For the Lust of a Rogue: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Olivia Bennet

  She took a tentative step closer to it, her entire body shaking with fear. As she walked closer, a small branch broke with a snap. The sound caused the person to look up. Caroline just managed to quell her scream at the sight in front of her. A face covered in tears, dirt, and blood. A nasty cut over the eyebrow and a black eye. When they noticed her, a strangled gasp escaped their lips. Caroline bent down at once, fear twisting her insides.

  But this was a completely different fear than she had felt a moment ago. She looked around, trying to think of what she could do. All she wanted to do was to scream for help, but that would raise too many questions. Finally, she remembered that Mrs. Wilson had said she would wait for her.

  “Wait here, I will go and fetch help. Don’t move, I’ll return soon, Emma.”

  Chapter 28

  “Mrs. Wilson!” Caroline pushed open the door to the kitchen, shaking. “Mrs. Wilson!”

  “What’s going on, child?” Mrs. Wilson appeared from a room to the back. She clutched her nightgown around her, peering at Caroline.

  “Come quick!” She turned around and opened the door that led outside.

  “Wait now, My Lady!” Mrs. Wilson ran after her. “What are you doing?”

  “Trust me,” she pleaded. “She needs our help.”

  Mrs. Wilson followed her outside, and they reached the gate. For a brief moment, she thought that Emma was gone, or that she had somehow imagined this. But then a soft groan could be heard from behind them.

  “Dear Lord in Heaven!” Mrs. Wilson exclaimed, crouching down next to Emma. “What has happened, My Lady?”

  “I do not know, she was there when I returned,” she said.

  “We must get her inside.” Mrs. Wilson bent down to help Emma stand. Together they managed to support her all the way back into the kitchen.

  “Dear, Emma, who did this to you?” Mrs. Wilson brought a wet cloth and stroked off the dirt from Emma’s face. Caroline gasped when the extent of her injuries was more visible.

  “Oh, Emma!”

  “My Lady, you should return to your room,” Mrs. Wilson said gently. “I will take care of her.”

  “No, I cannot leave her,” she objected.

  “There is nothing you can do at this time. I will take care of her. I do not think it is wise that anyone else sees Emma,” Mrs. Wilson replied gravely.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “If Her Grace finds out that Emma is here, badly beaten, I don’t know what she will do.” Mrs. Wilson put her arm around Emma and guided her to a room nearby.

  “Go now, My Lady, it’s what’s best,” she added kindly.

  “Will you allow me to see her tomorrow?” She asked with concern.

  “Of course, My Lady, now go and rest, you look dead on your feet.”

  Caroline walked up the stairs in the servants’ quarters and slipped into her room. She was tired beyond belief, but her mind was wide awake.

  What had happened to poor Emma? She had to find a way to tell Mr. Langley what had occurred.

  Oh, dear! What if Madeleine was right? What if Mr. Langley is in danger as well?

  Owen walked back and forth in his lodgings. He had sent a letter to Lady Louisa asking her to meet him that night, but he had been waiting for her for hours. In frustration, he kicked a nearby chair, causing it to fall to the ground, one leg broken.

  This is very unlike her. Usually, she obeys my every whim.

  The door to the lodgings opened, and he looked up swiftly, hoping it was Lady Louisa. But to his annoyance Mr. Tiff was alone. “Where is Lady Louisa?”

  “My Lord, I brought the letter to her home, but her lady’s maid said Lady Louisa was feeling unwell,” Mr. Tiff said.

  “She’s not coming?” He demanded.

  “I’m afraid not, My Lord,” Mr. Tiff replied. “Her lady’s maid gave me this,” he added, handing him a letter. Owen ripped it from his hand and unfolded it at once. He hastily read it before crumpling it and throwing it on the floor. Lady Louisa had written that she was feeling dreadfully ill and could not see him. She was afraid that if she did not get better, then the physician would be called, which could mean all was revealed. He yelled angrily.

  “Is there anything I can do, My Lord?” Mr. Tiff asked in his usual bored, rough voice.

  “No, Mr. Tiff,” he spat, reaching for a bottle of rum on a small spindly table by the sofa.

  If the physician sees her, this will all be over. My only hope is Lady Caroline—she must accept my proposal!

  The following morning Owen woke much too late, in fact, it was nearly noon when he opened his bleary eyes. He had drunk far into the night and was feeling miserable. His head was pounding and he stumbled out of his bed. That’s when he remembered that the Dowager Duchess and Lady Caroline had invited him over to Brighney Manor for a luncheon. He was already too late! Hurriedly he dressed, cursing and muttering.

  He arrived at Brighney Manor and noticed that the butler raised his eyebrows slightly when greeting him. He was brought into the dining room, where the Dowager Duchess and Lady Caroline were waiting for him. “Allow me to apologize for my lateness,” he said sincerely. “Lady Caroline,” he bowed his head low, then turned to her aunt. “Dearest Dowager Duchess, forgive me.”

