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

by Michelle Willingham

  She winced at a quick stab of pressure and discomfort, then Dare began moving again, easing into her, building the tempo and delving just a bit deeper with each thrust. His arms shook as he held himself above her, sparing her his weight. Face grim, he seemed to be fighting his instincts or exerting some herculean control.

  Oh, but she could not think about that. She only wanted to experience this moment. Commit it to memory. Feel the exquisite intimacy of him joining with her, tethered in the most primal way. With each thrust something loosened inside her and pleasure built. She closed her eyes and sighed, each joining of their bodies building on the one before, increasing in intensity and pleasure. Each demanding more.

  The thought flashed through her mind that she was now forever changed. Forever his. And, despite her denials, they both knew she would have to marry him now or die unmarried and alone. Oh, but she needed this more than she needed to breathe. She was caught in a trap of her own making, and she couldn’t regret it now. Maybe tomorrow...

  And then she could think no more. Only feel. Only tingle and burst into sparks and flames, then shatter into a million tiny shards of light.

  Dare stood at the rail at the Blue Swan Tavern staring into his tankard of ale. He’d watched from the garden as Trudy climbed in her window and waved, and then he gave into the urge to get filthy drunk. But ale just wasn’t doing the job. In fact, he wondered if there was even enough whiskey at the establishment to make him forget his conceit. He’d never been so deeply ashamed of himself. His arrogance. His brutishness.

  He’d been unconscionable in taking advantage of Trudy. She’d declared her love for him, and he’d been so certain that marriage was in the offing that he’d forged ahead as if he had every right. He’d never thought himself the sort to despoil an innocent woman. Always so certain of his morals and self-control. More the fool, he. He’d become what he’d always sworn he would never be—the worst sort of swaggering bully—and he would have to find a way to live with the fact that he was the despoiler of Gertrude Carr.

  A woman who swore she would not have him.

  Sweet Jesus, what the hell had possessed him tonight? Somehow, when he was with Trudy, all good sense fled. Marriage? And yet... now that the words were out, it did not seem so ridiculous. How many mistresses had he gone through? How many boring predictable flirtations had he indulged in to find a likely wife? He couldn’t count them all. And now, as unlikely as it was, he’d found a woman who interested him, who wasn’t afraid of him, who didn’t bore him to gaping yawns. He could never have predicted that his match would be a female who challenged his very dignity and his every belief. His opposite in nearly every way. And yet, come morning—and despite her protestations—he would go to the Archbishop of Canterbury’s office in Doctor’s Commons and acquire a special license to marry her.

  Now that the words were out, the declaration made, he was determined in his choice. Trudy would make his life interesting. She’d said that she cared for him so he couldn’t quite understand her reticence. Was he not considered a good prospect? Was his reputation so stern that it gave women pause? Yes, intimidating. Stodgy, if he recalled Trudy’s words correctly. And rigid.

  But one glimpse, once dance, with Gertrude Carr had him spinning. Hell, he was still spinning. He needed to go home. Get some sleep. Recall himself to reason.

  He straightened and turned away from the bar, full of good intentions to find his bed. Then Lancelot Carr entered the Blue Swan. Come to call Dare out? Or come to meet his fence?

  Deuce it all, he kept coming back to that.

  He’d fought his suspicion from the beginning because there seemed to be no reason for it—still seemed to be no reason for it. And yet the notion persisted. A man like Carr would be a fool to risk his standing in society, his inheritance, his friends and family, to make away with a few paltry baubles. He couldn’t need money—at least not badly enough to risk so much. He hadn’t pawned or otherwise disposed of the goods.

  What could possibly induce him to risk everything with this escapade? It just didn’t make sense. Was it just some stupid dare?

  Just as stupid as the wager he’d taken with Littleworth to bring the Shadow to justice? And what had his motive been? Pride? Ego? Boredom? None of those painted a pretty picture of Dare’s life. Worse than that—if Carr was the Shadow, and Dare exposed him, he would utterly destroy any affection Trudy might have for him.

