One for the Rogue

by Charis Michaels

  Here, Beau paused, turned in his seat, and looked Emmaline square in the eye, “The love of my life.”

  He looked back to the room. “I will not deny it. I relate this sappy tale of requited love because I managed to hear a little of the Duke of Ticking’s remarks from the hallway. Forgive me for listening through the door, but I did not wish to interrupt. And now that I’ve heard his appeal, I worry that I would be remiss if I did not question the incredibly bitter, slanderous tone of His Grace’s history with Emmaline and her brother, because my history has been so very opposite.”

  After that, Emmaline’s hearing went a little bit off because her throat had closed, and her eyes had filled, and her own pulse pounded too loudly in her ears. From what she could make out, Beau spoke eloquently of Teddy—both of his time with him in London and their days alone with Mr. Broom in Wiltshire. He called up Teddy’s love of birds and horses, of fish and books. He spoke of the loneliness Teddy felt when he was away from his sister and the grief he still knew over the death of his parents.

  At the mention of Mama and Papa, even Jocelyn pulled her hand from Emmaline’s wrist so that she too might wipe the tears from her eyes.

  Next, Beau alluded to Emmaline’s and Teddy’s parents, the joy they brought to thousands of readers and the commerce they generated with the brisk sales of their books. Walking the fine line between suggestion and slander, he mentioned that Teddy’s inheritance may have, at one time, seemed available to the Duke of Ticking, but when Emmaline married out of the family, that availability vanished.

  Was it possible, Beau asked, that this change in fortune resulted in the duke’s need for some revenge?

  After that, Beau devoted two spare two sentences to Emmaline’s marriage at the age of nineteen to the bankrupt elder duke, adding that Beau himself was heavily invested in the shipping empire of his brother and had no interest in the inheritance of the mentally challenged brother of his new wife.

  By the end, Beau revealed more of his signature dash and swagger, and Emmaline found herself helplessly consumed. She felt a love so complete, she worried for the future of her own helpless heart.

  “I cannot deny that I stand here today, in part, because I love my wife,” he said in closing. “You will concede that jewelry and furs only go so far. But there is no gift quite like public defense of one’s brother-in-law in a court of law.” He cleared his throat suggestively, and the courtroom chuckled again.

  “But I’ve also come because I am a man who loves my country. A decorated veteran of the war with France, I’ve also sailed the globe and shown the face of Britain to countries far and wide. But the England I’ve shown the world is not a country that steals innocent young men like Teddy Holt from their loving families and incarcerates them with unfamiliar doctors in Surrey.

  “The England that I have shown knows compassion and the value of a family who looks after its own. It is a country whose wise courts can make the distinction between a lunatic and a simple boy who wishes to live a simple life. In other words, it knows the distinction between a lie and the truth.

  “Yes, I have seen many things in this great, wide world of ours, my lords, but I have never seen a woman more devoted to her brother, nor have I seen a young man—afflicted though he may be—more gentle and trusting, peaceful and calm.”

  After the final word rang out, he waited a beat, and then he rose, collected his hat and gloves, and made his way to an empty seat in the audience. Emmaline could not prevent herself from turning and watching him go. He dropped in a chair next to an officer, balanced his hat on his knee, and blew out a long, exhausting breath. When he saw her looking at him, he cocked one elegant eyebrow.

  Emmaline’s traitorous heart did a flip, and she turned around.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  The judges deliberated only ten minutes before they returned, and the bailiff read the ruling: “Innocent on all accounts and free to return home with his family.”

  Emmaline barely managed to contain a scream before she leapt into Teddy’s arms and held him to her. “You did so well, Teddy!” she whispered through her tears. “You did so very well! And now we may go. Would you like to go home and prepare for our journey? Are you ready to sail on the big boat to America? The Duke of Ticking cannot stand in our way anymore. Shall we go, you and I? Like we planned?”

  “Beau?” asked Teddy, clinging to her.

  Emmaline pulled away. “Yes, did you see him? He was very brave and very important. How proud we are to have him speak on our behalf.”

  Now Mr. Wick wanted to shake her hand. But even more so, he wanted to shake the hand of Lord Rainsleigh, who . . . stood directly behind them.

  She released Teddy and stared up at him. “Mr. Wick seems eager to thank you,” she said carefully, allowing Mr. Wick to jostle her aside for a handshake.

  “I will shake the hand of Mr. Wick and anyone else after I have had a word with you,” Beau said, leaning to be heard over the crowd. “Can I pull you away for a moment?”

  Emmaline blinked. “All right,” she said, gesturing to Mr. Broom to stay with Teddy because Jocelyn was nowhere to be found.

  She followed him into the hall, and he led her to a far, shadowy corner beneath an elaborately mounted coat of arms.

  “I was late, Emma, and I’m sorry.”

  She was not sure what she expected to hear, but it was not this. “Yes, well, you dashed in in the nick of time and made up for it, didn’t you?”

  “I believe the judges would have ruled on behalf of Teddy regardless.”

  “You did not see their faces after Ticking’s lofty speech.”

