by Jo Beverley
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Author’s Note
Teaser chapter
Praise for the Novels of Jo Beverley
The Secret Wedding
“Beverley proves again that she can be counted on to come up with clever and creative ways of mixing passion and intrigue to create a beguiling love story.”
—Booklist
“A fabulous, intelligent tale starring two lead characters masquerading as others in order to conceal their true identity while falling in love with their spouse. [In this] comedy of manners, misconceptions, and mistakes, Jo Beverley provides an amusing historical with a touch of suspense and a hint of scandal as you like it.”
—Genre Go Round Reviews
A Lady’s Secret
“Extraordinary storyteller Beverley mixes witty repartee, danger, and simmering sensuality with her strong and engaging characters, including a fetching Papillon, in this delightful, delicious gem of a book.”
—Romantic Times (top pick)
“With wit and humor, Jo Beverley provides a wonderful eighteenth-century romance starring two amiable lead characters whose first encounter is one of the best in recent memory. The tale is filled with nonstop action.”
—The Best Reviews
Lady Beware
“Jo Beverley carries off a remarkable achievement in Lady Beware, the latest and possibly last in her Company of Rogues novels.... It is the unusual combination of familial comfort and risqué pleasure that makes this book a winner. . . . No doubt about it, Lady Beware is yet another jewel in Beverley’s heavily decorated crown.”
—The Romance Reader
“[E]nchanting . . . a delightful blend of wit (with banter between Thea and Darien), intrigue (as evil lurks throughout), and emotional victories (as love prevails in the end). . . . Watching Thea and Darien spar is entertaining, and watching them succumb to the simmering love and passion is satisfying.”
—The State (Columbia, SC)
To Rescue a Rogue
“Beverley brings the Regency period to life in this highly romantic story [with] vividly portrayed characters. [Readers] will be engrossed by this emotionally packed story of great love, tremendous courage, and the return of those attractive and dangerous men known as the Rogues. Her Company of Rogues series is well crafted, delicious, and wickedly captivating.”
—Joan Hammond
“With her usual beautifully nuanced characters and lyrical writing, RITA Award winner Beverley brings her popular Company of Rogues Regency historical series to a triumphant conclusion . . . [a] quietly powerful romance.”
—Booklist
The Rogue’s Return
“Beverley beautifully blends complex characters, an exquisitely sensual love story, and a refreshingly different Regency setting into one sublime romance.”
—Booklist
“Jo Beverley has written an excellent character study. One of the best books I’ve read this season.”
—Affaire de Coeur
A Most Unsuitable Man
“Beverley turns a rejected ‘other woman’ into a fiery, outspoken, sympathetic heroine; pairs her with a dashing but penniless, scandal-ridden hero; and lets the fun—and the danger—begin. Once again readers are treated to a delightful, intricately plotted, and sexy romp set in the slightly bawdy Georgian world of Beverley’s beloved Malloren Chronicles.”
—Library Journal
“Beverley brings back some of the characters from Winter Fire as she takes her readers into the dangerous, intriguing, and opulent world of Georgian England. Her strong characters and finely honed dialogue, combined with a captivating love story, are a pleasure to read.”
—Romantic Times
“I found myself enjoying every minute of the relationship in this story of love, hope, and increments of witty humor. As usual, a Malloren novel is a keeper.”
—Rendezvous
More Praise for the Other Novels of New York Times Bestselling Author Jo Beverley
“A well-crafted story and an ultimately very satisfying romance.”
—The Romance Reader
“Jo [Beverley] has truly brought to life a fascinating, glittering, and sometimes dangerous world.”
—Mary Jo Putney
“Another triumph.”
—Affaire de Coeur
“Wickedly delicious. Jo Beverley weaves a spell of sensual delight with her usual grace and flair.”
—Teresa Medeiros
“Delightful . . . thrilling . . . with a generous touch of magic . . . an enchanting read.”
—Booklist
“A stunning medieval romance of loss and redemption . . . Sizzling.”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
“A fast-paced adventure with strong, vividly portrayed characters . . . wickedly, wonderfully sensual and gloriously romantic.”
