When a Rogue Falls

by Caroline Linden

  “She knows I don’t want to be here,” Lawrence muttered to his brother, Lucien, who was leaning against the back wall next to him. Side by side they could have been mistaken for twins if one didn’t know they were four years apart in age.

  Lucien chuckled. “None of us want to be here. But you know how Mother is. The woman knows precisely what to say to get us to do as she wishes.”

  “What did she say to make you come?” Lawrence asked. Even at three and thirty, Lucien still bowed to their mother’s dictates, just as they all did.

  “She reminded me that Horatia won’t have the chance to dance during the late summer or fall because of her pregnancy. I have no intention of cloistering my wife away, but Mother’s right that she won’t be able to dance. Ergo, I am accepting any and all social engagements Horatia wishes to attend while she is able.”

  He nodded toward a distant figure, a lovely brunette who was dancing with their youngest brother, Linus. She was beaming, her face alight with the sheer pleasure of the dance. Lawrence’s heart gave a little jerk. He wished he could’ve brought Zehra here tonight, but Avery was right. She had no connections, no way to be included in society properly. She would be viewed as his mistress, or worse, and could not be introduced to gentle-bred ladies. All she wished for was to attend a ball, and he couldn’t even give her that.

  Or could he? A plan caught him by surprise. One that made him almost giddy with its possibilities.

  As the dance ended, Horatia and Linus came over to them.

  “Horatia, I wonder if I might speak to you for a moment?” Lawrence asked.

  His sister-in-law’s eyes widened in surprise. The last time Lawrence had been alone with Horatia, he’d tried to kiss her to make Lucien jealous, and his good-faith attempt to bring the lovebirds together had not been welcome. Still, all had been explained and forgiven. He hoped.

  “I suppose so.” Her cheeks were still flushed with color from the dance, and she nodded at Lucien, who narrowed his gaze but reluctantly let her go.

  Lawrence took Horatia over to an alcove in the Raleighs’ ballroom, where they would not be overheard by anyone standing close by.

  “Horatia, I’m afraid I have a very important favor to ask of you.”

  “Yes?” Her brown eyes were warm and welcoming. She was so opposite his brother in nature. Lucien was a natural brooder, yet it seemed that together they worked.

  As Zehra and I seem to. The dangerous thought floated through his head before he could stop it.

  “I…was assisting Avery in his duties the other day. There was an auction at the White House.”

  He waited to see if she understood what he was hinting at.

  “An auction,” she repeated, her face growing redder.

  “Yes, and he was hoping to find men who purchase certain wares. I tried to save one of those wares, which is currently in my house, under my protection.”

  “I think I am following,” she said, her tone as quiet as his now.

  “This item is very lonely and honestly quite lovely, not just in face and form, but in the mind. And…” He paused, dropping all pretenses and steeling himself for rejection. “Could you help me to please her? She’s not going to be in England long, and she’d love to attend a ball before she leaves. I want to make her happy. After everything she’s been through, she deserves that much.”

  “And you want me to help? How exactly?”

  She had not rejected his idea outright. That was promising.

  “Perhaps you, Lucien, and a few others could come to dinner sometime this week and we could have a bit of dancing? I have a decent-sized drawing room. We could push back chairs, and someone can play the pianoforte.” He sounded hopelessly foolish, but still she didn’t reject his idea. “I know it sounds terrible, but I swear to you, she isn’t what you expect, and she is certainly not a…” He swallowed down the word prostitute. “She was taken from her home against her will. That’s why Avery was involved. I…” He raked a hand through his hair. “Please, I am begging you.” He reached out to grasp her hands, ready to get down on his knees in the middle of the Raleighs’ ball, scandal be damned.

  She smiled. “Lawrence, please. You mustn’t worry. I shall be glad to help. I am merely trying to decide how best to go about it. I ought to speak with Emily and—”

  “No. Not Emily. I could not have her involved,” he cut in. If it ever got out that the Duchess of Essex had come to a private ball with a bought woman… He didn’t want to taint the pretty young lady by association with Zehra’s situation. Not to mention her husband, the Duke of Essex, would beat him to a bloody pulp if Emily’s reputation was harmed.

