His Wicked Seduction (The League of Rogues Book 2)

by Lauren Smith

  “Mother!” Lucien greeted her warmly, bending down to kiss her cheek.

  “Lucien, my dear boy, so wonderful to see you. But it would have been more wonderful if you had sent me a note in advance. Especially if you were bringing guests.” This last bit was delivered in a low warning tone.

  Lucien lowered his head. “We apologize for the short notice, Mother, but it was important to come straight away.” Lucien offered Horatia his arm to escort her inside and Cedric did the same for Audrey.

  “Oh?” Lady Rochester’s eyes narrowed.

  “It’s a long story, Mother, but I will explain later. May we have some tea? The trip was devilishly long and tiresome.”

  “Yes, of course. Right this way. Lovely to see you all, Lord Sheridan, Miss Sheridan, and Miss Audrey.” Lady Rochester let Cedric kiss her hand before she embraced the two girls warmly. Then she led them to the nearest parlor where a strapping young footman awaited her orders—Gordon, if she remembered correctly. One of the recent replacements she’d had to acquire.

  “Tea and scones if you please, Gordon,” she said.

  The servant nodded and departed to see to her wishes.

  Lady Rochester caught sight of her youngest trying to sneak past the open doorway of the salon unseen. “Linus!” He froze mid-step, shoulders hunched in resignation before he sighed and came back into the parlor. She fixed Linus with a look that promised misery if he tried to escape again. “Greet our guests.”

  “Good afternoon,” he replied, bowing towards Cedric and his sisters.

  Lady Rochester did not miss Audrey’s look as she tried to fight the urge to laugh. Linus and Audrey were quite good friends, as good as men and women could be without the complications of their genders getting in the way. Perhaps co-conspirators was a more apt description. Still, they were now at that age where it would be unwise to leave them alone together.

  Lucien sat back in the chair he’d chosen, perfectly at ease. Lady Rochester watched as the eldest of her brood of hellions interacted with the youngest.

  “How are you, Lucien?” Linus asked.

  “Well. And you? How was Cambridge?”

  “Fine. But I am glad to be through with it,” Linus admitted.

  “I’ll bet.” Cedric sniggered. It wasn’t a secret that he’d loved everything about school, apart from the schooling.

  Gordon returned with a tea tray and Linus moved to sit down next to Audrey on the loveseat. With no small amusement, Lady Rochester studied their interaction out of the corner of her eye, whilst they believed everyone else was looking away and talking. Audrey prodded him with a sharp little elbow. He eyed the offending weapon, and the second the opportunity presented itself, he pinched her arm in retaliation. Audrey let out a strangled little sound that came out somewhere between an eek and ouch.

  She blushed and held her teacup in defense. “The tea is rather hot.”

  “Really?” Lady Rochester eyed the teapot, trying not to laugh at the mischievousness of youth. “Now Lord Sheridan, may I offer you rooms at the Hall through the New Year? It would be lovely to have you all here to celebrate Christmas. The house will be happily full, you see. I’ve just invited the Cavendishes to come from Brighton.”

  “We’d be delighted to stay, Lady Rochester,” Cedric answered.

  “The Cavendishes will be coming?” Audrey asked excitedly.

  The Cavendishes were old family friends of both the Russells and the Sheridans. It wasn’t too hard to guess what Audrey was excited about. Eligible men were always exciting for a young lady.

  “The entire family will be here. I’m hoping that Mrs. Cavendish and I might manage to marry off one of our children before either of us dies.” She threw the statement out with inner glee, waiting for the fireworks to begin.

  “Mother!” Lucien choked on the scone he’d been eating.

  “Oh don’t give me that horrified look, Lucien. I quite gave up on you years ago. But perhaps I can convince Lysandra to set her cap for Gregory Cavendish. He’s quite a handsome young man, and well-inlaid you know.”

  Linus watched her in terror. “Mama, just because he’s a bang-up cove, doesn’t mean Lysa will have him, or even that he’ll have her.” Linus seemed most insistent on defending his sister, probably because he believed there was no worse fate than marriage.

