Meddle in a Marquess’s Affairs
How to Reform a Rake
Tammy Andresen
Copyright © 2019 by Tammy Andresen
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
How to Reform a Rake
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
Never Trust an Errant Earl
Other Titles by Tammy Andresen
About the Author
How to Reform a Rake
Dear Reader,
Meddle in a Marquess’ Affairs is a standalone romance that is the second of five books in a series. Your reading experience, however, would be enhanced if you first read the FREE prologue to the series, How to Reform a Rake. Not only is it a quick, fun read but it will give you tantalizing insight into Rex and Camille’s story.
All my love,
Tammy
Chapter One
Lord Reginald Baluster, Marquess of Highwater, sat in the overstuffed chair of the public gentlemen’s club wondering for the fifth time in as many minutes why in the bloody hell Max had dragged him here. “Are you going to tell me what we’re doing, Your Grace?”
Max Longley ignored the question, not even looking at Rex. His gaze was trained across the room at the door. Damn dukes. Thought they could boss everyone around all the time. He started to get up but Max waved him back into his seat. “That’s him.”
“Who?” Rex asked, narrowing his gaze to the group of men who’d just entered the club.
“See the one on the left? Tall and handsome, dressed like a damned dandy.” Max jerked his chin toward the group.
Rex saw him all right. He looked like the sort of bugger who deserved a good smack upside the noggin. “What about him?”
“We’re going to wait for him to get drunk and then we’re going to mash him into a bloody pulp on the street.”
“Why didn’t you say so?” Rex grinned. His past was a great deal more colorful than any of his friends. He hadn’t been raised among the peerage and had inherited his title by mere chance after growing up in one of London’s most notoriously rough districts. Which made him an excellent scrapper. He bore the scars in various places on his body. Not that he fought that much these days. Honestly, his rough features and large frame were fierce enough that most men cut him a wide path. He was well over six feet and thickly muscled.
Max looked away from the other man to give him a withering glare. “I just did.”
Rex chuckled. “I know now why you asked me to come. If there is one thing I’m capable of, it’s turning a man bloody.”
“You are.” Max had gone back to watching the man who was crossing the room toward them. “It’s one of my favorite qualities about you.”
“But what I don’t understand is why you want to pummel a man at all. It isn’t like you.”
“That man hurt Lily. He’s going to pay.” Max’s mouth drew taut, his features becoming a hard mask.
Ah…that explained everything. His friend had recently fallen in love and gotten married. Not that Lily Ducat needed much protection as far as Rex was concerned. The few times he’d met her, she’d scared the bloody piss right out of him.
It wasn’t her physicality. She was a beautifully sweet little brunette. No wonder his friend had fallen so hard. Nor was it her demeanor. Quiet and kind, she loved Max the way he deserved and had waited a lifetime for.
Nope, she didn’t need help. Not when she made him quake in his boots because she had looked into his eyes and seen right through him and his marquess façade. “What did this dandy do?” Rex asked, trying to focus on the situation at hand rather than the much larger problem he faced.
Max drew in a deep breath, filling his lungs and expanding his chest. “He attacked her.”
Bloody hell. He sucked in his breath and ran his hands through his overlong hair. It was a habit he’d developed as a reminder to himself. It wasn’t a style befitting his current station and it reminded him always where he had come from. “When?”
“Last spring. He was calling on one of her sisters when he found her reading in the garden. Since she was alone, he took the advantage and he tried to—” Max’s throat worked up and down as his fist clenched against his thigh.
“If that’s the case then I admire your restraint.” Rex would have patted Max’s arm if men did that sort of thing. They didn’t.
Max gave a stiff nod. “As soon as we can get him alone. We’re going to make him wish he was never born.”
That suited Rex just fine. He could use a good fight. Maybe pumping the blood through his veins would help him forget that damned night with the gypsy.
He’d had trouble with women before but not like this. First of all, trouble with ladies usually came after a man bedded them, but he hadn’t laid a finger on the gypsy and he never would. The thought made him shiver in revulsion.
No, instead, she’d given him a tarot card, which she’d claimed was an oath. That he was bound to try and collect a kiss from Lady Camille Ducat. He’d never even met Camille. What had happened to his life that women he didn’t know were causing such problems?
He’d thought it had sounded like fun, of course. All his friends had bet to kiss one of the Ducats. That was until Max had gone and married Lily Ducat. He’d fallen madly in love after that one little kiss. Made a man think. Maybe kissing beautiful debutantes was not the best practice. Especially when gypsy prophecies were involved.
If there was even a chance that the kiss could lead to marriage then he absolutely couldn’t take the chance.