  He touched the note that Madame Seyes had slipped him and remembered the names. He was very much afraid he would have to turn Lancelot Carr over to the authorities one day soon. All he needed was to find one piece of stolen jewelry on or about his person. Then the evidence would be conclusive.

  Well, almost conclusive.

  Carr nodded to him and came to his side at the bar. He ordered himself a tankard and Dare pushed his own tankard aside to signal the keeper to bring him a bottle of whiskey. He was going to need something stronger.

  “Looking for me, Carr?” he asked.

  “Meeting up with Amory and Bradley in an hour. Why would you think I was looking for you? Just saw you at Madame Seyes’.”

  Well, if Trudy hadn’t told her brother what had transpired, he certainly wouldn’t betray her. He shrugged off the question. “Gambling palls? What’s the new game?”

  “Cockfights off Jamaica Row. Looking for some sport?”

  He shook his head. He’d never cared for animal baiting, whether bears, cocks or dogs. Dirty business, that.

  “Where’s your entourage? Littleworth and Morton?” Carr glanced around the tavern.

  “Littleworth has been a bit preoccupied these days. I suspect he must have a particular interest. Morton? Raising hell, no doubt. Think he went to Prinny’s card party.”

  Carr laughed. “So you’re at loose ends, eh? We shall have to think of something to keep you amused.”

  “I fear I’m not easily amused.” Only Trudy was able to achieve that, it seemed. The proprietor brought Dare’s whiskey, uncorked it in front of him, and poured two fingers into a clean glass. Dare took a drink to make certain it hadn’t been watered, then gave the man a few coins to leave the bottle.

  “Looks like you’re going to do some serious drinking, Collingwood. Would that have anything to do with my sister?”

  “I can see how she might drive a man to drink.”

  “Ah. Well, I’d have to take her side every time.”

  Dare grinned. He’d expect no less. “She stole my watch, you know.”

  “The devil you say!” Carr looked at him with amusement sparking in his eyes.

  “Quite good at it, too. I wouldn’t have known had she not hesitated a fraction too long as she moved away.”

  “If she hesitated, she meant you to catch her. That’s Trudy for you. Good at anything she sets her mind to. She’s quite a wonder, that one. Were you dancing?”

  “No.” He wasn’t about to admit that they’d been in the middle of a rather salacious kiss so he took another drink.

  “You do not seem particularly outraged,” Carr continued.

  “And you do not seem particularly surprised.” He shrugged. “She gave it back. But where in God’s name, did she learn to do such a thing?”

  Her brother laughed. “From the gypsies who used to camp on our land.”

  Ah, yes. That harridan Simza he’d met at the charity fair. Had Trudy also learned a blatant disregard for other’s property? Damnation! Just when he turned to another suspect, Fate kept leading him back to her. Or Lancelot. One of them had to be the Shadow.

  Carr finished his ale and signaled the barkeeper for another. “She’s capable of anything, perhaps, but not inclined. She’s got a tender conscience, y’know—not given to cruelty of any kind. Or dishonesty. Just the opposite. She’s a rescuer.”

  “Rescuer? What does she rescue?”

  “Anyone and anything in need. I dare not take her to a cockfight or let her pass a foundling on the street. There’d be a riot. She has a finely developed sense of what is ‘right�
� and will do whatever is needed to uphold it. Much like you and the law, Collingwood.”

  Was there was a hint of something dark in Carr’s words, perhaps even a taunt? “Then she will not come to grief from me. ‘Right’ and the ‘law’ are synonymous.”

  Carr gave him a surprised look. “You really think so?”

  “Of course.”

  There was a long pause, and then Carr sighed. “I fear I do not see everything quite so black and white as you. I’ve seen ‘right’ go begging in the face of the law. And I’ve seen justice fail more often than it should.”

  Dare ignored that comment. He did not want to cross swords with Trudy’s beloved brother, so changed the subject instead. “How was it that Miss Gertrude was able to follow so many... unconventional pursuits?”

