Rogue for Hire

by Sasha Cottman

  Why couldn’t you have fallen for a nice noble or at least a war hero? Anyone but him.

  She could just imagine the look of abject horror on their mother’s face if she was to witness her youngest daughter making a fool of herself over the charming Mister Saint. Mrs. North was all for her daughters living their own lives, but even she had her limits.

  Pity those boundaries didn’t stop you and Papa disappearing to Paris for three months.

  “I’m coming,” Alice replied.

  After picking up her shawl, Alice draped it over her arm and hurried out of her bedroom. Downstairs, her sister paced back and forth. The moment Alice set foot on the ground floor, Patience took a firm hold of her arm and verily dragged her out the front door and into Mortimer Street.

  “What is your hurry?” she pleaded.

  An annoying grin appeared on Patience’s face, and Alice immediately gritted her teeth. How many times had she seen that smile in the weeks since Cuthbert had sunk his claws into the youngest of the North siblings?

  “Cuthbert said he is arriving early this evening. He wants to spend as much time as possible with me. He is even going to mark my dance card; can you believe it?” she said.

  Oh yes, I can believe it. I expect he has plenty of plans to mark other parts of you as well, the dirty swine. Patience, how can you not see beyond his easy smile?

  A footman assisted them both into the North family carriage. While Patience prattled on about the wonders of her handsome beau, Alice took the time to check that there were no stray pieces of lint on her dark grey gown. Flecks always showed up on the fabric.

  Not exactly a green-and-yellow-floral gown. Nor is it accessorized with a piglet. I wonder what Lord Harry will make of it.

  Not that she particularly cared what Harry Steele thought of her attire, but it was always nice to receive an approving glance from a gentleman. There were men within the ton who appreciated a well-made garment, and the modiste which her father’s vast wealth afforded them was one of London’s finest.

  “Oh, I meant to tell you. A letter arrived from Ireland this morning,” said Patience.

  Alice stopped picking at her skirts and glared at her sister. The only person they knew in Ireland was their wastrel of a brother, Finn, who had bolted from the family home within days of their parents leaving for the continent.

  “Why did you wait until now to tell me?” asked Alice.

  Tears welled in Patience’s eyes.

  Oh, heaven help me. Don’t become a watering pot when we are almost at the ball.

  “I was going to tell you, but I knew you would get mad. When you came home from wherever you had been this morning, you were in such a foul temper. I didn’t want to add to your problems.”

  Alice took in a long, deep breath, trying her best to find her calm. “What did Finn’s letter say?”

  Patience dabbed at her face with her handkerchief but wouldn’t meet Alice’s eyes. If their brother intended to extend his impromptu journey to Ireland, she was going to kill him. So much for promising their parents that he would act as chaperone to his sisters during their absence.

  “He said he was going to travel to Wexford to view some more horses.”

  Alice waited. There had to be more to Finn’s note than that. Her brother was nothing if not predictable. He was also one hundred percent unreliable.

  Is that a thing? Being reliably unreliable?

  “What else did his letter say?” Alice leaned across the narrow carriage space and placed her hand on Patience’s arm, giving it an encouraging rub. Her sister finally glanced her way.

  “He has met someone. The daughter of a local landowner. Finn fancies himself in love and has vowed not to return to England until he has made her his wife.”

  Alice’s hand slipped and it smacked against the leather of the carriage seat. With her head bowed, she let her fingers continue to tap while she tried to absorb this latest piece of unfortunate news.

  With Finn remaining in Ireland, she was condemned to handle the growing disaster of her sister’s foolish heart all on her own.

  Why am I the only North sibling not under Cupid’s spell?

  The carriage finally turned into Green Street and pulled up out the front of Ashton House. With a heavy heart, Alice alighted and stood on the pavement. While she waited for Patience, she pondered a dark question.

  Just how long would it take for her sister to forgive her if she happened to accidently put a bullet into Cuthbert Saint? Shooting him a second time might, however, be a little difficult to explain.

