Her Majesty’s Scoundrels

by Christy Carlyle

  If he was truly a rogue then she had to find a way to harden her heart toward him. Before it was too late. If it wasn’t too late already.

  “I can see the wheels turning in your mind. Whatever are you thinking?”

  “Something I probably shouldn’t.” And certainly nothing she was willing to share with her cousin.

  But now that the idea had taken hold, she couldn’t release it. Tomorrow was going to be an enlightening day, one way or another.

  Late the next morning, Sophia lingered in the hall upstairs, listening closely for Elliott’s departure. She’d overheard him tell Codwell he’d soon be leaving. Guilt for eavesdropping already made her grimace, as had her request to the countess for a few hours to herself to run errands.

  What might she feel like by the time she completed her mission this day? But once the idea of following Elliott had come to her, she’d felt certain this was the answer to her dilemma.

  There was no harm in her going out.

  By herself.

  Behind Elliott.

  If he caught her, she would simply say— She had no idea what she’d say. She hoped she wouldn’t be caught. With a sigh, she smoothed the skirt of the grey gown she’d donned with the hope of blending in.

  “Shall we expect you for the evening meal, my lord?” Codwell’s voice echoed up the stairs.

  Sophia leaned over the bannister, hoping to hear Elliott’s reply.

  “I suppose not.” Was there a note of disappointment in his voice? “I shall see if I can manage it tomorrow evening.”

  The rest of their brief conversation was muffled, so Sophia retrieved her cloak from her room and rushed down the back stairs. She gave a quick wave at the cook and maids in the kitchen as she passed through and hurried out the back door.

  Now if only a hansom cab was waiting down the street, she might be able to follow him. Heart racing, she hurried down the alleyway, clutching her purse. She kept to the alley until she was near the cab stand then ventured onto the street. She nearly cheered with relief when she caught sight of the hansom.

  “Will you please follow that carriage?” she breathlessly asked the driver, pointing to Elliott’s carriage, still visible in the distance.

  “I reckon so,” he agreed.

  “Don’t follow too closely. I would prefer to be discreet.” She hopped in and settled on the seat, nerves fluttering.

  “Very well then.” With a snap of the reins, they were off.

  They travelled through the neighborhood, then to Regent Street, where she lost sight of the carriage several times in the snarled traffic. Luckily, the driver’s higher perch provided him a better view.

  The farther they went, the more Sophia worried that she’d made a terrible mistake with this venture. The risk was too great. If Elliott discovered she was spying on him, everything would be ruined.

  At last they drew to a halt along Whitehall near an impressive three-story building. It had to be some sort of government office as all the buildings in this area were. She watched as Elliott alighted and entered.

  “What building is that?” she asked the driver.

  “The Foreign Office.”

  Sophia had no idea what to think. What business could Elliott have there?

  “What would ye like me to do?”

  Sophia pondered her options, indecisiveness filling her. “Would you mind waiting a few minutes?”

  Though worried she wouldn’t be able to find another hansom when Elliott left, she couldn’t afford to pay the driver to wait long.

  Thus far, her mission was not a success.

  Minutes passed slowly as doubt trickled in, threatening to overwhelm her plan. What had she been thinking? This was an awful idea. Yet she’d already started down this path. She might as well see it through.

  As though a reward for her patience, or perhaps her determination, Elliott emerged from the building, striding toward his carriage with a grim expression.

  “Shall I follow him again?” The hopeful note in the driver’s voice made Sophia wonder if he was enjoying this game of pursuit.

  “Yes, if you please.” Sophia settled back into her seat, curious as to where Elliott might be going next. Visiting someone at the Foreign Office was hardly the act of a scoundrel.

  It was far too soon to jump to such a conclusion she reminded herself. Yet relief filled her all the same.

  In her heart, she didn’t want Elliott to be a rogue. While she held little hope they might have a future, she needed to know the truth, before her feelings grew any deeper.

  Lost in thought, she glanced out the window, realizing they’d passed into an unfamiliar neighborhood, not that she knew London well. This neighborhood held a worn appearance, as though better days had come and gone.

  Grand houses lined the quiet streets but a few of the roofs drooped. Shingles were missing here and there, and many of the wrought iron gates sagged on their hinges like drunken old men propped against a wall.

  The cab slowed to a halt and the driver leaned down. “The carriage stopped ahead, and the gentleman is walking toward one of the houses.”

  Following her instincts, Sophia quickly alighted and handed the driver his fee, all while keeping an eye on Elliott’s progress. The chance of him not spotting the hansom seemed slim, and she would soon run out of money. “That will be all.”

  “Are you certain you don’t want me to wait?” The driver frowned between her and the money she’d given him, as though disappointed to end the quest.

  Quelling her doubt, Sophia gave a decisive nod. “I will follow on foot from here.”

  She hurried toward the house where he’d disappeared. Had he gone inside? The squeak of a gate had her walking around the side of the house to follow the sound. She proceeded cautiously, glancing up at the four-story house, wondering who lived here.

