When a Rogue Falls

by Caroline Linden

  “How dare the scoundrel blackmail you!” Josephine shook her head.

  Brooke stared out at the gaming floor, her shoulders slumping. “What are you going to do?”

  If only Narissa could answer that question. She needed to think, for there had to be a way out of this. ‘There is no problem too big to solve when one engages their wit’, Papa’s words drifted through her mind. “Is Hannah still here?”

  “I saw her playing faro on my way in,” Josephine said.

  Narissa straightened in her chair. “Go get her.”

  She grinned as Josephine left the office. Perhaps Hannah would be the key to solving her problem with the duke. Leastwise, she would provide much-needed insight. Narissa should have used the lady for leverage against her brother. She’d had the inclination to do that very thing, but in the end, could not bring herself to threaten Hannah in any way. The two of them had become friends of a sort, besides, doing so would be a direct violation of the clubs rules—her own rules.

  “What do you hope to gain from Hannah?” Brooke asked, turning from the window for the first time since entering the office.

  “I’m not certain, but I suspect that she may help me come up with a way to both protect Fortuna’s and ride Merlin at Epsom.” Narissa’s stomach fluttered with anticipation. Heaven help her if she were wrong.

  Josephine returned with Hannah in tow and closed the door behind them. Hannah frowned as she approached Narissa’s desk. “I am eternally sorry for leading my brother here. I swear I had no idea that he followed me.”

  “I do not hold you accountable. Though, I find myself in need of your help. Do sit.” Narissa angled her head at a leather chair near the desk. Sympathy welled up in her as she studied Hannah. Regret and embarrassment radiated from her gaze. Narissa had no doubt that the lady was truly regretful.

  “Of course, I will do whatever you require.” Hannah sat, then accepted a tumbler of scotch from Josephine.

  “The way I see it, there are two possibilities here. One, I ride for the duke at Epsom as he has demanded. Two, I call his bluff, and hope he does not make good on his threat of outing me and Fortuna’s.” Narissa studied Hannah, taking her measure. “What are the odds that your brother is bluffing?”

  Hannah swallowed hard, a bloom of pink shading her cheeks. “I’m afraid my brother does not bluff. I have never known him to say he will do something and then fail to carry through.” She averted her gaze. “I am truly sorry.”

  Narissa rubbed her chin. “I see no way around it then. I simply have to find a way to beat him at his own game. There has to be a way for me to ride his mount and Merlin to still win the derby.” She tapped her nails on the desks hard surface as she tried to find a solution. Damn the whiny had gone straight to her head. She could hardly think at all.

  “I’ll ride Merlin.” Brooke jumped up, her eyes sparkling. “You well know my skill, and Merlin is a born racer. I need only become familiar with him.”

  “If it looks as though Brooke will lose, you can hold the duke’s horse, ensuring Merlin’s victory,” Josephine added.

  “I am no black-leg. I want a legitimate race. Merlin must win because he is the better bit of blood. And because Papa and I worked hard training him.” Narissa wanted little more than to beat the duke and see Merlin as the victor, but she’d not taint herself or her papa’s memory by cheating.

  Considering Papa, Narissa let out a small laugh. He would no doubt enjoy Josephine’s idea, encourage it even, but she could not.

  “My brother detests losing. When he does, it drives him to do whatever possible to win the next time around. Had you not beat him at Newmarket, he’d not be half as determined as he is to win at Epsom.” Hannah sipped from her tumbler. “I adore my brother, truly, but watching him get his comeuppance will prove delightful.”

  Narissa snickered. “I could not agree more.”

  “And so long as we keep the upper hand, the odds will remain in our favor,” Josephine said.

  Brooke paced the length of the office. “It is imperative he does not learn of our plan before we enter Merlin in the race. If he were to discover what we are about…”

  “Absolutely.” Narissa looked at Hannah. “Promise you will not speak of any of this.”

  “I would not dare.” Hannah’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she drank the last bit of her scotch.