  I am sorely tempted.

  When she caught a glimpse of the happiness which radiated on Patience’s face, Alice put all notions of villainy aside. That look told her all she needed to know. The only way that the North family was going to be rid of Mister Saint was by managing to unveil his true nature. For her to break her sister’s heart.

  As she followed a hurrying Patience up the front steps of Ashton House, Alice began to pray.

  Please, dear lord, let Harry Steele be here tonight, and let him live up to his secret reputation. I don’t know what I will do if he fails me.

  CHAPTER 4

  LORD AND LADY ASHTON’S elegant mansion was the usual crush of people, but within seconds of their arrival, Cuthbert Saint had managed to locate the North sisters and was making his regular play. He bowed low to Alice, and she offered him a tight smile in reply.

  When he turned his attention to Patience and gifted her with a heart-stopping smile, a tide of nausea rose in Alice’s stomach. The man was so much like pond slime, she couldn’t bear it.

  Still, she had to give Cuthbert his dues. He was immaculately turned out, his jet-black hair perfectly oiled. The cut of his evening suit was so sharp, Alice was certain she would bleed if she touched it.

  Why did you have to be so damn handsome? A flaw of any sort would be nice—just something I can highlight with Patience.

  “Mister Saint, how wonderful to see you here this evening,” gushed Patience.

  “It is such an unexpected delight,” he replied.

  Even his voice is silken. Patience never stood a chance.

  Cuthbert offered Patience his arm and led her away, leaving Alice standing alone and pondering further dire options. She was still considering whether it was worth the coin to hire a couple of thugs to pay him a visit when a loud cheer erupted close to the entrance to the main ballroom.

  Alice turned as a large section of the crowd divided down the middle and a now familiar figure strode into the room. Men and women smiled and applauded alike at Lord Harry Steele. Fans and eyelashes were fluttered in his direction. Several women swooned.

  Harry held out his arms and accepted their adulation. His gold walking stick was borne aloft like he was a biblical prophet.

  “Gosh. Moses didn’t get that good a reception when he parted the Red Sea, and he destroyed Pharaoh’s army at the same time,” she muttered.

  To be fair, Alice didn’t think Moses had ever worn a pure white suit. Nor a bright red codpiece. He most definitely hadn’t sported a silver tiara. Harry’s outfit was a riot of mismatched eccentricity.

  And yet he wore it so well.

  Other guests clamored for his attention. Hands were thrust out for shaking. Numerous glasses of champagne were quickly offered. Women dipped into low curtsies, the kind that allowed a man a good look at their breasts if he was so inclined.

  Harry rewarded them all with a beaming smile. Talk about making an entrance.

  And then his gaze met hers and Alice’s heart stopped.

  EXCELLENT. She was here. If Miss Alice North had not come to the Ashtons’ ball tonight, all the hours Harry had dedicated to selecting an outfit and dressing for the party would have gone to waste.

  She was wearing a shocked and thoroughly disapproving look. Brilliant. The outrageous outfit had worked.

  What better way to have London thinking he was a brainless peacock than to dress and act like one in public? He was more than happy to let
people believe that they were superior to him and his dandyish lifestyle. Those who were gushing all over him as he made his grand entrance were also the ones who would be making snide remarks about him behind his back, the second he was out of earshot.

  And yet one by one, as scandals touched their lives, they would seek him out and pay for his assistance.

  Harry wasn’t the least fazed by their insincere behavior; he was counting on it. He was a master at being a chameleon. His father’s library had contained many books, and the hours he had spent studying them meant he was well aware that the most dangerous creatures on earth were those who dazzled their victims just before they struck.

  Waving the rest of his disingenuous fans away, Harry made a beeline for the corner where Miss Alice North lurked. He gave a deliberate sexy sway of his hips and her eyes immediately grew wide.