  Why would Elliott go to the rear entrance? It suggested a familiarity that concerned her. Was this his mistress’s home? She bit her lip, hoping she was wrong. She pressed on, more determined to find out what he was doing here.

  The murmur of voices reached her from the rear entrance, followed by the sound of the door closing. She continued through the side garden until she could see the empty back step.

  Now what? She could hardly knock on the door and inquire as to who lived there.

  Or could she? Did she dare do something so bold? Surely, Elliott was no longer anywhere near the door. If an unsuspecting servant answered, perhaps she could pry information from him or her.

  Front or back door? Back, she decided, moving before her nerves sent her running. She checked the narrow veil of her hat to make certain it was pulled down, hiding most of her face.

  A footman answered the door, at least she thought he was a footman, though he didn’t wear a uniform, only a suit coat. “Yes?” he asked.

  “I am here to see Mrs. Smith.” Sophia looked behind him, hoping to glimpse something that would give her a hint as to who lived here. But all she could see was a bit of the kitchen and the hall, which told her nothing.

  “There is no Mrs. Smith here. You have the wrong house.” The man stepped to the side, blocking her scrutiny.

  “I am certain she told me this address. Who lives here?” Sophia eased to the opposite side, hoping to improve her view.

  “You need to leave, madam.”

  “Are you certain there’s no Mrs. Smith?” At the man’s nod, she tried again. “Is this a private residence?”

  The annoyed servant shut the door in her face.

  All the air left her lungs in defeat. What else could she have said to gain more information? Silly of her to think she might’ve been allowed to enter. And what would have happened if she had? Looking around the house wouldn’t have told her anything. She needed to know who Elliott was meeting with and why.

  She walked down the steps and returned to the side garden, glancing at the windows. Unwilling to give up, she eased past a hedge to move closer to the window.

  In for a penny, in for a pound.


  Heart hammering, she peeked into the room but the glare from the glass hid the interior. She cupped her hand around her eyes. Now, she could see what looked to be a drawing room.

  She shifted to get a better view, rising to her toes. Her breath stopped as she caught sight of Elliott. He sat in a wing-back chair, visiting with an attractive woman.

  Dropping quickly, she closed her eyes for a moment, praying the woman wasn’t his mistress. The idea of him holding the stranger the same way he’d held her had her blinking back tears.

  Sophia stayed where she was for a moment, wondering if he’d seen her. She tried to gather her wits and swallow her hurt and determine what to do next.

  This had been a terrible mistake. She knew nothing more than when she’d left the house earlier.

  Worse, if Elliott had seen her, how could she possibly explain herself?

  Elliott stilled, unable to believe his eyes. That couldn’t have been Sophia peering in. Not his Sophia.

  “I fear the news is true,” Mrs. Lawrence continued, with Elliott hardly listening. “Two of my girls heard it directly from the Russian diplomats.”

  “That is alarming indeed.” He’d thought that information coming from Mrs. Lawrence would be the worst news he’d receive today.

  But he’d been wrong.

  The sight of Sophia staring at him through the window was far worse for his heart than the brothel madam’s words.

  He stared at the window, trying to process how she’d come to be here and why.

  He debated whether to continue the conversation with Mrs. Lawrence or pursue Sophia, only to realize there was no debate.

  “Is something amiss, my lord?”

  “Please accept my apologies. I believe I forgot something.” He rose, hoping the woman wouldn’t take affront to his abrupt departure.

  “Does it have anything to do with the attractive young lady peering in my window?”

  Elliott clenched his jaw. Trust Mrs. Lawrence not to let anything slip past her. She ran the brothel like a captain ran a ship, with efficiency and high expectations.

  “Yes, it does. I believe she is looking for me.”

  “Would you like to invite her in?” Mrs. Lawrence raised a brow, an amused smile tilting her lips. “I believe I would enjoy meeting her.”

  Elliott cursed under his breath. The last thing he wanted was his personal life to collide with his professional one. Though he rather liked Mrs. Lawrence, that didn’t mean he wanted her to meet Sophia.

  Instead of giving voice to his thoughts, he offered an apologetic smile. “I have no doubt she would enjoy meeting you as well, but perhaps another time.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  “Thank you for the information. As always, please send word if you discover additional details.”

  “Of course.”

  He rushed out the rear door and through the garden to the window, hoping Sophia hadn’t disappeared. Well aware Mrs. Lawrence was no doubt watching, he slowed his steps as he neared the window, but there was no sign of Sophia.

  “Sophia?” he called quietly. The random pattern of the tall hedges provided too many hiding places.

  A rustle in the foliage just ahead had him moving quicker.

  “Sophia.”

  “Elliott.” Her tone held an odd combination of surprise and dismay.

  “Were you expecting someone else?” The anger filling him as he found her, crouching by the hedge, took him aback.

  “Well, no, but—”

  He lifted her to stand before him, grimacing from the pain of his knife wound. A client of the brothel he’d been visiting had gotten angry at his line of questioning. The injury was a physical reminder of the danger in which he was involved.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I—I wanted to know where you were going.” She lifted her veil, those hazel eyes imploring him to understand. “I spoke to that man at the back door but—”

  His angry growl stopped whatever explanation she’d been offering. His heart pounded as his anger grew. The man to whom she referred was one of Mrs. Lawrence’s guards. Frank had spent years in prison for murder. Elliott knew of at least three other lives he’d taken since he’d been released. The man was a brute, and Elliott was horrified to think he’d been anywhere near Sophia.