  “Regardless. It was cruel and unfair to keep you wondering, and I . . . I wanted you to know that I’ll not do it again.”

  She laughed at this; she couldn’t help it.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked, smiling down. He was so breathtakingly handsome when he smiled.

  “Let us aim to not be late ‘for once,’ shall we, before you vow to ‘never do it again.’ ”

  “Oh, darling,” he said, taking her hand and pressing it to his mouth. “Your days of wondering are no more. I’ve said I shall not be late, but what I mean is, you’ll not wonder about my affections, or my devotion, or even where the bloody hell I am, ever again. Not as long as I draw breath. I will be at your side. I love you, Emma. I have loved you for so damn long. I just did not know what to call it.”

  “But this is your problem,” she said, but she laughed, and she raised up on her toes and tilted her head, offering her lips. “I’ve said it all along. You’re too painfully specific. And it makes you uncomfortable. It makes everyone uncomfortable. If only you’d tried to tell me something like, ‘This feeling is pleasant. I like pleasantness. I shall pursue this feeling,’ then we would have known.”

  “I know I should like to pursue pleasantness right now,” he said, and he kissed her.

  Emmaline gobbled up his kiss, and the next, and the next.

  When she opened her eyes, she noticed Miss Breedlowe, walking near the door to the street. She leaned back. “But that looks like Miss Breedlowe hurrying out. She cannot go; we’ve ridden together in the Rainsleigh carriage. But wait. Who is that with her?”

  Emmaline let out a little gasp. “Is that Lady Frinfrock?” She looked at Beau. “Why would the marchioness come to our hearing?”

  Beau shrugged and looked across the gleaming floor of the wide hall. The departing form of the marchioness stumped with her cane out the door. “I cannot say for sure. But I’m glad she did. How else would I have known about the special door?”

  EPILOGUE

  When the Holt-Courtland party and their dog, Peach, reached New York Harbor in March 1814, the Eastern Seaboard of America was in the throes of its coldest, snowiest spring on record.

  The freezing temperatures and sunless days were a trial for a family that had always considered themselves impervious to inclement weather (they were English, after all), but the real challenge was transporting Emmaline’s books
in the deep snow. Even so, Emmaline insisted that the books be put up for sale immediately. They could not wait for spring if they wished to have money to live. And what season, she told them, was better for selling books than the cold, dark, bleak months of an endless winter.

  No one worked longer hours in the bitter cold than Beau. He learned the streets and alleys of New York, ferreted out the hardiest and most motivated of day laborers, and drove their wagons of books through the frozen sludge to every shop and newsmonger, from upstate New York to New Jersey.

  While Beau provided the product, Emmaline charmed shopkeepers, convincing them to display the books alongside winter hats, firewood, and other staples of winter.

  Their work did not go unrewarded. Listless, confined Americans, idle for months by the cold, devoured the books. Sales of Holt’s Fireside Adventures far exceeded her wildest expectations, and Emmaline was able to write to Mr. Wick as early as May of that same year.

  Please begin negotiations with the Holt board of trustees for subsequent titles. Demand is overwhelming. Simply put, we need more books. In the meantime, I have begun talks with a handful of aspiring writers about commissioning original novels. The Americans are cleverer than one would expect. Words cannot express my excitement over the prospect of acquiring an original work to be published by a New York branch of Holt Publishing. Please find attached a bank note for your role in the launch of the American arm of this company . . .

  The modern, densely populated nature of New York also allowed Emmaline to discover a special school for Teddy, one that allowed him to indulge his love of books and birds every day with other adult students like him. It was difficult to know what Teddy enjoyed more, weekdays spent at school or Sundays spent at home with Beau and Emmaline.

  Of all the expatriated Holts and Courtlands, Beau flourished and enjoyed New York perhaps most of all. He loved the wild, sleepless pulse of the city, the vibrant mix of people from all over the world, and perhaps best, he loved not living on a moldering houseboat to escape the expectations of his title and rank.

  The expectations of most Americans, he found, extended to minding one’s own business, delivering on one’s promise of books or rent or hard work, and simple survival. Every day was a challenge, and he relished it. Succeed in commerce and get along in the swirling morass of cultures and populations—this was what mattered in America. Beau thrived. Even his dog was happy.

  At Emmaline’s suggestion, he sold the Henrietta Place town house in London and hired a capable steward to oversee the estate in Wiltshire. He attended other stray business of the viscountcy through the post, declining every invitation and selling off any interest that became a burden.

  His brother, he knew, would never understand his ambivalence or detachment, but Bryson’s frequent letters were cheerful and well-wishing, with more questions about Emmaline and Teddy and their life in New York than anything he left behind in England. Bryson signed every letter the same way.

  Nothing is half as clever or diverting since you’ve gone. We miss you all. When are you coming home?

  “When are we coming home?” Beau asked Emma one night, after reading his brother’s letter aloud. They’d been in New York two years, sold thousands of books, and the following spring would see the release of the first original Holt’s Fireside Adventure acquired by Emmaline.

  “I cannot say,” she replied. “In many ways, it feels like we’re already there.”

