The Distinguished Rogues Bundle

by Heather Boyd

  He could see a breakfast tray waiting to be filled as the cook scurried back and forth, piling the plates high and fiddling with the little flower arrangement. She called to his maid and, when she picked up the tray, Bartholomew backed away, preceding the girl up the servants’ steps until he was well beyond the stairs.

  The timing was perfect, the upper hall empty. Lords Daventry, Carrington, and Bartholomew’s uncle were still talking together below. He snatched a curio from the hall table, pocketed it, and then withdrew his knife from his boot. The blade glowed in the morning sunlight, dancing shadows upon the wall.

  He sliced his skin.

  Blood welled from the shallow cut and he leaned against the wall, near a table, and arranged his body untidily.

  Footsteps clattered up the steps and hurried along the hall toward him. “Oh my word, are you hurt, Mr. Barrette?”

  “Quickly fetch a towel from my chamber.”

  The maid slid the tray onto the table beside him and raced for his room. Servants were indeed a stupid breed. He tugged the cork from the bottle and liberally dosed his cousin’s food with laudanum.

  Holding in a chuckle, he tucked the bottle into his inner jacket pocket and accosted the maid in his bedchamber. “You can forget the cloth. I’ve got you where I want you.”

  The maid spun and made a show of refusing his advances. She tried to dart past him, and he let her think she had a chance. But he still extracted a kiss and groped her arse before he let her escape the room.

  The door crashed shut behind her, and he placed a hand over his mouth to cover a laugh. The foolish chit wouldn’t speak of his advances and if he were lucky, he’d have her clutching at his arms tonight while his cousin struggled for her life.

  Bartholomew whistled a merry tune, removed the trinket from his pocket, and examined it in better light. Old, but given its quaint appearance, the duck was potentially worth trading for a tumble along the road. He crossed to his trunk, lifted out a handful of linen to reveal his hidden treasures.

  The duck fit snugly beside a pair of candlesticks and he secured the compartment, placing his linens over it carefully. He didn’t want any helpful servant thinking he needed them to straighten things for him. They would serve him in other ways.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  IF YESTERDAY HAD started bleakly with rain, today was worse. The weather had settled into a gloomy shroud over the countryside as if sad at the prospect of losing Lillian Winter from the district. She had not come down for breakfast today, and Giles had not seen Mrs. Osprey to ask questions. What annoyed Giles most was that he had not managed to go to Lilly’s room last night either.

  As he left his chamber to try again, he had spied Barrette pacing down the length of the hall, and had to head for his study as if he had forgotten something. Perhaps the man simply could not sleep as he claimed. Giles hoped he was misjudging, but every night Giles had come across Barty, as Lilly liked to call him, his unease grew.

  Winter planned to leave soon.

  Giles looked out the window at the weeping sky, and then closed his eyes. He knew what he had to do to help Lilly feel better. But given the cousin’s behavior, it would be a very public assistance. Did he have the right to barrel through her door and take over her care completely?

  Yesterday, Giles had seen Lilly’s suffering, and the distress of doing nothing had pained him. What must Lilly feel like today? Did she even want him to come to her? She had a bright future ahead with her father. He would see her well married and settled. That kind of future did not include Giles. After the life he had led, he should not be disappointed, but he was.

  Carrington cleared his throat. “Stop frowning.”

  “Could you?”

  His friend leaned against the window. “I imagine not. She needed help to climb the stairs last night.”

  Fury gripped him. “Did you follow Lilly after you left us?”

  “Calm down. Calm down,” Carrington whispered, glancing toward the door. “I wanted to be sure she made it safely to her bedchamber. She was listing to starboard like a ship in a gale. But the butler and housekeeper had her right and tight.”

  He gripped Carrington’s arm. “Stay away from Lilly.”

  “My friend, she told me that very thing, and right smartly indeed. She has a remarkable temper for such a little chit.”

  “My ghost.”

  The scrape of boot on marble alerted them to company. Lord Winter crossed the room and headed directly for the liquor tray. Giles snorted. Lilly deserved better than a father who ran for a bottle at the first sign of trouble.

