Dashing Rogues: A Historical Romance Collection

by Dawn Brower, Amanda Mariel

  Narissa pulled open the door and started up the stairs with Josephine behind her. The dark haired man from Newmarket sprang into the forefront of her mind. Why the devil had he upset her so? It wasn’t as if he’d been the first man to ever study her. Nor had he been the first to incite her anger. She glanced back at her friend. “There was a man at the race.”

  “Several, I imagine.” Josephine gave a wave of her hand. “What makes one stand out from the rest?”

  “I noticed him watching me before the race started. He seemed to be studying me, and I must admit that I found it rather unsettling. It was as if he knew I had secrets and wished to discover them.” Narissa glanced around the grand space before she strolled toward her office.

  She had a full house tonight. Ladies sat around green baize tables, some chatting and laughing, others with serious expressions focused on the game at hand—faro, whist, rouge et noir, and hazard among them. Tonight would be profitable, indeed. She grinned.

  Narissa caught Lady Brooke Lynwood’s attention and waved her over to join their celebration. Brooke, the daughter of an earl, had been one of Fortuna’s first members and had become a close friend to Narissa. She was one of few ladies who did not publicly shun Narissa while embracing her privately. Furthermore, the pair had much in common and lived by similar philosophies—neither giving a fig for what the ton deemed appropriate.

  Leaving the door ajar for Brooke, Narissa and Josephine entered the office. “It was almost as though he were looking into my soul. He had the most captivating blue eyes.” She shuddered at the memory emblazoned into her mind. “I swear they cut right through me.”

  “Did you speak with him?” Josephine lifted a decanter from the carved mahogany sideboard and began pouring tumblers of scotch.

  “Speak with whom?” Lady Brooke stepped into the office closing the door behind her.

  Narissa accepted a tumbler from Josephine and took a drink, relishing the heat that spread through her, before replying. “His Grace, the Duke of Blackmore. And indeed, I did.”

  “I am acquainted with him.” Brooke took the tumbler Josephine offered. “I have played cards with his sister, Lady Hannah, a few times. I met him through her, though it was but a brief introduction. He is a handsome devil.”

  “Never mind him. I am far more interested in his sister.” Narissa strolled to the window that overlooked the gaming floor. Papa would love what she’d created here. An image of him playing at the tables formed in her mind. How many times had she witnessed such a scene growing up?

  Her mind flashed back to the first time Papa had allowed her to join in on a game. She’d been sixteen and the only lady in the card room. Papa had beamed and jested good naturally with the other gentleman when Narissa won. From that day forward, she was always allowed a seat at the table when the gentleman gathered. God she missed him.

  Narissa turned back to Brooke. “Is the lady fit for membership?”

  “I believe she would be a good addition.” Scotch in hand, Brooke positioned herself on a chase. “She is free spirited and holds her own around a deck of playing cards.”

  “Bring her tomorrow night.” Narissa stared out at the crush of gambling ladies.

  What did she hope to accomplish by meeting the duke’s sister? She did not know, however, it could only benefit her to learn more about the man in case they should cross paths again. Papa had long ago taught her to keep as many tricks as possible up her sleeve. Lady Hannah would be an ace against her brother, the Duke of Blackmore, should Narissa ever require one.

  “I can do better than tomorrow. I am to meet with her this evening, within the hour as a matter of fact. We were to go for a ride in Hyde Park. I will bring her here instead.” Blue eyes sparkling, Brooke lowered her glass to the marble table beside her, “If it pleases you.”

  “Indeed it does.” Narissa sighed, her shoulders relaxing.

  “Are you planning to keep us in suspense all night?” Josephine asked from where she leaned against the sideboard. “Or do you intend to tell us about your duke?”

  “He is not my anything.” Narissa took another deep drink. “All the same, I will fill you in.”

  Josephine settled more comfortably, her attention solidly trained on Narissa.

  “After the race, once my well-wishers had dispersed, the duke approached me. He requested that I ride for him at Epsom.”

  Brooke’s eyes rounded. “The nerve! Surely, he knew you rode for yourself.”

