When a Rogue Falls

by Caroline Linden

  “I should like my book back, Basil,” she said, feeling bolder by the minute.

  He pulled what was left of the novel out of reach when she tried to take it from him and laughed with open admiration. “You have much to learn in the ways of romance, Chloe, and you will not learn it in a book. We will experience it together.”

  “I’d like that, truly I would.” A flush heated her face. “I am done woolgathering. I plan to destroy all my books when I return home unless I can find a way to help the people most affected by what Carnage has done.”

  “Yes, we shall.” He kissed her again, his warm teasing lips featherlight on hers. “Excellent plan, that.”

  “Are you just saying that to get me belowdecks? What exactly do you have in mind?”

  “I do have a plan. But it will require you to be at the helm.” He quirked a brow, making her wonder if they weren’t speaking of two different things.

  “What plan?”

  Heaven help her, she was at sixes and sevens.

  He handed her Otranto. “In my sojourn as the Regent, I heard tales of orphans in need of good homes.”

  “Orphans? What does this have to do with my books?”

  “What if we open a home for them, my love? We can find these orphans and the families of the men who have lost their lives in wrecks and offer them a living. And there you can read to them your tales of romance and adventure.”

  Chloe was so shocked by her husband’s generosity and foresight that she didn’t know what to say. Her heart fluttered at the thought that they could make a difference in orphans’ lives.

  “You hate the idea,” he bemoaned, caressing her arm.

  “Oh, Basil! That is not the case at all. I love you! I love you more than you will ever know.” She flung herself into his arms, yielding her body and soul, desiring him like she’d never desired anything in her life. “But where will they live . . .” she broke off, her mind spinning with questions.

  He kissed her soundly. “Underwood.”

  She braced her feet and sought a steady breath. “Your father’s home?”

  “Our home,” he corrected with a breathtaking smile.

  “You would give it away?”

  “No. Not give it away, Chloe. We will open it to those in need. And you and I will be there to help them.” His lips captured hers again, stirring sensual desires inside Chloe, making her want to be closer to him than the night they’d lain together in his bunk after he’d saved her from the Mohegan.

  “Yes! Oh, yes!” she cried.

  She wrapped her arms around him, kissing him thoroughly, caring not who witnessed her display of passion. She held him close, desiring yet again never to be parted.

  “I warned you, Markwick!” Walsingham shouted with firmness and authority, instantly breaking them apart.

  Basil took her by the hand, his touch surprisingly gentle. “Come. Let’s take this below before I’m forced to duel your brother. That would not be a good way to start our marriage.”

  This was another reason why she adored her husband. He cared about others more so than himself. “I love you, Basil.”

  “And I love you, my darling, courageous wife. Now let’s go below before your brother is upon us.”

  Hope filled her breast and longing coiled in her belly. She followed Basil as he led her down the companionway past hooting and hollering members of the Regent’s crew.

  “Is a body happy about another, unless they are in love with them?” she asked, quoting Bianca from Otranto.

  Basil pulled her close at the bottom of the companionway ladder and kissed her the way a soul yearning for ecstasy craved to be kissed. “I love you, Chloe,” he said, drawing back. “And I promise you and your body a lasting adventure that will rival any of your books.”

  “I will hold you to that promise, husband.”

  He took her by the hand and began to lead her to their cabin. “And you, my darling romantic, must never let go.”

  About the Author

  Katherine Bone has always had an adventurous streak. She’s been passionate about history since she traveled to Army bases, castles, battlegrounds, and cathedrals as an Army brat, officer’s wife, and military mother. As a teenager, her mother introduced her to Kathleen E. Woodiwiss’s The Flame and The Flower, and her passion for romance novels began. She studied art in college then met her charming prince at a disco, fell in love, traveled the world, and raised four children before chasing her dream of publishing romance novels. Now, Katherine lives in the south where she writes about honorable heroes, the heroines who win their hearts, and happily-ever-afters.

  * * *

  Contact Katherine: katherine@katherinebone.com

  Find Katherine on the web: www.katherinebone.com

  * * *

  Katherine’s Official Facebook FAN Page

  Katherine’s BookBub Page

  Katherine on Twitter

  That Miscreant Marquess

  USA Today Bestselling Author Aileen Fish

  THAT MISCREANT MARQUESS

  Copyright ©2017 Aileen Fish

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please go to http://aileenfish.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

  * * *

  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 permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Chapter 1

  May 1818

  Derbyshire

  If there was one thing Lady Matilda Franklin hated more than anything, it was losing a wager. And losing this wager in particular was not to be borne.

  The game had begun simply enough at the start of the Season last year. She and her dearest friends, Lady Lavinia Gordon, Lady Selena Cornet, and Lady Clara Armstrong had been suffering waning elation in the aftermath another busy afternoon shopping, and Lavinia announced she was bored.

  That was the most dangerous combination imaginable—Lavinia Gordon and boredom. Suffice it to say, an entertaining wager was proposed, and Mattie’s input was that the winner would be the first girl to kiss one of the friends of the Miscreant Marquess—Lavinia’s scandalous brother. After reprimanding her for calling him a miscreant, Lavinia had agreed to the game, as long as no one kissed her brother, the Marquess of Markham.