  You are so easy to tease and tempt. If you weren’t a client, I would love to . . . hmm.

  He stopped a few feet away and bowed. “Miss North, what a pleasure,” he all but purred.

  Her gaze roamed slowly over his body. Harry opened his white jacket, showing off the gold lining, inviting her perusal. She might well be doing her utmost to look aghast at his attire, but he caught the telltale signs that she liked what she saw. The mere glint in her eyes. The hand she held softly to her chest. And the tongue that moistened her bottom lip. Oh. Yes.

  “Lord Steele,” she said.

  Harry frowned. “No. Please. My friends call me Harry. We cannot be so formal with one another.”

  He had her money, and in his book, anyone who gave him cash was counted as a friend.

  “Harry.” She accepted his offered arm and he led her out of the corner and to a private alcove away from the crush of guests. Even as she took a seat on a cream sofa, her gaze remained fixed on his outfit.

  I knew the tiara was the right choice.

  His sparkling costume was a stark contrast to her attire. He didn’t even want to consider the dull, dark grey of Alice’s gown. He could see what she had been trying to achieve—the blank-canvas look—but all it did was make him feel sorry for her.

  Is pity a color?

  Resisting the temptation to sit close to her, Harry took up a seat at the end of the sofa and kept a respectable distance between them. Alice was wringing her hands in an obvious display of discomfort. “I . . . I’m not sure if you are the man for the job,” she said.

  He let out a long, seductive sigh. In every contract, there came a time when his clients panicked. When they truly believed that the sum of all he was amounted to what they beheld with their eyes. This moment was always heavily pregnant with risk.

  He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “But if I do that, your sweet sister will end up marrying that scoundrel. You owe it to her and your family to use all means necessary to stop that happening. And that includes trusting me.”

  The seriousness of his tone seemed to have the desired effect. Alice screwed her eyes shut and clenched her lips between her teeth. Harry always hated this part. When he had to break his clients down in order to help rebuild them and gain their trust.

  “You think me a fool, but I promise I will save Patience. From my initial investigations, your instincts about Cuthbert Saint appear to be sound. But before I go into that, I need to ask you some questions,” he said.

  She frowned at him. “What sort of questions?”

  “Well for a start, where the devil are your parents? They can’t be blind as to what is happening. But probably of even greater importance is the question of how far you are prepared to go in order to help your sister.”

  If it came to it, would Alice be prepared to hold a pistol and point it at Cuthbert Saint?

  CHAPTER 5

  ALICE COULD JUST IMAGINE how this all looked to Harry. She came from new money. Established London society tended to hold an unfavorable opinion of her people. It was said that people who had made their money in trade had nice houses and good clothes, but no common sense or breeding.

  Her folk didn’t lack breeding; they had been landed gentry sometime in the dim and distant past. The North family had fallen on hard times only to resurrect their fortunes through trade with the colonies. Her father could buy most of the assembled guests here several times over and have change in his pocket.

  And they would still look down on him.

  Unfortunately, the gibe about a lack of common sense was a little more accurate. Her parents had raised their children in a free-living household. They had been allowed to choose their own bedtimes from an early age. Few restrictions had been placed on any of the North siblings as they grew up. And at times, it showed.

  But even her parents would draw the line at Patience marrying a fortune hunter.

  “You mean why haven’t Mama and Papa put a stop to all this nonsense? They are somewhere in France. They are not expected back in England until Christmas at the earliest. I cannot wait to do something until they return, because I fear by then it will all be too late,” she replied.

  She could just imagine what Harry was thinking right this very minute. What kind of parents trotted off to Europe and left their unwed daughters behind? The reckless kind.

  But she wasn’t paying him to pass judgement on her family. Harry had a task, and if he wasn’t up to it, then he had better say so.

  He slowly shook his head. “And I thought my family were a disaster. My mother subscribed to the same sort of madness for a time. She got mixed up with the Cavendish crowd who tended to let their offspring run wild. Fortunately, my father finally saw sense and put his foot down.”

