Rogue for Hire

by Sasha Cottman

  The task was, however, made a little easier by the wonder of his light-green eyes. They held all the promise of a lush meadow on a summer’s day. Well, except for the red rim around the edges that did him no favors.

  He finally looked at the pig, softly chuckling while he gave the animal a friendly pat. Bending, he set the piglet gently on the floor and it scampered away.

  “Lord Harry Steele at your service. Miss . . . what was your bloody name again?” he asked, thrusting out a hand.

  “Miss Alice North,” she ground out.

  Lord Harry Steele? Oh no, I’ve heard of him. He is a scandalous disgrace.

  Little wonder the contract she had signed hadn’t mentioned him specifically by name—rather it had only referred to him as being the party of the first and her as the party of the second.

  I am an utter fool.

  Alice took a hold of his offered appendage and gave it a hard squeeze. If nothing else, this pompous ass would remember her when she was gone. She was already making plans to forget this morning.

  What a pity it was him. There goes that small ray of hope. Now I will have to look for another way to deal with this mess.

  Lord Steele was busily wincing over his crushed fingers and barely managed a nod in response. When Alice finally released him from her vise-like grip, he studied his hand.

  “That’s a good shake you have there, Miss North. Remind me not to get on your bad side,” he said.

  Alice finally saw an opening. “Actually, you are already in my black book. Your butler is unbelievably rude, and you, Lord Steele, have a good deal of my money.”

  All humor disappeared from his face. Her father was big in trade and always talked about the ‘aha’ moment in contract negotiations. The point where the other party finally understood that you were deadly serious and were done with bandying words and dealing.

  Money always speaks loudest.

  “You have paid me a retainer?” he replied.

  “Yes. And to use your uncouth language, a bloody big one. I came here today because apart from receiving your business card, I haven’t heard a thing since my footman delivered the money and the signed contract to number eighty-two Gracechurch Street three days ago.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Impatient little minx, aren’t you?”

  “Say what you want, Lord Steele, but time is not something I have in abundance,” she bit back.

  He winced. “Oh, no. Please don’t tell me you are pregnant.”

  Alice’s eyes went wide and her mouth fell open in shock. “What? How dare you. I mean, you . . .”

  He waved her protests away as if asking an unmarried woman about an inconvenient pregnancy was something, he did every other day. She had a horrid feeling that it probably was.

  “Good. Though if you were knocked up, I would have expected you to have dissolved into tears the second you laid eyes on me. Believe me, Miss North, I can deal with most scandals, but unwanted by-blows are the worst. I cannot begin to tell you how many times I have had to hold a pistol to the head of a reluctant father-to-be in order to convince him of the need for a speedy wedding,” he replied.

  “Lord Steele, I assure you I am not in the family way,” she replied.

  “Harry. Only those trying to curry favor with my father call me Lord Steele. Not that it does them any good. I couldn’t be further from the Duke of Redditch’s purse if I tried.”

  His father was a duke and yet he was handling people’s scandals for money; what sort of reprobate had she given her precious funds over to?

  Harry stepped forward and took hold of Alice’s hand. He slipped the glove from her fingers, then bent and placed a soft, warm kiss on her fingertips. A shiver raced down her spine.

  “I have come about my sister, Patience. I am certain I made that clear in the note I sent along with the money and paperwork,” she said, trying to maintain her focus.

  When he lifted his head and their gazes met once more, he gave her a gentle smile. “My apologies. While I may appear to be a tad flippant, I can assure you that I looked into your case. The fact that you have my card with my home address on it proves that I am serious about this matter. These things often take a little time at the outset, hence my lack of communication.”

  I don’t suppose you getting blind drunk had anything to do with it. What have I signed myself up for?

  With a flourish, he handed her the glove. “Now, I have it on good authority that you will be at Viscount and Lady Ashton’s ball this evening, as will your darling sister, Patience,” he announced.

  His words left her stunned. The decision to attend the ball had only been made late the previous evening, the formal RSVP having been sent just before Alice left home.

  “How on earth did you discover our plans for tonight?” she asked.

  Who is this Lord Harry Steele?

  She got the merest hint of a raised eyebrow in response to her question. Alice found herself challenging her first take on him. For all his eccentric behavior, it would appear that there was a good deal more to this man than floral garments and piglets.

  “I shall be at the ball tonight. I need to observe your sister and this blackguard in action.”

  “But you don’t know that Cuthbert Saint will be in attendance,” she replied.

  “If he is the sort of man, I suspect he is, Miss North, he won’t waste the opportunity. Until then.” He released her hand and stepped back.

  Alice stood dumbfounded as Harry bent at the waist, bowed to her, then righted himself and walked straight out of the room.

  He called to the piglet as he left. “Come, Milton. Let us seek our breakfast.”

  Alice was still pondering the events of the past half hour when the butler reappeared and announced that her audience with Lord Steele was at an end.

  Once downstairs, he opened the front door and gently pushed her out into Grosvenor Street. As he put his hand on the small of her back, he leaned in. “Next time send a footman ahead and announce your visit. There’s a good girl.”

