Dashing Rogues: A Historical Romance Collection

by Dawn Brower, Amanda Mariel

  Once next to the oak, he dismounted and retrieved his blanket. He glanced at Lady Sarah. Her lips curved up in a small smile instead of the wide fake grins she had been sending his way, and he could not help finding encouragement in it.

  After he spread the brown wool fabric over the grass, he strode over to her and offered his hand. “My lady.”

  She looped the ribbons of the fan she just removed from her reticule around her wrist and reached for him. A wave of tingles traveled through him at the contact. He took her small, gloved hand in his, and helped her down from her saddle.

  Releasing her, he stepped away before he could do something foolish. He rubbed a hand across his face. “After you, sweet.”

  She scowled. “It would behoove you to remember your manners. Pet names are not appropriate. What if you were overheard? Just imagine what the ton would make of you calling me such a thing.” She turned, moved to the blanket, and sat down in a pool of rich blue skirts.

  Julian chuckled, relishing the way she blushed at his words. “Then everyone would know how I feel about you, sweet. There is little harm in that.”

  “Perhaps not for you. It would be an entirely different matter for me.”

  Julian lowered himself onto the blanket and stretched his legs out in front of him, leaning back on his elbows. A glance revealed Lady Sarah’s escorts lingering near the pond to the left of them, holding their mounts in place.

  She angled her chin a bit higher, and her lips pressed into a mulish line.

  “I believe you were about to tell me what freedom it is you are being denied.”

  “I imagine you will find it rather silly.”

  He studied her while awaiting her reply. The sun’s rays created a glow around her, making her even more breathtaking. He ached to hold her as he watched the battle waging in her eyes.

  She averted her gaze. “I wish to visit Scotland, and Mother has denied my request.”

  “Dare I ask, why?” Julian rolled onto his side, facing her and rested one arm across his waist.

  She plucked a blade of crisp, green grass and twirled it between two delicate fingers. “My dear friend, the Duchess of Goldstone, is set to birth her first babe. I wish to be present for the occasion.”

  He stared deep into her violet gaze. “Seems a perfectly reasonable request to me.”

  “If only my parents agreed with your position on the topic.” A shadow of longing filled her eyes, and melancholy brought the edges of her lips down. “Mother said I could not leave during the season, and moreover, Scotland is too far for me to travel.”

  He knew the marchioness would not allow Lady Sarah to leave London. She assured him her support in his pursuit of her daughter. It would be rather difficult to court Lady Sarah if she fled to another country. All the same, when the frown remained on her heart-shaped face, he longed to make it go away.

  “If you were my wife, I would take you to Scotland this very minute just to see you smile.” His heart leapt at the realization that he meant every word.

  She smacked him in the arm with her fan and laughed. “You are an incorrigible rogue. You must stop saying such things to me.”

  Sitting up, he reached for her hand. It fit nicely in his as he closed his fingers around it. The same warm, tingling sensation as before invaded him, and he longed to gather her body against his. “Would it be so bad if I made an offer for you?”

  Lady Sarah’s lips parted, and her eyes grew wide. Then she pulled her hand from his. “Stop toying with me. I am not a plaything.”

  “I do not jest. I intend to offer for you as soon as I believe you will accept.” His pulse grew stronger in his neck as he searched her eyes for some measure of encouragement.

  “Pray tell, why have you decided on me as a wife?” She looked at him. Her cheeks flushed as she spun her parasol. “Speak plainly, and I may consider the suit.”

  She was no addlebrained miss. She knew there was more to his pursuit of her. Perhaps he should come clean. He did not have much time left to secure a suitable spouse. Certainly not enough time to woo another respectable lady. He rubbed a hand across his jaw. She might accept his offer, or, at the very least, agree to his courtship if she had the details.

  “The day grows late.” She glared pointedly at him.

  He grinned. “As you wish.” He drew in a deep breath, and glanced at her footmen. “My father has demanded I settle down. As a result, I am hunting for a wife and find you to be an exceptional lady.”

