The Last Wicked Rogue

by Lauren Smith

  The passion he ignited within her turned into a burning firestorm. She’d never felt anything like it. She was finally getting what she wanted, and it was everything she’d hoped it would be. His rough hands were tempered by the seductive pull of his kiss, like a whirlpool eddying in a swiftly curving river. She was spinning helplessly, deliriously excited to be going along for the ride.

  Then she thought of how ashamed Hugo had made her feel. How he had taken her against her will. How he had continued to use her after that. But that shame didn’t have a place here in Charles’s arms. There was only a sense of joy and wonder at how right it felt to be with him.

  His hand crept higher up her thigh, sliding between her legs and delving into her underpinnings. She hissed in shock as he found her center and slid one finger inside her.

  “Do you wish for me to stop?” he asked.

  She shook her head and tried to shift closer to him, pushing his finger deeper. Her womb clenched as he explored her with that finger while they kissed. Their tongues fought a silent battle of lust, broken only by their panting breaths as he continued to stoke the fire within her. Soon it was too much, and a burst of devastating pleasure exploded through her. He silenced her cry with a slow, deep kiss, and she sagged against him.

  He withdrew his hand and helped her settle her skirts back down. She was still shaking as he held her close on his lap, placing tender kisses all over her face.

  “I want to burn this moment into my mind forever,” he whispered.

  Her heart bled, and she buried her face in his neck, holding him. They were silent for a long moment.

  “Charles, could we…forget the opera?” She wanted to have him turn the coach around to take her to his home, his bed. She did not know how much time they had together, but for one night at least she wanted to believe that a life with him was possible.

  He sighed heavily. “I would love nothing more, but I’m afraid my mother is quite keen on meeting you.”

  She jerked back. “Mother?”

  Just then the coach stopped in front of Covent Garden. She couldn’t meet his mother, not tonight. Not ever. She clutched her chest, and it took her a moment to calm.

  “Yes.” Charles cleared his throat and tugged on his cravat. “There’s nothing to fear, my dear. My mother heard about our waltz at the Sandersons’ ball and will be at the opera tonight to meet us in the box.”

  “Oh!” Lily had to think of an excuse, and she frantically tried to fix her hair and dress. “I can’t meet her, not when I’m all”

  “Delightfully mussed?”

  “Yes. Your mother, everyone will know what we’ve been up to.”

  “Does it matter?” Charles asked.

  “Of course it does!”

  “I never expected a cousin of Emily’s to be so concerned with public opinion.” He twined his fingers in her hair, tugging on the strands. “Would it be better if I proposed?”

  Lily frowned. “Be serious, Charles.”

  “I’m utterly serious, darling. You’re my mysterious angel. When I talk to you, when I kiss you, when I think about you, there is…” He paused, considering his words. “There’s a stillness inside me, and a tranquility I’ve never felt before.”

  Lily stared at him, her lips parted. “But we have only met a few times.”

  “It is true. You are a mystery to me. And I adore a good mystery.”

  “You do not know the real me,” she said. At his puzzled frown, she quickly added, “Please, not so soon. We all put our best foot forward when we wish to impress, do we not?”

  “True. But I want to spend the rest of my life figuring you out.” He sighed then. “I don’t have a ring yet. I wanted to take my time choosing it.”

  He was serious. Lily looked away. “No. We cannot.”

  He didn’t seem at all perturbed by her refusal. “Emily promised to find me a bride, and lo and behold, she has.” He kissed the tip of her nose and gently set her on her feet so she could exit the coach. “I can be patient.”

  Marry him? Lily walked into the Covent Garden theater as though trapped in a hazy dream. She couldn’t say yes, not with Hugo’s specter looming everywhere. But if she had her freedom, she would have wept at his feet for the chance to say yes.

  “My box is this way.” He led her up the stairs toward an expensive box. Lily felt the collective curious gaze of the crowds watching them.

  She leaned against his arm. “Everyone is looking at us.”