  Chapter 6

  Narissa dismounted in front of the Duke of Blackmore’s residence. She saw no reason to wait for the odious man to come to her, not now that her mind was made up. Therefore, she’d procured his address from Hannah and now stood before his residence. What she would give for another solution, a way to avoid all of this. Alas, she had no other recourse; she had to accept his terms.

  With her head held high, shoulders back, and spine straight, Narissa marched up the wide marble steps that led to his front door. She grinned as she lifted the knocker into her gloved hand. There was something for her to gain despite not being able to ride Merlin at Epsom.

  Training the duke’s mounts would give her firsthand knowledge as to its condition. Far better than learning about the horse from a racing program. Narissa could, and would, use what she learned to beat him at his own game.

  She thumped the brass knocker against the massive oak door, then took a step back to wait.

  The door opened, revealing a grey-haired servant in perfectly pressed livery. “Good morning,” he greeted with a bow.

  She smiled and handed him her calling card. “I am here to see the duke.”

  “Do come in.” He stepped aside allowing her entry. “Allow me to take your cloak, my lady. Then I will show you to the receiving room.”

  “Thank you.” Narissa handed the garment to him, then glanced around the impressive foyer. A double staircase laid straight ahead, its mahogany banisters curving upward to the landing. The polished marble floor shone like a mirror beneath her slippers. Intricately carved wood trimmed the room’s cream and gold papered walls. And a large crystal chandler hung from the ceiling.

  She wondered if the off-putting duke ever entertained within these walls, and for a fleeting moment, imagined herself coming for a grand ball. A crush of elegant lords and ladies would fill the entry, their finery illuminated by the grand chandler as their voices filled the space. She’d wager it to be a marvelous scene.

  “This way, if you please,” the servant said, interrupting her thoughts.

  Narissa nodded, then followed him across the grand foyer to an open door just beyond. She entered the receiving room, which was turned out with just as much grandeur as the foyer. Taking a deep breath, she positioned herself on a blue settee trim with silver piping to await the duke’s audience.

  “My lady, Would you care for some tea and biscuits while you wait?”

  She glanced at the butler. “That won’t be necessary. Thank you.”

  “If you have need of anything, the bell pull is right over there.” The servant angled his head toward the far corner of the room before backing out and leaving her alone with her musings.

  Narissa fidgeted with her skirt, wishing she’d worn trousers instead before settling more comfortably against the settee. She let her gaze roam about the room, from the plush carpeting to the marble hearth and stylish furnishings. Either the duke had exemplary taste, or his sister had taken charge. Either way, the residence was a perfect blend of good taste and comfort. She imagined it would be quite comfortable to live in such a residence. Not that her own residence was shabby, but this scale of grandeur would be hard to match.

  Rising, she strolled over to a floor-to-ceiling window and peered out, her hand resting on the molding. Bright sun illuminated the garden beyond where cobbled trails wound their way through flowers and bushes of every variety. Her attention caught on a large stable that stood off to the back side of the vast yard. Next to the stable was what could only be a race track, two in fact. A large oval turf made of dirt and a straight run of grass both bordered by white fencing.

  Excite
ment thrummed in her veins. She, too, had a track on her property, though it was not turned out so expertly. Perhaps this deal of theirs would prove enjoyable to some extent for she was already itching to try out the amenities.

  “I can only assume you have brought me an answer?” The duke’s voice slid across her thoughts like honey—warm and smooth.

  Caught off guard, Narissa turned toward the entrance, her heart beating a crescendo. The duke strolled toward her with long, confident steps. His black day coat and buff breeches hugging his masculine form. She forced her gaze to meet his and swallowed in an effort to clear her throat. “I have.”

  He came to a stop in front of her. So close that his body heat radiated into her even though they did not touch. “And?” He drew out the word, arching a dark brow as he stared into her gaze.

  Narissa experienced a moment of doubt. Something about this man signaled danger. Perhaps his devilish good looks? More likely his confidence. Most likely of all, her reaction to him whenever he came near.

