne abandoned her muff and bent down to dip a finger into the nearest splotch. Her gloved fingertip came back bright red.

“Emily, you didn’t
kill
Godric did you? I mean, I’m sure you had a good reason, but it’s foolish to leave a blood trail.” Anne’s gaze swept the hall, seeking the truth.

“Murder? Heavens no, Anne. Wherever do you come up with such nonsense?” Emily tried to lead her away to another room, but Anne, who was fairly strong for a woman, pulled free and opened the drawing room door.

Emily froze behind her, fearing Anne would faint as she took in the scene of Godric tending to a half-naked Ashton. A bloody shirt lay on the ground near his feet.

“Oh my…” Anne exhaled in shock.

Ashton turned his head in her direction, bright blue eyes now dim with pain.

“Miss Chessely, I do beg your pardon for my lack of proper attire. As you can see I was shot this morning. Hurts something dreadful,” Ashton finished in a breathless apology. “So, if you don’t mind, some privacy would be appreciated.”

“Forgive me, Lord Lennox, it is I who intruded.” Anne backed up so quickly that she trod over Emily’s toes. Emily squeaked and jumped out of the way.

“Sorry,” Anne muttered as she retreated into the hall, away from Ashton and all that blood. “What happened to Lord Lennox? Did he fight in a duel?” she asked in a scandalized whisper.

“Don’t be silly. He’s too levelheaded for that. No, this is a much longer story I’m afraid. Would you care to come to the morning room for some tea?” Emily offered.

“If it’s not too much trouble.”

Just then the footman, Timmons, came in through the front door, with a doctor in tow. The two men went straight to the drawing room and shut the door. Emily breathed a sigh of relief.

“That was who I was expecting when you came,” Emily explained as she and Anne entered the morning room. “I’m sure the wound isn’t that serious. At least it didn’t appear to be once Godric got it cleaned up.” She glanced back at the way the doctor had gone. The blood had panicked her, but now she was sure Ashton would be fine. If he had the breath enough to tease her and speak to Anne, the man was not ready for the next world yet. Didn’t Lady Society in her articles always say that no bullet could kill a rogue?

A maid brought them a tray of tea and Emily quickly narrated the disturbing events of the previous night as well as this morning’s close call with Ashton. Emily always felt free to speak with Anne, especially in matters concerning her husband and the League.

It had been Anne who had first told her, or rather warned her, about the League of Rogues. Anne was acquainted with Cedric and knew about the others only through reputation since she and the League both avoided the social events of the season like the plague.

Cedric had courted Anne briefly, the year before Emily’s abduction. He’d had no success in seducing her and sadly had abandoned the endeavor entirely. Emily thought it a pity, but Anne didn’t want to marry. She was content to live with her father and breed Thoroughbred horses for racing. She kept her fortune and her land this way, but she was also lonely. At least, Emily suspected she was.

“So, where are the other rogues?” Anne asked as she sipped her tea.

“Charles, Jonathan, Ashton and Godric are all still in London. But Cedric and Lucien are on their way to Lucien’s estate in Kent. But you must tell no one of this.”

A flicker of emotion passed over Anne’s face so briefly that Emily thought she might have imagined it. Was it possible that Anne felt something for Cedric after all? She’d never indicated anything but mild irritation at his attempts to woo her. But the moment he’d stopped calling on her, Anne had started showing up at the Essex doorstep with surprising frequency. Anne never asked after Cedric, at least not directly, but she did ask where the other League members were each time she came over.

“Will you and your father be spending the holidays in London?” Emily asked.

“Yes. I wish we weren’t though. The snow is much prettier in the country this time of year and I usually like to take a ride on Christmas morning.”

Emily sighed wistfully. “That sounds lovely. It is a pity that Cedric will be in Kent. I might have persuaded him to take us out on the town in his curricle with his pair of Arabian mares.”

At the mention of Cedric’s Arabians, Anne’s eyes brightened.

“Is it true that he won them in a wager from a sheikh?”

“Has he not told you the story himself?” Emily was genuinely surprised. She knew that part of Cedric’s purpose in courting Anne was to achieve his desire of breeding his mares with Anne’s stallions.

“I’d only heard the rumors from the papers.” Anne looked put out at this.

“When you next see him, I’ll have him tell you. I could never do the story justice.” That was certainly the truth. At the time Cedric had told her the story, she’d been fairly distracted by Godric and the rest of the League, what with being their prisoner at the time.

“If we weren’t so worried for his safety right now, I would insist you and I go to Kent. But as it is, Godric is one minute away from locking me in a blasted tower for my own safety.”

“I imagine Lord Sheridan was not fond of going to Kent?” Anne asked astutely.