  But now that Lavinia had won and was engaged to Viscount Ringley—the target of her kiss—the game had ended. Released from Lavinia’s restriction, Mattie was free to steal a kiss from Markham, which she’d longed to do since she was old enough to imagine kissing a man. The only difficulty would be trapping him somewhere private to do the deed. She couldn’t tell her friends, of course, so there would be no glory to flaunt over her friends, but that wasn’t the point. Markham was the point.

  Papa would never allow her to marry a man with such a scandalous reputation, and Mama would be shocked to think Mattie even dreamed of having such a man for a husband. Lavinia might never speak to her again, but Selena and Clara would secretly envy her. Yet none of that mattered. Mattie simply wanted to spend the rest of her life with Markham.

  Markham was perfection. On the rare occasion when he entered a ballroom, everyone knew it. He towered over most men, and the proud manner with which he carried himself made him appear even taller. His hair…those thick, dark brown locks made her fingers twitch with the need to comb through them. Something in his air hinted at the same boredom Lavinia suffered. It must be a family trait, that state of ennui resultant from descending from a duke. They had everything they wanted, so what excitement was there to be had in…well, anything?

  Scandalous whispers always followed in the marquess’s wake. When Mattie would find herself trapped in a crush of people, unable to see beyond the person in front of her, she could follow his path through the
crowded room simply by listening to the wave of sighs. Last Season, Markham strode toward Lavinia most often, so all Mattie had had to do was remain at her friend’s side. Now that his sister was engaged, he no longer needed to watch over her, so he attended even fewer assemblies.

  Thus, Mattie’s dilemma.

  He enjoyed the card rooms, especially the smaller ones where men bet and lost an entire year’s income—or horses, a curricle or an estate—and she couldn’t be seen at those tables. Maybe she’d be lucky and find him in the other game room one night, where the wagers were much smaller or non-existent. One where matrons bided the hours away with their husbands and friends. She could beg his assistance in some vague matter, convince him to leave the room with her, and steal her kiss.

  Or, she could save herself the heartache and find another way, somewhere less conspicuous. One thing was for certain—she wouldn’t give up until she had that kiss.

  Mattie’s friends Selena and Clara remained unattached still, too, so she wasn’t the last of them to find true love. In Mattie’s case, her unmarried state was due to Markham’s being unaware of her as anything other than an ornament at his sister’s side. Selena was indecisive, unwilling to limit herself to the attentions of one man. She was also fickle, preferring a different gentleman at each assembly the girls attended. Clara was too tongue-tied when near a man she wished to know better. Her income wasn’t large enough to encourage prospective husbands to seek her out, thus she was a wallflower when not accompanied by one of her friends.

  And they were the best of friends, until it came to their brothers.

  Then came the news of Mattie’s perfect opportunity—Lavinia and Ringley’s wedding.

  The four girlfriends gathered at Lavinia’s home, Stanhope Abbey, in Derbyshire a week ahead of the wedding. Their assistance wasn’t needed for anything involving the wedding itself, as Her Grace, Duchess Stanhope had everything running smoothly. She’d insisted her daughter’s marriage would be a grand affair, the weekend beginning with a ball and ending with the wedding breakfast two days later.

  The girls arrived so far ahead of time because the first of them was marrying, a momentous, life-changing event, which would forever alter their relationships. Sitting together on the vast, neatly manicured lawn, they basked in the warmth while keeping their faces in the shadow of their hats, fighting bouts of melancholy. Mattie plucked a wildflower and inhaled deeply of its sweet perfume.

  Selena, the most practical among them, sighed audibly. “We’ll still be able to gather at each other’s homes in the country every year. Lavinia’s being married won’t change that.”

  “We know that,” Clara argued. “But it will never be the same. She’ll be married.”

  “Which is what we all will be one day,” Mattie said. She didn’t add her concerns about how long it was taking to find a husband. They always laughed and said they were in no hurry to marry, but for her, the words were no longer true. And the man she planned to marry was Markham.

  “I can’t wait to decorate my new home,” Lavinia said. “You all must visit me so I can show it off.”

  At least she was honest about what she’d be doing, instead of downplaying her excitement about establishing her new home. She deserved it, though. Love was the last thing any of the girls had on their minds when they’d made their wager, and Viscount Ringley was a poor choice at that time, given how ardently Markham argued against their match.

  But where love planted roots, it couldn’t fail to bloom.

  Mattie lifted her chin and peered out from under her hat brim. “I shall come only if Ringley invites some of his friends.”

  Lavinia laughed and shook her head but didn’t argue.

  “Oh, yes!” Clara rolled to her knees. “We can continue the wager.”

  “Only if we choose who we’ll kiss,” Mattie said. She already had her plans in place, and no one could talk her out of kissing Markham.

  “Don’t be silly, girls,” Lavinia said. “If it’s kisses you want, I’ll invite you to come at Christmastime and hang a kissing ball in a prominent place.”

