When a Rogue Falls

by Caroline Linden

Did he think he’d be so uncouth as to seduce Helena? Dash thought his friend would know him better than that. They’d been friends since their Eton days—inseparable in almost everything. There wasn’t anything he didn’t tell Darcy and vice versa. Helena was perfectly safe with him, and the earl should damn well have realized that before accosting him.

  “Relax.” Dash pulled at his sleeves to straighten his jacket. “Lady Helena and I were chatting. Nothing more.”

  Darcy lifted a brow. “Forgive me if I don’t believe that. That little tête-à-tête didn’t look as innocuous as you’re claiming it to be.”

  What would it take to convince his friend his intentions toward his sister were entirely honorable? He didn’t want to overplay his hand and announce his plan to court Helena. He had to work through a few details first. In time, Darcy would see he didn’t mean any harm. His friend might even be happy that he wanted to marry his sister. Helena was firmly on the shelf, after all. Truthfully, he didn’t quite understand why she hadn’t married already. She was a duke’s daughter, probably had a sizeable dowry, and she was beautiful. When it came to attributes that attracted possible husbands, she had everything in her favor.

  “You’re misreading the situation, is all.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Lady Helena and I were talking. I’m trying to befriend her so our run-ins aren’t filled with tension. You’ll be happy to know she still loathes me and removes herself from my company as fast as possible.”

  Darcy lifted a brow. “She seemed different tonight. Try again.”

  What the hell had Darcy seen that he hadn’t? Helena still looked right through him whenever she was near him. Hadn’t she practically run in the opposite direction, not once, but twice in a matter of an hour’s time? It might not have even been that long… Dash had his work cut out for him if he intended to win her hand. He was rather looking forward to it too.

  “I’m afraid I don’t know what to tell you,” he finally said. “Lady Helena would rather spend time with anyone but me. Maybe you should go talk to her and find out for yourself.”

  “Maybe I will,” Darcy ground out. “And her story better line up with yours.”

  “Or what?” Dash was getting tired of the unveiled threats being tossed at him from his closest friend. “Do say you won’t demand a duel over this nonsense. I have not impugned your sister’s honor.”

  Though admittedly, he kind of wanted to. He hadn’t really taken notice of her before, and now that he had—he desperately wanted to kiss her. Her full lips looked soft and inviting. Dash wanted to pull her close and find out if they were as luscious as they appeared, and he wanted to taste her. All of her, if he were completely honest with himself. Maybe he would even be lucky enough to talk her into it at some point. The sooner the better…

  “Let’s hope something so drastic isn’t necessary,” Darcy spat at him. “I’d hate to have to kill my dearest friend over something that should not have happened.”

  So, he probably shouldn’t mention that he wanted to marry Helena. Something told him Darcy wouldn’t be as happy as he previously assumed. It sounded as if the very idea of Dash going anywhere romantically near his sister would result in a permanent rift between them. He hated the idea of angering his friend, but he’d already decided on making Helena his wife. No one else would do now that he’d settled on the idea. If he got the chance to taste the lady as he kept imagining, he’d definitely keep that part to himself as well. He was already partially hard at the idea—it would be best if he stopped thinking about her, and fast, before he had a fully erect cock.

  “When did you become so dramatic?” Dash shook his head. “Let’s leave and head to the club. I think you need a stiff drink.” Or maybe a smack in the head… “A game of cards and a few goblets of brandy, and we’ll forget about all of this.”

  “I’m not in the mood,” Darcy replied. “My stomach soured when I saw you with my sister. I’m going home.”

  Darcy spun on his heels and headed for the exit. What the hell had happened? He didn’t understand what had his friend so bothered. He wouldn’t seduce Helena—well, that wasn’t true. He fully intended to have his way with her and as soon as possible, but not without the benefit of matrimony. Maybe they’d anticipate the wedding night and enjoy each other beforehand; however, she would be his wife eventually, so why not?