Emily nodded. She was surprised Cedric hadn’t fought harder to stay in London, at least by Godric’s account. Cedric was incredibly brave and it must have killed him to turn his back on a fight, especially where Waverly was involved.

When the ladies had finished their tea, Anne rose and started for the door.

“Anne, would you and your father like to come to dinner this evening? I know it’s short notice. I promise to have my hall cleaned of blood by then,” Emily jested.

Her friend smiled and gave a little nod. “My father and I would be delighted. See you tonight.”

Anne departed and Emily turned her attention back towards the drawing room. She squared her shoulders and walked in, eager to check on Ashton and her husband.

Chapter Thirteen

The Russell family estate in northern Kent, four miles east of the village of Hexby, was in an uproar. Jane, the Marchioness of Rochester, was on the verge of strangling her second youngest child, one Linus Winston Russell. Despite her own knowledge that she had birthed that troublesome boy twenty-one years before, sometimes she swore he hadn’t matured past the age of eight.

The young man in question was balanced precariously on a rickety ladder in the entryway of Rochester Hall. He held a sprig of what Lady Rochester feared was mistletoe. That child was in for a thrashing when she got hold of him. She’d found his handiwork all over the house. Every single doorway, window, and alcove was adorned with that dreaded poisonous plant. The chaos and impropriety that would ensue from his little prank could bring down the very stones of Rochester Hall.

Lord knew, her brood were wicked enough that they didn’t need the help of mistletoe. It was in their blood, and sadly, not a trait taken from her husband’s side.

Linus, having a full head of red hair like all of her children, was at the moment wiping a sheen of sweat off his brow before he resumed reaching for the upper doorjamb to affix the mistletoe. The forest green waistcoat and buff breeches he wore were well tailored to him—the body of a man, her baby boy no longer.

Lady Rochester blinked back a rebellious tear. How had her child grown up so fast? Hadn’t it been yesterday that he’d put a frog in Lysandra’s bed and tacks on Lucien’s study chair? It had to be the holidays bringing up all this silly emotion. She stormed down the stairs to deal with her youngest’s antics.

“Linus Winston Bartholomew Russell!” She bellowed the name in such an imperious tone that Linus dropped the mistletoe with a cry of alarm and scrambled to steady himself on the now wobbling ladder.

“Mama?” He hesitantly turned to face her as she glared up at him from the ground, her foot tapping with anger.

“Get down here at once,” she barked.

Linus practically fell off the ladder, his boots smacking loudly on the marble floor.

“Just what do you think you’re up to?” she demanded.

“Nothing.” He tried to nonchalantly kick the mistletoe under a cabinet with a booted toe. As if she wouldn’t notice!

Lady Rochester grabbed him by the ear. She was two seconds away from hauling him up to the old nursery when the knocker on the front door clanked four times. Linus grinned at his apparent reprieve and tugged free of his mother’s hold.

“I’m not done with you yet. There
will
be a reckoning.” She gave him one of her death glares before her face transformed into a heartwarming smile suitable for guests. She waved off the butler, who was advancing towards the entryway. “I’ll answer it, Mr. Jenkins.” She opened the door to find a welcome surprise. Her eldest child, Lucien, was there as well as his close friend, Viscount Sheridan, and his two sisters.

“Mother!” Lucien greeted her warmly, bending down to kiss her cheek.

“Lucien, my dear boy, so wonderful to see you. But it would have been more wonderful if you had sent me a note in advance. Especially if you were bringing guests.” This last bit was delivered in a low warning tone.

Lucien lowered his head. “We apologize for the short notice, Mother, but it was important to come straight away.” Lucien offered Horatia his arm to escort her inside and Cedric did the same for Audrey.

“Oh?” Lady Rochester’s eyes narrowed.

“It’s a long story, Mother, but I will explain later. May we have some tea? The trip was devilishly long and tiresome.”

“Yes, of course. Right this way. Lovely to see you all, Lord Sheridan, Miss Sheridan, and Miss Audrey.” Lady Rochester let Cedric kiss her hand before she embraced the two girls warmly. Then she led them to the nearest parlor where a strapping young footman awaited her orders—Gordon, if she remembered correctly. One of the recent replacements she’d had to acquire.

“Tea and scones if you please, Gordon,” she said.

The servant nodded and departed to see to her wishes.

Lady Rochester caught sight of her youngest trying to sneak past the open doorway of the salon unseen. “Linus!” He froze mid-step, shoulders hunched in resignation before he sighed and came back into the parlor. She fixed Linus with a look that promised misery if he tried to escape again. “Greet our guests.”

“Good afternoon,” he replied, bowing towards Cedric and his sisters.

