The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 1

by Sorcha MacMurrough

  The Duke heard the sound of several ever more passionate kisses, and at last the rasp of their labored breaths as they broke away.

  "We'll be together again soon, I promise. A few days at most, once we're sure of the money," the all too familiar male voice asserted. "Now off you go, lass. Fill the giddy Miss Castlemaine's ears with endless paeans of praise for me, and hold forth at length about all the joys of marriage that await her as soon as she's wed."

  "I'm certainly an expert on that, aren't I," the woman practically purred.

  He laughed in triumph. "You most certainly are. Once the mad dash to Gretna is over with, I'll look forward to an even wilder ride with you, my pet. Now off you go. I need to get ready."

  He gave her a lusty thwack on the buttocks which echoed around the room. She giggled happily and scurried out of the orangery to do his bidding.

  Thomas pressed back into the ornamental alcove formed by two Doric columns, his mind racing.

  The girl was gone before he could even try to interfere, hurrying away to perform her nefarious part in this dreadful plot against an innocent, unsuspecting girl.

  He let the woman go. He had a few keen suspicions as to who it might be, and in some senses, she didn't really matter. She was a mere pawn in all of this, greedy, foolish, but by no means as evil as the man who was engineering this foul plot.

  No, it was the king he needed to deal with in this most deadly game. For he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that Herbert Paxton betrayed everyone he knew, especially women, with all the skill of Judas. And that his latest intended victim was in the most deadly peril imaginable.

  Thomas's head swam. Not again.

  NO, not again. NOT while he had breath left in his body to stop him.

  He hadn't been able to do a damn thing for the last sweet, tender girl Paxton had abducted and ruined irrevocably.

  But this time, he had stumbled upon the plot before the irrevocable had happened. He had to save Charlotte Castlemaine no matter what. He just needed time to think....

  Paxton had been bloody clever. Charlotte too, come to that. She had been surrounded by so many beaux he had never even suspected that things could have progressed so far. Certainly not with Paxton, of all people.

  Hare and hounds, what was he to do?

  The Duke's fury was such that he would quite happily have throttled his worst enemy with his bare hands and left him for dead in the orangery.

  But he wasn't prepared to leave what remained of his family to suffer the consequences of that brutal act. However vile the beast was, Paxton wasn't worth swinging at the end of a rope for. Not when Thomas had so many people depending upon him. Two pairs of green eyes in particular haunted him every night.

  Think, Thomas, think...

  He searched his pockets quickly. No, he would be damned if he would give Paxton the sapphire jewellery he had hoped to work up the courage to give to his heart's desire on this most special of nights, her eighteenth birthday.

  It was just as well he hadn't dared. His secondary gift of a matching fan and reticule had elicited enough of a shocked response as it was. Not least because she could not fail to have noticed how they matched her gown so perfectly. But then he had taken such pains that it should do so, locating her modiste in Bath to be sure her ensemble would be perfect in every respect.

  Damn. What was he to do? He could certainly buy the bastard off, but it was no permanent solution, of that he was sure. There was nothing to stop Paxton from pocketing the cash and coming right back to sniff around after Charlotte once more.

  On the other hand, if Paxton had no chance to marry her because Thomas held his past over his head...

  But no, that wouldn't work either, he determined as he continuedt to search his clothing with trembling hands. It would only expose many of the people he loved to certain ruin.

  And a thwarted young miss was a force to be reckoned with. The Lord only knew how they could bear to cling to such scoundrels and reprobates. But many kind-hearted women did, even when it meant certain ruin, he recalled with a shudder.

  And Charlotte Castlemaine would never believe him anyway. Not even if he marched into the ballroom straight away and confronted her with everything he had just heard. Not if she fancied herself so in love that she was willing to risk everything in the world to elope with Paxton.

  Thomas dug desperately through his pockets while his enemy lit a cheroot and sat down on one of the stone benches to enjoy his leisurely smoke. He could just imagine the smug, satisfied smile on the blond man's florid face.

  Well, he was going to wipe that look off it in a moment, he determined. That poor child...

  He had to stop him. Now, and forever. Even leaving aside his own regard for Charlotte, it was the decent thing to do. And there seemed only one way to do it, though his mind rebelled at the dreadful underhandedness of the whole scheme. But needs must when the Devil drove.

  The only way to ever be sure of stopping Paxton from eloping with Charlotte Castlemaine and marrying her would be to ensure she was already married.

  To marry Charlotte himself.

  The thought was enough to take his breath away. But how.... He wished now he had not been so aloof, had wooed her more overtly. But he had had just enough vanity to desire absolute certainty with regard to her being willing to marry him for himself, not his fortune or title. And for her to be sure that she was making a mature and considered choice.

  But mature and considered be damned when there was love at stake. Love, and one's very life.