  “Ah, well, that’s easy enough. Our father has always been a very busy man. Trudy was scarce twelve when Laura made her bow and I do not think Mother has given her a second thought since. She and I shared the nursery, our lessons, our secrets and our aspirations since I can remember. We existed in a comfortable state of benign indifference from our parents.”

  Dare recalled the dismissive way in which Mrs. Carr had treated Trudy in the presence of guests and surmised Trudy had been an afterthought to her parents most of her life. She likely only existed because Mr. Carr had been determined to get an heir. The proof was that there’d been no children after Lancelot.

  Fascinating. She was the product of her own construction. Her frankness, her irreverent humor, her oddly complex way of looking at the world around her, and her sense of ‘fairness’ unhindered by the complexity of ‘law.’ Charming, if a little naїve.

  The need to see her again grew inside him until he thought he’d burst with it. He knew she was home now, but, “Where is your family tonight?”

  “Tonight? Um, some fête in St. Johns Woods, I think.”

  He thought of the window Trudy climbed through. “And her sisters?”

  “Gone to St. Johns Woods with our parents.” Carr glanced at his pocket watch. “They’ve likely gone to Ashland’s by now for a late supper and dancing.”

  Dare took a deep drink from his tankard. Home alone? He wondered if he dared call on her. Ah, but the servants would mention his presence to her parents, and that would put Trudy in an awkward position.

  There were other ways than the front door.

  Where the bloody hell had that thought come from? He was a respectable man. Dignified. Steady. Not given to rash decisions or impetuous notions. Not the type at all to play Romeo and sneak through a window. And he’d already imposed himself on Trudy tonight.

  Dare finished another draught of whiskey, dropped a coin on the bar and slapped his companion on the back. “Stay out of trouble, Carr.”

  He grinned. “You, too.”

  Too late for that particular warning. Dare laughed. Irreverence? That was new to him, too.

  Chapter Ten

  WHEN DARE HAD taken her home, Trudy had sunk into instant despair. He loved her. He wanted to marry her. And she wanted that more than she’d ever wanted anything in her entire life. But when Lancelot was unmasked as the Shadow, he would have to distance himself from the Carrs or look like the worst sort of fool. His reputation was too important to him. So important that he’d taken that cursed wager to uphold his reputation.

  And Lancelot would be found out. She could think of no way around it. His plan was absurd. Blame them for his losses? Reckless. Blackmail the darlings of the ton? Madness! There was simply no way he could win this dangerous game. Certain ruin awaited the Carrs, and she wanted Dare at a distance when that happened.

  She hurried to Lancelot’s room and sat patiently in a corner by the fireplace. Waiting. And thinking. Odd, how she put events and conversations together like a puzzle, and when she found a piece that didn’t fit, she couldn’t forget it or put it aside until she found its place. She’d been puzzling one odd little detail for quite some time, and only her brother could provide the answer.

  She heard his footsteps on the stairs and then in the passageway. He opened his door and dropped his coat on the foot of his bed. He was about to ring for his valet when Trudy stood from her position in the corner.

  Lancelot gave an almost comical start and followed that with a dark look. “For God’s sake, Trudy! You nearly scared me to death. What are you doing here?”

  “I was wondering, Skippy, how Charles Amory cheated you. Cards? Dice?”

  “Amory? Who said he cheated me?”

  “You did when you told me you only stole from those you suspected had cheated you. But when I looked in your secret drawer, Mr. Amory’s watch was not there.”

  He frowned, looking more than a little annoyed with her. “Because I did not take it.”

  “I saw you, Skippy. I was watching at Ashland’s garden party when you gave Amory the bump and lift. Moments after you left, he reached for his watch and it was gone.”

  “Hold right there, Trudy.” He held his hands up, palms outward in denial. “I did not bump Amory—he bumped me. I swear I didn’t steal his watch.”

  “Then who did?”

  “How the hell should I know? D’you think I’m the only thief in London?”