  A very naked Helena appealed to him. He found himself wondering what color her nipples were, and if she’d blush a pretty pink as he loved her. For the first time in a while, Dash looked forward to another soiree. He hated ton parties; nonetheless, Helena gave him a reason for attending. Even if it was the last thing he did he’d win her over. He whistled to himself as he left the same way Darcy had. He’d return to his townhouse and plan. There was nothing more he could do at this particular ball. Helena had rebuffed him twice. He’d not stick around for a third. Tomorrow was soon enough to try again.

  That had been interesting… Helena had hidden behind a curtain and eavesdropped on the conversation between her brother and Lord Dashville. She couldn’t recall her brother ever defending her before. What had prompted his sudden need to protect her? Besides, Dashville hadn’t lied. Nothing had happened between them, and as far as she was concerned it never would. They didn’t mix well together. She found him incredibly attractive, and always had, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be with him. A kiss or two might be nice. No one had ever tried to, and she was curious… Helena shook the thought away. Kissing Dashville was a bad idea—appealing, yes, but very, very bad. It would lead to nowhere fast.

  After she was certain both her brother and Dashville had left, she scooted out from behind the curtain. They both had exited the ball, though from how their conversation went, they wouldn’t be heading to the same place. Darcy was truly mad at the marquess for what he perceived as a slight on Helena. If it wouldn’t disclose her eavesdropping on them, she’d ask her brother about it.

  That didn’t mean Lady X couldn’t call both of them out about it… She could put it in the scandal sheet and shove it in Darcy’s face. If that didn’t work, perhaps she could ask Dashville about it. He might have more insight to it than she did. They were the closest of friends, after all. She, on the other hand, barely talked to Darcy anymore. He kept to himself and was broodier than anything. Living with the duke didn’t give over to happy personalities, so she didn’t blame him for his general displeasure with life. She couldn’t claim any sort of happiness herself, and feared she wouldn’t find it until she finally escaped her father’s tyranny.

  “Lady Helena,” a female called out to her. “I’m so glad I found you. Your father was worried when you didn’t return to the ball.”

  She bet he was… He probably hoped she had a secret assignation with a man he could force to marry her. Well, on second thought, he’d hate the stigma of it. His daughter was supposed to be perfect in all things. A forced marriage wouldn’t look good, and he’d make her pay in other ways. It was a good thing she didn’t have a secret beau.

  “Hello, Lady Marvelle,” she replied politely. “I didn’t mean to worry him. After I left the retiring room, I needed a breather from everything. It was rather suffocating, even in there. I’ll go find him now and reassure him I’m all right.”

  “Don’t worry, dear,” Lady Marvelle said. “We all need to withdraw from time to time. I’ll come with you to ease the duke’s mind. He can be rather thorny at times.”

  That was an understatement… “Are you enjoying the ball?”

  “Oh, it’s all right. At my age, these things are more tiresome than anything else, but I’m chaperoning my niece. You’ve met her, haven’t you?”

  “Lady Anne, yes, I have. She’s a sweet girl.” With a venomous tongue… Whenever her aunt was in hearing distance she was kind and generous, but as soon as she could be assured that Lady Marvelle couldn’t witness her actions she turned quite awful.

  “Oh, I quite agree.” Lady Marvelle beamed. “I’m so lucky to have such a wonderful niece. She’ll make some
lucky man so happy. I wish that horrid Lady X would quit accusing her of such horrid acts. How can she not see how perfect my girl is?”

  The question was how could Lady Marvelle not see how rotten her niece was? The girl wasn’t exactly good at hiding it. As far as husbands went—only a truly desperate man would willingly marry that harpy. If Helena were to make a wager, she’d bet that Lady Anne would have to trap a man into wedding her. By the end of the season it would be around town and the scandal widespread. She wouldn’t be surprised if it reached those living in the country.