—Mary Balogh
“Deliciously sinful. . . . Beverley evokes with devastating precision the decadent splendor of the English country estate in all its hellish debauchery . . . a crafty tale of sensuality and suspense.”
—BookPage
ALSO BY JO BEVERLEY
Available from New American Library
REGENCY
THE ROGUES’ WORLD
Lady Beware
To Rescue a Rogue
The Rogue’s Return
Skylark
St. Raven
Hazard
“The Demon’s Mistress” in In Praise of Younger Men
The Devil’s Heiress
The Dragon’s Bride
Three Heroes (Omnibus Edition)
OTHER
Forbidden Magic
Lovers and Ladies (Omnibus Edition)
Lord Wraybourne’s Betrothed
The Stanforth Secrets
THE MALLOREN WORLD
The Secret Wedding
A Lady’s Secret
A Most Unsuitable Man
Winter Fire
Devilish
Secrets of the Night
Something Wicked
My Lady Notorious
MEDIEVAL ROMANCES
Lord of Midnight
Dark Champion
Lord of My Heart
ANTHOLOGIES
“The Raven and the Rose” in
Chalice of Roses
“The Dragon and the Virgin Princess” in
Dragon Lovers
“The Trouble with Heroes” in
Irresistible Forces
SIGNET
Published by New American Library, a division of
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street,
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First published by Signet, an imprint of New American Library,
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First Printing, April 2010
eISBN : 978-1-101-18645-9
Copyright © Jo Beverley, 2010
All rights reserved
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Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Chapter 1
Dover, 1760
Laughter can take many forms, from the pure delight of a happy child to the gibber of madness. The laughter that slithered out into the dark and misty Dover night was the sound of cruel men with a victim in their clutches.
It caused the man in the street to pause.
To his left, water slapped against the wharf and wind rattled the riggings of ships. Farther out, rough water jangled a buoy bell. To his right, lanterns outside buildings were gleaming globes in the sea mist, giving only enough light for passersby to avoid the larger detritus of any port—snarls of rope, soggy bales, and broken casks leaking stinking contents.
He shook his head and moved on, but then the laughter came again, this time punctuated by one sharp word. He couldn’t tell what word, but the voice sounded female.
It could be a ship’s lad being teased, or a whore, well used to this rough area. No concern of his.
But then he heard a few more words. Higher pitched, but almost authoritative. Not a lad. Almost certainly not a whore. But what decent woman would be down here late on a chilly October night?
Damn it all to Hades. He’d been at sea for two cold days and nights and anticipated a fine meal and warm bed at the Compass and then home tomorrow.
He waited and heard no more.
There, whatever the commotion, it was over. But then raised jeers made him curse again and turn toward the noise. One of the misty globes probably marked the entrance to the place, but he couldn’t see more than that.
As he came closer he saw only two small windows, one on either side of a cockeyed door, covered by slat-ted shutters that let out mean slices of tallow light. Tobacco smoke slithered out as well, along with the smell of ale, new and old, and human stink. It was a port tavern of the lowest sort, a haunt for the roughest of sailors and shore workers.
A coarse voice sneered something about tits.
The woman didn’t respond.
Was unable to respond?
As he reached for the door he saw a roughly painted sign nailed above it indicating that this place rejoiced in the name the Black Rat.
“And a plague on the lot of you,” muttered Captain Rose as he shouldered open the warped planked door.
He’d been right about the smoke and tallow light, and it made the room foggy, but he could see enough.
The Rat was crowded, and most of the men were still sitting on their stools and benches, drinking from pots and tankards, but they’d all turned to watch the entertainment. In the corner to his right, five men had a woman trapped. Perhaps she’d been herded there as soon as she unwisely entered.
What in Hades had she been thinking? Even at a glance he recognized youth and good birth. Her brown-and-cream-striped gown had cost a pretty penny, and her hair curled out from a dainty cap trimmed with lace. And yes, the swell behind the fichu that filled in her low bodice suggested she had fine tits. One of her captors was teasingly trying to snatch away the filmy cloth, playing cat and mouse, but sure of victory.