  “Everyone is looking at you, darling.”

  Lily smiled, remembering Charles’s reputation. “I rather think they’re looking at me because of you.”

  Charles gazed at her with clear adoration. “Nonsense. You shine like a star fallen from the night sky. But it is as you said to me—they don’t know the real you. There’s so much more to you, isn’t there?”

  Lily bit her lip. “I’m nobody, Charles. No one so special as you imagine me to be. I fear I am only a dream you are having, and when you awaken you won’t see me anymore, just an ordinary woman wondering why you are so disappointed.”

  “You are infinitely more than a dream, Lily. And you could never disappoint me.” He stopped them just outside his box. Behind him was a fresco of Romeo climbing a balcony’s ivy-colored trellis to reach Juliet. It was a play she both adored and despised in equal measure. She loved the young lovers’ passion, but she hated that it ended so violently with their deaths.

  And yet she could relate to it as well—for both were trapped by fate and circumstance, the hope that they felt a mere illusion. Their fates were sealed before the curtain even rose.

  Charles saw what she was looking at, then bent to one knee before her. “One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sun ne’er he saw her match since first the world begun.”

  He gave a crooked and yet utterly charming smile, one so boyishly sweet that her heart never stood a chance. He was such a beautiful man.

  Charles stood and cupped her face, leaning in close. “Please marry me,” he said, his lips close to hers before he kissed her softly.

  “I…” She needed to resist, but his sweet kisses were wearing her down. All she wanted was to burrow into him, close her eyes, forget the past, forget her pain, her sorrow, and find only the joy his love would bring.

  I loved you at first sight, without shame without regret. But it comes at such a high cost for us both…

  “My heart will be for no other,” he vowed.

  Lily shook her head. “Stop it. Every man can carry a book full of fancy words, especially a man like you.”

  She expected this to upset him, but he only chuckled. “Fancy words, yes, but inviting my mother? That, my darling, comes from a true desire to commit to you. There is no way I would ever subject you to my mother’s scrutiny unless I was serious about you. And scrutinize you she will.”

  Lily swallowed hard, a shiver of dread rolling through her. She’d only glimpsed Lady Lonsdale once or twice before, and even then only at a distance.

  “If you won’t say yes tonight, please know that I will keep asking every day until we are both old and gray. By then I’ll be too old to get down on one knee, but I will still ask until my last breath.” His gentle, earnest words surprised her. He meant it. Lord, she wanted so much to say yes. But she couldn’t forget Hugo, couldn’t forget her daughter’s safety. Her daughter had to come first.

  “Now, let me introduce you to my mother and sister.” He opened the box door and ushered her inside.

  The Countess of Lonsdale and Lady Ella Humphrey rose from their seats as Lily and Charles entered.

  “Mother, may I present to you Mrs. Wycliff. Lily, this is my mother, the Countess of Lonsdale.”

  The countess was a stunning woman in her fifties. Lily did her best to smile despite her nerves.

  “You may call me Violet, Mrs. Wycliff. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “And please call me Lily.” Lily’s tone betrayed none of her inner turmoil.

  Violet smiled warmly. “Lily. A l
ovely name for a lovely woman.” Violet turned to her daughter. “This is Ella.”

  Lily nodded. “Ella.” Charles’s sister beamed at her.

  “Now, to business. My son told me that you are a widow?” Violet mused, her gaze sweeping critically over Lily. “Is your mourning period over?”

  “Mother!” Charles hissed in warning.

  Lily placed a hand on his arm. “It’s all right.” Her first husband was, after all, nothing more than a fabrication. “Yes. He died almost a year and a half ago.”

  “And you are a mother as well?” Violet asked.

  “Yes. I have a daughter, Sophia. She’s three years old,” Lily answered.

  “That’s lovely.” There was no hint of sarcasm in Violet’s tone. “Charles does very well with children, don’t you, Charles?”