  He stepped out from behind the pillar before he even realized his feet had moved. "I heard you, you bastard. Heard every disgusting word."

  Paxton leapt up in alarm, flinging the cigar aside, poising for a fight.

  "And what do you think you're going to do about it, Eltham?" he demanded. "Kill me? You haven't the guts."

  "You remember our days in the Army as well as I do. I think you'll recall that I most certainly do. But I've never resorted to murder."

  "No, nor a duel neither?" he mocked.

  "What purpose would be served? To expose my whole family to scandal and even further tragedy?"

  "A real man-"

  The raven-haired Duke flung his purse at him, almost striking him in the face with the heavy leather drawstring bag.

  "All guineas. And a banker's draft you can draw five hundred upon. You'll get the same amount every month for as long as you keep away from Miss Castlemaine and my family."

  "Ah yes, and how is the delightful Jane these days?"

  Thomas gritted his teeth, determined not to be goaded. "Take it and get out, now."

  "Ah, but you see, the lady is waiting for me even as we speak-"

  "And if you want to see the sun rise on the morrow you'll leave now, and not look back."

  Paxton's tone took on a plaintive note that made Thomas all the more furious. "Is this any way to treat an old friend?"

  "It's certainly the way to treat a bad one. Get the hell out."

  "All right," he said, weighing the purse in his grasping hand. "I'll take this now, but only because I'd rather have a bird in the hand than speculate on her father being talked around into granting his approval and her money.

  "But mark my words, I'll be back. And I'll make you pay for poking your nose in where it doesn't belong, Eltham. I'll make all of you pay."

  Thomas stiffened, and growled, "Threaten me all you like, but leave Miss Castlemaine out of it. She's done nothing to you. And if it's only money you're after-"

  "You know what I'm after."

  "You're not getting them!" he barked.

  "Oh, I will, Your Grace, believe me, I will," Paxton threatened with a mocking laugh. "I'll bide my time, watch and wait. I'll have it all. You'll see if I don't."

  "You can never prove-"

  "Oh, I think I can. I'll be more than glad to give convincing testimony in front of the highest court in the land if you don't pay up. What will you look like then? The brave noble, decent soul who would lock
a woman he claims he loves in a madhouse rather than-"

  Thomas' fury began to claw its way upwards despite his Herculean efforts to keep it under control. "Get out, now."

  Paxton raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I'm going. But mark my words, you'll pay. All of you. For as long as it suits me. Give Charlotte my best regards, and tell her I'll see her soon."

  Thomas swung then, but Paxton had already vanished, fleeing through the orangery doors and out into the black night.

  Thomas pivoted around on his heel. He knew he hadn't a moment to lose. He yanked out his pocket notebook and pencil, and scribbled a hasty missive, which he handed to the nearest footman as he charged through the anteroom and down the corridor.

  "Give this to Mr. Castlemaine in ten minutes, do you understand?" he said urgently, pressing it into the young man's hand along with the last of the coins in his waistcoat pocket.

  "Aye, sir, ten minutes. But, sir, you're going the wrong way-"

  Thomas knew he couldn't risk being waylaid in the foyer of the mansion. Once more he returned to the orangery. He was out the garden door in a flash, and around the corner and up into his waiting carriage moments later.

  "Take us around to the foot of the bridle path that runs from here to Millcote."

  "Aye, sir, gladly," the startled coachman said with a nod. "But-"

  "Don't ask. For God's sake, just hurry. Before it's too late."

  CHAPTER ONE

  Charlotte Castlemaine's elegant new gold and white reticule and fan swung gaily from the crook of her elbow as she trotted through the woods with her long-legged, graceful stride.

  She wished she had taken her heavy boots, but there had not been time. Her beloved Herbert had been so importunate, the last thing on her mind had been sensible footwear.

  But now, as she headed for the waiting carriage which would take her and her darling to Gretna Green, she realized there were a great many things she had not paused to consider. She was also lacking a warm cloak, a change of gown from the frothy white confection she had had specially made for today, her eighteenth birthday, and a goodly sum of ready cash.

  She touched her throat and earlobes. Her diamonds would be enough to get them where they needed to go, and provide for their needs for some time longer. After that, well, they would have to just wait and see. Everything depended upon her family supporting her once the scandal broke.

  But even if they did not, Charlotte thought with a defiant lift of her chin, she and Herbert would manage. As he had said many times in the past few weeks since they had met, love would find a way.

  A dark lantern glimmering to the right showed her the correct path. Though it was a moonless, blustery late winter's night, she felt she would have found her way to the rendezvous point even blind-folded. They were meant to be together. Love would conquer all. She was drawn to him irrevocably as she headed for her ultimate bliss...

  Charlotte began to laugh to herself. She had been reading far too many sentimental novels these past few months. She had had her head turned by her coming out in the district, and soon proving to be the most sought-after debutante. She had certainly over-indulged a bit in the fashionable pursuits expected of a girl of her social standing.