  “Already home, you mean to say?”

  She smiled and reached across the bed to take his hand. “It’s no boat on Paddington Lock, I know, but it feels correct in many ways.”

  “I was going to say,” he said, dropping his brother’s letter, “exactly the same thing. But then again, you were always home to me.” And then he scooped his wife into his arms and kissed her as he always had, even from the very beginning . . .

  As if he were coming home.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  One for the Rogue is the third of three books originally released all in the same year, and my family, including my mom and dad, sister, in-laws, husband, children, friends, and even my dogs tolerated a lot of absenteeism on my part, both of mind and body, to make this year happen, plus hours of shop talk. I am forever grateful for their support and encouragement. I would also like to thank the real-life inspiration for Teddy Holt, my friend Kyle and his inner circle, all so dear to me, for the joy and resiliency they bring to their bright corner of Houston, Texas, and everywhere they go.

  Discover Bryson and Elisabeth’s unconventional happy ever after in

  THE VIRGIN AND THE VISCOUNT

  The Virgin

  Lady Elisabeth Hamilton-Baythes has a painful secret. At fifteen, she was abducted by highwaymen and sold to a brothel. But two days later, she was rescued by a young lord, a man she’s never forgotten. Now, she’s devoted herself to save other innocents from a similar fate.

  The Viscount

  Bryson Courtland, Viscount Rainsleigh, never breaks the rules. Well, once, but that was a long time ago. He’s finally escaped his unhappy past to become one of the wealthiest noblemen in Britain. The final thing he needs to complete his ideal life? A perfectly proper wife.

  The Unraveling

  When Bryson and Elisabeth meet, he sees only a flawless candidate for his future wife. But a distant memory calls to him every time he’s with her. Elisabeth knows she’s not the wife Bryson needs, and he is the only person who has the power to reveal her secret. But neither can resist the devastating pull of attraction, and as the truth comes to light, they must discover that an improper love is the truest of all.

  Click here to buy!

  And travel back to Henrietta Street to discover the joys of

  THE EARL NEXT DOOR

  American heiress Piety Grey is on the run. Suddenly in London and facing the renovation of a crumbling townhouse, she’s determined to make a new life for herself—anything is better than returning to New York City, where a cruel mother and horrid betrothal await her. The last thing she needs is a dark, tempting earl inciting her at every turn . . .

  Trevor Rheese, the Earl of Falcondale, isn’t interested in being a good neighbor. After fifteen years of familial obligation, he’s finally free. But when the disarmingly beautiful Piety bursts through his wall—and into his life—his newfound freedom is threatened . . . even as his curiosity is piqued.

  Once Piety’s family arrives in London, Falcondale suddenly finds himself in the midst of a mock courtship to protect the seductive woman who’s turned his world upside down. It’s all for show—or at least it should be. But if Falcondale isn’t careful, he may find a very real “happily ever after” with the woman of his dreams . . .

  Click here to buy!

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHARIS MICHAELS believes a romance novel is a very long, exciting answer to the question: “So, how did you two meet?” She loves to answer this question with different characters, each time she writes a book. Prior to writing romance, she studied journalism at Texas A&M and managed PR for a trade association. She has also worked as a tour guide at Disney World, harvested peaches on her family’s farm, and entertained children as the “Story Godmother” at birthday parties. She has lived in Texas, Florida, and London, England. She now makes her home in the Washington, DC, metro area.

  Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.

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  When free-spirited India Shaw
finds herself in trouble, she must rely on the one man she never planned to see again—her baby’s father.

  Michael Black’s cellphone vibrated against his chest and he pulled it from his inner pocket. The caller ID showed an unfamiliar number with “San Francisco, CA” beneath it, but no other identifying information.

  His brows converged in the middle of his forehead. It was probably a wrong number. And yet his finger hovered and then pressed the green button.

  “Hello?”

  “Mike.”

  He straightened. Her voice stroked his hedonistic hotspots. The tingle caused by every whispered declaration, every lingering caress, hit him all at once.

  “Indi.”

  “Long time, no hear.”

  Her forced gaiety jarred him loose from her vocal web and allowed his brain to function. Why had she left? Where had she been? What did she want? Why was she calling?

  “I know I’m probably the last person you want to talk to and I understand, considering how I ended things and I—”

  He remembered this about her, the stream of talking on an endless loop. His favorite remedy? A cock-stirring, toe curling kiss.

  “Indi, spit it out.”

  A thick silence, and then—

  “Can you post bail for me? I’ve been arrested for burglary.”

  Well that happened.

  The door to the precinct closed behind Indi. Exhaustion weighed her down, leaving her head throbbing and her sight unfocused. She shivered, her cable knit sweater offering inadequate insulation from the chill.

  If she had a bucket list, she could confidently check off this experience: get yourself arrested in an unfamiliar city. It hadn’t been anything like Orange is the New Black—Thank God!—but she had met some interesting women while she’d been booked and processed. Turns out, her unstable living situations and various relocations equipped her with the unique skill set needed to survive the city’s holding cell.