  “Possibly because he is still one himself,” Ella said half to herself with a chuckle.

  Charles’s face went as red as a ripe strawberry. “Mother,” he groaned, staring at his boots, looking bashful. Lily nearly laughed. How she adored him, even when he was completely flustered.

  “But it is true,” Ella added. “He’s quite wonderful with children.”

  “I know.” Lily laughed, remembering all the times Charles and Kat had played together, and how Kat seemed to glow whenever he interacted with her.

  “You know? Charles, have you met her daughter?”

  “No, he hasn’t.” Lily realized her mistake. “I meant, Emily has told me how good he is with children.”

  “Oh, I see.” Before anything more could be said, the orchestra below began to play, signaling that the opera was soon to begin. Charles ushered her to a chair by the edge of the box and sat beside her.

  A hush fell over the crowd. Lily accepted one of the small cards Charles handed her and examined the title in the candlelight: The Devil to Pay.

  The title made her shiver. Charles reached over and curled his fingers through hers. She could feel the heat of his palm through her silk gloves.

  As the opening overture began, she squeezed his hand back and favored him with a smile. Everything would be all right. It was only an opera. She had to try to enjoy it or else Charles would sense something was wrong.

  19

  Hugo sat in his private box, his wife, Melanie, beside him. But as the opera began his gaze was not on the stage. Rather, it was on the balcony across from them. Charles, his mother, and his sister were all in the Lonsdale box, but when Hugo recognized the fourth among them he smiled. His little spy was in place, playing her part as the lovely widow. Word was already spreading among the ton that Charles soon would propose. No one had ever seen him so besotted before. Perfect.

  He rose from his seat.

  “Hugo? Where you going?” Melanie demanded in a harsh whisper.

  “Apologies. I have business to attend to. I shall return shortly.” He slipped out of his seat and into the corridor, waving down a serving boy.

  “Yes, sir?” the boy asked.

  “Do you have pen and paper?” Sometimes the boys came prepared with such items to help the opera patrons pass notes to one another.

  “Yes, sir.” The boy provided him with pen, paper, and a small polished board to write upon. Hugo scrawled a note to Lily, folded it, and handed it to the boy.

  “You are to deliver this to Mrs. Wycliff. She is in Lord Lonsdale’s box. No one else must read it. See to it and I will pay you double this.” He handed the boy ten shillings. The boy rushed off to deliver the note. Hugo returned to his box and took a seat. Melanie glanced at him once he sat down.

  “Sorry, my love.” He leaned over to kiss her cheek, but that was simply a formality. His marriage had grown cold even before the birth of their son. After his failed attempt at reconciliation with his mother.

  After he had learned the truth.

  At first he had missed such comforts from her, but as work and the desire for revenge consumed him, he realized there were plenty of women in London who could see to those needs. He was a servant of the empire, and as such he came to see such things as his due.

  He had been careless with Lily, however. He’d mistaken her overtures of kindness and sympathy as an emotional ploy, and he’d assumed she had been planted in his home by one of his rivals. By the time he realized the truth, that she had been sincere, rage had consumed him, and he had lost control.

  Though he would not admit to feeling shame or regret at the act, he did recognize it for what it was—a mistake. She had seen into his heart when he had spent his life perfecting the means to disguising it. That was no easy task. And she had kept her wits about her when he had been most savage to her, which was equally impressive.

  So instead of dealing with her right away, he’d had her followed to see how she would cope without money or connections. To his surprise, she did well for herself, even though she was with child. She had begun with begging, of course, but she did not stop there. She connected with people, talked to them, and eventually found employment as a barmaid at the gambling hell that became her home.

  It would have been preferable if she had given birth to a son, one he could raise to succeed him at the Home Office, while Peter took the family name and title, but that was not to be. Still, the woman herself had shown her worth, and he did not waste things of value.

  On her own, the girl served little purpose except to potentially expose him to scandal. But she did allow him to force her mother into obedience. If he hadn’t, she might have tried to use the whelp against him someday. He had simply gotten there first.

