Her Wicked Proposal: The League of Rogues, Book 3

by Lauren Smith

  “He might feel flattered that you wish to be seen with him in public.”

  “I’m marrying him, there is nothing more public than that,” Anne argued.

  “Yes, but a night at Covent Garden with him will make him believe you aren’t ashamed of him.”

  “I’m not ashamed…”

  “We know that, but men can be such fickle and sensitive creatures, despite their bravado. Show him how you feel,” Emily encouraged. “Words have little meaning to men. They don’t want verbal reassurances. They want kisses in the rain, long tight embraces, and quiet afternoons shared together.”

  Horatia smiled knowingly at her. “Emily’s right, Anne. Cedric feels that he’s a burden to everyone, but if you can entice him to take you to the opera, he will feel wanted, desired.” Even as Horatia said it Anne’s mind flashed back to the library, where Cedric believed she did not want him. Could his sense of self-worth and desirability be that damaged? She’d half believed he meant only to play her right into his arms, but she now knew the sad truth. He really did believe himself undesirable, that no woman would have him.

  The question that Anne faced was whether she could entice him into her arms long enough to reinforce his self-worth, while not throwing her own heart into the mix. To prove he was desirable would exposure her to the greatest heartbreak she would ever know. Was she strong enough to withstand such a tearing of that part of her she’d protected all these years?

  The last person she’d dared to love had died a week ago. Anne wished that she wasn’t so afraid of love, but it was terrifying. To love someone so completely meant you gave them the key to your soul, and with that they held the greatest power over you. Her father had been the only person she’d dared to trust with that key. He hadn’t disappointed her in that, but his death had been all the more painful because of her love for him.

  “Go on, Anne, ask him,” Emily encouraged.

  Anne looked over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of Cedric at the card table. Surrounded by his friends he looked healthier, happier, as though their good spirits had revived him somewhat. Anne suddenly wished she could do that for him, make him smile and relax enough to just be himself and be happy.

  Anne rose and started toward the men still deep in conversation. The soft rumble of their voices was like summer thunder after a light storm. It was a peaceful sound, the low murmurs, but her presence now halted it.

  “Lord Sheridan,” she began, her voice almost cracking with tension. She tried to ignore the weight of the five masculine stares. Cedric was directly in front of her, his back mere inches away, and the sudden proximity of him brought flashes of their passionate moment in the library. He turned his head toward her.

  “What is it, Anne?” His tone was not irritated like she expected but patient. Without thinking she laid a hand on his shoulder, feeling the steel of the muscles beneath her palm.

  “Your sister said you rent a box at Covent Garden.”

  Cedric’s brows rose in surprise. “I do.”

  “Would it be possible… I should like to see the opera that is playing tomorrow night.”

  “You wish to have me loan the box to you?” There was a deadness in his tone built from his assumption that she would attend the opera without him.

  “No, no. I wish for you to escort me.” She squeezed his shoulder a little, hoping it would encourage him.

  “You do?”

  “Of course.”

  “Dinner, too?” Cedric suggested hopefully.

  “That would be lovely,” she answered in all sincerity, and was rewarded with Cedric’s smile. He covered her hand with his.

  “Then consider it done, my dear.” He returned her squeeze and then dropped his hand back to the table.

  “You realize Emily and Horatia will wish to go to the opera too,” Godric groaned.

  “We ought to make a night of it, all of us,” Charles suggested with a respectful glance in Anne’s direction. Anne thought she saw him nod to her in approval.

  “Would that bother you?” Cedric asked Anne quietly as his friends broke out into conversation again regarding this new development.

  “I had thought some time alone with you to be my goal, but this is nice too.” Anne’s fingers brushed over his shoulder as she spoke. She was growing fonder of the moments they had alone, but being included among the League and their families was wonderful as well. However, it was better to be around them in this instance because they couldn’t be alone, and he couldn’t woo her with his kisses. She was succumbing to his patient and gentle seductions for better or worse.

