Her Wicked Proposal: The League of Rogues, Book 3

by Lauren Smith

  Cedric muttered a curse when he tripped over the threshold of the library. He knew it was the library by the thick, musty scent of a multitude of books. He’d never been one for reading, but he’d grown fond of libraries since he’d lost his sight. With a library he always knew where he was. Their unique aroma gave them away, and he felt comforted knowing exactly where he was in a house for a change.

  “I wish I had my cane,” he said to the book-filled room. He usually kept it close to him, but he’d been more preoccupied with Anne and had forgotten where he’d placed it. It took him a few minutes of blundering about before he stopped hitting bookshelves and found a deep-backed settee to slump into. He lay back and rubbed his eyes. A useless gesture, but it was a habit he couldn’t break. Cedric took a few deep, measured breaths, but his hands were still shaking.

  “Pull yourself together!” he hissed at himself.

  There was a soft rap on the library door. Cedric didn’t move. He heard slippered footsteps approaching him. The scent that teased his nose was flowery, but not the scent of wild orchids. It wasn’t Anne.

  “Cedric.” Horatia sat down by him on the settee and laid her head on his shoulder as she used to do when she was a child. Brotherly instinct took over, and he wrapped his arms about her, pulling her close to him in a tight hug.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “I have nothing much to say, my dear. I’m a pathetic creature who can’t even dine with my friends. I’m sure Emily is devastated that I broke her fine crystal.”

  Horatia laughed. “She declared you did her a favor. She detested that crystal, and you gave her an excuse to dispose of the rest. She ordered the butler to have some footman take it all away after the meal is over. She seemed quite gleeful about it.” Horatia’s soft tone was full of amusement, and Cedric heard only truth in her voice. Still, Emily could just as easily have been putting on a show for his comfort when he later heard of it.

  “And the others? How did they react?” he asked.

  “They don’t mind at all. We have all adjusted to what happened to you. Everyone but you, that is. What they mind is the way you think they won’t accept you as you are now. None of us are perfect and none of us expect you to be either. You have to stop pitying yourself or I will get cross with you, and I do not want to be cross with my favorite brother.”

  “I’m your only brother,” he cut in with a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

  “A triviality,” Horatia teased and kissed his cheek.

  “Horatia…”

  “Yes?”

  “About your condition…”

  “The baby?” Horatia’s tone held a hint of embarrassed surprise.

  “I just wanted to say, well, that I am overjoyed to be an uncle. And what’s more, I am glad that you and Lucien are happy. I’ve been such a fool. I nearly got all of us killed because I could not believe that people could change. But we can. I know that now. I’ve changed, Anne has changed. It seems we’ve always been changing, but have never been aware of it until now.”

  “Is it true that Anne asked you to propose to her?”

  He patted his sister’s shoulder, a smile on his lips. “Yes. It was an odd surprise, but not an unwelcome one.”

  “Well, I certainly like her, as does Emily. But are you sure you will be happy with her? I thought she had no interest in you.”

  How he loved his sister. She was always thinking of him, even when she shouldn’t have to.

  “I thought so too at first. But something is different. She’s become vulnerable since her father’s death, and I couldn’t refuse to play her white knight when she asked me to.”

  “But will she make you happy? Lucien worries she is too guarded to love anyone, but you deserve love, not just companionship.”

  It was the second time someone had told him that today, and he felt strangely warm inside and yet guilty. He didn’t deserve love, none of the League did, but if it came and he could grasp it, he’d hold tight and never let go.

  “Don’t worry, Horatia. I have ways of melting her icy walls.” Cedric grinned. “In fact, if you could tell Emily that I am still dreadfully embarrassed and would like to take my meal in here, could you see to it that Anne brings my food?”

  “I doubt that Anne would go along with a request more suited to a footman,” Horatia cautioned.

  “Tell Emily that I insist Anne brings it.”

  “And just what, dearest brother mine, are you planning to do when she does?”

  “You are married to Lucien, sweetheart. I am sure that you have some idea how much fun sharing a meal can be.”

  “You devil!” His sister’s indignant tone was marred by a smothered giggle. “Just do not rush her.” Horatia rose from the settee. She placed a kiss on his forehead and departed. Cedric grinned. The evening could still be salvaged with a bit of help from edible seduction.

  * * * * *

  Anne squirmed in her seat as Horatia returned to the dining room.

  “Is everything well with him?” Ashton asked. All eyes fixed on her. Anne did not envy Cedric’s sister having the attention of the room.

  “He is a little embarrassed. He needs time to compose himself.” Horatia took her seat next to Lucien before turning to Emily. “Would it be possible to send him a plate of food and someone for company? I think he isn’t ready to face everyone, but I believe he does not wish to be alone either.”

  “Oh, certainly. I’d be happy to…” Emily started to rise, but Charles stopped her with an intense look. She plopped back down into her seat, her sweet face a picture of confusion.

  “Why doesn’t Miss Chessley go? I mean, it seems with the upcoming wedding that perhaps the affianced couple would enjoy some private time together. Unless, of course, the lady does not wish to be burdened with the company of an ill-tempered blind man.”