Lady Rochester did not miss Audrey’s look as she tried to fight the urge to laugh. Linus and Audrey were quite good friends, as good as men and women could be without the complications of their genders getting in the way. Perhaps co-conspirators was a more apt description. Still, they were now at that age where it would be unwise to leave them alone together.

Lucien sat back in the chair he’d chosen, perfectly at ease. Lady Rochester watched as the eldest of her brood of hellions interacted with the youngest.

“How are you, Lucien?” Linus asked.

“Well. And you? How was Cambridge?”

“Fine. But I am glad to be through with it,” Linus admitted.

“I’ll bet.” Cedric sniggered. It wasn’t a secret that he’d loved everything about school, apart from the schooling.

Gordon returned with a tea tray and Linus moved to sit down next to Audrey on the loveseat. With no small amusement, Lady Rochester studied their interaction out of the corner of her eye, whilst they believed everyone else was looking away and talking. Audrey prodded him with a sharp little elbow. He eyed the offending weapon, and the second the opportunity presented itself, he pinched her arm in retaliation. Audrey let out a strangled little sound that came out somewhere between an
eek
and
ouch
.

She blushed and held her teacup in defense. “The tea is rather hot.”

“Really?” Lady Rochester eyed the teapot, trying not to laugh at the mischievousness of youth. “Now Lord Sheridan, may I offer you rooms at the Hall through the New Year? It would be lovely to have you all here to celebrate Christmas. The house will be happily full, you see. I’ve just invited the Cavendishes to come from Brighton.”

“We’d be delighted to stay, Lady Rochester,” Cedric answered.

“The Cavendishes will be coming?” Audrey asked excitedly.

The Cavendishes were old family friends of both the Russells and the Sheridans. It wasn’t too hard to guess what Audrey was excited about. Eligible men were always exciting for a young lady.

“The entire family will be here. I’m hoping that Mrs. Cavendish and I might manage to marry off one of our children before either of us dies.” She threw the statement out with inner glee, waiting for the fireworks to begin.

“Mother!” Lucien choked on the scone he’d been eating.

“Oh don’t give me that horrified look, Lucien. I quite gave up on you years ago. But perhaps I can convince Lysandra to set her cap for Gregory Cavendish. He’s quite a handsome young man, and well-inlaid you know.”

Linus watched her in terror. “Mama, just because he’s a bang-up cove, doesn’t mean Lysa will have him, or even that he’ll have her.” Linus seemed most insistent on defending his sister, probably because he believed there was no worse fate than marriage.

“A bang-up cove? Where do you learn such language?” Lady Rochester sighed and looked up, imploring the heavens to explain why she’d been burdened with such obstinate offspring.

Linus grinned and reached for a scone. They both knew vexing her was one of the true joys of his life.

He piped up as he swallowed the last of his scone. “Lord Sheridan, may I escort Miss Audrey outside? I’m sure she would like some fresh air after the long carriage ride here.”

“Not without a chaperone,” Lady Rochester intoned.

“But Mama,” Linus whined.

Audrey put a hand on his arm indicating him to shush.

“My sister shall chaperone us. Won’t you, Horatia?”

“Yes, of course,” Horatia replied.

“If I’m not worried, Lady Rochester, then you shouldn’t be,” Cedric reassured her.

“I suppose that is safe enough.”

“Come on then,” Linus offered his arm to Audrey. Horatia followed the pair out of the salon and into the hall. Linus and Audrey immediately bent their heads together, whispering now that they were out of sight of Lady Rochester.

Horatia groaned as she heard Audrey giggle wickedly. Linus must have had a scheme afoot and he was determined to rope Audrey into it. Knowing Linus as she did, which unfortunately was quite well, Horatia guessed it would be a prank of some sort. From time to time Linus and Audrey shot looks over their shoulders at her, as though worried she might be eavesdropping on their plotting.

Horatia raised her hands in surrender. “As long as I am not the victim of whatever you’re planning, I won’t spoil your fun.”

“I make no promises,” said Linus. The rascal was one year her senior in age, but not nearly as mature. It was why he’d always taken more to Audrey. Horatia couldn’t even begin to count how many afternoons she and Lysandra had been the target of pranks from this unholy alliance.

“Linus, where is Lysa?” Horatia asked. She’d rather seek out her friend than linger in their presence. Her role of chaperone was nonsense, everyone but Lady Rochester seemed to know that.

“Last I saw, she was in the library.” With that, he and Audrey darted up the stairs and vanished from view.

Horatia found herself alone in the massive entryway of Rochester Hall. It was a beautiful Georgian country house with sandy stones on the outside and marble within. She admired the tapestries on the walls depicting various scenes of pastoral bliss. Gazing at the scenes, she lost track of time, remembering the last time she’d been here. The memory was still so fresh that she felt it emerge from the gloom of her memory and envelop her fully.