  Something is not right!

  Both ladies were staring at him with identical, bewildered looks. After a painstakingly long silence, the Dowager Duchess finally said, “Well, I am glad you could join us, My Lord.”

  Her tone was unmistakably cold, and she was gazing at him with a judgment that would make his father proud. He sat down, and that’s when he saw his reflection in the silver candle holder. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair on end, and his complexion white as a sheet.

  This is not good.

  Caroline stared at Lord Estaria. This morning when she woke, she had felt terribly tired, and her eyes were puffy from lack of sleep. She had been concerned about what her aunt would say, but after a thin layer of powder, she looked presentable. But Lord Estaria looked horrible. When he entered the room, a strong smell of alcohol surrounded him, and she could see how the Dowager Duchess lips became increasingly thin with disapproval.

  I wonder how Emma is feeling? I wish Mrs. Wilson would have allowed me to see her this morning.

  Caroline had woken early, wanting to go down to the kitchen, but Madeleine had brought her a message from Mrs. Wilson.

  She told me, that she will let you know when it is safe for you to come, Madeleine had recounted, confused.

  “Lady Caroline, I hear there is an excellent concert next Saturday, at Covent Garden,” Lord Estaria said. “It would be an honor to bring you there.”

  “How lovely,” she replied politely.

  “We would be delighted to join you,” the Dowager Duchess said, but she did not show a hint of a smile as she spoke.

  “I’m glad.” He seemed disappointed. “Where is Lord Brighney?” Lord Estaria asked conversationally.

  “He is busy with work,” the Dowager Duchess replied.

  “Jolly good,” he replied stiffly.

  This is a terribly awkward gathering. What has prompted His Lord to arrive here, looking like an awful mess?

  “I met the Dowager Duchess of Aston recently,” her aunt continued.

  “You did?”

  “Yes, she told me you were anxious to settle down. Is that true?” Caroline looked purposefully away from Lord Estaria.

  What is Her Grace doing?

  “It is, yes. I have felt a strong connection to lovely Lady Caroline, and I am beyond honored that she has agreed to court me,” he said. His voice was light and sweet, but he had begun sweating.

  “I see,” her aunt said curtly.

  “It is unusually dark outside, do you agree?” Caroline said, trying desperately to ease the increasing tension.

  “Perhaps it will rain,” Lord Estaria replied, before taking a shaking sip of his tea.

  “I always used to love to snuggle by the fire and read in weather like this, when
I was younger.” She looked between Lord Estaria and her aunt.

  “Are you much of a reader?” The Dowager Duchess asked.

  “It certainly depends on the material.” His voice sounded strained.

  “There was another article in the Examiner recently, did you read it, My Lord?”

  “Another article?” He seemed to be writhing in his seat. “No, I’m afraid I did not see it yet.”

  “He is rather clever, that Mr. Langley,” the Dowager Duchess said. Caroline had to bite for bottom lip hard to stop her grin. “Has an elegant way with words.”

  Her Grace read my article and liked it. An elegant way with words! I cannot believe it!

  “The Examiner is not one of the papers I frequently read,” Lord Estaria replied.

  “Perhaps you ought to.” Her aunt stood up gracefully. “It is getting late. Lord Estaria no doubt has somewhere to be. Come now, Lady Caroline.”

  “It was lovely to see you, My Lord,” Caroline said with a small curtsey.

  “Lady Caroline, I look forward to our next meeting,” he replied, standing up as well. He seemed to be debating whether to say something before he turned around and left the room. She felt positively giddy.

  “I am going to have a lie-down,” her aunt said, pinching the bridge of her nose.” I’m feeling somewhat exhausted.”

  “I hope you feel better. Your Grace.” Caroline beamed at her aunt.

  “Thank you, dear.” The Dowager Duchess left, going up the grand staircase.

  Caroline was filled with hope suddenly. Mr. Langley had been right. They had to remain hopeful. Feeling an intense longing to write another article, she decided to head up to her room. When she turned around, she noticed Mrs. Wilson looking at her intently from the servants’ staircase. She hurried toward the housekeeper. “What is it?” She spoke quietly, not sure her aunt had gone into her room yet.

  “You can see her now,” Mrs. Wilson said. “Come with me.” Together they walked down the steps to the kitchen.

  Finally, I will get some answers.

  The kitchen was busily preparing for dinner, the pleasant smell of roasting potatoes greeted them. She stopped for a moment to inhale deeply all the different scents and smells.

  “Here, My Lady.” Mrs. Wilson gestured. “You always loved this kitchen when you were little,” she added with a chuckle. They walked down the narrow hallway, and Mrs. Wilson opened the door to their left.

  “This room was empty,” Mrs. Wilson said. “I made her rest here.” She pushed open the door, and Caroline entered the room. But all hope of finding out what had happened dissipated at once.