  “I wouldn’t say my parents have raised us in complete chaos. They have just allowed us to make our own mistakes and learn from them.”

  I can’t believe I am having to defend my family to a man wearing a red codpiece and a tiara.

  Harry brushed a hand over Alice’s cheek. She held her breath. He was the strangest creature she had ever met, but there was something about him which drew her in. If handsome men like Cuthbert Saint were Patience’s weakness, perhaps interesting and slightly oddball chaps like Harry Steele were hers.

  He wagged a ring-laden finger in her direction, disapproval evident in his voice. “But you are not prepared to let your sister make her own mistake when it comes to Mister Saint. So, what you are saying is that your free spirit only goes so far. Considering your own propensity to wander the streets of London on your own, some may suggest that your attitude could be construed as more than a little hypocritical.”

  She shot him a hard glare. “Others may say that of me, but I don’t care. You know as well as I do that marriage is a mistake which cannot be easily erased if one does not choose their life partner wisely,” she bit back.

  A shrewd smile crept to his lips. Damn him. He was testing her. Alice wanted nothing more than to grab a hold of Harry’s beautifully constructed suit and crush it in her hands. And then bludgeon him with his walking stick. Condescending, self-assured rogue.

  “Good. Then you have the right mindset for what needs to be done,” he replied.

  She blinked at him. He was agreeing with her. She hadn’t seen that coming. “What sort of mindset?”

  “One that is capable of making hard decisions. We need to rid your sister of Cuthbert Saint, or whatever his real name is, because I would have a guinea on him not being any sort of saint.”

  It was a struggle to keep up with Harry. One minute, he was all light and ridiculousness. The next, he was planning a war strategy.

  “What do you know about him?” she asked.

  “A little. I have my contacts checking the rest of his supposed life story. According to my sources, he claims to have attended Eton and also worked somewhere in a government ministry. It shouldn’t be too big a task to get to the truth of his history, after which we can pull on the loose threads and see which ones begin to unravel.”

  He waved over a passing footman and collected them both a glass of champagne. Alice stared at hers, unsure as to whether it
was wise to drink it. Patience and Cuthbert had already disappeared from the ballroom and she should make an effort to track them down.

  Her gaze searched the immediate area, but they were too far out of the way for her to get any real idea as to who was in the room. She went to rise.

  “I must go and find them. Lord knows where they are.”

  He took her gently by the arm and pulled her back onto the sofa. “Drink your champagne and try to relax. I have several people watching them. The minute Cuthbert makes a move to whisk your sister into a dark corner of the garden, he will find himself in the company of new and rather insistent friends.”

  “How did you manage that?”

  “I made a grand entrance just now, but I actually arrived some time ago, and while swathed in a black hooded cloak and staying out of sight, I observed Mister Saint.”

  She bit back tears and whispered, “Thank you.” Finally, someone was on her side. The spark of hope which lit her heart almost made Alice giddy.

  At times, it was like she was alone in being the only sensible one in her family—never more so than in the current circumstances. Her parents were several hundred miles away, her brother somewhere loose in Ireland, and as for her sister . . .

  Alice was beginning to get a sense of Harry. The man behind the showy exterior. One who, it would seem, was in possession of a sharp mind. It was comforting to know that she had underestimated him.

  Perhaps you are the man for the job.

  He sipped at his champagne. From the way he barely drank any of it, Alice could tell he didn’t particularly like the bubbles.

  When their gazes met, he raised an eyebrow. “If I drink sensible, manly spirits like brandy or whisky in public, it makes me appear too much like other men. I expect you have already perceived that my intent is to stand apart from them. For people to find me a source of interest and amusement.”

  She nodded. “Yes, I had gathered that. I also think you do it deliberately as a sleight-of-hand. People think one thing of you while you are doing something else entirely. It is a clever trick.”