  “Your woman is with Lillian, Daventry, but I don’t see she is doing any good.” Lord Winter’s dripped with bitter accusation. “Any number of nurses have done just the same and with no improvement. Why isn’t she well?”

  Giles turned back to the window to grind his teeth. Of course, there was no improvement. Mrs. Osprey had no idea what he had been doing with his nights. However, he was spared the need for an evasive reply because Barrette, of course, had followed close behind Lord Winter.

  As Barrette started fretting over Lilly’s relapse, Giles remembered something that the baron had mentioned. Lillian Daventry. It wasn’t quite how he’d meant it to sound, but her name sounded nice mixed with his. Lillian Wexham, Lady Daventry. And then Giles quashed the sentimental drivel swirling through his brain. He was all wrong for the girl. He truly was.

  When she did not make it downstairs for dinner either, Giles realized his time for vacillation was gone. He spent the early part of the meal watching a smug little smile flit across Barrette’s face only to disappear into a grave expression. He appeared happy that Lilly was unwell again, and was doing his best to hide it.

  Giles wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Carrington, would you keep my guests entertained? I have just recalled a task that requires my attention. I shall rejoin you before the dessert course.”

  Carrington waved him away. “Excellent. That means I can have seconds of your cook’s famous braised duck. This visit, I am going to pester her into giving me the recipe for my own cook to try.”

  “Ha. You can make the attempt, but she guards that book with her life.”

  Giles left the room and hurried up the stairs. He tapped on Lilly’s bedchamber door, and after a brief word, Mrs. Osprey let him in. “She is so much worse, my lord.”

  Lilly said his name when he touched her skin, and then fell silent. He raised her hand to his lips but, judging by the heavy weight of her limb, she didn’t realize he was there. She was drugged again.

  “Mrs. Osprey, I do believe I could kill someone.”

  “Oh, no, my lord, you mustn’t. What would happen to Miss Winter then?”

  “Yes. What indeed?”

  He pulled back the covers and slipped his arms beneath her body to lift her against his chest.

  “What can I do, my lord?”

  Giles nodded to the door. “You can help me compromise Miss Winter. Get that door open, but keep the dog inside this room. Then hurry along to mine. Now. And be very quiet in the hall.”

  With Lilly lying boneless against his chest, he slipped into the hall and watched Mrs. Osprey convince his wolfhound to stay. The poor thing appeared bereft. “Make sure to throw in a bone later. We don’t want him howling all night.”

  Mrs. Osprey rushed up the hall before him and held his door open wide. “You’re doing the right thing, my lord. Miss Winter was so sad last night. I think she missed you.”

  He’d missed her, too. He tucked Lilly into his bed. “Keep the door locked, and only let myself or Dithers in. No exceptions. And no disagreements tonight. You can torture my butler later.”

  Mrs. Osprey bit her lip over a smile.

  “Wicked woman.”

  All in all, Giles was only absent for perhaps ten minutes, and neither Barrette or Lord Winter appeared concerned upon his return. Carrington, however, threw him a questioning glance, but kept up a steady stream of confidences that only enhanced his reputation a
s a chatterbox. Lord Winter got steadily foxed.

  As before, Barrette did not offer to help put the old man to bed, and Giles supposed he should get accustomed to the activity. Was Winter always three sheets to the wind with drink? It was surprising he’d not lost track of Lilly more often.

  At his door, Giles hesitated a moment before entering the room. He pushed the heavy wood closed with his back, and leaned upon it. Everything was in readiness.

  “She hasn’t stirred at all.”

  Giles nodded. “As I expected. You are dismissed, Mrs. Osprey.”

  “But—”

  He met her gaze, and she had the good sense to blush before hurrying from the room. Giles hardly needed a spinster’s help to compromise Lilly.

  He strode across the room and lifted the lid on the light supper he’d requested. The food looked good and should not spoil before daybreak. He lit a cigar, placed it on an ashtray, and then poured a glass of brandy. He set both beside the bed, along with a clean chamber pot.