  Her lips flattened to a straight line.

  “If I do not secure a spouse of good reputation by month’s end, Father will cut off my stipend, leaving me without a farthing.”

  Her hand flew to her breast, and she inhaled sharply. “I knew it. You have no real interest in me.” She stood and moved toward her mount.

  He gained his footing then raced to catch her. “You have it all wrong.” He grabbed her arm, causing Lady Sarah to stop abruptly. “Let us discuss this further.”

  When he decided on her as his future duchess, it had been for no other reason than her impeccable reputation and beauty, but he developed a genuine interest in her during their first meeting. He had since grown to care for her.

  She rounded on him. “There is nothing to discuss. You admitted you were only pursuing me so you would not become destitute.” She scowled. “I could not give a fig about your troubles. Unhand me this instant.” She jerked her arm.

  He released her but kept his gaze pinned to hers. “You are wrong, Lady Sarah. My interest is genuine. I find you to be a captivating lady and believe you would make a splendid wife.”

  She swept her arm in a wide arch slicing the air in front of her. “A splendid wife, indeed. Say nothing of love, compatibility, mutual respect. I should be honored to make you a splendid wife.”

  The acid in her tone sent his heart into a flurry of panic. “That came out wrong. I do respect you and believe we are compatible. I admire your strong will, your intelligence, your beauty.” He reached to touch her cheek, unable to help himself. “I am certain we would make a sensational match.”

  She spun away from him and marched to her mount, tossing her retort over her shoulder. “I do not respect you, nor do I believe we are compatible.” She allowed a footman to help her onto her beast. “You will return me home, then cease your pursuit of me.”

  Julian swung onto his mount. “I will return you to your family…but make no further promises.”

  He would not give up on the spirited beauty regardless of what she said.

  CHAPTER 8

  SARAH PACED BACK and forth across her drawing room. She should not care a whit about the scoundrel’s predicament. What did she care if he lost his inheritance? A lump formed in her throat. For all of her objections and misgivings about him being a rake, he still managed to get under her skin.

  A huff escaped her as she made her way to the window. Sarah gazed out at the London traffic. A couple strolled down the street in front of her townhouse. The lady had her hand around the gentleman’s arm and appeared to be laughing. Her parasol twirled, and her curls bounced as she gazed at him.

  Sarah turned away, heart leaden in her chest. Would Lord Luvington begin to pursue another lady? He would have to, given his deadline to secure a wife. But why should she care? The rake would surely make his future wife miserable. It certainly would not be the love match she set her sights on. Her throat tightened as she imagined him holding another lady while whispering scandalous things into her ear.

  She shook the bird-witted image from her mind. So what if he looked out for the Duchess of Abernathy and thought women should be treated as equals. She would be better off without the marquess no matter how dashing and open-minded he was. Lord Luvington all but told her he did not care for her, and his words should be enough to keep her from caring about him. Yet, somehow, they were not. Her pulse quickened as she wrapped one arm around her midsection.

  Blast it, she would drive herself mad if she did not do something to take her mind off th
e rake. She left the drawing room headed for the library. Some time spent reading ought to clear her head. She would allow the words of a book to erase Lord Luvington’s proclamations.

  He had taken her by surprise. She just needed a bit of time to get past it. After a while, he would be gone from her mind, and she would happily move on. It should not take much to forget him. She did not love him after all. Desperate to reach the library, Sarah quickened her pace down the hall lined with her ancestor’s pictures.

  Dashing through the door, she strolled to the shelves and retrieved an astronomy tome.

  “My lady, Her Grace, the Duchess of Abernathy is here to see you.”

  Sarah turned on her heels, clutching the book in both hands as the duchess stepped into the room. The maid who announced her took a seat near the wall.

  “How very unexpected, Your Grace.” Sarah forced a small grin. She did not care to discuss Lord Luvington. Perhaps the duchess came for an entirely different reason. She said she had known Lord Luvington since birth, but they could not be all that close. Until the other day, Grace had never mentioned him. “Please, do make yourself comfortable.”