  “Don’t worry, Anne. Even in a crowd I can still find ways to be alone with you.” And though she suspected he meant to sound rakish, the words and his tone were instead boyishly charming.

  “Thank you.” She bent to whisper in his ear and to her own surprise found herself brushing her lips on his cheek in the lightest of kisses. It was highly improper to kiss him in front of others, but it was becoming easier to act foolishly when Cedric was around.

  Cupping her cheek with his warm, strong palm, Cedric caressed her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb before he dropped his hand again. It seemed he was afraid to touch her for too long.

  “You should return to the ladies. I wouldn’t wish to bore you with our talk of business.”

  Anne harrumphed as ladylike as possible. “I highly doubt you were discussing business. And I’ll have you know I am the one who spent the last two years managing my father’s investments through his solicitor.”

  “Hear, hear, Miss Chessley.” Ashton chuckled and raised his glass of brandy to her.

  “Why you little…” Cedric caught his bride-to-be about the waist and pulled her onto his lap. Anne gave an outraged little squawk but it was a playful one.

  “Oh dear, you’d best release her, Cedric,” Lucien warned with a half laugh. “Horatia looks ready to hurl another pillow.”

  “Very well.” Cedric let Anne fight her way out of his embrace, but not without swatting her backside as she left. She glared at him over her shoulder, only to remember he couldn’t see.

  “Things between you and Anne are better than I expected,” Godric said in obvious relief.

  “I think she’s warming up to me,” Cedric boasted.

  Lucien sniggered. “I’m not so sure. I think your friendly pat just now set you back a week in your wooing.”

  “There’s always the carriage ride home, I suppose.” Cedric sighed dramatically, to which his friends laughed.

  “Are we really all going to the opera?” Jonathan asked. There was a hopefulness in his tone that made Cedric’s heart tighten. Having only recently discovered he was a legitimate brother to a duke and not a servant as he’d been raised meant he still held a certain caution that hadn’t been present before. Jonathan had not been ill-treated, but he had not lived the lavish life Godric had either. Events they took for granted he still looked upon as grand adventures.

  “Of course we are,” Godric assured him.

  “Which opera are we seeing, anyway?” Charles asked. He had never been one for theater, but he wouldn’t miss out on a group event that promised to be a night of hilarity at the expense of his married friends.

  “I believe the current opera is Gioachino Rossini’s latest work, Matilde di Shabran,” Ashton said.

  Lucien quirked a brow at the usually business-minded baron. “I didn’t know you kept abreast of the latest operas.”

  “We all have our little indulgences.”

  “Of course, but most of us satisfy that in the beds of lovely women…er, wives,” Lucien corrected when Cedric coughed a warning.

  “You are lucky that I already shot you for that,” Cedric retorted.

  “Thank you for that polite reminder.” Dueling with Lucien over Horatia’s honor had been one of the darkest days the League had ever seen, but Cedric had a bad fe
eling more were still on the horizon.

  Chapter Ten

  The following evening Anne took Cedric’s offered arm and allowed him to escort her through the throng of people gathered in the foyer of Covent Garden’s Royal Opera House. The strong scents of unwashed bodies and groups of low-necklined Cyprian ladies clinging to the men were an unwelcome sight, but Covent Garden was a blend of middle and upper classes that couldn’t be avoided.

  “God’s teeth,” Cedric muttered as a buxom woman fell against him, laughing raucously. He shoved her to the side with his lion’s head cane.

  “You are lucky, my lord, that you cannot see. The sight is most unpleasant,” Anne confided to her escort. Cedric responded with a grunt of agreement and let her lead him in the direction of the stairs that would take them to his box.

  A tall, fair-haired man blocked their path to the stairs. She froze like a rabbit caught in a snare. She’d never forget that man, or his pale eyes. The very sight of him chilled her blood.

  Crispin Andrews.

  He was the last man on earth she wanted to see. Her stomach churned and she tried to remember to breathe.

  Not here. Not now… The man’s gaze swept over the crowd and stilled when it settled on Anne.