He’d made a pact with himself to never marry. Not ever. His jaw clenched. He didn’t belong in the peerage and he wouldn’t create an heir. Let some other happenstance relative be tasked with the title’s continuation.
Max touched his coat pocket, rubbing his fingers against the fabric. “Do you think I’ll go to jail if I rip off any of his limbs?”
“We’d have to kill him and dispose of the body. We could toss it in the Thames.” He cleared his throat trying to quell his curiosity. “Why are you rubbing your coat pocket?”
Max reached inside and pulled out a colorful piece of cardstock. As he flipped it over for Rex to see, the picture of a Lily of the Valley made Rex suck in his breath. It was the tarot card the gypsy had given Max. He had a very similar card, only it held a chameleon. “It reminds me of her,” Max said softly. “I tried to give the card back to Vadoma, but she said I could keep it.”
Rex didn’t dare touch it; he hadn’t looked at his own card since he’d stuffed it into a drawer in his chambers. Somehow he thought if he ignored the card, the bet, the gypsy, then the entire ordeal would fade away as would the promise of a future. “Why would you want to hang onto the card?”
Max turned to him. “Lily is everything that’s right in this world and the card reminds me of that.”
Rex shook his head. In his experience, only money, whe
n a man had it, made the world bearable. The dandy passed by them and took a table just off to their right. “What’s his name?”
“Michael Ralston.” Max spit the name. “He’s got debtors all over town, which is likely why he’s been coming here instead of his usual club.”
“I could try to engage him in a game.” Rex leaned forward assessing the man. “Tell him I’ve heard of his reputation. That I want to play the best. Something like that.”
Max patted his shoulder and gave a low whistle. “I knew I brought you here for a reason. You’re damn good at this kind of thing.”
He flexed his fingers, attempting to relax. He imagined he was good at swindling other men. He’d stayed alive by convincing men to part with their coins. “You have to learn to swindle when you’re a street urchin,” Rex replied.
A dark glint flickered in Max’s eyes. “I forget that about you sometimes. That you weren’t born into this life.”
Rex shrugged. How could Max ever forget that? Rex rarely felt as though he belonged. He would think that would be obvious. He didn’t have the refined accent or looks of the other men. “Your man’s getting up and he looks like he’s in a hurry.”
“Damn it,” Max growled as Ralston began shuffling to the other side of the room, while looking repeatedly over his shoulder. A quick glance at the door revealed why. Three men had come in, their scruffy faces and threadbare jackets making them stand out from the rest of the crowd as they were headed straight for Ralston. “They’re going to knock the tar out of him before I get the chance.”
“What makes you so sure?” Rex was already standing. They were closer and could get to Ralston first if they started moving.
“They’re debt collectors.” Max quickly edged around tables to follow the other man.
“Sure you don’t want to let them?” Rex did the same just as Ralston disappeared through a doorway. Once a man started hurting others, it left a mark on his soul. Of all the scars he bore, the ones not seen on his body were the worst. The things he’d done… He didn’t deserve happiness and Max didn’t want to bear those types of black spots.
Max growled. “I’m going to take what he did out of his hide and he’s going to know the sin he’s paying for.”
Rex shook his head. He hoped no one ever beat his sins out of his skin. He wouldn’t have any flesh left.
They made it to the door, a back stairwell to the club, just in time to see Ralston disappear a floor below. Racing down the stairs, they shot out in the kitchen just as Ralston disappeared out into the alley.
Barreling through staff, they followed him out the door and Rex burst forward, knowing he had a better chance of catching the man than Max.
Ralston fumbled with his coat and then turned, firing a pistol in their direction. A pinch tugged at Rex’s side and he scrunched his brow, wondering what had just happened. But he paid it no mind as he kept running.
The door banged behind him and he turned to see who it was coming up on his rear but the motion of his head turning made the entire world spin in a most curious way. He stopped, blinking his eyes, trying to clear them.
Max stopped too, looking at him with wide eyes as the other three men ran past them.
“Heeee’sss getting aaawwwayy,” Was his voice slurring? Rex was having trouble understanding what was happening.
“Rex.” Max grabbed him by both arms. “You’ve been shot.”
He looked down to see his coat staining red. He brought his hand up to cover it and then winced at the pain that radiated through his side at the touch. “Bloody hell, I have.”
* * *
Camille sat in the window seat, which overlooked the London street below. Snow was packed in ruts from carriages and horses, growing sootier by the minute. It wasn’t a particularly nice view but she was doing her best to stay out of her sister’s way.
Lily was newly married and should be, by all accounts, spending time alone with her husband.