  It was a flat-out challenge. Anne frowned at those suddenly serious gray eyes. Now she saw the rogue in him, the seductive and dangerous man she’d had the fortune of avoiding since her coming out five years ago. It would take a strong woman to survive being the prey of that particular predator.

  “I would be happy to share a private meal with Lord Sheridan.” Anne rose from the table, causing all the men to jump to their feet. She followed a stunned Emily out of the dining room, who instructed a waiting footman to bring two plates to the library before she turned to Anne, hands on her hips and violet eyes filled with concern.

  “You don’t have to dine with him, really, Anne. Charles is being an imbecile.”

  “It’s perfectly fine. I believe Lord Lonsdale is testing me. Despite the manner in which he delivered his opinion, I am honored to be the subject of his challenge because he demonstrated such loyalty to Lord Sheridan. I would not wish to marry a man who did not have good taste in friends.”

  She meant every word. As much as it irked her to have to prove herself, she was glad to think Cedric had so many people watching over him. The two fell in step, walking leisurely to the library in order to give the staff time to prepare and catch up.

  “But still, Charles was far too rude, and I will not allow such impertinent behavior inside my house.” Emily raised her chin angrily.

  How far she has come, Anne thought with pride. To be such a young debutante and then a duchess half a year later, she played the part well and would only get better at it.

  “Please don’t trouble yourself on my account. I would much rather prove Lord Lonsdale wrong by showing my dedication to my fiancé.”

  “I still cannot believe you are marrying Cedric. I had my hopes, of course…” Emily trailed off when Anne stopped short beside her.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, for as long as I have known Cedric, he’s asked me about you. Heavens, he never stopped until…” There was no need to finish the sentence. Until the accident.

  “He
…talked about me?” Anne whispered, her throat tight.

  “He was so frustrated over your constant refusals to see him, to even speak to him, that he was going mad. You were always on his mind, and still are, it would seem.” Emily’s soft voice was full of mystery, even knowledge about things Anne, even older than Emily, had yet to grasp.

  Anne had the sudden urge to tell Emily everything, to spill out the secret she’d been keeping inside her guarded heart for so long, but she couldn’t trust herself not to falter. Emily had so much to handle as a duchess that Anne did not want to burden her friend with her own emotional nonsense. She must find her own way to persevere.

  Before the silence between them could stretch any further, Anne and Emily reached the library.

  “He is in there?” she asked. Emily nodded just as the footman arrived with a silver tray and two plates of food.

  “I left out any entrees that might pose problems for Lord Sheridan, such as the peas,” the footman said discreetly to Emily.

  “Thank you, Jim, I appreciate your consideration. Please take the meals inside and set up the main table.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” Jim bowed his head and entered the library. When the footman had left, Emily turned her attention back to Anne. “You really mean to marry him?”

  “Yes.” How many times would she have to defend her choice? Was it so impossible to think she actually wanted to marry Cedric?

  “But will you be happy with him? Don’t marry him unless you can promise me that you will be happy.”

  “I will be happy. It may not be a happiness like yours, but I believe that marriage to Lord Sheridan will give me a sense of contentment I have not found before now.”

  Emily snorted. “Contentment? Oh, Anne, I do not think you know Cedric as well as you think. He won’t be satisfied until he’s seduced you to the point that you won’t remember your name. He loves a challenge. It is what keeps him going, especially these days.”

  Anne smiled. “I am well aware of his love of challenges. I mean to give him one.” With that she stepped into the library to find her fiancé.

  Cedric was leaning back against a scarlet velvet settee with a dismal look on his face. Anne motioned for Jim to leave once he finished setting up the table.

  “Is that you, Anne?” Cedric cocked his head to the side. Anne had the strangest feeling that he’d recognized her by her scent.

  “Yes, my lord. I’ve had dinner brought for us.” He seemed to hear her approach and held up a hand to stay her.

  “I’m blind, not an invalid,” he snapped as he got to his feet. He was lucky he could not see the hurt those words had caused her. Cedric reached the nearest chair and pulled it out for her. He couldn’t see his error. Her plate was a good few feet away from that seat, but she reached over the table and slid her plate toward the seat he offered.

  “Please sit,” he said a little more cordially.

  “Thank you.” Anne slid into the seat offered. He pushed her in a few inches before he pulled his own chair back with caution and seated himself next to her. Anne watched as he slid his hands along the table’s surface until his fingertips bumped into the edge of his own plate.

  “Ahh, there we are,” he said to himself and drew the plate toward himself before hunting for the silverware.

  It struck Anne then that Cedric’s loss of sight affected more than his vision. Every move he made was slow, measured, calculated to prevent injury to himself or damage to things around him. His muscles tensed and remained unbearably taut. His face seemed perpetually strained at the effort of reining in his movements.