  Horatia’s eyes twinkled. “Lawrence, you should know by now that Emily does as she pleases. Besides, she is no stranger to having been taken and held against her will. If anything, they would have much to talk about.”

  Lawrence relaxed a little, surprising himself by smiling. “If she wishes to help, then I would gladly accept it. But you must explain to her the situation in full. I do not want to be facing Lord Essex on the field at dawn over a misunderstanding.”

  She giggled. “Rest assured, the Society of Rebellious Ladies is on the case.”

  At that moment Lucien walked over, scowling. “Society of Rebellious Ladies? Darling, don’t tell me you’re indulging in something that will get you into trouble.” Lucien’s eyes were locked on Lawrence, the warning clearly intended for him.

  “You have no need to worry—it is not your concern.” She tucked her arm in Lucien’s and leaned against his side. “Now come, you promised the next waltz to me.”

  Lucien’s gaze softened as he looked down at Horatia. “I did.” With a reassuring smile at Lawrence, Horatia led Lucien away to the dance floor.

  Lawrence watched the pair waltz as he tried to fight off a wave of melancholy. Zehra and I will never dance like this. But perhaps she can have some small measure of joy before she must leave me forever.

  He gave himself a little shake. Since when had he become a romantic fool?

  “Ah, Lawrence! There you are!” His mother elbowed her way through a group of young men as she found him. “You really must stop hiding like this. I am too old to be playing hide-and-seek.”

  “Hello, Mother.” He sighed as Jane reached him. For the better part of an hour, he’d managed to stay out of sight. His mother held a fan, which she collapsed in one hand and soundly whacked him with on the shoulder.

  “You haven’t danced with Miss Hunt yet. I know you signed her card for the next dance, so go make yourself ready.”

  “Yes, Mother,” he said with a growl and stepped past her toward a crowd of young ladies. Miss Hunt, a fair-haired woman, was speaking animatedly to two of her friends as he approached. They all went silent, one stopping mid-titter, like a startled starling.

  “Miss Hunt.” He made an elegant bow. “The next dance is mine, I believe.” The young woman’s friends scattered, leaving her alone. She blushed and accepted his hand. They walked to the edge of the crowd, waiting for the waltz to finish.

  “I know why you are here, Mr. Russell,” she said in a hushed voice.

  He raised a brow as they both clapped as the waltz ended. “Do you?”

  Miss Hunt chuckled. “Your mother and my father have convinced themselves we make a good match. My father is desperate to get me married.” She glanced his way, and he saw a speculative gleam in her eyes.

  “That isn’t so very surprising. Isn’t marriage the goal of all ladies?” he teased.

  “Most, I’m sure, but not me,” she replied with startling honestly.

  “Oh?” Now he was curious. “And what is your goal, Miss Hunt?”

  This time, his dance partner was less forthcoming and her response much quieter. “To be free.” The amusement in her eyes faded to melancholy

  Lawrence couldn’t help but feel an echo of Zehra’s dream in this woman. She was a sweet woman, more than pretty enough, and ought to be enjoying herself. A bit more teasing, perhaps, to win a s
mile from her? He didn’t wish to dance with a woman who looked so forlorn.

  “So I’m not up to scratch, eh? Too tall and good looking, I suppose?” He puffed up his chest in a mocking display of pride as he faced her for the dance. She giggled but quickly stifled the sound when the ladies next to them stared at her. As the dance began, they darted around the other couples and came back together again, allowing Miss Hunt time to respond.

  “I think you are a most handsome man, of course, but likely far too much trouble to tame as a husband. Besides, my sister”—she nodded at another woman who was surrounded by a group of eager men vying for her attention—“would wish to steal you from me if she thought I was interested.”

  Lawrence studied the other woman. It was quite clear she was the younger sister, and judging by her beaming, haughty smile, she preferred to be the center of attention.