  Grace moved deeper into the room, then lowered herself onto a leather high-backed chair. “Thank you, dear. I wanted to see how things went after you left me the other day.” She folded her hands upon her lap.

  Sarah sat across from the duchess and placed her book on her skirt. What would she tell her? That despite her initial caution, Lord Luvington found his way through her defenses? That she had begun to care for him, only to have the rake confirm her suspicions? But it was even worse than she had suspected. How had she allowed this to happen? Grace would see her as a fool.

  She glanced at the maid. “Have some refreshments sent in.”

  “Straight away, my lady.” The maid curtsied.

  “Tell me, did it go swimmingly?” Grace angled her head.

  Sarah inhaled and squared her shoulders before leveling her gaze on the duchess. “The very opposite is true. It seems I have made an utter fool of myself.”

  “How so?”

  Sarah glanced away and inhaled before meeting her eyes. “I consented to allow Lord Luvington to spend time with me.”

  Grace’s lips stretched. “How splendid.”

  “Not splendid at tall.” She sighed.

  “I am afraid I do not follow, dear.” Grace flipped open her fan and waved it in front of her face. “What happened to make you feel a fool? Did he try to compromise you?”

  “Good heavens, no.” Sarah’s lips trembled as her cheeks warmed. “I did not intend for it to happen.” She feathered her fingertips over the book resting in her lap. “At some point, I began to see him as more than the rake I knew him to be. Then he went and ruined it by being just that. A complete scoundrel.”

  “Go on, dear. Tell me, what did Lord Luvington do?”

  Sarah placed the book onto its shelf. “I told him I required the truth before I would consent to spend any more time in his company.” She returned to her seat.

  “And what did he say?” Grace pinned her with a stare.

  “He told me the Duke of Tisdale ordered him to find a wife of good reputation. And he must do so by month’s end if he wishes to continue receiving his allowance.”

  “Dear me. How terrible.” Grace’s fan stilled, and her eyes widened. “How did you respond?”

  “I told him not to bother me again. I shall not be used in such a way, and I have no desire to become trapped in a loveless marriage.”

  A maid entered carrying a silver serving tray with cucumber finger sandwiches and tea. Sarah nodded when the maid positioned the tray between Grace and herself. Grace set her fan aside before reaching for a cup.

  Sarah took a cup and lifted it to her lips. Her appetite fled long ago, but the warm liquid was a most welcome balm, soothing her nerves.

  Grace looked at her, brown eyes full of warmth as she reached for a sandwich. “None of that makes you a fool, my dear.”

  “All the same, I should not have entertained him at tall. Not knowing what I know about his reputation.” Sarah watched the steam rise from her cup.

  “Did he say anything after you begged him off?”

  “Only that he no longer felt the same way he had when this farce began.” Sarah lifted her cup for another sip.

  “Well, there is something to hold onto. If you have developed feelings for Lord Luvington, you should not shut him out. He came clean and admitted to pursuing you for more than just his father’s demands. It is quite possible he has feelings for you as well.”

  “I do not have romantic feelings for him. I only said I started to see him as more than a rapscallion. I assure you, the misguided feeling has passed.” Sarah did her best to smile but it faltered.

  Grace’s eyes softened. “If that were true, you would not be so upset.”

  Sarah set her cup back on the polished silver tray. “I am upset because he deceived me, and I will not allow it to continue.”

  “Very well, dear, but I believe there is more going on. I will not press you on it just now, but should you want to talk, I am always available.”

  Sarah stared at the folds of her pale skirt. “It makes no difference if I do. Lord Luvington is a notorious rake who found himself in need of an upstanding wife. If not for his circumstances, he never would have tried courting me. I think it serves me best to remember that.”

  Grace took a dainty bite of her sandwich, chewed carefully, and then swallowed. “The circumstances do not equate. It makes no difference why he chose to court you, only that he did. The fact he told you the truth and cared enough to continue seeking forgiveness ought to tell you something.”