  “The only one who has free access to the events where things go missing. How would a common pickpocket gain admittance to Mrs. Ashland’s party? Let alone the ton’s best events?”

  “Blast it all! Is it not bad enough I’m living on tenterhooks and always looking over my shoulder? Must I contend with a suspicious sister? The one person in the world I thought would believe me?”

  She could swear he was not lying. “But you—”

  “We bumped into each other, Trudy. That does not mean I stole from him. Amory has never cheated me at cards. That... that I know of. I had no reason to relieve him of his watch.”

  “Then who did?” she asked again.

  “Damned if I know. He might have lost it or misplaced it.”

  She tried to think of who else had been in that group. Rother, Morton, Bradley and Ackerman. Certainly none of them would have stolen Mr. Amory’s watch. And yet, had she not known better, she wouldn’t have suspected Lancelot, either. “Were any of them men who cheated you?”

  “No.”

  “What of Littleworth? Julia is missing a ruby earbob.”

  “Coincidence. Or Julia was bidding for attention. Good God, Trudy. You, of all people, know me. Why would I tell you what I’d done, how I’d got myself into trouble, and then lie to you about Amory’s watch or Julia’s earbob? You already know the worst of it.”

  She sank back into the chair she’d recently vacated. She could not worry over Mr. Amory’s watch when there was a much more important matter at hand. “This has to end, Skippy. Now. You are being blamed for every theft in the ton. If you’re caught for one, they will blame you for all. You must cease.”

  “I wish to hell I could.” He combed his fingers through his hair. “I just need a few more pieces to bring the value up to what I owe. Then I must think of a way to confront all the cheaters at once.”

  “You have never needed equal value, Skippy. You only need enough to convince them to deal with you.”

  “One bauble would never convince them to ‘deal with me.’ The more I have, the more they will want back.”

  “You have power,too. You could ruin their good names with your accusations.”

  “They’d deny it and stick together. No one would believe me against the lot of them. They are peers of the realm. Respectable. Indisputable. I am a mere spoiled banker’s son.” He sat on the edge of his bed and studied the floor. “My only chance is to hold their property as ransom for the return of the money they cheated from me and the return of my markers. Every last farthing of it.”

  “And instead you are only in deeper trouble.”

  “I’d return it all now, but when my time is up how would I find the money to redeem my markers? Maybe I should sell their property to buy back my markers.”

  �
�That is madness, Skippy. Every watchman and runner in London is looking for those items and the man who took them. You must go to Father.”

  “I will board a ship bound for Tasmania first. He’ll send me there, anyway.”

  She could not argue with him. She, too, would rather flee than face father’s wrath when he found out. She buried her face in her hands. “Oh, Skippy... what are we going to do?”

  “You will do nothing, Trudy. You should never have been anywhere near this debacle. This is my problem, and I will solve it. I am not dragging you down with me.”

  “How long do we have, Skippy? When are your markers due?”

  He glanced out the window at the fading night. “The day of Laura’s wedding.”

  “Five days hence?” Her stomach roiled. How would they ever find a solution or make this right in five days?

  “Five,” he confirmed. “At least we can thank God that it can get no worse than it already is.”

  Trudy lifted her head from her hands to look at her beloved brother. “Do not tempt fate—or the devil—with such statements, Skippy.”

  Dare glanced at the mantle clock in his library. Though it was late morning, it was still too early, damn it all. Doctor’s Commons would be open, but the Archbishop was not likely to be in until later. Barring divine intervention, he’d have the special license to marry before this day was out. If she insisted, he would delay their nuptials until after Laura’s wedding, but no longer.

  He was sipping his morning coffee when Mills knocked and announced Mr. Esham. The butler’s nose was a fraction higher than usual and Dare recognized the trait as disapproval. Evidently the man did not think Esham a suitable caller to entertain. He hid his smile and waved one hand. “Send him in, Mills. Bring another cup and see that we are not disturbed.”

  “As you wish, m’lord.” Mills bowed and disappeared.