  “I do not know that he did. After all, Merlin is still registered under Papa’s name.” Narissa ran her finger around the rim of her tumbler. “I really must update that. All the same, I have no wish to ride for anyone else and I told the duke as much.”

  “Good for you,” Josephine said, giving a matter of fact nod of her head.

  “Thank you.” Narissa smiled, she did so adore these women, and considered herself kissed by good fortune that she got to refer to them as friends. “After I declined, the duke offered to pay me an absurd sum to change my mind. Five thousand pounds, can you imagine?”

  “I may have agreed for that much blunt.” Josephine carried the decanter to Narissa before topping off her tumbler.

  “Say you did not.” Brooke held her own glass out for a refill. “It is a great deal of coin, but you are already wealthy.”

  “Of course I stayed steadfast, refusing the offer and marching away.” Though a part of her wished she’d entertained the duke a bit more. Allowed the conversation to go further. Not that she ever would have agreed to ride for him.

  Josephine raised her tumbler. “Cheers to you, My Lady, my friend.”

  “Cheers, indeed.” Brooke followed suit. “As well as congratulations on your most recent win.”

  Narissa lifted her tumbler. “And here is to victory at Epsom.”

  The duke would be there, and she would not cede to him. Merlin had better times than any horse she had ever trained. He ran a mile in under two minutes and required no whip. Furthermore, he ran equally well on dirt or grass. She doubted there were many other horses out there like him, and fewer capable of besting him. The duke would soon know it, too.

  “Yes, to Epsom.” Brooke notched her chin.

  “And to besting the duke.” Josephine winked. “I’d wager all I have that your father is proud as a peacock watching over you.”

  Narissa smiled, then drained her glass. She looked at Brooke. “Do bring the duke’s sister at once. I should very much like to make her acquaintance.”

  Brooke nodded, rising from her seat. “I will return within a couple hours’ time.”

  Narissa placed her tumbler on the sideboard. It would not serve her to be foxed when the lady arrived. “Thank you, Brooke.”

  Josephine retrieved a deck of cards from the top of Narissa’s desk as Brooke took her leave. “Shall we pass the time with a friendly game of piquet?”

  Narissa accepted the cards and began shuffling as she took a seat near the fireplace.

  “While we are at it, you can tell me what you have planned for the duke’s sister.” Josephine gave a knowing grin.

  “How is it that you understand me so well?” Narissa laughed, then without waiting for an answer, said, “I am not certain as of yet, but believe she could prove useful.”

  “Indeed.” Josephine fanned her cards out.

  After several hands of piquet, a knock came at the door, drawing Narissa’s attention. It had to be Brooke with the duke’s sister. Her excitement spiked. “Enter.”

  Lady Brooke strolled in, followed by a petite woman with midnight curls and the same piercing blue eyes as the duke. Narissa sat her cards aside and stood. “You must be Lady Hannah.”

  “And you must be Lady Narissa. Brooke has told me a great deal about you and your club. I am honored to be here.” The lady bestowed a genuine smile, excitement radiating from her.

  “It is my pleasure to have you. And do call me Narissa. We are all friends here.” Narissa retrieved a tumbler and offered it to the lady. “Come, sit.”<
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  Hannah accepted, taking a sip of the scotch before positioning herself on the chase near Brooke. “It is very impressive…what you have built here.”

  “Fortuna’s is a labor of love.” Narissa offered a grin. “Is it your wish to become a member?”

  “I would very much like the honor.” Hannah returned Narissa’s smile.

  “Then let us get to know each other better.” Narissa sipped from her scotch. “Tell us all about you. Your family, hobbies, leave nothing out.”

  Hannah sat her tumbler aside and folded her hands in her lap. “I am afraid there isn’t much to tell. My parents are deceased. The duke of Blackmore is my brother and guardian. He brought me to London hoping to secure a suitable marriage for me.”

  “Do you wish to be married?” Narissa studied her finding nothing off in the tone of her voice or her body language.

  “No, leastwise not yet. Once married, I fear that I will lose the freedom to do the things that I enjoy.”

  “Such as?” Narissa prodded.