  “A bang-up cove? Where do you learn such language?” Lady Rochester sighed and looked up, imploring the heavens to explain why she’d been burdened with such obstinate offspring.

  Linus grinned and reached for a scone. They both knew vexing her was one of the true joys of his life.

  He piped up as he swallowed the last of his scone. “Lord Sheridan, may I escort Miss Audrey outside? I’m sure she would like some fresh air after the long carriage ride here.”

  “Not without a chaperone,” Lady Rochester intoned.

  “But Mama,” Linus whined.

  Audrey put a hand on his arm indicating him to shush.

  “My sister shall chaperone us. Won’t you, Horatia?”

  “Yes, of course,” Horatia replied.

  “If I’m not worried, Lady Rochester, then you shouldn’t be,” Cedric reassured her.

  “I suppose that is safe enough.”

  “Come on then,” Linus offered his arm to Audrey. Horatia followed the pair out of the salon and into the hall. Linus and Audrey immediately bent their heads together, whispering now that they were out of sight of Lady Rochester.

  Horatia groaned as she heard Audrey giggle wickedly. Linus must have had a scheme afoot and he was determined to rope Audrey into it. Knowing Linus as she did, which unfortunately was quite well, Horatia guessed it would be a prank of some sort. From time to time Linus and Audrey shot looks over their shoulders at her, as though worried she might be eavesdropping on their plotting.

  Horatia raised her hands in surrender. “As long as I am not the victim of whatever you’re planning, I won’t spoil your fun.”

  “I make no promises,” said Linus. The rascal was one year her senior in age, but not nearly as mature. It was why he’d always taken more to Audrey. Horatia couldn’t even begin to count how many afternoons she and Lysandra had been the target of pranks from this unholy alliance.

  “Linus, where is Lysa?” Horatia asked. She’d rather seek out her friend than linger in their presence. Her role of chaperone was nonsense, everyone but Lady Rochester seemed to know that.

  “Last I saw, she was in the library.” With that, he and Audrey darted up the stairs and vanished from view.

  Horatia found herself alone in the massive entryway of Rochester Hall. It was a beautiful Georgian country house with sandy stones on the outside and marble within. She admired the tapestries on the walls depicting various scenes of pastoral bliss. Gazing at the scenes, she lost track of time, remembering the last time she’d been here. The memory was still so fresh that she felt it emerge from the gloom of her memory and envelop her fully.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Rochester Hall, Kent, 1815

  It was a perfect day in May with the heady scent of blooming flowers filling the gardens. Horatia was idly picking her way through the maze of tall hedges as she searched for Linus and Audrey. At fourteen, she was too old to enjoy hide and seek but she still humored the other children. She had counted to one hundred and was now having a devilishly hard time finding the others on the vast grounds of Lord Rochester’s estate. Lord Rochester, she sighed aloud at the thought of his name. He was twenty-six years old, her brother’s close friend and unbelievably handsome.

  She also knew Lucien was a rake; she’d heard that whispered in the servants’ hall among other places. At first she’d thought it odd that the Marquess had been likened to a gardening tool, but after listening to her brother talk to his friends, she’d learned a rake had another meaning with no botanical connection whatsoever. After a bit of pleading with one of
the laundry maids at their townhouse in London, she’d learned what a rake in this particular context meant.

  From that moment on she’d been hopelessly entranced by the marquess. At fourteen she knew she was too young for him, but her heart didn’t seem to care about age. She’d nearly squealed with joy when Cedric had come home the day before and told her they’d be visiting Lucien at his estate for the weekend.

  Unfortunately, when they arrived, Horatia learned that a beautiful young heiress named Melanie Burns was also visiting. It was with no small amount of indignation that Horatia had been ushered by an elderly maid to the nursery—of all places!—while Cedric, Lucien, Lady Rochester and Miss Burns took tea that morning. By the afternoon, Lysandra was practicing her embroidery and the other children, Linus, Audrey and herself had been sent outdoors to play in the gardens while the weather was still fair. Horatia heaved a sigh but it was cut short when a pair of large hands clamped down over her eyes.