She slapped at his hand.
The man laughed.
Rose looked around for allies, but saw no one he knew.
There was one other woman present, but she was a hard-faced forty or so and was guarding the big cask of ale. The tavern keeper or his wife, but showing no sign of interfering. She continued to fill pots and tankards as requested and take the coins. He was on his own against five, and now drinkers were beginning to notice his arrival, nudging one another and muttering.
Not surprising. He was as alien here as she. His dark suit was old-fashioned, but of excellent quality. He wore his hair loose to his shoulders and had days of beard on his chin, but these men would recognize rank and authority.
Rank and authority might help him, or it might get his throat cut. Easy enough to tip a body off the nearby quay and no one would be any the wiser. In places such as these, no one tattled.
Someone might recognize him—Captain Rose’s red neckcloth and skull earrings were meant to be noticed—but that wouldn’t protect him if they turned on him.
He saw neither recognition nor hostility as yet, only interest in a new actor on the stage and hope that he’d provide even more free entertainment. Rose turned his attention back to the scene in the corner. Yes, a lady. He knew by her clothes, but also by her carriage and the outrage flashing in her eyes. What—had she expected the habitués of a place like the Black Rat to be gentlemen?
Both haughty manner and generous figure were going to get her raped. Even these rascals might object to tormenting a terrified weakling, but such a bold piece would look like fair game to them, especially if she’d come in here by her own choice.
Had she been looking for this sort of adventure? Some ladies thought rough men exciting, but she’d have to be mad to sink this low, and despite an attempt at dignity, she was young. Perhaps not eighteen. Surely too young for such depravity. As a couple of the tormentors sensed something and turned to confront him, he wondered if he could use insanity to free her.
One of the two men was scarred and sinewy, but the other was an ox, all hard, beefy muscle, with a low, bony forehead. Getting the chit out of here without blood-shed wasn’t going to be easy, and the blood shed could well be his own. The shorter man had slid out a long filleting knife. It would be razor sharp.
Too late to rethink now. As with any feral animals, it would be disastrous to show fear, even if his heart beat fast with it. And in truth, he couldn’t abandon the foolish creature.
He strode forward, pushing his way roughly between tables. “So there you are, you dim trull!” he blasted in the voice he used to call instructions in a gale. “What in Hades do you think y
ou’re doing, wandering about down here?”
None of the tormentors moved. Nor did their victim except to stare at him. He saw then how stretched her courage was. The whites showed around her eyes. He hoped his weren’t the same. Play your part, damn you, he thought as he assessed the danger around them.
Probably the only immediate danger was from the two who’d faced him, but at the slightest sign of fear they’d all be on him like a pack of mangy dogs. He had a pistol in his pocket, but that was only one shot. He had a blade too, but he didn’t fool himself that he’d win a knife fight, and to show either weapon now would indicate fear.
There was no way out of this but through it, so he brushed past the two men as if unaware of them, grabbed her arm, and snarled, “Come on.”
She instinctively pulled back, but then complied by one step. It probably looked right for a woman caught in folly by an angry husband or guardian. When Rose directed them toward the door, however, the two men moved solidly in his way.
“Yer little lady came a-visitin’,” said the ox, flexing his big hands. Clearly he thought them the only weapon he needed, and he was probably right. “Reckon she’s ours now.”
“She’s my wife,” Rose said in a weary tone he hoped would get some sympathy, “and half out of her wits, as you can see. Let us be.”
“I don’t mind if she’s a knock in the cradle,” said the man with the knife, “as long as she’s got big tits.” He showed dirty, broken teeth. “We want to see her tits.”
Ah, hell.
“I think not,” Rose said, and moved his left hand to his right wrist, then turned it, holding a knife.
The method usually impressed his foes, for he kept the knife in a cunning sheath on his right forearm so that its appearance seemed magical. In that moment of distraction, he took his pistol out of his right pocket. He was left-handed, but moderately ambidextrous, and the pistol was small and specially made so he could easily cock it one-handed. Too small for distance work, but it’d stop a man at this range.
