A Most Peculiar Season Series Boxed Set: Five Full-length Connected Novels by Award-winning and Bestselling Authors

by Michelle Willingham

  “Then what is wrong? Are you all nerves?” Trudy frowned.

  Laura shrugged and refused to meet her gaze. “I am not particularly nervous.”

  “You are not particularly anything, Laura. You have not laughed in weeks and your conversation is stilted at best.”

  Another shrug. “What is there to say? In days I will be married and then I will be off to India.”

  “Yes, but you should be excited. Colonel Burke will be with you every day now. You will have babies, and—”

  All of a sudden Laura burst into tears. “I am afraid to have babies. And I... I do not know Colonel Burke well enough to... to...”

  To do the things Trudy had done with Collingwood last night? Still, Laura had known the colonel much longer than Trudy had known Collingwood. “But you courted. You accepted him. And he has traveled all the way back from India to make you his wife. Is that not romantic?”

  “I... I do not think I like him.” Laura began to hiccup.

  “Oh, piffle!” Fiona removed a handkerchief from her reticule and handed it to Laura. “It isn’t as if you’ve never met. You are just having the blue devils. Once the wedding is over, you will in good spirits again.”

  Laura’s fresh storm of weeping gave Trudy pause. “Why did you accept Colonel Burke if you do not like him, Laura?”

  She blotted her eyes and looked from her to Fiona and back again. “I am five-and-twenty. Nearly an ape-leader. Mother said I had to marry soon or we’d all be past our prime. It was my duty to my sisters, she said. And we would all be old maids if I didn’t wed quickly.”

  Had Laura never felt the way Collingwood made her feel? “Have you ever been in love, Laura?”

  “O-once.”

  “And?”

  “He did not love me back.”

  “Did he say so?”

  “No, but,” she paused to blow her nose, “but I was certain I’d made my feelings known. Then he began to avoid me.”

  “Who is this idiot?” Trudy demanded.

  “I will not utter his name,” Laura said on a sob.

  “Put it behind you, Laura,” Fiona urged. “Once you are settled, Colonel Burke will make you happy.”

  “That’s what Mother says, but I cannot see how if I do not like him to begin with. He is not awful, or mean or cruel, but he is as dull as dishwater. He only talks about battles and soldiering. Or horses.”

  Thank heavens Mother was not here. God only knew what she’d do if she heard Laura’s misgivings. Fly into a tizzy, no doubt. She’d already had another of her sick megrims and was at home lying down with a cold compress.

  Still, Laura would never have told them the truth if Mother had been there. And shame on Fiona! She was only urging Laura forward because she wanted to marry soon.

  “Well!” Trudy lifted her chin. “We shall simply go home and tell Mother that you cannot marry. She already has a headache, so it cannot get much worse.”

  There was a flicker of hope in Laura’s eyes. “Do you really think so? She and Father have gone to so much trouble... spent so much money. And the banns have been read and the invitations have gone out.”

  “Hush, Trudy!” Fiona snapped. “Leave her alone. Do not fill her head with such nonsense. Women of our wealth and class make the marriages we must. If Mother and Father approved this, then it must go forward. Otherwise Laura would be labeled a jilt, and she’d never get another proposal. Only imagine the scandal if she cried off now.” She paused to nod emphatically. “No, it is done and must go forward.”

  When had Fi started sounding like Mother? “Oh, bother the scandal! It will not be done until she has stood before the vicar and pledged her troth. This is the entire rest of Laura’s life we are talking about, Fiona. Would you consign your own sister to a loveless marriage? Would you have her submit to intimacies she did not feel? Look at her! She is so distraught she cannot even eat. And once she is in India, without even the support of her family, what will happen to her?”

  “How would you know about such things, Gertrude?”

  Now there was a topic Trudy had no intention of broaching. She had a quick memory of last night. Exciting, titillating things. Naughty things. What must he think of her, when she’d allowed such familiarity? Another glance at Laura banished those thoughts.