  “Guess who?” a rich voice asked in a soft playful chuckle. Horatia’s heart stopped for a moment, then fluttered like a hummingbird.

  “Lord Rochester?” She knew it was him. She could be blind for a thousand years and know that voice, and his scent of sandalwood and pine. Being near him reminded her of Christmas somehow, even in the spring.

  “How on earth did you know it was me, you little hoyden?” Normally being called that would not have pleased her, but when he released her to tug her brown curls, watching them bounce as she gazed up at him, what he called her hardly seemed to matter. Her head tilted back. He was so gloriously tall, like Achilles from The Iliad. With deep red hair and warm hazel eyes, he was a god, or very close to it.

  Horatia felt her body twist inside in ways she didn’t understand. With anyone else this onslaught of physical sensations would have scared her senseless, but with Lucien it did not. Whenever she was with him she trusted him, adored him, and nothing could rip that trust away, not even the awakening of the woman in her.

  “Are you enjoying the sun, little Horatia?” He reached down and ruffled a hand through her hair, the price she paid for refusing to wear one of those dreadful bonnets.

  “Yes, the weather is lovely,” she answered in what she hoped was a mature tone. She even dared to raise her chin defensively, but Lucien laughed as though he saw right through her.

  “I spend all day talking about business, politics, and other dull topics with adults, don’t you dare grow up on me.” He grinned and reached for her hand. She gave it to him without hesitation. “Now, let us take a turn about the garden and speak of anything else. What do you say to that?”

  “Only if you promise to tell me of your wicked conquests,” Horatia said boldly, with a glint in her eyes.

  Lucien’s grip on her hand tightened and he jerked her to a stop. He looked down at her in shock.

  “And just what do you know of my wicked conquests?” he demanded, a little on edge.

  “Not much I’m afraid. No one tells me anything.” Horatia worried her lower lip with her teeth, afraid her boldness had gotten her in trouble.

  “And it will stay that way,” he replied as he resumed their walk.

  “Then what shall we talk about?” Horatia almost had to skip to keep up with him. As they rounded the corner of the nearest hedge, Lucien froze. Miss Burns was sitting on a stone bench, hands folded on her lap. She was complete to a shade, her gown a lovely blue that favored her pale blond hair and brown eyes. Horatia swallowed down a wave of jealously, knowing she would never grow up to be as beautiful. Her own chin was too sharp, her nose too pert; she had none of those classic features that Miss Burns displayed from beneath her bonnet.

  “Pardon the intrusion, Miss Burns,” Lucien said, smiling at the young woman. It made Horatia’s chest ache. Something felt wrong. It felt…it felt hard to breathe.

  “My lord, how nice to see you.” Miss Burns smiled back. Lucien’s grip on Horatia’s little hand loosened.

  An overwhelming sense of dread flooded through her. Her instincts screamed that this wasn’t right.

  “Er, you ought to go on ahead, Horatia. I’m sure the other children are looking for you.” He released her hand and gave her a brotherly pat on the head, sealing her fate. He might as well have slapped her, for all the pain his disinterested dismissal gave her.

  “Yes, do go off and play,” Miss Burns said before turning her wide smile back to Lucien who joined her on the bench.

  Horatia felt as though a rug had been pulled out from under her. Lucien was no longer paying any attention to her, however. He reached over and put his hand on one of Miss Burns’s, the pad of his thumb stroking her wrist slowly. Miss Burns blushed and giggled.

  Horatia fled.

  Another moment of that and she was certain she would die.

  She ran so frantically that she didn’t watch where she was going and crashed into Lady Rochester. The lovely matron caught Horatia’s chin and turned her face up.

  “Whatever is the matter, dear?” she asked.

  Horatia was nearly on the verge of tears. “It’s nothing,” she gasped, trying to breathe.

  “It is most certainly not that. Now tell me what’s upset you. It must be something serious if a well-possessed young lady such as you is distressed.” Lady Rochester had always been so kind to her and Audrey. It was as though she knew she couldn’t replace Horatia’s mother but had tried to anyway, and Horatia loved her for that.