  Though once she was safely married, with an establishment of her own, she could do as she liked, she thought gleefully. She admitted she was anticipating with no small degree of relish reading some of the racier novels she had heard tittered about. But what she was really looking forward to was running a household and helping her new husband run his estate, just as he had promised her.

  Her money would make it possible, though if anyone dared call him a fortune-hunter, she would point out that his nobility of character more than made up for his lack of funds.

  Besides, it was just too wonderful to be marrying already, without having even had to go through the marriage mart in the Ton. Everyone in her set had been green with envy over her popularity. To marry well would be the icing on top of a sumptuously rich cake.

  She laughed aloud as she envisaged her triumph. To become a Lady was more that the daughter of a simple country squire could have hoped. Once they were able to buy Herbert a title, of course. Then everything would be just splendid.

  The glimmer of the lantern became a steady glow as she advanced. Charlotte almost threw herself into the arms of the tall cloaked figure awaiting her. His decided air of calm contrasted with her own agitated state.

  He turned. Her eyes widened, her heart jumped into her throat, and her head swam.

  "Y-y-your Grace!"

  "Miss Castlemaine. Charlotte. A beautiful evening, is it not?"

  How typically English, to talk about the weather at a time like this, Charlotte thought ironically despite her panic. She gasped, "Er, yes, very."

  "Just the right weather for a little jaunt, wouldn't you say?"

  "A bit cold, being February, but fair and dry."

  "Well, if you're going, you'd better make haste. Your carriage awaits."

  Charlotte stared at him. Of all the people she had imagined Herbert enlisting to aid them in their elopement, the Duke of Ellesmere was the last person she had expected. It just showed that appearances truly could be deceptive.

  Her past experience of him had revealed the tall raven-haired man to be little better than a Puritan compared to all her new friends. He had seemed to frown upon drinking and gambling, never went to hunt parties, and was altogether too quiet and unsmiling at social gatherings.

  In fact, the Duke was the exact opposite to the dashing and flamboyant Herbert in every way. Well, as Herbert had told her, the guise of respectability went a long way in the world, even if it was far from the truth in practice.

  "I'm ready, Your Grace. You have the lantern. Pray lead the way."

  "Please take my arm, Miss Castlemaine."

  She did so with gratitude, for her dancing shoes were bemired, and she was slipping everywhere in the leaf mold underfoot. She perceived the powerful sinewy muscles rippling under her hand, quite unexpected given his lofty station in life.

  She felt a small shiver of fear run through her. Here was a man with hidden undercurrents, dangerous, swirling, a still pond that could suck her down into a quagmire of...

  What? Terror? Desire?

  She laughed inwardly at her fanciful turn of mind. She would have to ban Mrs. Radcliffe's Gothic novels from her nighttime reading pile. Still, as she slipped and nearly fell in her haste to be away and see Herbert again, the simile seemed an apt one.

  Only instead of carrying her down to perdition, her companion swept her up into his arms, so that she was pressed against his chest most intimately.

  She gazed into his emerald green eyes, made darker by the night which enveloped them, and noted a spark of... what? Amusement, desire? She could not tell.

  He really was the most extraordinarily handsome man, she had to give him that, with his fine high brow, straight patrician nose, strong jaw, and sensual lips. Every woman in the County swooned whenever he entered a room. It was a pity he was so dour, with little racy entertaining conversation, and an air of such obvious disapproval for many of the local gentry that she wondered at him troubling himself to go out into Society at all. Though she did not exactly blame him, since Society seemed to prefer a good deal of heavy drinking, so far as she could tell...

  Still, as a Duke, and also the wealthiest landowner in the district, he would be paid court to no matter what his disposition. Moreover, a man as rigidly upright and moral as he seemed to be would certainly deem it his duty to perform his social obligations punctiliously. He had certainly done that this evening, coming to her party, with the elegant gifts she now wore.

  She frowned slightly. Darling Herbert must have forgotten to give her her gift...

  She trembled in the Duke's arms, wracking her brain for the little she knew of him. She had never sensed even the slightest hint of impropriety. But now that she thought about it, she had heard he had not been much in evidence the previous Season.
Scandalmongers claimed the rigid Duke had at last developed a grand passion which had resulted in one girl's ruin and an illegitimate child.

  Yet this season, that of her coming out, he had been omnipresent, causing speculation that at last the great Thomas Eltham, Duke of Ellesmere, was preparing to set up his nursery.

  She had seen him everywhere she had visited, always in the background, hardly speaking to her, yet always seeming as if he were on the watch for something. The perfect wife, no doubt.

  On the whole she could not help envy the lucky woman just a little. But all thoughts turned to Herbert once more as they neared the carriage which would take her on her journey to love and freedom.