  “You are being selfish, Fiona. But since you are so philosophical, why do you not marry Colonel Burke instead? If he is good enough for Laura, he is good enough for you, is he not?”

  Fiona’s eyes narrowed. “You know why, you little twit!”

  “Ha! Your advice would be quite different if you were not so anxious to make your own marriage, would it not? To a man of your own choosing, I might add. I find it quite selfish that you are willing to sacrifice Laura’s happiness for your own convenience.”

  “Faugh! Laura has never cared deeply about anyone or anything. She is far too polite and refined to feel passion or love as deeply as I.”

  Laura’s mouth opened and she looked at Fiona with astonishment. “Is that what you think, Fi? Have you not heard me cry myself to sleep night after night? Have you not recognized my despair? Or do you simply not care? All you care about is that I am standing in the way of you marrying a man of your choice. You would consign me to the devil if you thought it would get me out of your way.”

  The fitting room door opened and the dressmaker, followed by two seamstresses, swept in. Fiona shot Trudy an angry look and hissed between clenched teeth. “Leave it be, Trudy. It is too late for you to rescue Laura now.”

  As much as she wanted to, she could not continue the conversation in front of strangers. But this was not the end of it. How could Trudy let her very own sister go into a marriage with no fondness? She would simply have to find a solution for Laura.

  She heaved a sigh. Between Collingwood’s absurd wager, Lancelot’s scheme to recoup his losses, Laura’s predicament, and Fiona’s secret, the fear that something quite terrible was in the making was growing apace.

  Madame Leontina Seyes was the epitome of a gracious hostess, and this was just one of the reasons the French émigré’s gambling house was so popular with the ton. Of course, Dare thought it did not hurt that the woman was a lush beauty with both a plush frame and generous bosom. She smiled at him from across her foyer and he smiled back. He’d done her a small legal favor once, and now she considered them friends, of a sort.

  She held her hands out to him as she approached. “Ah, Lord Collingwood, bonsoir. It is so good to see you again. Where ’ave you been keeping yourself?”

  “Here and there, madame.” He took her hands and gave them a light squeeze. “But I read in the Times today that the Mayfair Shadow struck again—here—last night.”

  “La! Such an upset! Poor Lord Halston.” Still holding his hands, she leaned forward in confidentiality. “’E lost ’is diamond cravat pin. I do not need such things ’appening ’ere. I must ’ave my clientele feeling safe and ’appy.”

  “And generous?”

  She laughed and slipped her arm through his as she led him toward the card rooms. “Oui, and generous. Most generous. After all, ’oo feels like gambling when they fear for their belongings, eh? And speaking of the Mayfair Shadow, I ’ear you are chasing ’im, eh?”

  He nodded, wondering if his bet would make him a pariah in gambling establishments. “I wonder, Madame Seyes, do you keep a list of your guests each evening?”

  “Mais non!” She tapped her temple. “Only in my ’ead. Such a list could be compromising, no?”

  “Such a list could be useful,” he countered. “For instance, if I wanted to know who was here last night, who would I ask?”

  She seemed to consider the question, then finally sighed and whispered, “One could ask me, I suppose. Or Jacques.”

  Jacques was her butler, a large man with a crooked nose and a balding pate. He looked more like a doorman and bodyguard than a butler.

  Madame Seyes tilted her head to one side to gaze up at him. “I can trust to your discretion, yes?” />
  “Completely,” he vowed.

  “I will think about it and tell Jacques that you can be trusted, eh? And while I think, what is your game?”

  “Vingt-et-un.” He did not expect to find the Shadow here tonight—the thief would be mad to strike in the same place two days running. But a few hands of vingt-et-un while he awaited Madame’s decision would not go amiss. She led him to a parlor room that contained two faro tables and a vingt-et-un table, and left him there with a promise to speak with him before he departed.

  After purchasing markers, he edged up to the table. There were many familiar faces—Morton, Bradley and Rother. Just as he placed his counters on the baize, Lancelot Carr joined him from the faro tables.

  “Good evening, Carr,” he said.

  Carr nodded and gave him a wary smile. “How has the table been?”