  He wanted to shake her for the risk she’d taken. If only she realized she was outside a brothel and had spoken to a murderer. “Why did you follow me?”

  Her lips twisted and for a moment, he didn’t think she was going to tell him. “I wanted to know where you go every day.”

  He shook his head and guided her toward the gate. “We are not having this discussion here.” The sooner he got Sophia away, the better. Hadn’t he known from the beginning that her presence in his home would only cause trouble?

  “Whose house is this?” she asked, as she glanced back, tugging her arm, but he held tight.

  “No one’s.” A deep breath did little to calm him.

  “Then why were you here?”

  They reached his carriage and the driver moved to open the door but Elliott waved him back.

  Ignoring Sophia’s question, Elliott assisted her inside then leaned against the opening. “Sophia, you cannot follow me ever again. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Dangerous?” Her alarm made him realize his mistake over his word choice too late. “You were involved in a knife fight then tell me you’re in danger again. What is happening, Elliott?”

  He glanced away before he was tempted to tell her the truth. The only thing that mattered was her safety. His efforts to make her uncomfortable by playing the rogue had failed miserably. But her actions today had proven that he needed her gone, away from him and his terrible, imbalanced life of lies and deceit.

  Besides, the man she was coming to care for didn’t exist.

  “Was that woman your mistress?” Sophia whispered.

  He could think of but one way to force her to stay away from him. If only he could explain that this was far more painful for him than for her.

  “Yes,” he said as he braced himself. “That was Mrs. Lawrence, and she’s my mistress. She knows more about pleasing a man than you will ever learn.”

  He gritted his teeth and his belly burned with disgust for his lie, but he couldn’t think of any other way to keep Sophia away from him.

  Tears filled her eyes as she stared at him.

  “I don’t understand what you think our relationship is, Miss Markham,” he continued. “You are my grandmother’s companion and have no business following me around London. I don’t appreciate it.”

  The stunned hurt in her expression squeezed his heart, yet what else could he do? If she followed him again, she might be injured, or worse, killed, and he’d never forgive himself.

  “I’ll inform my grandmother that you’ve decided to seek another position at a home more suitable to you.” He forced himself to offer a cold smile. “You’ve known from the start who I am. Wishing doesn’t change a scoundrel to a gentleman. Nor do a few kisses.”

  Her tiny gasp made him want to take away her pain with a kiss, tell her how sorry he was, and that he wished things could be different. She’d captured his heart and he didn’t know how he would survive from this moment forward.

  “Surely you didn’t think you and I would ever suit.” He shook his head, as though amused at the idea.

  Still, Sophia said nothing.

  “You need to be gone by the end of the week.” He shut the carriage door and nodded to the driver to go. As he watched it turn the corner and disappear from sight, a coldness filled him, making him wonder if he’d ever be warm again.

  Though he knew he’d done the right thing, it didn’t make it easier. Nor did he know how he was going to survive without Sophia in his life.

  Chapter Ten

  Sophia’s tears didn’t stop until the carriage arrived home. Elliott had a mistress. He didn’t want her.

  “Surely you didn’t think you and I would ever
suit.” The terrible words rang through her mind, over and over.

  She never should’ve followed him. As she’d feared, her actions had ruined everything. She’d lost any chance with him. She’d lost her position. She’d lost the countess.

  She’d lost her new life.

  Never mind that, as Elliott pointed out, there had never been any hope for them. She’d just been too naïve to realize it.

  Oh, heavens. What was she to do now?

  By the time the carriage drew to a halt and the footman opened the door, Sophia had collected herself. The last thing she wanted was to create a scene in front of the servants. Instead, she focused on her anger at Elliott for having a mistress while he’d been kissing her.

  That anger propelled her up the stairs to her room. But hurt quickly returned as anger slipped away. She looked around her room, tears filling her eyes at the thought of leaving.

  Tonight, she and the countess were attending a concert. They were in the middle of planning the party. How could she possibly leave?

  The Elliott who’d said such hurtful things was a new side of the man she’d grown to care for. Or rather, to love. His harsh words hadn’t changed her feelings. She’d fallen in love with a scoundrel despite all her efforts to the contrary.

  Unfortunately, he didn’t feel the same. The truth of that seeped into her bones, making her ache. As she sank onto her bed, wiping tears from her cheeks, his comments returned to haunt her. Those words had been her worst fears come to life. The voice of Aunt Margaret echoed through her thoughts, recriminating her for following in her mother’s footsteps.

  Odd how it had only been after she’d asked if the woman was his mistress that his demeanor had changed. What if she hadn’t asked that question? Would he have explained the danger he’d mentioned? How had the conversation turned so quickly to him telling her they didn’t suit and she had to leave?

  Once again, an encounter with Elliott left her bewildered and reeling. His words stabbed straight to her heart.