  “What is it, Anne?” Cedric asked when she dug her nails into his arm. Before she could reply Crispin was upon them.

  “Miss Chessley, how good it is to see you. I was sorry to hear about your father. You have my condolences, of course.” Those cold eyes studied her from tip to toe with such a familiarity that she thought she might toss up her accounts right there in front of everyone.

  He waited for her to say something, to be polite and respond. What she wanted to do was strike out at him, render his beautiful face with the mark of the devil to warn women away from him. But she couldn’t. She summoned that icy veneer she’d built the last two years. It had never been about keeping people like Cedric out, but about protecting herself from this one man.

  Anne composed her face in a mask of politeness. “Thank you, Mr. Andrews. Have you met Lord Sheridan?”

  Crispin shifted his gaze to Cedric, a smirk lifting the corner of what some ladies believed was a handsome mouth. Anne knew only too well what that mouth was capable of and it wasn’t good.

  “I believe our paths have crossed on occasion. It has been a few years though. Last time was at a ball, I believe. You were in the company of a most attractive widow,” Crispin replied. His casual tone was in stark contrast to the predatory sweep of his eyes over Anne’s body once again. That knowing gaze of his was a blatant reminder that he remembered what had transpired between them. To him it had been enjoyable. To her it had been a nightmare.

  “I must say it is a surprise to see you out and about, Miss Chessley. I thought, given the depth of your feelings toward your father, you would wish to honor his memory for the full length of the mourning period.”

  Anne flinched at the implication, her grip on her reticule hard enough that she thought she might tear the fabric.

  Cedric gallantly rescued her. “I’m afraid that is my fault. You see, I all but demanded my fiancée accompany me to the opera. She wished to remain home in seclusion, but you know of my reputation. I hold little love for societal obligations such as mourning.”

  “Fiancée? Why, Miss Chessley, I had no idea you would be seeking a husband after…oh, but I’m sorry, I shouldn’t speak so frankly of such matters.” The incredulity in Crispin’s voice cut Anne to the core. It was obvious he hadn’t thought her capable of securing such a man for matrimony, not after what he’d done to her. Crispin raised an eyebrow at Anne, as though he thought her situation was amusing. Her hatred for this vile creature continued to grow.

  “We are to be wed this Saturday,” Cedric continued, oblivious to the silent war between Crispin and Anne.

  “Are you? How…blessed you must feel, Lord Sheridan. To have the wealth of Anne’s…spirit under your command.” Crispin spoke in Cedric’s direction, but his eyes were still locked on Anne’s face. “I haven’t seen the announcement in the papers. When did you post the banns?”

  “We didn’t. We are marrying under a special license.” Cedric’s tone became frigid, heightened by his aggressive lean forward. Blind as he was, he seemed to sense the threat that Crispin presented and was ready to protect her. The anger and hatred she felt for Crispin lessened in the wake of Cedric’s protectiveness over her. Cedric was inching toward Crispin, his head at a slight angle, as though carefully listening…or perhaps hunting him.

  Crispin paused, shooting Anne a wicked smile before continuing. “Then you have my congratulations on the upcoming nuptials. Should I be offering congratulations on anything else, Miss Chessley?”

  Before Crispin could utter another word Cedric lunged, slamming the aristocrat up against the gilded wall, his cane pressed across Crispin’s throat like a blade.

  “Cedric, let him go!” Anne begged, tugging on his shoulders. Crispin’s face began to turn purple.

  “Have a care, sir. I may not be bothered by such slanderous tones, but that is my future wife you have insulted.” Cedric finished with a primal growl.

  Anne, desperate to prevent Cedric from harming Crispin and causing more trouble, wrapped her arms around Cedric and pulled. Cedric released the man, dropping him like a sack of flour. He spun on Anne, gripping her wrist, then swiped his cane like a scythe along the carpets, shooing people out of his way as she led him up the stairs and into his opera box. Despite his haste and anger, he didn’t so much as stumble the entire way. The door banged shut hard enough that the frame rattled.