  “I just got here, myself, though I think it’s safe to say that the tables usually favor the house.”

  “I do not mind the house. ’Tis when I suspect others are cheating me that I mind.”

  “I doubt that happens often in reputable establishments.”

  Carr nodded and heaved a great sigh. He gave Dare a look through narrowed eyes. “I say, Collingwood, are you courting my sister?”

  “I can see how you might think so, Carr, but I understand—and have been so informed by your esteemed mother—that any suit would not be welcomed at this time. In truth I simply enjoy Miss Gertrude’s humor and wit. I’ve scarce known a woman so entertaining.”

  Carr laughed. “Everyone takes note of her beauty, but it is the rare man who can appreciate Gertie’s humor. She is my favorite sister, you know. Nothing coy or pretentious about her.”

  “I suspected as much.”

  “Then I am glad there will be no trouble between us.”

  Dare smiled. Carr was no match for him, but there certainly would be trouble if the lad found out what happened in the gardens at Devonshire House. “Come here often, do you?”

  “Now and then. I frequent the Club House more often. Something about that red door.” Carr grinned and shook his head. “Makes me think I’m going to win, I suppose.”

  “For every winner there are a dozen losers.”

  “Well I know it. Been on the losing end far too often lately. Suspiciously so.”

  “Watch out for who you play with, Carr. Cheats come in all sizes and shapes. And in the least expected places.”

  The young man sobered and gave him a curt nod. “I am actually quite careful. That’s the hell of it, Lord Collingwood. I do not think I like what I’m learning about those I called ‘friend.’”

  “Aye, that’s a great disappointment, is it not?” But if anyone could afford to lose a fortune, it was Lancelot Carr. His father might be furious, but he’d never let the lad face the resultant gossip or debtor’s prison.

  The new deal began and he turned back to the table. Carr did the same after greeting a few friends. The play proceeded with the house taking most hands. No surprise there. But he noted that Lancelot watched the other players most carefully, a hint of suspicion in his dark eyes, and Dare wondered if there was more than idle speculation behind his words?

  Dare won a hand or two and, in the end, broke even. He had a few other places to be tonight. He was collecting his hat and coat from a footman when Madame Seyes appeared in the foyer, which was abuzz with men coming and going. She took his arm and walked him to the entry.

  At the door, she paused and faced him. “Upon reflection, Lord Collingwood, I ’ave decided that a thief in my parlor is not a good thing, eh? But I cannot discuss my clientele, you understand?”

  He nodded, knowing there was more to come.

  “Therefore, I must decline your request for information.”

  That surprised him. He’d been certain Madame would do whatever she could to assist him. She smiled sweetly and held her hands out to him by way of parting. He took them and felt something thick and folded pressed into his palm. He did not give her away by words or expression, but lifted the hand to his lips and brushed a kiss across her knuckles.

  “I understand perfectly, Madame Seyes. Think no more about it.”

  “Do come again, Lord Collingwood.”

  Dare smiled. “You may count upon it.”

  He descended the stone steps and climbed into his coach. Unfolding the wad of paper Madame had passed to him, he smoothed it before holding it up to the passing lamplight and quickly scanned lines filled with names. He knew all of them, but there was little he could do tonight.

  Meantime, he hadn’t missed the figure lurking in the shadows of a doorway across the cobbled street from Madame’s establishment. He leaned forward and opened the hatch between him and his driver. “Circle ’round to the left and stop on the side street, Harper.”

  Lancelot had lied to her. He was still gambling—or worse. She’d watched enough men come and go to know there was something going on in that stately town house where she’d followed him. Because this was a respectable neighborhood, she did not think it could be a bordello, but the idea of such a thing titillated her. Did her brother frequent such places?

  Then Collingwood had arrived, and she had prayed it was a gambling den. She could not bear the thought that he might be... well, doing those things—those amazing things—with another woman. Thank heavens he had departed, but Lancelot remained. Lord! If her brother compiled even more debt, how would he ever make up the losses? Tonight, she would take him to task.