  “It is Miss Burns. I cannot stand her. And he likes her!” There didn’t seem to be any clearer way to put it.

  “By he, you mean Lucien?” Lady Rochester asked.

  Horatia managed a shaky nod. “He’s with her right now. They were holding hands.”

  Lady Rochester’s eyebrows rose. “Are they? Oh dear. Well, we can’t have that.”

  “What?” Horatia hadn’t expected that from Lady Rochester. Miss Burns was her guest after all.

  “We cannot allow Lucien to get involved with her sort. That will not do.”

  “Her sort?” Horatia repeated dumbly. Was she secretly from a common background? Or worse, French?

  Lady Rochester sighed and took Horatia’s hand.

  “Miss Burns is pretty, wealthy and accomplished, but she’s not a good woman. I am friends with her mother, but her? I do not want her as my daughter-in-law. She despises children. I once saw her twist Linus’s arm to get him to behave. There is discipline and there is abuse and being a good parent is knowing the difference. I shudder to think what my grandchildren would suffer at her hands. That is why we must stop them.”

  “We’re going to stop them?” Horatia asked, hope rising in her chest.

  “Of course we are. My son is too blinded by Miss Burns’s charms to know the needs of his heart.”

  “How?” Horatia was serious now. Lucien was the need of her heart and she would do anything to protect him from such a horrible woman.

  “I don’t know. We’ll have to think of something. Now dry your eyes, there’s a good girl, and go find the others. I am sure that Linus and Audrey are up to no good. I expect you to prevent any mischief they have planned.” Lady Rochester smiled at her, always treating her like the adult she wished she was.

  Horatia once more entered the gardens and avoided the path that would lead her back to where Lucien and Miss Burns were sitting. Eventually she came upon a white painted gazebo adorned with a rose covered trellis on one side. Marring the scene of bliss was a little boy near her age and half her maturity. Linus. He was climbing up the trellis with a large metal pail of water. It sloshed as he scrambled up to the gazebo roof and out of sight. Audrey was at the bottom of the trellis waiting for him to return. Her white apron was covered in dirt and her cheeks were rosy as she watched the champion of mischief climb back down.

  “Linus, what are you doing?” Horatia demanded.

  Linus laughed. “We’re going to drop these pails of w
ater on the next person who comes into the gazebo.” His tone was haughty as he showed off the second bucket he held.

  “You will not. Your mother told me to put a stop to whatever mischief you were up to. Now get back up there and take that other bucket down.” Horatia stamped her foot.

  “No. You do it,” he challenged. “Unless you’re scared.”

  “Fine. I will.” Horatia stormed past him and started up the trellis. “Both of you, back to the house.” She slipped a few times, getting cuts and scrapes on her hands where thorns bit into her skin. She was nearly to the top when she heard voices. Linus and Audrey stuck their tongues out and ran off, abandoning her to whoever was coming her way. She would get in trouble for climbing up here, even if she was trying to foil Linus’s sinister plot. Better to hide. She scaled the last few inches onto the roof. The pail of water was near the hole in the middle of the roof. Horatia saw Lucien and Miss Burns approach the gazebo and come fully inside until they were in its center directly below her. Horatia held her breath, afraid to move in case they heard her.

  “Miss Burns, may I ask something?” Lucien began.

  “Yes,” Miss Burns’s melodious voice answered back. Horatia watched the scene unfold with a mixture of horror and revulsion.

  “We’ve known each other for two months and I’ve grown fond of our times together. As improper as it is to ask you without first speaking to your father, would you consider marrying me?”

  Horatia knew Lucien must have been giving Miss Burns one of his most handsome smiles.

  “You wish to marry me?” was Miss Burns’s not-so surprised reply.

  Horatia thrust a fist into her mouth to keep from screaming. He couldn’t marry her, he just couldn’t! He had to be stopped from making a mistake. Horatia grabbed the pail of water and tipped it over. The water sluiced down in a messy waterfall over Miss Burns’s head. Then, unable to stop herself, she dropped the bucket down the hole as well. By God or the devil’s grace it landed on her perfectly, fitting her like a medieval helmet.