  Alice went to protest his outright rudeness but found the door swiftly and most firmly shut behind her.

  She headed toward the waiting North family carriage, the weight of the world on her shoulders. The temptation to break down and cry was there, but she stubbornly resisted. Lord Harry Steele had been her last faint hope to save her sister from the clutches of an unashamed fortune hunter.

  Damn. Blast. And double bloody . . .

  But instead of meeting a mystery man of the world who would give her valuable advice and guidance, she had spent five minutes with London’s foremost peacock. Someone with a reputation as a drunkard and a dandy—a cautionary tale. A man whose own father had apparently disowned him.

  And yet he knew you were going to the Ashtons’ ball tonight.

  After climbing into the carriage, Alice found herself looking out the window and staring at the second floor of number sixteen. She caught a glimpse of Harry framed by the red drapes. He gave her a wave.

  The man was odd, unashamedly rude, but also fascinatingly attractive. Especially those green eyes. There was something special about Harry Steele.

  As the carriage pulled out into the street, Alice’s gaze remained fixed on the house. Could he be the answer to her prayers?

  I have a horrid feeling I may come to regret this, but I am beyond desperate.

  The truth was, as long as Lord Harry Steele was better at managing scandals than he was at choosing his attire, she didn’t particularly care how he went about things.

  If Harry could save her sister, Alice would follow him to the gates of hell.

  CHAPTER 2

  HARRY FINISHED off the last of his smoked salmon and pushed back from the table. Breakfast was always his favorite meal of the day. There was nothing better to settle his stomach and throbbing head than a hearty plate of food.

  He rose, leaving Milton to finish his own platter of vegetables and softened grains on the floor of dining room. People may say what they wanted about
pigs, but Harry had often found them to be in possession of better table manners than many of his peers. And they were most studious about being clean.

  After heading to the main drawing room, feeling slightly more human, he opened the rest of the curtains and let the late morning sun into the room. He tied the drapes back and tidied the ends.

  It was early December, and any hours where sunshine warmed the house were welcome. Winter was fast closing in and soon it would be dark days and biting cold. Harry loathed winter.

  Sir Stephen Moore was lounging on the purple sofa, his head back, eyes partially closed. “You really do make a fetching housemaid. Let me know when you are going to clean out the fire grate. It could be entertaining.”

  Harry gave the cold, dead fire one resigned look and sighed. The housekeeper only came every other morning, which meant that unless he got on his knees and cleaned out the fire, he would have to suffer a chilly house for the rest of the day.

  At least Cook comes each day to feed us.

  “Yes, well, you didn’t help my financial situation by playing the uptight, rod-up-his-arse butler. You are supposed to be gracious and polite to my clients, not treat them like last week’s smelly fish. Leaving Miss North in the foyer was beneath even you,” said Harry.

  Harry would dearly love a small retinue of servants. Or at least enough money in his bank account to be able to consider employing one or two on a full-time basis.

  All his hard-earned coin currently went into the upkeep of the house and paying for his share of the coaching business which he, along with Stephen and the others, were still trying to get established.

  He glanced at his dressing gown and frowned. Fashion was his only real vice. It was also the perfect cover for his money-making endeavors. Few people, other than his closest friends and some of his clients, knew the truth of what lay hidden behind Harry’s outrageous peacock act.

  And since all his clients had their own dirty little scandals which they badly wanted kept hidden, there was little to no risk of anyone daring to spill Harry’s or anyone else’s secrets to the world. London society was a cesspit of wicked behavior and double standards.

  Stephen sat up in the chair as Milton trotted into the room and made a beeline for the sofa. He scooped up the piglet and placed him in a sunny spot on a cushion. “So, what did your pretty little client want? Whatever it is, she must be desperate. She stuck around even after I left her standing in the foyer.”

  Yes, she was rather fetching, come to think of it.

  Her pale blonde hair had matched her dark lemon gown perfectly. Not to mention those hazel eyes which had held his gaze and challenged him. She intrigued him. Not many women did.

  “What did she want? The usual. A family scandal that needs to be managed before it gets legs. A younger sister in peril,” Harry replied.

  She hadn’t held back on him. Alice North was not going to be one of those clients who merely handed over money and then didn’t want to know anything else until the job was done. He was going to be held accountable by the tempting chit.

  This could be a fun challenge. She is more than pretty; the girl has spine. Dare I say, a certain je ne sais quoi.

  He made a mental note to keep Stephen as far away from Alice as possible. If anyone was going to form a bond with her, it would be him. Mixing business with pleasure was always risky, but there was something about Miss North which had him intrigued. Tempted even.

  I wonder what Miss North will be wearing this evening. One could hope for something daring. Those breasts of hers could look a wonder in a tight bodice.

  But if Harry knew anything, he knew people. If Alice was playing the role of big sister and doing her all to defend her younger sibling, she wouldn’t dare come to a major social event in anything that drew attention. He would have a pound bet on Miss North wearing a plain gown, possibly cream. Something that would allow her to blend in with the crowd.