  “Are you seeking a quiet, decent-looking fellow, one she wouldn’t want?” he asked as they joined the other couples in a line.

  “Yes. A quiet, sensible man who wouldn’t cause me any trouble.”

  For a brief moment, Miss Hunt betrayed her thoughts when she blushed. Whatever Miss Hunt claimed she wanted in a man, it was quite different from what she actually wanted.

  “Then that certainly isn’t me. I am most definitely trouble.” He grinned at her, and she offered him an unguarded smile. They continued their dance in an amiable silence.

  As the dance ended, he realized he did enjoy Miss Hunt’s company. It was a pity they didn’t suit. He bowed over her hand, and she leaned in to whisper to him.

  “You should go to her,” Miss Hunt said.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Miss Hunt smiled knowingly. “The woman you’ve been thinking about this entire time. I can see it clearly in your eyes that you’re distracted. A handsome man is only distracted when he’s thinking of a woman. If there is someone out there for you, you should go to her.”

  “But—” He’d promised his mother he would stay for a few hours.

  “Go, my lord. You won’t be missed. If I see your mother, I’ll tell her I don’t think we would suit.”

  Relief cascaded through him. He could return to Zehra and spend the rest of the evening with her.

  “Thank you, Miss Hunt, truly. I hope you find that sensible, quiet man you’re looking for.”

  “Thank you.” Miss Hunt was blushing again. Lawrence glanced back at her only once as he left the ballroom. She stood there looking utterly alone, and he felt a pang of pity for her. She was a lovely girl, after all. He hoped she would find someone worthy of her.

  By the time Lawrence had slipped out of the ballroom, he was more than ready to go home. Miss Hunt was quite right. He’d thought of nothing but Zehra all night. She was so openly lonely, and he’d hated leaving her behind this evening. He smacked his gloves against his palm as he waited for his coach.

  But as he climbed into the coach, he had the strangest feeling he was being watched. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, and he glanced around. For a minute, he swore he saw a shadow detach from the wall across the street, but when he leaned forward for a better look, the shadow had vanished. Perhaps it had never been there. He wasn’t sure. He traveled the rest of the way down the darkened streets, keeping a close eye on the road through the small window, even though he saw no one.

  But it didn’t stop the feeling of being watched.

  Chapter 8

  Zehra turned the last page of the novel she’d found in Lawrence’s bedchamber earlier that day. It had been so wonderful to find an engaging read. She had read some English novels before, but never these “Gothic” ones, as Lawrence had called them, for they were rare in Shiraz, the area where she was from. The adventures of Lady Isabelle had distracted her from her loneliness for a time, but when she heard the click of the door opening her heart leapt.

  “Zehra?” Lawrence’s voice was soft, as though he feared she might be asleep.

  “I’m here.” She set the book down and stood, surprised by her eagerness to see him again. It was hard to explain, but it was as though every time she saw him, he brought sunlight into the room, even when it was night.

  He smiled as he spotted her. “Ah, you’re awake. I thought perhaps you might have gone to sleep. It’s almost midnight.”

  She shook her head. “I am tired. But I couldn’t rest.” Her evening after dinner had been plagued with worries. She needed to find her mother’s family, yet she had no way to do so. If she asked Lawrence for help, that might put him in danger, but if she did not, she might be putting her family at risk.

  Al-Zahrani would no doubt find her family before she did, and he had told his companion at the brothel that he would kill anyone who stood between him and Zehra. She fought the revulsion she felt at the thought of being back under that evil man’s control. The things he had promised he would do to her, the tortures he wanted to inflict, the pleasures he would take from her while leaving her broken in spirit… And more than anyone, she knew how resourceful Al-Zahrani could be. To stand against him was to put one’s own neck against the sword.

  No, she couldn’t put anyone’s life at risk, which meant she had to be careful when searching for her family, assuming there was a family to search for. Her grandfather had disowned her mother, after all, and there was every possibility he did not know she existed. Even if he did, he may not even want her. Regardless, she didn’t want to put him in danger if Al-Zahrani was watching her grandfather’s home.