  “But, Mrs. Wilson,” she said, looking around the empty room. “Where is she? Where is Emma?”

  “What?” Mrs. Wilson exclaimed. “She was here just a moment ago.”

  They both looked at the window, which slowly bobbed against the window frame, slightly off its hinges.

  Chapter 29

  “Emma!” Caroline cried, looking out the window. “Where can she have gone?”

  “I… I just don’t understand this,” Mrs. Wilson said.

  “Why would she leave?” She rushed out of the room, into the kitchen.

  “Wait, My Lady.” Mrs. Wilson followed her, but she pushed open the door and ran outside. She looked around for a sign of Emma but did not see any trace of her.

  I will not give up. Where are you Emma?

  Suddenly, she had an idea. The enclosure Emma had written about. She held up her skirt and ran to the garden, vaguely aware that Mrs. Wilson was calling her name. Her breathing was shallow, and she had a stitch in her side when she neared the spot where she had waited for Emma previously.

  “Emma?” She spoke quietly but knew it was most likely futile.

  “Lady Caroline!” Mrs. Wilson was approaching her with pink cheeks from rushing to her. “Come back inside.”

  “Why did she leave?” She closed her eyes, trying to calm her fluttering thoughts.

  “I just don’t know, My Lady,” Mrs. Wilson said, patting her arm. “You better hurry back inside.”

  “All right.” She sighed and turned around, but then something caught her eye. “Look at that.”

  “What is it?”

  “There’s something stuck to the branch,” she said, moving toward one of the low hanging branches near the pathway that led out of the garden. She picked it off the branch. “It’s a piece of cloth. It seems to have been torn off.”

  “Oh, my,” Mrs. Wilson said softly. Caroline turned to look at the housekeeper. “See, there,” Mrs. Wilson pointed. At a branch slightly higher, there was a lock of hair, tangled between the twigs. A light auburn- colored, very thin lock of hair—Emma’s hair color!

  “What can have made her rush through here in such a hurry?” She walked toward the gate and looked around, but saw no one.

  “Heaven above, I cannot fathom this, the poor child,” Mrs. Wilson said anxiously. “Her eye was badly swollen, she could not have seen properly.”

  “I’m scared for her, Mrs. Wilson.”

  “I know, My Lady, me too.” Mrs. Wilson put her arm around her, guiding her back to the house. Caroline ran her fingers over the torn cloth in her hand, deep in thought.

  Did something frighten her enough to make her run off? What could that have been?

  Later, Caroline sat in the drawing room with a steaming cup of tea. Madeleine sat beside her, observing her, with concern etched onto her face. The Dowager Duchess had come downstairs, and she seemed to be equally immersed in thought as Caroline.

  “Caroline,” her aunt said suddenly.

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “Will you play the pianoforte? It has been too long since you played.” Her aunt put down her cup. “When the sky is this dreary shade of gray, music is the only thing that lifts my spirit.”

  “Of course, Your Grace.” She chuckled and walked to the pianoforte. This was indeed a good idea. Playing always helped her calm her mind. She sat down on the plump stool and leafed through the pile of scores until she found the one she was looking for. Her fingers pressed down on the keys, and the soothing tones from the instrument filled the room. While she played, an image from her past popped up in her mind.

  It was an unclear memory of sitting in her mother’s lap in front of this very pianoforte, giggling, and playing a simple song. She could still remember her mother’s perfume, which wafted around them as they played. The thought brought tears to her eyes.

  I had completely forgotten about this. I almost forgot about Mother. What can have made me think of her, now?

  “That was lovely, Caroline.” Her aunt stood behind her.

  “Thank you.”

  “I know this has been an overwhelming day,” her aunt continued. “Why don’t you go and rest before dinner?”

  “All right, I will.” Caroline stood up and gazed at her aunt. Was she simply talking about the disastrous luncheon with Lord Estaria, or did she know about what had happened this afternoon?

  She ascended the stairs toward her room. When she walked past her father’s library, she heard a voice that made her whole body tense—it was Mr. Langley!

  He and her father were talking together. She stood next to the door and listened intently. Hearing his voice again, transported her back to his lodgings. His chest crashing against her bosom, his hand on her waist, his mouth on her neck. Her chest flushed, and she felt that all-to-familiar buzzing in her center again.

  “My Lady,” Madeleine said softly.

  She turned away from the door, feeling slightly embarrassed.

  “Her Grace is coming,” Madeleine said pointedly. She peered behind her and saw the Dowager Duchess at the bottom of the stairs. She sprung forward, and inside her room, her thoughts racing. There was not much time.

  “Madeleine, I need you to go and see Mrs. Wilson.” She spoke with fervor. “Can you do that?”

  “Yes, of course,” Madeleine replied earnestly.

  “Tell her that I must speak with Mr. Langley
before he leaves.” Madeleine did not speak, but she looked terrified.