  “It’s hard to gauge what Lady X sees,” Helena replied diplomatically. “I’ve had the displeasure of having her display my virtues and lack of prospects for all to take note of. It’s not pleasant at all.” What she didn’t say was that she did it on purpose. The person who never graced the scandal sheet was the one everyone would suspect. “Lady Anne will either become resistant to it or use it to her advantage. Time will tell.”

  “You’re quite right, my dear,” she agreed. “Once she’s married it won’t matter too much anyway. She’ll be a matron of the ton and can handle things as she sees fit. Until then, I have to guide her to the best of my ability. It can be tricky to navigate the waters of the ton. As you know…I mean…”

  “No need to expound on it,” Helena reassured her. “I realize I’m in full spinster mode these days. I don’t mind.”

  “So sad. A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be destined to live alone.” She waved her hand over her face as they entered the ballroom. “There’s your father over there. Let’s greet him.”

  Helena would rather poke her eyes out with her embroidery needle. At least then she’d have use for the darn thing. She didn’t stitch well at all, but her father insisted she have a ladylike pursuit. It didn’t matter to him that she hated it.

  “There you are,” the duke said as they approached. “Thank you, Lady Marvelle for finding her.” He turned toward Helena and ordered, “Come with me. We’re going home.”

  Helena didn’t argue with him. She didn’t want to stay at the ball any longer, and she had a scandal sheet to write. It would be titillating too… “Of course, father,” she replied meekly. “If you insist.” After he brushed past and his back was to her, she smiled coyly. Father prized obedience, and she didn’t mind appearing so, as long as it led her to what she wanted most—freedom.

  Chapter 3

  For two people who presumably loathe each other, Dashville and Lady Helena seem to be found together frequently…

  —Whispers from Lady X

  Another ball, a different day… This late in the season, they all blended together. The same debutantes were at each one, and they kept court with the suitors they liked most. Soon the lot of them would make a choice, and betrothal announcements would make their way to the Times. Of course, there was always the chance Lady X would reveal all first, but the ton had started to expect that.

  The scandal sheet assumed the nuptials were in the works, and the Times verified them. Until they were displayed on the more reputable newspaper, it wasn’t a fact. Although, to most people, Lady X was more than trustworthy—at least for the latest gossip. Helena liked that they read her scandal sheet before the Times. Complete success in her work had given her satisfaction in her achievement. She wished she could share it with her family… In a sense, she did, in that they read it each week; nonetheless, it wasn’t the same as openly admitting she wrote it. The duke would flay her alive.

  Though, it was amusing to watch her father mutter under his breath each time a new scandal sheet arrived. When she’d first started her endeavor for financial freedom, she never fully anticipated how successful she’d be. The first edition went out free to lure them to her web of secrets—the idea had been her publisher’s, and it had been a brilliant decision. Her share of the profits was deposited each week in a bank account with her name on it. She might not be legally able to access her inheritance, but she was old enough to manage her own funds. That was why she’d waited as long as she had to make her move.

  She socialized, gathered gossip, and wrote her weekly column. Standing in the ball watching the lords and ladies of society flit around had become—tedious. Even the most scandalizing gossip didn’t faze her anymore. She wanted excitement, and maybe even a little romance. In truth, she was bored.

  “Care to dance?”

  Helena glanced up and met Dashville’s gaze. The old adage, “be careful what you wish for,” played through her mind. She wanted relief from her ennui—fate answered, but she’d rather the marquess hadn't been sent to alleviate it.

  She toyed with her dance card tied around her wrist. Did she dare add his name to the blank card? She’d danced with him once several years ago, and it had changed her life in a lot of ways. Would it have the same effect this time? Should she take that risk? “I’d rather not,” she replied. “I’m not fond of dancing.” Not a complete lie: she didn’t like it with certain people. “Go find someone else to whirl around the floor. There are a few wallflowers that would be grateful for your attention.”

  “I don’t want to dance with anyone other than you,” he said, then tilted his lips up into a sinful smile. “No one else will do.”

  She lifted a brow. “You’re wasting your charm on me. I’m quite unaffected by it.”