  He crossed the lushly carpeted drawing room to his writing desk. He wasn’t one for having a separate formal study; those rooms reminded him too much of his stiff, stoic father. And extra rooms had to be heated. Anywhere that he could save a coin was worth it. Paying his share of the RR Coaching Company seed money was a constant battle.

  “Miss Alice North has a sister. Patience is her name, but apparently not her virtue. From what I understand, she has fallen under the spell of a money-hungry blackguard whom her sister fears will talk her into eloping with him,” said Harry.

  When Stephen sighed, Harry slowly nodded. People were such clichés.

  “I know. Eloping to Gretna Green is so passé. Dare one say it borders on gauche,” he added.

  On the sofa, a contented Milton rolled over and presented his belly to Stephen, who began to gently rub the soft bristles on the piglet’s skin. Little oinks hummed in the room.

  “What happened to making the effort to get in an old man’s favor? Chaps these days are far too eager to turn their horses’ heads north and make for Scotland rather than endure endless meetings with their future fathers-in-law,” said Stephen.

  “Yes, well, it is the fashion. Quick and easy. But even if this unscrupulous beast Cuthbert Saint makes it all the way to the border with the younger North sister, he won’t find anyone willing to perform the marriage service for them,” he replied.

  He pulled out a plain brown folio and opened it. He perused it for a moment, before closing it again. At this early stage of the contract, he had little information to work with, but he had put in place the usual measures.

  After receiving instructions from Alice North, along with his retainer, the first thing Harry had done was to send his own man to Gretna Green in Scotland. A handful of bribes would ensure that Miss Patience North and her prospective groom wouldn’t be able to wed if they sought to marry outside the rules of English law.

  “It may sound callous of me, but isn’t the North family new money? I mean, sometimes these people don’t seem to understand how polite society works. Take how your client arrived this morning; I can’t imagine your sister or mine, if I had one, being allowed to wander the streets of London without at least a maid and a burly footman in tow,” said Stephen.

  “Yes, Gordon North made his money in textiles and shipping. Damn near as rich as Croesus if any of the rumors are to be believed,” replied Harry.

  Though his friend did have a point about the behavior of Miss Alice North. What business did she have in calling on someone like him without at least a chaperone? From where he came, it simply wouldn’t stand. Young women of rank and high birth wouldn’t dare do such a thing. His sister, Lady Naomi, never left the house without a trail of servants following her.

  Stephen stopped petting Milton and leaned over to pick up a bottle of brandy from a side table. He held it up, but Harry shook his head. “Not at this hour. In fact, I think I might need to give the brandy and whisky a bit of a rest. I have a sneaking suspicion that I am going to have to get my hands dirty with this job,” replied Harry.

  The last thing he needed was to be deep in his cups when the occasion called for the use of his fists, or worse, a pistol. He might well be considered somewhat of a fop by much of the ton, but Harry had never let a client down yet. And he wasn’t about to start.

  “What else are you planning? A well-placed threat perhaps? I do find them quite effective,” said Stephen.

  I have a feeling this blackguard won’t flinch if threatened. He has too much to lose if he backs off.

  Harry sauntered over to the window. His head was now clear enough that he could risk looking out into the brightness of the mid-morning. On the street below, people moved up and down Grosvenor Street.

  At least the weather is pleasant for seeing Mama at luncheon today.

  His weekly catch-up with his mother in town was the highlight of his week. He might not be able to visit his family home but seeing her gave him hope for some reconciliation in the future.

  “I’m not sure on the warning shot across his bow. I think a spot of re
connaissance is in order first. I want to get the measure of this Saint chap and to discover just how much of a hold he has over Miss Patience North. If she is but a passing fancy, a quiet word in his ear might well suffice.”

  Stephen poured himself a generous glass of brandy, then sat back. Harry didn’t need to hear what his friend was likely thinking. Fortune hunters came in all forms, some downright dangerous. But they all shared the one attribute—dogged persistence. The minute they got a whiff of a pound note, the game was on.

  “Let me know if you require a late-night roughing up of this blackguard. I am always available,” replied Stephen.

  “I am expecting an update from my spies at some point today, and then this evening, I shall head to Viscount Ashton’s ball and get a good look at the situation for myself. I also want to have a longer conversation with Miss Alice North. There are a number of important questions for which I need answers from her.”

  “Such as?”

  Harry turned from the window. “Well, for a start, there is the most obvious one, why the hell is an unmarried young woman having to ward off a possible family scandal? The second being, just how far is she prepared to go?”

  Handing over her papa’s hard-earned cash was one thing, but if they were going to get Cuthbert Saint out of the picture, Miss Alice North might have to step up to the mark.

  She may have the spine for dealing with rude nobles, but when push came to shove, would she have the stomach for standing beside him and confronting a desperate man?

  Hmm. I have a feeling my Alice might just have that sort of fortitude.

  He could only hope that things would not get so bad as to have to put his client in danger.

  CHAPTER 3

  “OH, do come on, Alice. We will be late,” moaned Patience.

  Alice had dragged her heels for as long as she could, but there was no delaying the inevitable. Patience was determined to attend the ball and be seen on the arm of Cuthbert Saint.