  “It does indeed. He still requires a reputable wife and has no time to spare courting another lady.” Sarah swiped a stray hair away from her cheek.

  She wished none of it were true. In all honesty, she had enjoyed her outing with the marquess. He proved to be kindhearted and his views on women impressed her. Up until he ruined everything, that is. If Lord Luvington were an honorable man rather than a scoundrel, she would give him another chance. Alas, he was a rake, and she refused to be a pawn in his game.

  “Very well, Shall we talk of something else?” Grace said.

  “A change of topic is most welcome. Will you be in attendance at Lady Vivian’s garden party tomorrow afternoon?”

  Grace smiled. “I am very much looking forward to the event. Lady Vivian hosts the most splendid parties.”

  “She and Lord Wexil make a smashing pair, do they not?” Sarah opened her lace fan and fluttered it a few times.

  “Indeed they do.” Grace’s lips quirked up. “And to think, she nearly broke off their betrothal.”

  Sarah fanned faster a frown tugging at her lips. As it happened, Lady Vivian had been certain Lord Wexil did not care for her as she did for him. Like Sarah, Lady Vivian had wanted to marry for love.

  “How fortuitous of you to bring their courtship up.” Sarah pinned her with her gaze.

  “I only mean to illustrate how wrong we can sometimes be.”

  Sarah angled her head. “I am pleased it all worked out for Lord and Lady Wexil.”

  “As am I.” Grace finished her tea. “Now tell me what you plan on wearing to the party?”

  “I had not thought about it, yet. Perhaps my new organdy gown. It is a French design and only arrived a sennight ago.” Her belly fluttered. Would Lord Luvington be in attendance? Sarah closed her eyes for a moment and inhaled. She had to stop thinking about him.

  After a short, obligatory discussion on what they would wear to the garden party, Grace set her teacup aside and stood. “I must be going.”

  Sarah followed suit. “I shall see you tomorrow at Lady Vivian’s then.”

  “Of course.” Grace squeezed Sarah’s hand. “Remember, should you need me, I am happy to talk.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace.”

  “Think nothing of it, dear.”

  Once the duchess took her leave, Sara
h plopped back onto the chair. Blast, what would Mother say about Lord Luvington’s trickery? Clearly, Mother was fond of the scoundrel. She must be told of his deceitful ways.

  Sarah closed her eyes and allowed her head to lull back. If she stayed mum for a bit, she might get another opportunity to speak with Lord Luvington. Surely Mother would offer her up again.

  She must be mad to even consider spending another moment in his company.

  CHAPTER 9

  JULIAN STOOD beneath the shade of an old lime tree in the clearing of Lord and Lady Wexil’s garden. He glanced about at the blankets littering the deep green grass. Everywhere he looked lords in top hats and ladies in bonnets congregated. Their chatter blended into the music of the quartet, filling the air around him.

  He studied a game of lawn tennis being played to his left alongside a hedgerow, locking his hands behind his back and rocking on his heels as he watched. He hoped Lady Sarah had not changed her mind about attending. She had yet to arrive, but it was early yet. A steady onslaught of lords and ladies continued to descend on the fray.

  Movement on one of the paths leading into the garden drew Julian’s eye. His breath caught at the sight of his parents making their way into the crush. Bloody hell, what if Lady Sarah did make an appearance?

  Sweat broke out on his forehead. How would he repair things with her while his father was near? Worse, what if his parents conversed with Lady Sarah and she told them how she had begged him off? He took a deep breath, filling his nose with the scent of grass and lime, but it did nothing to calm his racing heart.

  He needed to make himself scarce until he decided what to do. Julian started to move away, but too late. His mother spotted him. Her gaze pinned him in place. He swallowed back the lump in his throat and forced a smile.

  Resigned, he walked toward his parents. The warm breeze only added to his discomfort the closer he got. This must be how a man about to stick his head in a noose felt. As he approached, he kept his smile in place for Mother and nodded to Father. “What brings you to London?”