  Hannah retrieved her tumbler and held it up. “For starters, a husband is not likely to approve of me drinking scotch.” She tipped the glass against her lips and drained the contents. “Nor would he approve of my spending time in a gaming hell or attending secret female fencing matches in darkened gardens.”

  “I take it you have meet Lady Diana?”

  Hannah smiled. “Indeed. I found her delightful.”

  Josephine retrieved the decanter and refilled Hannah’s tumbler before topping of Narissa and Brooke’s. “Do you enjoy fencing?”

  “Regrettably, I have never had the occasion to try my hand at the sport. I do rather enjoy spectating though.”

  Narissa swirled the scotch in her glass. “Does your brother approve of how you spend your time?”

  “Heaven’s no.” Hannah shook her head. “He doesn’t know the half of it, but what he does know makes him want to lock me away.”

  Narissa laughed. She had the distinct feeling that whether or not she learned anything useful about the duke, Hannah would be a welcome addition to the club.

  CHAPTER 3

  SETH RUBBED the sleep from his eyes as he strolled along the line of stalls at Tattersall’s. Hannah had snuck out last night, resulting in his keeping watch for her return until nearly sun up. He had to do something about his hellion sister before she ruined any chance of making a good match for herself. The unapologetic minx strolled into their townhouse in the early morning hours as if she’d done nothing wrong, bid him a goodnight, and retired to her room behind a locked door.

  He should have throttled her. Though he’d wager a good whipping would straighten Hannah out, he wasn’t the sort to result to such violence. The very idea of anyone striking a woman made his stomach sour and incited his anger. No, Hannah did not need to be beaten, but she most certainly did require a husband—and sooner rather than later.

  “What has you so addled?” His long-time friend, Graham Fulton, the Marquess of Ramsbury, asked.

  “Hannah robbed me of sleep yet again.” Seth glanced at the rows of stalls as he made his way down the path toward the stallion he’d come to bid on.

  “Did she have an explanation?”

  Seth shook his head. “Does she ever bother to defend her actions?”

  “Perhaps you should arrange a marriage for her and be done with it.” Ramsbury flicked something from his coat sleeve, amusement lighting his green eyes.

  Seth peered at him, sharing none of his good humor. “You know I cannot.” His mind roamed back to earlier times, before his parents’ tragic accidents. Both Mother and Father gone forever in the span of a fortnight. Father had died first when his carriage careened off an embankment. Mother followed, her neck broken in a fall down the stairs.

  Before Mother’s death, she’d requested an audience with Seth to discuss Hannah’s future. She’d made him swear to allow Hannah a choice in husband. He could not go back on his promise no matter how troublesome his sister had become.

  “What I should have done was stayed in Yorkshire. Hannah is woefully unprepared for London.” He cut a look at Ramsbury. “If not for that blasted promise.”

  “Stop with the bloody oath. There is no reason to take everything so seriously. You never agreed to allow Hannah free rein. Present her with a couple of gentlemen and make her choose one. Have done with it and resume your own life.” Ramsbury nodded to a passing gentleman.

  A novel idea. Why hadn’t Seth thought of it before? Hannah would no doubt revolt against having her hand forced, but in the end, he would see her settled. Alas, he very well knew that was not his mother’s intention when she’d made him promise to allow Hannah a choice. “Are you offering yourself up for consideration, Ramsbury?”

  “Gads no! Though I am certain many a gentleman would.” Ramsbury nodded at a nearby stall, housing a large grey stallion. “There’s the one we came for.”

  Seth chuckled at his friend’s disdain as he moved to stand before the stall gate, studying the horse within. Banshee, a three-year-old grey stallion of superb blood lines. The horse had yet to be tested on the turf but was rumored to have been born on the wings of the wind. The beast had everyone talking, and would no doubt bring about a bidding war. How many others had stood before this very stall today? It did not matter. Seth would own the horse by auctions end.

  Banshee reared up, snorted, then approached the gate, allowing Seth to reach in and run a hand down his nose. Judging by the horse’s well-muscled frame and feisty disposition, Seth had no doubt this creature could beat Merlin, as well as any other horse it went up against. He turned to Ramsbury. “Banshee will win at Epsom and I will be the proud owner.”