  The curtains around the box’s edge were not yet open, which meant Anne and Cedric had stepped into darkness. He pushed her against the wall with the warmth of the velvet curtains on her left side and Cedric’s body in front of her. His cane clattered to the floor and his hands cupped her face, fingers tunneling into her hair. Rather than kiss her, as she expected, he held her to him, resting his chin on the top of her head. His breathing was ragged and his distant brown eyes clouded with emotional storms.

  “Calm me down, Anne. Tell me there is nothing between you and Andrews. He made it sound as though you and he were more than acquainted.” His plea was hoarse with desperation.

  “He means less than nothing to me. He is a ruthless cad, and if I never lay eyes on him again, it would be too soon.” Anne placed her hands around his wrists, rubbing her fingers back and forth over his skin. She hadn’t meant to speak so truthfully, it had just slipped out. Her barriers seemed to crumble when it came to Cedric.

  “I wanted to kill him. I could not see, of course, but something about his tone… I wanted to…” Cedric’s dark confession would have shocked her, but she knew Crispin and despised him. She placed her fingertips against Cedric’s lips, letting him know he didn’t need to say another word.

  “We’re here now. You and me. Together. Let’s sit down and enjoy the rest of the evening.”

  Cedric’s hands on her face tightened, as though he feared she would vanish. He loosened his grasp and bent to retrieve his cane. Anne helped him to his seat, then pushed the curtains out of the way. An uncomfortable silence lingered in the air.

  “I hope I did not embarrass you down there,” he said after a long moment, his face turned away from her.

  “You didn’t. Mr. Andrews is the last man on earth I would ever be concerned about. Your instincts were correct. He was not civil tonight, and therefore your reaction did not have to be either.”

  Anne did not miss his sigh of relief. She wished she could tell Cedric how she really felt. How seeing him nearly strangle Crispin over her honor had made her eyes sting with tears and her heart tighten with affection. She didn’t want Cedric to hurt anyone, but it had made her feel a little better seeing the man who’d caused her so many sleepless nights suffer. Anne opened her mouth, wanting to say more, but as she looked out on the gallery below
she caught sight of someone she recognized.

  “Oh, there is Lord Lonsdale.” Anne watched the golden-haired earl chase a pretty Cyprian in a scarlet gown through a row of empty seats. The woman squealed as she fled from the lusty earl’s pursuit, in full sight of the growing audience.

  “Do I even wish to know what Charles is up to?” Cedric’s voice was more relaxed and a little bemused.

  “He seems to be pursuing a lady about the gallery. And there they go…behind the green baize curtains of the stage.” Anne found herself giggling as Charles and his latest lady love were promptly shoved back off the stage and into the rowdy masses milling about in the bottom part of the theater. Rather than run off, he simply put the woman on his lap and started to kiss her. Good heavens, that man was incorrigible.

  She smiled, unable to contain how happy she was in that moment. To sit with Cedric and discuss his friends, from a place of intimacy rather than as the outsider she’d always been.

  This might work between us after all…

  Cedric listened to the crowds gathering in the theater, the aroma of beer, bodies and oranges permeating his senses. He could picture the way the candles fringed the stage’s edge like fairy lights, dancing attendance upon the performers who would fill the stage. People would still talk, even as the candles and lamps in the gallery were snuffed out and the orchestra stirred to life. Cedric remembered what a sensual joy it was to share the experience in a beautiful woman’s company.

  “Anne,” he whispered as he held his left hand palm up.

  He expected her to ask him what he wanted. But she never said a word. The warm weight of her hand, fine-boned but strong as her fingers curled around his made Cedric’s heartbeat jolt into a quick canter. Was he pathetic for enjoying this simple touch, this strangely peaceful moment? In the past he had taken women to his opera box, seduced and pleasured them in the midst of mighty arias. Why did those moments seem less erotic now than the mere weight of Anne’s palm in the darkness? Cedric savored the anticipation, the intake of breath before the first note sounded and the opera began.