  “Are you certain?” He continued to smile at her like a bloody fool. Dashville lifted her hand in his and twirled the dance card around so he could view it. “No one wants to dance with you? That’s a tragedy, but my gain. It means I get you all to myself.”

  Why was he flirting with her? What did he hope to gain by this farce? “I’m afraid you’re wrong,” she told him. “I belong to no one, especially you.”

  Instead of replying, he lifted her hand and led her to the dance floor that was a mere foot away. Why had she stood so close to the edge as if she hoped to find a partner to swing her around the floor? To make matters worse, the dance he chose to drag her to was a waltz, much like the first one they’d shared. Was she going to always have that floating through her mind? Surely this one couldn’t be as magical as the first one.

  She was wrong…

  Her feet nearly floated on the floor as he led her through the moves of the dance. A thousand sensations drifted over her and each one more thrilling than the last. Magic had nothing on what Dashville made her feel, and she hated him for it. She didn’t want to know what it was like to have a man pay attention to her. Not just any man—him.

  “Aren’t we supposed to talk while we dance?”

  His words brought her out of her thoughts. The question mirroring the one she’d uttered to him during that first dance. “I’ve heard that it’s the polite thing to do, but we don’t need to stand on ceremony.”

  “Ah,” he said, then smirked. “You’d rather have a bit more fun than some mundane conversations.” He leaned a little too close than was proper. “I’m willing to go someplace more private so we can discuss things without anyone else hearing a word.”

  What kind of fool did he take her for? She wasn’t an innocent debutante who’d easily be swayed by a charming rogue. If she wasn’t attracted to him, it would make things so much simpler. She’d never openly admit that part though. It was time to knock the marquess down from that lofty height he set himself on. His arrogance was rather nauseating.

  “If you’d rather not dance, why did you insist and drag me out here against my wishes?” She glared at him. “I’m all right with ending this before the final notes are played, but I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  She had other things she needed to see to, and gossip to gather for next week’s edition. Most of it was already written, but she wanted to get ahead and send it out in the morning. If she was able to gather a bit more information, she might even have enough for some of the following week’s publication. A secret gossip queen’s job was never done. Dashville was interrupting her pursuit of secrets, and she had to get rid of him.

  “Maybe not tonight,” he agreed.
“But there will come a time when you beg me to do as I suggested earlier.”

  Helena snorted. She tried not to, but it was out before she could stop it. “You are delusional, my lord. I’d never beg you for anything.”

  “Careful,” he warned. “You don’t want to say something you might come to regret.”

  Conceited rogue… She’d say whatever she pleased. If she came to regret it later—so be it. So far though, she’d not said anything she deemed she’d be sorry about in the future. He’d done nothing to ingratiate himself toward her. The marquess presumed too much, and she’d be damned if she gave in to his charm and pretty speeches. “I’m confident there’s nothing I’ve uttered in your presence that will come back to haunt me. Can you say the same?”

  The strands of music dwindled down and he led her expertly to the edge of the floor. He bowed. “Thank you for the dance.”

  “It’s not as if you gave me a choice.” She rolled her eyes. “Good evening, Lord Dashville.”

  Helena spun on her heels and headed out of the ballroom. She didn’t give him any explanations or even the courtesy of another word. As far as she was concerned, they had nothing else to discuss. He could leave, or well…anything. She didn’t care. There was something else she had to do that required her attention.

  Dash watched as she rushed out of the room. Perhaps to go to the ladies' retiring room again. No, that couldn’t be right. That was the wrong direction for that. What was she up to? Perhaps he’d follow her and figure it out for himself. The more he learned about her, the more he liked. She had spirit and wasn’t afraid to speak her mind.

  It was rather refreshing when most debutantes simpered and could barely string two words together. He was sick and tired of discussing the weather. Especially, as it was either rainy or gloomy most days. England didn’t have much to offer in variety where the weather was concerned, and he doubted that would change until winter. Then it was either snowing or gloomy.