  Lilly lay insensible to her surroundings. He removed his jacket, cravat, and waistcoat, and then rolled up his sleeves. Her face was ashen, her lips pale blue, but her pulse was good. Yet she did not stir when he moved her arm.

  The fact that Lilly was under the effects of laudanum could only mean one of his guests had brought the poison into the house and dosed her food heavily. Her eyes had been pained but clear of the vile stuff last night.

  Today, all she did was breathe.

  Giles opened the bedroom window wide, letting a cool blast of air enter the room. He struggled to raise Lilly to a sitting position. Her head lolled, and he juggled her so she rested against his shoulder. He waved the cigar under her nose a time or two until he got a twitch of reaction, and then set it into the porcelain bowl in her lap. The smoke curled toward her face.

  “Lilly. Little ghost, wake up.”

  She grumbled as if she heard him, but the potion clouded her mind still. He had no choice but force her to drink the brandy.

  She choked, and then gasped, swallowing the liquid and smoke in equal parts. Moments later, she vomited into the porcelain bowl, over and over until his stomach hurt from the sound of it.

  When she was done, her face pink and sweat-shined, he laid her down and removed the bowl and brandy to the window, throwing both far out into the night. Giles stripped Lilly of her nightgown and dropped her into a tub of cold bathwater, remembering to support her with his arms so she didn’t drown. Lilly gasped.

  “Forgive me, but you must wake.” Giles drizzled water over her face. “You see what happens when I leave you alone for a day or two. You make me do the meanest things, my darling. I much prefer giving you pleasure.”

  He was careful not to wet her long hair too thoroughly and rubbed her arms and legs, hoping to burn off the poison. He hoped this worked. He couldn’t bear to wait out days to see her smile again.

  When her teeth started to clatter and her arms covered with gooseflesh, he lifted her from the water to hold her close. Even though she soaked his front right through, it was a small price to pay for the unhappy sounds she made.

  “Walk, Lilly, and then I promise nothing but pleasure forever.”

  Gulping over his choice of words, Giles marched her around the room naked until she was using more of her own strength for the task.

  “Why are you making me walk? Let me rest,” Lilly grumbled.

  Giles brushed at his eyes. “Because I have to, ghost. Bear with me a little longer.”

  When Lilly attempted to pull away, Giles picked her up in his arms and laid her out on the lengths of towel waiting to dry her.

  “She should have definitely added tyrant.”

  Giles laughed, picturing what his mother might make of his activities tonight. She would not be happy. “If you insist, we’ll add tyrant later.”

  Down the hall, Atticus barked out a warning, but Giles would not go to the door and see who was stumbling about. His stout door was locked tight against intruders. However, to be sure they was not interrupted, Giles blew out the candles and relied on firelight to return to Lilly.

  When she was dry, he tucked her into his bed, then moved around the room, straightening things and closing the bedroom window. He picked his way across the space in darkness before removing the rest of his clothes. Giles slipped into bed beside Lilly and drew her against his skin.

  Lilly sighed against his bare chest and ran her hands over his body, lighting fires she had no right to encourage, given her current state. But her breathing settled into a normal, deep rhythm, and he did his best to fall asleep too.

  ~ * ~

  Lilly woke to find her body trapped under something heavy. She breathed deep, and drew in Giles’ scent so close to her. His arm draped over her chest and his hand covered her breast. When she shifted a little, so did he. He rolled and pulled her tight against his hot skin.

  It took Lilly a moment to get over the shock of skin on skin contact. Giles burned. Lilly swallowed nervously, then wished for a drink to be rid of the horrible taste in her mouth. Swallowing again didn’t help, so she lifted Giles’ heavy arm, attempting to escape him.

  “What do you want, Lilly?” he murmured.

  “Water. I have a terrible taste in my mouth, but I am capable of getting it, you know.”

  “It’s either the laudanum, or the brandy I made you drink. Let me look after you. You know I enjoy it.” Giles kissed the side of her face and moved out from behind her. Glass clinked in the dark.

