The Devil Rogue (16 page)

He was fairly certain Miss Hopkins would run back to her father and save him from financial ruin
. B
ut with the
b
aron’s penchant for gambling and carousing, the money wouldn’t last long
.
At which point
they would suffer whatever fate they deserved
together
.

And then,
there was the matter of
John
Winston’s murder
.
It would be difficult to prove, but
Ian
would
do his best to gather the evidence
.
If convicted, the
b
aron
,
at least, would hang
.

Miss Hopkins may
not suffer the same fate, but she would most likely spend the remainder of her life
in Newgate prison
.
Suddenly, t
he image of the slender, graceful young woman with the engaging blue eye
s wasting away in that unforgiving hellhole made
Ian’s
heart feel heavy
.

She would be brutalized, beaten, starved
–
raped
.
S
he would
n’t
survive very long
.
Death by hanging would probably be more humane
.
Fuck.
Was he prepared to be the one to send her there
?
If she was guilty
of murder
,
he
would have no other conscionable choice
.

The
b
aron had already sent several missives regarding the markers Ian held
.
Ian assumed the reason for Baron Eberly’s visit with his daughter last week was
to
discuss the money she would be receiving
.
The man was squirming
, his pathetic pleas for his debts to be paid little recompense for what he had done to John.

As for tonight, he would initiate Miss Hopkins into the world of pleasure as concubine to
The Devil Rogue
.
His cock
filled, springing to life
in anticipation of the evening to come
.
Her week was over, and h
e would finally
be able to
sample the full extent of her hidden passion
.
He would introduce her to a whole new world of delight
–
awaken her body, opening her up
like a flower spreads its petals to the sun
.

But now
Ian cursed the
damned
fates that brought the
missive. It had been
sent by the steward of his country estate, Black Ridge.
Ian had been
relaxing
at his club, enjoying his usual brandy and reading the Times
when it came.
There was no way around it.  His presence was required at the estate, and he would not be able to return until the night of the ball. He would have to inform Miss Hopkins immediately, so she could ready herself for the party. Hopefully, she’d completed a suitable ball gown.

ANGELA HAD BEGUN
to wonder if her encounters with Blackridge had really taken place at all
, or
were
merely a figment of her imagination
.
She hadn’t seen much of him in the last week.
In fact, she hadn’t seen him at all.
He’d left word he wouldn’t be dining with her in the evenings, due to his busy schedule.
He’d also given her permission to spend as much time as she wished on her new wardrobe, and not to worry about chores.

Even though it wasn’t required of her, she continued to assist Mrs. Olsen in the kitchen
. She helped
Mrs. Brown in cleaning rooms and changing bed linens,
as well as
Emma, whenever Angela could convince the head housekeeper to give her work.
They all seemed to be reluctant to overwork her, which was ridiculous.
She was young and healthy, and had no objections to a little bit of physical labor.

Angela enjoyed her chats with Mrs. Olsen in the cozy kitchen, surrounded by the tantalizing smells of whatever was being prepared at the time.
She would sit at the table, drinking her tea, watching the cook as she bustled around the room with impressive efficiency.

Occasionally,
Angela would help by peeling potatoes or snapping beans.
It was like a haven of serenity, a peaceful oasis away from the doubts and anxieties of her current situation.

It had also become a habit, most evenings, for the five of them, Angela, Rosemary, Mrs. Olsen, Mrs. Brown, and Emma, to sit comfortably in Emma’s private parlor, quietly sewing and talking of mundane things.
She utilized those special gatherings to complete two day dresses and a ball gown, as requested by
Blackridge
.

Angela had discovered that Mrs. Olsen, who was now in her early fifties, had a twin sister who worked for a family just three blocks over.
Their husbands had been brothers, now deceased and Mrs. Olsen had a daughter
. Her
sister
had
a son and a daughter.

Mrs. Brown and her husband, Lyle,
Blackridge’s
head groomsman, had no children of their own, which was why she seemed to enjoy her role as the mother figure of the household.
Even
Blackridge
, Angela had observed, deferred to Mrs. Brown with respectful affection.

And Emma was actually the only daughter of an earl.
H
er parents had died when she was only seventeen
. S
he’d been left penniless with no other relatives to take her in.
She’d begun her career in housekeeping, eventually acquiring her post here at Blackridge House as the head housekeeper.

Angela admired them all for their strength and perseverance through life’s many pitfalls
. S
he especially envied the way they seemed to fit into their roles, obviously happy and contented.
It made her yearn for that same kind of contentment, to be a part of a close-knit group of people who cared about her – a family.
She had Rosemary, she knew, and a few of the servants left behind at the baron’s house were like family to her.
But they weren’t here, and when it came time to leave, she would be alone.