  She shivered in the dank cool air and drew Lancelot’s old coat closer around her, then pulled the brim of the soft cap lower. She longed to go home, but she would have to catch her brother in the act to force him to admit his erring ways. She would simply have to wait until he came out and confront him red-handed.

  A rustling whisper behind her told her she was not alone. Rats? Pickpockets? Street ruffians? The back of her neck tingled. She stepped forward, hoping to break into the lamplight. She was caught from behind and jerked backward, landing against something solid. One arm tightened around her waist and a hand clamped over her mouth. She closed her eyes and stamped her sturdy boot down on the one behind her, prepared to run for all she was worth.

  The arm did not loosen but the voice chilled her blood. “Damnation!”

  Collingwood! She was done for now.

  Before she could react, he scooped her up, tossed her over his shoulder, and turned back down the alley toward the adjacent street. She could not cry out lest she be discovered in such a position and dressed as a boy, but everything inside her railed at his treatment.

  “You oaf,” she muttered. “How dare you presume—”

  “Bite your tongue, chit! I am not the one engaged in nefarious activities. That would be you.”

  “You are not my father, my brother, my uncle or anyone else entitled to treat me so.”

  “And I cannot for the life of me figure why I should feel the need to save you from yourself. Your father will be appalled.” She heard a coach door open and then she was tossed inside onto a leather seat. The coach springs gave as he followed her up and called to the driver. “Harper, Cavendish Square!”

  He locked the doors after him and pulled the blinds, then turned back to her with an angry glare.

  “Please, Collingwood. You mustn’t tell Father. He will kill me.” She righted herself and turned to face him on the opposite seat as the coach lurched into motion. He looked utterly implacable.

  “Balderdash! He might thrash you, but I’ve come to believe you need a sound thrashing—or whatever it would require to keep you contained. If we were seen back there or discovered together like this, God help us, Trudy. I’ve half a notion to give you a good spanking.”

  “I am not a silly child!”

  “Then stop acting like one!”

  She sagged in defeat, realizing what she must look like to him. “There are good reasons for what I am doing.”

  He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Astonish me.”


  “I... I think Lancelot is up to something.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know, Collingwood. That is precisely what I am trying to determine.”

  He sighed and was silent for a moment. Then, “You might as well call me Dare when we are alone. We seem to have crossed that line some time past.”

  Heat washed over her. They had crossed that line, indeed. Kissing had been bad enough, but last night in the gardens of Devonshire House they’d gone well beyond that.

  “Why do you think Lancelot is ‘up to something’?”

  What could she tell him? Certainly not the truth! No, she would have to be as vague as possible. “He is behaving oddly and becoming quite secretive. He will not talk to me.”

  Dare sighed and studied his hands. “Men frequently do things they do not want their womenfolk to know. Your brother is no different, Trudy. He is drinking, gambling and womanizing. Nothing unusual for men his age. A rite of passage.”

  “He has never kept secrets from me before. We tell each other everything.”

  “Everything?” He cocked an eyebrow. “So you informed him what happened in the garden last night?”

  “No! I mean... that was private.”

  “Lancelot will also have his private moments. You will be happier if you simply allow that. Trust me in this—there are some things you will be better for not knowing.”

  Considering that she would be mortified if Skippy knew what she and Dare had done in the Devonshire House gardens, she suspected that was true. She sighed and looked up from studying her lap. “Tell me what he was doing there. Please?”

  He hesitated so long that she thought he would not answer, and when he did it was curt, as if he resented the position in which she’d placed him. “Vingt-et-un.”

  Tears stung the backs of her eyes. She had never thought Lancelot a fool, and yet he was behaving like the worst sort of fool. How could she ever help him out of this mess if he just kept getting in deeper?

  “How much is he losing?”

  “He was winning when I took my leave.”

  That fact did little to allay her fears. Winning might even embolden him, and his luck could change in an instant. She was horrified to realize tears were trickling down her cheeks and tried to brush them away with the sleeve of Lancelot’s jacket.