A lock of her blonde hair fell into her face as it often did. She angled her lips up to blow it out of the way as she tucked her fist under her chin. A few months ago, she’d been reasonably happy. She’d been engaged. Lord Michael Ralston had been charming, witty, and handsome. He’d come with a reputation as a rogue and in her heart she’d known that Michael was more interested in her dowry than her personal attributes but she’d been certain that, with time, he’d grow to care for her.
What a silly fool she’d been to think that she could reform his rakish ways.
When he’d attacked her sister, she’d ended the engagement and destroyed her reputation. She’d also killed any trust she had in herself. Who choose a man who attacked her sister?
Her breath caused the glass in front of her to fog and she reached up her hand to wipe it clean. Ending the engagement had only been the first in a series of errors. The most recent had been when Camille helped Lily run away with her duke. Her mother had all but tossed her out of the house. Frankly, she was lucky she wasn’t sent to the convent and even more fortunate that Lord Longley, Lily’s new husband, had agreed to take her in.
As if she’d conjured him, Lord Longley’s carriage came speeding up the street, moving at a dangerous pace considering the snow. The horse skidded to a stop even as the carriage door banged open and the driver jumped from his seat, careening to the ground.
She stood, her mouth covering her hand as they dragged a man from the carriage and began carrying him into the house.
Her breath seized in her chest. Spinning around, she raced for her door. Stumbling down the stairs, she made it to the entry just as they carried the man inside, his head bobbing awkwardly to one side, his shirt and coat stained with an alarming amount of blood.
She didn’t know her sister had come up behind her until Lily’s voice hissed over Camille’s shoulder. “What happened to Rex?”
Rex? What a curious name. The very sound of it skittered along her nerves, causing her to shiver.
“He’s been shot,” Max rumbled. “Help us get him upstairs.”
She looked back at Lily and then the two of them stepped forward, each grabbing one of his massive legs. Together they began to heft him up the steps.
“How…did…Rex…get…shot?” Lily huffed as she climbed.
Max winced. “It’s a long story and—”
“And what?” Lily snapped. “You brought him here, of all places. You know what a foolish thing that was to do.”
Her lips parted. What did that mean? Camille didn’t have time to think on it further as Max bit back. “What was I supposed to do?” he asked. “Let him die in a gutter? The man is my friend. He was helping me.”
“Helping you do what?” Lily asked, her voice rising so that it sounded near strangled.
Max swallowed when they reached the chamber nearest to the top of the stairs. It happened to be next to Camille’s. “Lily.”
“Tell me now,” her sister whispered.
Max looked at Camille and then back to his wife. “If you must know, we were trying to give Ralston the beating he deserved.”
“What?” Camille and Lily had spoken in unison, their voices echoing off the tall ceilings of the landing.
Camille mind buzzed with emotion. “Did Michael shoot this man?”
Max gave a stiff nod.
A sob threatened to break free from her chest. How many more people would pay for her mistake? “This can’t be happening.”
Max pushed open the door and they shuffled the man toward the bed. They’d almost made it when the leg she held twitched. Her gaze flew to his face where dark, penetrating eyes stared directly at her. His features were sharp and hawkish but his mouth was supple. The sort of mouth that made a woman long to run her finger across it.
“Well,” he murmured, his gaze boring into hers. “Hello, Angel.”
She hadn’t a clue what to say in reply, though she was spared answering. He blinked slowly, closing his eyes. They opened once and then shut again, his head flopping to the side.
There had been a promise in his gaze and voice. She didn’t recognize it but she could sense it. This man had been shot attempting to defend her honor.
She made a vow to herself as they lay him on the bed and she looked down at his still body. This man would not die. She brushed the hair back from his face. In fact, he would go on to live a happy, full life no matter what she had to do to make it happen.
Chapter Two
The next few hours were a rush of frantic activity, followed by agonizing waiting. Camille watched as the doctor examined Rex. She laced and unlaced her fingers, rubbing her palms together as she waited to learn how serious his injury was. After several long minutes, the doctor turned to her, removing his spectacles and wiping them with a cloth. While he believed that the wound was far enough to the right to have missed Rex’s organs, he couldn’t say for certain. He informed them it was a blessing that the bullet had gone clean through and come out the other side.
Camille had frowned as she examined the second hole in his back. “I’m glad that no surgery is needed but two open wounds are worse than one,” she whispered as though he could hear her. They’d both have to be cleaned and dressed regularly and Rex risked infection from them both.
The bleeding had ceased, at least, and as Camille sat, she watched his slow shallow breathing, his lips devoid of color as they parted for each breath.
Without thinking, she reached for his hand. It was cool to the touch and she sandwiched his fingers between hers. “You’re cold,” she whispered as though he might hear her. “I’ll get you another blanket.”
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