For the first time since arriving, Angela wondered if she really wanted to isolate herself in the country.
Yet, what choice did she have?
It wouldn’t be long before s
he would be ostracized from society, with no chance to find a suitable husband, marry, and have children of her own.

Well, she must do what she must, and if it meant she was to live the remainder of her life on the fringes of society, then so be it.
As long as she was free and independent of the dictates of a man, she could do what she pleased.
She could travel to exotic places; even have an affair, if she so wished.
Her own thoughts caused her face to flame
.
Angela realized that she was already
currently
engaged in an illicit affair, regardless of the fact that she was still a virgin.
Soon, that would be a thing of past, as the
moment
of her deflowering drew
closer and closer with every passing day.

Her bruises had long since faded, she was no longer sore, and the cut on her arm was practically healed.
She’d removed the stitches and covered it with a small bandage.
Any gown she wore would have to be long-sleeved from this day forward.
The scar would be too noticeable, and Angela had no desire to answer curious questions about it, especially from
Blackridge
.
Hopefully, when she was in his bed, doing all the wicked things they’d done that night in her room, it would be too dark to see her imperfections.

Blackridge had said they were to attend a ball.
She wondered whose it was and when.
An uncomfortable and foreboding flutter began in her stomach
,
work
ing
its way into her chest.
What would everyone think of her new status?
How would she be received and could she
withstand
it?
She held no misconceptions that her position as mistress to
The Devil Rogue
was already widely known, and disapproved of.

“Miss Angela!” an out of breath Rosemary
halted in
the doorway.
“It’s awful!”
She’d obviously run up both sets of stairs, her chest heaving as she gasped for air.

“What is it?”

“I’ve just heard from Mrs. Brown, who heard from the upstairs maid, whose sweetheart works
for the Tysons down the street—
”

“
For God sake, Rosemary, just tell me!”

“You’re ruined.
Quite thoroughly, too.”

“Should I be surprised?
We knew this would happen, after all
. S
ince I plan on removing myself from society, it doesn’t much matter
.
” Angela fel
t
oddly calm.
It had been
a foregone conclusion
she would be forever labeled a ‘fallen woman’ the moment she set foot in Lord Blackridge’s house.
And now that it had actually
occurred,
the news didn’t seem to disturb her as much as she thought it would.

“But the ball
!
You’re to attend a ball with Blackridge, are you not?
You’ll be given the cut direct for a certainty.
You
’
ll be humiliated!”

Angela felt breathless.
“I
couldn’t possibly attend now. I
shall just have to tell him I decline to go.”

“Will he allow it
?” Rosemary asked uncertainly.
“I mean, he seems so intent on ordering you about.”

“I don’t know, but I have to try.
Although,” Angela said, her brows crinkling together, “sometimes I get the feeling there’s more to this bargain than appears on the surface.
S
ometimes,” she continued in a quiet voice, “I could swear he hates me.”

A shiver ran up her spine.
Why would he hate her when he didn’t even know her?

“Oh, love
!
He
couldn’t possibly
hate you, of that you can be sure.
The man can hardly keep his hands off you, from what you’ve told me.”
Rosemary laughed, giving Angela a quick hug.
“You’re not an easy person to hate.
You’re too generous and kind and lovely.
So don’t go seeing things that aren’t there.”

“I love you, dear friend,” Angela said, hugging Rosemary back.
“What would I do without you?”

“For one thing, you wouldn’t have someone to talk to about your wicked activities with an extremely handsome
rake
!”

BLACKRIDGE WAS NOT
at dinner again that evening, but on the table, next to
Angela’s
wine glass, was a note sitting on a small silver
plate
.
She read the boldly scrawled words:

I’ve been called away on business t
o
my country estate
.
I will return two days
hence
in order
to escort you to the Iverson’s ball
.
Be ready at nine O’clock.

It was
signed with a flourishing ‘B’
at the bottom
.
Blackridge
obviously didn’t bother mincing words
.
The note was short and to the point
.
What else would she expect, love poetry
?

Angela
found herself inexplicably annoyed by his continued absence, and now this
.
After that one night of sinful pleasure, he’d
as good as
disappeared
.

Had she failed
in some way
?
Was he
repulsed
by her wanton behavior
?
Perhaps he’d discovered that she wasn’t as appealing as he’d first thought
.
Perhaps he was contemplating severing their agreement
.