  Devil take it, he was only a man. An insufferable ass of a man at that. Surely she did not desire him. Narissa averted her gaze, attempting to gather her wits. She’d not allow the devil to unsettle her.

  He reached out, touching her shoulder. Heat spiraled through her, warming her body further. She took a step back desperately needing space. “You have left me no choice other than to agree.”

  “Perfect. You will start today.” He smiled, a bone-melting roguish grin that probably had most ladies swooning into his arms.

  Not her. There would be no swooning, no fantasizing, no anything. She’d do what was required of her then forget she’d even crossed paths with the Duke of Blackmore.

  Narissa nodded. She would rather do almost anything other than spend time in his presence, even suffer the loss of most of her possessions. Nonetheless, she’d not risk her club. Surely, she could keep from making a cake of herself and control this situation. She had to.

  “Very well. I will return this afternoon.” She started for the door in a rush to get away. Not because she found him unpleasant or detested his touch. How she wished that were the reason for her actions. But no, she found his company all too pleasant, too tempting. And far too intimate. What the devil was wrong with her? A light touch to the shoulder should not have any effect on her, but his had left her spinning.

  Even now.

  Tired of waiting, Seth made his way to the stable. He ordered both Banshee and Highflier saddled, then went to the tack room to await Lady Narissa’s arrival. He wanted the horses ready so that she could get straight to work. As charming as her attributes were, he had no wish to waste time in her company—no desire to be further irritated by her sharp tongue either.

  The sun had reached its highest point in the sky and would soon begin its descent. Seth wiped at his brow. Would the hellion fail to keep their bargain? If so, could he truly destroy her? Despite the existence of her club, she was not hurting anyone. In truth, he half admired her for what she’d accomplished. She was brazen and intelligent, to say the least. Both admirable qualities that were readily found in most women of his acquaintance.

  If he were not careful, he may well get more than he bargained for. Lord Stanford had been correct when he said Lady Narissa was one of a kind. Wild women were nothing new to Seth, ladies included, but none compared to Lady Narissa. The spirited beauty had charisma, courage, and real strength. He did not doubt she could accomplish anything she desired. Nor did he truly believe that outing her secret would benefit anyone.

  No doubt the lady would make a better friend than foe, but could he sway her?

  Grabbing a couple of sugar cubes from a container on the tack room shelf, he stepped from the room. Seth strolled down the aisle toward his new mares stall intent on giving the girl a treat. He could not stop himself from wondering if Lady Narissa had a sweet tooth.

  As if he’d conjured her, Lady Narissa sauntered into the stable clad in breeches and a snug white shirt. “Your Grace.” She dipped into a quick, low curtsey, her trousers stretching across her womanly curves.

  “My lady.” Seth studied her, doing his best to ignore the reaction her choice of garments was creating within him. This was the first time she had ever treated him with the curtsey due his station, and much to his surprise, he found he rather disliked it. Propriety did not suite the woman—not in the least. “You have leave to call me Seth.”

  “That would be most improper.” She straightened and adjusted her hat.

  “Are you suddenly concerned about your reputation?” he asked, half jesting.

  “Do not tease me.” A slight blush bloomed across her cheeks. “Show me to the horse you wish me to ride.”

  Not for the first time, he imagined her riding him. Her thick hair falling over her shoulders, whisky eyes swimming with reckless abandon, those lush curves beneath his hands… His blood heated with the images he conjured.

  “Your Grace.”

  “Seth,” he insisted. Pushing his desire away, he led her down the row of stalls. “I would like for you to try your skills with both Banshee and Highflier. As Banshee has never been turf tested, I have no idea how well he will do. Both are ready. Which would you prefer to ride first?”

  “Banshee, if you please,” she answered, her tone cheery.

  What game did she play at now? Where had her attitude gone and why was she going out of her way to be pleasant? He glanced back at her, his eyes narrowed. He would get to the bottom of it later. For now, he wished to get on with the business at hand. “Very well, banshee it shall be. Come along.”