  Lawrence came up to her, concern etched on his face. “What is it? You’re awfully pale all of a sudden.” He cupped her chin, and she leaned into his hold, wishing his strength and comfort could banish all her fears. But she had to remain strong. Lawrence would not always be there to fight her demons.

  “I’m all right, truly,” she whispered, gazing at him. He tilted his head, and his fingers toyed with a loose tendril of her dark hair.

  “You’re safe now, I promise you. You have nothing to fear.”

  She bit her lip before replying. “Nothing to fear until our week is over and I return to Persia.”

  The pain that flashed in his eyes reflected her own heart’s sting. She didn’t want to leave England, and the reasons why seemed to be slowly multiplying, with the greatest one standing right in front of her. She looked down to his broad chest and the finely embroidered waistcoat he wore, which bore beautiful swallows in silver and gold threading. She reached out, placing her palm on his chest, not to push him away but to connect them. His fingers lowered from her hair and curled around her wrist, holding her hand to his chest.

  “I’m not a gentleman, not by any means, but…” He smiled ruefully. “I would like to be here for you, sweetheart, in whatever way I can.”

  She couldn’t resist teasing him. “How noble of you.”

  His soft chuckle seemed delightfully sinful. “Lord, everyone keeps accusing me of being so bloody noble all of a sudden. I am most certainly anything but that. If you could read my thoughts at this moment…”

  “Oh?” She met his stare, surprised at the stark hunger, but rather than frighten her, it heated her blood and made her feel dizzy, as though she’d had too much mulled wine.

  “My thoughts would likely get me slapped and I’d certainly deserve it.”

  A sensuous light seemed to pass between them as she moved her hand up his chest. He leaned in just an inch, as though barely resisting his desires.

  “And what would get you slapped, I wonder?” she asked, her voice breathless as she waited to hear if he would confess his thoughts.

  “Gripping you by the back of your neck and kissing you, hard.”

  Her breath hitched. “But you wouldn’t stop there…” she pressed. “That is not worthy of a slap. In deed, perhaps, but not in thought.”

  “No, certainly not. But I’d just be getting started. I’d then press you against the wall, hike up your skirts, and use my fingers to make you come apart.” His voice was husky and low, a delicious dangerous edge
to it that made her shiver.

  “Is that all?” She was imagining his fantasies as her own, wishing desperately that part of him would abandon his noble behavior and act upon his words.

  “Then, when you were weak and sated, my hands clenching your soft buttocks and my mouth on your neck, nibbling and sucking until neither of us could walk, I’d push into you, take you hard against the wall, and make you see stars.”

  His fingers were still around her wrist. As he was talking, he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. A sharp pang of sensual pain burned low in her belly and between her thighs. She wanted him to do that, wanted it so much, but she was afraid it would make her appear wanton and unladylike.

  “I…” She struggled for words. He had certainly said everything she’d wished to hear and more. Then with a coy smile, she reached up with her free hand and gently patted him once on the cheek. “Slap.”

  For a second he stared at her in shock and then broke into a grin, as though he understood she was teasing him back.

  He released her hand. “You need not worry. I am in control.” He cleared his throat and then glanced toward his bed. “You should be sleeping. After all that has happened, I think you still need rest.” He motioned for her to follow him to the door. “Let me take you to your chambers. The maids should have it ready for you.”

  Was he pushing her away? Had he misunderstood her slap as a warning and not an invitation? She thought he had known she was desirous of his advances. Perhaps he didn’t want her as much as she wanted him. He could say pretty words in scandalous ways, but perhaps it was a game and he didn’t truly mean any of it. The thought weighed down on her. All she wanted now was Lawrence. He was her only chance for some small measure of happiness before she was put on a ship and sent to an uncertain future.

  He escorted her to a lovely bedroom down the hall with blue satin walls and a dainty walnut wood bed with white silk sheets. Clearly it was a room meant for a woman. She couldn’t help but wonder how many others had been here before her. A man with his face and his body would never sleep alone.