  Selena and Clara chattered excitedly, but Mattie couldn’t share their glee. Wait until December to kiss the marquess? She wouldn’t even consider it. Nor would she inform anyone who she would kiss. If no one knew her plans, no one could stop her from doing so.

  London

  * * *

  Colin, Marquess of Markham, paused as he rode past Shipley’s Club. He hadn’t intended to stop there this evening, but he saw Viscount Ringley, the man who was to marry his sister in mere days, enter the gaming hell.

  “Blast him!” Markham rapped on the side of the carriage and called to his driver. “Stop here.”

  Before it slowed completely, the marquess was out the door and trotting up the steps of the club. After ridding himself of his cloak, hat and gloves, he strode into the large room populated with small tables…and not so small gentlemen.

  Leo, Viscount Ringley, glanced up from his cards long enough to meet the marquess’s gaze, then quickly focused on his cards. The previous year, Ringley had gambled so heavily he’d been heavily in debt, so much so his father refused another advance on his allowance. After the debt had been settled, Markham had insisted Ringley stay away from the gambling hells, as well as parties and private wagers.

  Markham found an empty chair and tucked it between two players. “May I join the next hand?”

  One of the other men, who had a nice pile of cash in front of him, smiled and lifted an eyebrow. “Markham, isn’t it? I’d be honored to fleece your pockets.”

  Unable to recognize the man, Markham ignored him and watched Ringley play instead. The viscount was an expert at keeping his features frozen so as not to let on what sort of cards he had, but he had a tendency to play long after he’d lost all his money. Perhaps tonight he’d be smart and leave early.

  After Markham was dealt in, he studied the three men at the table. Lord Everley and Sir Thomas were regulars in the gaming hells and played as much for the challenge as for the winnings they might take home. As the game went on, it became clear the third man had some sort of advantage—or was cheating.

  “I don’t believe we’ve met,” Markham said to him.

  “Sir Rollo Walford,” the man replied. He squinted as he looked first at the money lying on the table, then at each player’s face before tossing another coin in the center of the table.

  The name was familiar, but Markham couldn’t remember exactly where he’d heard it. Whatever had been said about him wasn’t kind, of that he was certain.

  Ringley’s gaze darted anxiously between his cards and the pile of wagers. Markham’s fingers tightened on his own cards, certain his soon-to-be brother was out of money. He decided to make light of it, while pointedly telling his friend to quit the game.

  “Getting nervous, Ringley? Maybe it’s time to go home and leave the wagering to the grown men.”

  Ringley’s brow furled. “Just planning my play.”

  “You’d be wise to leave with money in your pocket.” Barely a year had passed since Ringley owed Markham such a large amount he thought he’d never get paid. When the viscount had proposed to Lavinia, Markham put his foot down and insisted the wedding would never take place.

  Ringley was a good man, for the most part. He had the qualities a father might look for in a prospective son-in-law, but being a contemporary of his, Markham knew him better, so he’d tried to talk his sister out of the match, and had threatened Ringley more than once to leave Lavinia alone.

  The viscount wasn’t a suitable match for the daughter of a duke. Yet their father believed differently, or else their mother had been so charmed by him she’d insisted the wedding go forth.

  Once it was clear the wedding would happen, Markham threatened Ringley of dire consequences should he ever return to his gaming ways. Believing the matter was settled, he was now shocked and angry to see the man come here.

  “My pockets aren’t to let just yet.” Ringley’s smile
was confident. What was he up to? The winnings on the table in front of him were meager compared to the bank in front of Sir Rollo, so Ringley should see the obvious truth—he was on a losing streak.

  After playing his next move, Ringley caught Markham’s gaze and looked subtly but pointedly at Sir Rollo. Did he suspect the man of cheating? It was time Markham paid more attention to the baronet and less to his friend.

  Nodding, he hoped Ringley would cut back on his bets and let Markham take over. He had no worries about losing a bit of money in pursuit of a cheat.

  Sir Rollo was clearly quite skilled in his cheating, making Markham’s work harder. He didn’t detect any sleight of hand, nor was there any action that said he was keeping track of the cards as they were played. He won hands which he hadn’t dealt, so he wasn’t dealing from the bottom.

  After several hours of play, Markham felt confident he wouldn’t solve the problem that night and studying Sir Rollo too closely might scare the baronet away from gaming hells for the time being. It was time to go.

  Pocketing his winnings, Markham stood. “It’s time I left. Ringley, I’d like a word with you.”

  Ringley scooped his small pile of coins and followed. When the door to the club shut behind them, he asked, “What are your thoughts on Sir Rollo?”

  “He’s definitely cheating, but how?” Markham signaled to his carriage driver who waited down the street. “I wasn’t able to detect the cards being marked. He wins when others are banking, which likely means he’s counting cards. It’ll be hard to catch him at that. Why worry about it? Just stop gambling with him.”

  “He fleeced Mr. Dumfries out of a year’s income. The lad has no family to fall back on for his living.”

  “And you pity him because of how close you came to being in the same situation.”