  The fact she’d chosen Banshee added more allure to the already captivating woman. For all she knew—hell, for all either of them knew—the mount would not take kindly to racing. It could buck and rear, tossing her to the ground, or run off with her on its back. She could be hurt, killed even. A chill went through him as he glanced at her small frame. She was an expert horsewoman. He’d witnessed her skill in the saddle first hand.

  Seth shook his head. Why the devil did her safety suddenly concern him? He had to keep his focus on the end goal, winning the derby at Epsom. Lady Narissa meant nothing to him. She was just a means of gaining his victory. It would serve him best to remember it.

  He led Lady Narissa out of the stable and to the mounting area, then ordered Banshee brought out before turning his attention back to her. “I have two tracks. An oval turf and a straight away. I want to see how much speed Banshee has. Take him to the straight course and open him up.”

  Lady Narissa nodded, then moved to the mounting block. Before he could assist her, she’d swung onto the horses back. “I will stop at the starting line and await your signal.”

  The groom held out a whip.

  She shook her head.

  The groom held it closer as if trying to force it into her hand.

  “No whip.” Lady Narissa said, her tone firm.

  “How do you intend to gauge his true speed without a whip?” Seth asked. He’d been involved with bloodhorses for most of his life and had always employed the whip. It was a common tool in racing.

  “I never take a whip to my mounts.” Lady Narissa set the horse in motion, riding off toward the track before Seth could utter another word.

  He hurried to the gate with his stable master following behind to time the horse. Seth’s breath caught as he took in the sight of Lady Narissa illuminated by sunlight.

  She leaned low over the horse, holding the reins in her small leather gloved hands, her rounded bottom hovering over the saddle enticingly.

  His stable master signaled for her to ride.

  Seth stared captivated by the scene before him. The collar of Lady Narissa’s shirt billowed in the breeze revealing small peaks of creamy skin as she raced down the straightaway. A cloud of dust filled the air behind her. Crossing the finish line, she pulled the horse in, then rode over to him with a victorious smile.

  “He is a natural racer,” she said, excitement dancing in her warm eyes.

&
nbsp; Damn if she wasn’t a temptress and she rode like the devil. What an unusual woman. Seth grinned, then looked to his stable master. “Let us have it.”

  “One mile in one minute, forty-three seconds, Your Grace.” The man gave a crooked-toothed grin.

  With speed like that, he was sure to win the derby. Seth looked up at Lady Narissa. “Do you know of any other horse that runs as fast?”

  She notched her chin. “Merlin.”

  He did not doubt her. Merlin had beat Highflier after all. No matter, Lady Narissa would not be riding him at Epsom. Seth stroked his hand over Banshee’s well-muscled shoulder. “Imagine what he would do under the whip.”

  She pulled the reins, turning the horse. “So long as I am riding him, no whip will be employed.”

  He met her stare, ready to argue the point, but then swallowed back his retort. Her expression had grown stern. If he wished for her to jockey his mount, he’d have to cede to her wishes. He stepped closer. “Indeed. Now tell me…has he got more speed?”

  “I believe so. With training, we should be able to shave off another twenty or so seconds. It is nothing more than a matter of learning his style.”

  “Excellent.” The timing was already impressive. Highflier’s best workout came in at one minute, fifty-five seconds. There may not be any point in having her take the other horse out as he’d already decided on racing Banshee at Epsom, still, he wanted to see how she did with Highflier. “Let us switch your mount.”

  Without so much as a by-your-leave, Lady Narissa set Banshee into a fast walk.

  Splendid, she had returned to giving him the cut direct. He should be vexed, but could not deny that he enjoyed her spirited attitude. It was far better than the fake air of propriety she’d employed earlier.

  Perhaps, in time, she would come to genuinely like him as he was coming to like her.

  Chapter 7

  “Bloody hell.” Narissa peered across the crowded ballroom, clutching her Champagne glass. “What the devil is he doing here?”