  The bed creaked when he returned, and he felt for her face, clumsily offering the glass for her to drink from. She downed the lot and handed it back.

  Glass rattled against wood, then Giles crawled back under the blankets. When he had them arranged comfortably again, he kissed Lilly’s shoulder before falling back asleep. His light snore made her laugh because it tickled her neck so strangely.

  While Giles slept, Lilly lay awake and wondered how she had come to be in this room. Yesterday was another blur, just as if she had taken the medicine for her pains. Had she been tricked into consuming laudanum again? Giles had said she had. But she didn’t remember accepting the potion. As she puzzled over what had contained the brew, she twirled her fingers around the swirls of hair on Giles’ forearms.

  The arm around her tightened, then stroked down her torso. She had woken Giles with her restlessness. Heat shifted behind her, and she became aware of a hot spot on her bottom.

  “Can’t you sleep?” Giles whispered as his lips pressed against her neck, along to her shoulder, and back again.

  “I was attempting to remember yesterday.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m not going to let anything happen to you again, darling. From now on, you stay with me,” Giles promised.

  Lilly grinned. Staying with Giles was a nice fantasy.

  Giles’ hands stopped their random wandering and soothed her stiff muscles. Lilly rolled over without any prompting. Oh, Giles was so good at this. When he had turned her senses to putty, Lilly turned over to stop him by pulling him down for kisses. He sank his full weight against her and she eased her legs apart to accommodate his lower body.

  Heat scalded her skin. A strip of her inner thigh burned. Giles moved his hips while they kissed and slid along her skin. When he changed position so his body lay beside hers, she tried not to be disappointed. How wicked was she to want more?

  Very wicked.

  When Giles ran his hand over her skin, Lilly explored him in return.

  Chest hair was such a revelation. The hairs seemed long and soft, so she played at smoothing them only to encounter a male nipple. When Lilly’s fingers brushed the peak again, Giles let out a groan. Lilly giggled.

  “Wicked temptress.”

  Lilly kissed his cheek. “You only have yourself to blame.”

  He rewarded her impertinent reply by returning the favor. Lilly arched at the sensation of his pinching fingers, and then his lips settled on the tip and suckled.

  This was not like the last time she�
��d shared his bed. Giles was less reserved, more demanding in the way his hands skimmed her curves. He kept her close with lips and tongue. She purred when he swapped to her other breast and used his fingers to tease the wet nipple he’d just left.

  She shifted her legs restlessly on the linens until Giles trapped one of hers with one of his, wedging her legs apart just when she had started to hum at the junction of her thighs. He abandoned her nipple and his breath caressed her skin. His fingers slid to her belly in twisting patterns until they rested on the top of her curls.

  If only he would just move a little lower, she thought, squirming up the bed toward those clever fingers. He did not move them, but caught her lips again and kissed her like a starving man. Perhaps he was just that. Lilly was certain that he had no lover here at Cottingstone. She had seen no sign of one. Until Papa came, they had been together most nights.

  Muscles flexed and twisted beneath her hands as she explored Giles thoroughly. She stroked his chest, down toward his belly button, following the line of hair. Giles’ mouth lifted from hers. He shifted his hips and deposited his length right into her hand.

  As he kissed her, Lilly got over the surprise. She made a hesitant stroke over his soft skin. Giles groaned in appreciation. His teasing fingers slid into her curls then pushed into her cleft, driving her mad.

  As Lilly learned how to pleasure him, he stroked her until she gasped. She tightened her grip on his length and moved in time with his own fingers.

  “That’s it, my darling. Just like that.”

  She stroked him until he groaned again and he teased until she whimpered.

  Giles pressed his head to Lilly’s. “Together?”

  Lilly’s world exploded and hot liquid splattered over her belly. She struggled to catch her breath, but Giles soothed her until their breaths held steady again.

  Giles’ lips brushed her cheek. “My god, you’ll be the death of me.”

  She could not remember ever hearing Giles speak to his lovers after sex before. But knowing she had the power to change him made her smile.