  Hugo’s lips curved as he watched Charles and Lily in their box. They were entering the endgame now. Soon he would strike at Charles’s heart, and there would be no stopping him.

  During the first intermission, a small boy approached Lily, slipping a note into her hand carefully, unseen by Charles or his family. Only a few words were hastily written in a hand she recognized with dread.

  When he proposes, say yes.

  Lily tore up the paper and disposed of the pieces behind a potted plant near the entrance to the box.

  “Everything all right?” Charles asked as she returned to her seat. She glanced across the theater, and her heart stuttered to a halt. Hugo was here. He was watching her, but where? She scanned the private boxes and soon spied Mrs. Waverly across the theater. But no Hugo.

  “I…I’m afraid I’m not feeling well. Might you escort me home?” It was still the intermission, and it wouldn’t be too disruptive if they slipped away now.

  “Of course.” Charles studied her with concern. “Mother, Lily is feeling poorly. I am escorting her home.”

  Violet and Ella both stood. “Are you all right, my dear? Anything we can do?”

  Lily shook her head. “No, no, thank you. I’ll be fine once I’m able to rest.”

  Violet clasped her hands and gave them a squeeze. “Well, please let us know if we can help. It was lovely to meet you.”

  “And you, Lady Lonsdale. Thank you.”

  Lily took Charles’s arm, and they exited the box. They passed through the mingling crowds and had reached the top of the stairs when Lily stopped. Hugo was there at the bottom of the stairs. He raised a glass of champagne toward her. Charles had his back to Hugo and did not see him.

  “Charles…”

  “Yes?” he asked.

  There was no turning back. “Yes,” she echoed declaratively.

  He raised a brow, still confused. “Yes?”

  “Yes,” she replied more emphatically. “Yes to your question in the coach.”

  Suddenly the anxiety and concern in his eyes vanished. “Yes?”

  Before she could finish nodding, he grabbed her by the waist and twirled her in the air, laughing. The bold action attracted stares and gasps, but Lily didn’t care. For one brief moment she allowed herself to believe she had said yes for herself, not for Hugo. She buried her face in his neck as he slowly set her down and held her.

  “I’m so happy I can scarcely breathe.” He chuckled in her e
ar. “Let’s get you back to Emily’s so you may rest. We have much to prepare. Will a wedding in a few days be suitable? I can procure a special license.”

  “So soon?” she gasped.

  “Yes. I’m quite set about this business, and I see no reason to wait unless you do. Do you want to wait?”

  “Well…” She would have to tell him the truth, at least enough of it that he would know he was marrying Lily Linley and not Lily Wycliff. But that was a concern for tomorrow. Charles caressed her cheek, smiling so brightly it made her chest ache.

  “A few days,” she finally agreed.

  He took her arm in his as they started down the stairs. She could feel his happiness emanating off him. How she wanted to be with him in that same place of joy, but she couldn’t; she could only pretend to share it.

  Charles froze when he spotted Hugo at the base of the stairs. Their eyes met, but neither made the first move toward or away from the other. What was he still doing there? Lily had hoped he would vanish back into the shadows where he belonged.

  Slowly, Charles began to move again, but he kept Lily as far from Hugo as possible. When they reached him, Hugo smiled broadly.

  “Well now, this is quite a lovely picture, Lord Lonsdale.” Hugo offered a grin as cold as the winter wind. “And who might you be, madam?”

  Charles stepped between them. “Do not speak to her.”

  Hugo ignored the comment. “I heard about Lord Kent. Terrible news. Wasn’t he a friend of your brother’s?”

  Lily felt Charles’s arm tense. “You know he is. Just as I know you were behind it. And if I were free to do so, I would see to it that you paid for that.”

  “Are you threatening me? My, my, Lonsdale, one might think you want to duel me.”

  “Would that put an end to this?” Charles growled.