  “You get ahead of yourself, Your Grace. It is rumored a great many are interested in this particular bit of horse flesh.” Ramsbury studied the beast, one of his eyebrows arched slightly.

  “But few have my blunt.” Seth clapped Ramsbury on the shoulder.

  “Oh hell, perhaps I will bid on the beast if for no other reason than to take your arrogance down a notch.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.” Seth shot him a good-natured glare.

  Ramsbury chuckled. “Let us move to the auction space.”

  Tattersall’s fairly vibrated with excitement as the crowd gathered beneath the veranda in the yard. Gentleman stood in clusters, leaned against posts, and waved papers around with enthusiasm as all awaited the auctions start. Seth wove his way through the crowd, determined to find a good spot. He looked at Ramsbury. “Half of London must be here.”

  “I do hope none have more blunt than you,” Ramsbury called, then winked good-naturedly.

  “Bite your tongue.” Seth chuckled as he stepped around a group of gentlemen before stopping to lean against a pillar. A black barouche with silver joints and mountings was brought out for bidding and the auctioneer began.

  Bids started. Calls of ‘fifty guineas’ followed by ‘seventy-five guineas’ were yelled by gentlemen on opposite sides of the auction yard.

  “I have seventy-five guineas, do I hear one hundred? One hundred guineas,” the auctioneer called, brushing back a stray lock of hair.

  Seth looked around the space, wondering how many of these gentlemen had designs on Banshee. Tattersall’s was packed with people from all walks of life, the upper crust of society and poor folk alike. Had he ever seen it so full?

  “Quite the turn out, I must say.” Ramsbury’s voice was laced with humor. “I do hope you brought a significant amount of coin.”

  “Leave off with your jesting. I’ve heard enough.” Seth crossed his arms over his chest. His friend was enjoying this entirely too much. He turned back to Ramsbury, about to shoot him a peering glance when his gaze caught on a nearby woman.

  Seth’s breath hitched as he studied the woman. “Bloody hell, what is she doing here?”

  Ramsbury turned in the direction of Seth’s gaze. “Who?”

  “Stop staring.” Seth’s tone rankled.

  Ramsbury turned back. “Very w
ell, but do tell me who you are referring to.”

  “The she-devil over by the corner. The short brunet standing beside the blonde.” How the devil had she gained admittance in the first place? She’d not even had the decency to disguise herself in order to protect her reputation. Had she no care?

  Ramsbury glanced back at the women. “The one in the red riding habit?”

  Seth fought to keep control of his growing frustration. “Yes.”

  Ramsbury arched a brow. “What has the beauty done to have you so ruffled?”

  Bloody hell, he wished men would stop referring to her in such a way. “She bested me at Newmarket, then refused my offer for her to ride Highflier at Epsom. A bloody good offer I might add.”

  “I am not at all surprised. Lady Narissa is a renowned rider.”

  Seth scowled, his irritation increasing tenfold. “Why the deuce didn’t you come right out and say you knew her?”

  “I do not recall you having asked.” Ramsbury grinned, leaning back against a post and crossing his legs at the ankles.

  Maybe Ramsbury could satisfy his curiosity. Perhaps give him some useful morsel he could use to persuade the lady to change her mind. At the very least, he’d like her to explain how she got into the auction when women were not allowed. “I am asking now. Tell me what you know about the chit?”

  “I know she has your ire up.”

  Blast it all, he needed a stiff drink and Ramsbury wasn’t helping matters in the least. Seth closed his eyes, seeking a bit of calm. “Do not be addle-brained.”

  “Careful old chap, or I may decide you have designs on her.”

  A bloody ingrate thing to think. Seth studied the woman. She was striking, but he’d never fancy a vixen like her. “Believe what you will. Now tell me what you know.”

  Seth kept his attention on the woman. She appeared to be just like any other, dressed fashionably, her hair styled in a proper way, fan and reticule in her hands. By looking at her now, one would never guess what a hellion she was. Except, of course, for the fact that she stood in the midst of a male only auction.