  She couldn’t forget the man he used to be. A man of power and strength with a fearless swagger in his steps that was entirely gone now. His natural physical grace had been erased, like a stallion lamed. He would never regain the beautiful gait she’d once loved when she’d seen him dance. The fear of falling or striking something would forever mar his movements. Even now his face tightened with frustration as he floundered about for his silverware.

  Anne spoke up with a gentle voice. “Six inches to your right.” She then sipped her wine and felt a fleeting sense of victory when he found his spoon. He ran a cautious thumb over its rounded edge and then grinned in her direction.

  “May not be the best utensil, a spoon, but it’s easier to work with than a fork.” Cedric’s casual remark made Anne choke on her wine.

  “Beg pardon?”

  “With a fork I spend half my meals trying to find the food and the rest trying to get it into my mouth. Spoons are easier to use. I prefer forks only when I’m eating something that requires it to be held in place for cutting.”

  Anne pictured Cedric trying to eat and finding each meal a source of constant frustration. It did not escape her notice now that he looked thinner, paler than he used to. Perhaps he wasn’t getting enough food to eat because of how much trouble it was, or perhaps his melancholy spoiled his appetite.

  What a tragedy it was that he lost the bloom of his manhood to the slow wasting away of his condition. Blindness alone was not his enemy, it was losing the little pleasures of one’s life because they were now impossible to do.

  It was no wonder he had jumped on her offer of marriage. He needed something, or someone, to focus on. Someone to break the despairing monotony of his current existence. Rather than feel good that she was offering him such a reprieve, Anne could not help but wonder if he was merely using her the way he would have used any woman who asked him to marry her. Emily might be wrong about Cedric still wanting her—she was such a romantic, after all.

  Last year he’d been intent on seduction. The passion was there, the fire of his longing for her, even if only physical, and she’d been terrified of how she’d respond. But now his kisses, while just as hot, were tinged with desperation and it upset her. As selfish as it was, she wanted him to kiss her because he wanted to kiss her, not because he had to feed his rakish need for contact with a woman’s body.

  “I am sorry if my conversation is not to your liking,” Cedric said.

  “What?” Anne hadn’t been listening and couldn’t remember what he’d been speaking about. Cedric’s head was turned in her direction, but his brown eyes were distant as always, and his usually sensual mouth was tightened into a grim line.

  “Ah, I’ve lost the ability to entertain a beautiful woman, it seems. I regret that I am not the man I once was. We could be having a very different evening together.” The ghost of his old smile flitted over his lips, as though he was reliving some of his more wicked moments with other ladies.

  “I am not beautiful, my lord, but your compliment is kind. I am enjoying our evening now. Please do not think I find your ability to entertain as lacking in any way.” Anne picked up her fork and began to slice the breast of her pheasant.

  “You think you are not beautiful? Perhaps I’m not the only one who is blind in this room. To me you are a diamond.” Cedric’s tone had lost its gruff defensiveness and became silky.

  Anne narrowed her eyes at him. Was he making fun of her? To compare her to a cold, sharp stone? Or was he trying to say she was costly? Neither of these comparisons was even remotely appealing.

  “Again, I’ve said something wrong,” Cedric mused as he glided his spoon toward the lumpy mass of what Anne hoped was a fattening meat pie. She wanted Cedric to eat more. His cheekbones were too gaunt and his eyes too hollow. How had she not noticed this before? Was her own self-absorption strong enough to blind her to his suffering?

  “I’m sorry, my lord, I’m not in the best of moods for conversation.”

  “Is there nothing we might talk about?” Cedric asked with genuine hope in his voice.

  He really did want to make things work between them, and for some reason it stung her with guilt, that she had trapped him into marriage without warning him that she would not be so easy to seduce or even befriend. Have I wronged him already? she wo
ndered silently, but there was no easy answer. Anne was silent for a moment before a question sprung to her lips.

  “Emily says you won your Arabian mares from a sheik in a game of whist. Is that true?” She couldn’t contain the excitement in her voice. She wished very much to hear more about it.

  “Emily told you about that, did she?” Cedric grinned from ear to ear as he spooned a few big mouthfuls of pie into his mouth and swallowed.

  “I would love to hear the full story, if you wouldn’t mind sharing it with me.” Anne felt a little shy, but she did very much wish to hear the tale.

  “It is true I won the horses, but I shall tell you the true tale. I admit I rather censored the story with Emily. She was so innocent, and I didn’t wish to frighten her with tales of my recklessness, not while she was Godric’s captive.”

  “What parts did you leave out?” Anne leaned forward on her elbows, curiosity holding her in its thrall.

  “Well, there was much more to the wager than a pair of horses and money. And the sheik was not actually a sheik but a very rich Arabian merchant who specialized in slavery.”

  “Slavery? Of people?”

  His face darkened. “Oh yes. He was a charming but evil bastard. And powerful. The sort who has equally powerful friends who allowed him to get away with almost anything. Almost.” A look of danger and wildness suddenly gave this conversation a new edge she hadn’t anticipated.

  “And what did you really wager with him?” Her question came out a little breathless.

  Cedric smiled rakishly in her direction before replying. “His horses for my freedom.”

  Chapter Six