Unwrapping a Rogue: A Christmas Regency Boxset

by Samantha Holt

  “Eavesdropping is a sin of rogues, sir.”

  Her mother’s eyes grew wide. “Really, Charlotte, if I didn’t know better myself, I’d swear you were not my daughter.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Just go, Mother. I want to talk to Vic. Alone.”

  Her mother smiled, then opened the door. She curtsied to Victor. “Your Royal Highness.”

  “Mrs. Appleton.”

  Her mother gave one glance back into the room before she traipsed down the hall.

  Victor waited in the doorway, his arms clasped behind his back.

  “Oh, for the love of Heaven, Vic. You’ve done unspeakable things to me, and I to you, though recently there are more ticks in your column than in mine, so I suppose I owe you on that front. But still, considering our history, I don’t think you have to ask permission to enter my room.”

  He stepped across the threshold. “I have only one thing to say.”

  “Go on.”

  “Will you marry me?”

  Her mouth gaped. “That’s to the point.”

  “I know, and to prove it, since I didn’t have time to get a ring, I brought this.” Vic unclasped his hands from behind his back and presented an arrow.

  “What’s this?”

  “The point I’m trying to make. Though, more precisely, it’s the very first arrow you ever shot against me. The arrow that sliced my arrow. The arrow that won my heart.”

  She smiled. “Are you admitting defeat, sir?”

  “In a round about way, yes. Though I believe my loss is actually my win.”

  Charlotte took the arrow from Vic and held it close to her heart. “Spoken like a true rogue. Like my rogue.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  She beamed. Then leaned in to kiss Victor. “Yes.”

  She had everything she ever wanted.

  THE END

  To read more books in Angelique Armae’s Seduced by Scandal series, visit her website at:

  https://angeliquearmae.com

  Her Perfect Rogue

  By Amanda Mariel

  Chapter One

  VILLAGE OF HYTHE, KENT, England 1818

  Julia glanced from where she sat on an old tree stump to the rickety cottage she shared with her mother. She squinted against the afternoon sun while pulling her cloak tighter to shield her from the winter wind as she examined a patch of loose shingles. If Papa did not find his way home soon, the house would crumble down around them.

  She could not reason why he’d failed to return. Surely, if Papa had fallen ill someone would have written to Mama. No doubt if he’d perished, word would have been sent. Still, Papa had been gone for nearly a year on what was supposed to be a fortnight’s journey. She could not help fretting about him.

  “Julia.” Mama appeared in the ramshackle doorway in a threadbare blue dress, her graying hair pulled into a tight bun. Fine lines that had not been there a year prior now edged her lips and eyes. “Julia, come at once.”

  Heeding Mama’s command, Julia made her way across the cold, hard ground to meet her in the entrance. The cold from the bare floorboards seeped through the soles of her slippers, chilling her feet. A carpet had once covered the floor, but Mama sold it last month, the funds used to purchase food—food that had run out a se’nnight ago. Julia’s belly growled at the thought and she rested her hand upon it. “Will Papa return for Christmastide? Have you received word from him?”

  Mama covered a cough, motioning for Julia to follow her. “He will not.”

  Julia swallowed back the rising lump in her throat. Mama sold the family’s goat yesterday and the settee a day prior. If this continued much longer, they would have nothing—as it was, little of value remained. She turned her forlorn gaze on Mama. “How can you be so sure? Did you receive news?”

  “Your Papa ran off. He will not be back, and I can no longer afford to take care of you. These are desperate times, Julia. We must be strong to overcome them.” Mama entered her room with Julia trailing behind, then came to stand next to a crimson gown.

  Trepidation pricked at Julia as she glanced between Mama’s shadowed eyes and the silk frock. An unsettling shiver needled her skin. “What are we to do?”

  “You are well aware of my failing health, and we have little wood for the hearth or food in the pantry.” Mama stepped behind Julia and started unfastening her daughter’s dress. A round of coughing overtook her, causing her to double over. The fit passed and Mama set back to her task. “If you want a chance...if you want a better life, it’s up to you to make it happen.”

  Mama’s words made no sense to her. Surely, she needed Julia here to help and look after her—even more so if she spoke the truth about Papa. Julia attempted to take a step, to turn toward her mother, but she stilled her and continued unfastening Julia’s frock. “I am sending you to London.”

  A deep chill took hold of Julia, causing the hairs at her nape to stand on end. What could she possibly do in London? What would become of Mama after she was gone? “I do not understand, Mama. You need me here.”

  "If you stay, we are both sure to perish. If not from starvation, then from the winter's chill." Mama loosed another button, working her way down the back of Julia's dress. "You must go."

  The old moth-eaten woolen frock she’d been wearing slid down Julia’s body to pool on the floor at her feet. She glanced down at her slippers, badly stained and coming apart at the seams. She could not argue with Mama’s words, but neither could she accept being sent away. “I can take on more work, Mama. Maybe find more mending...or take a post as a maid nearby. Surely—”

  Mama shook her head, then placed a corset around Julia’s midsection. “You know full well there is no work to be had here in Hythe.”

  Mama pulled the stays so hard that Julia jerked backward before looking down at the garment. Fine ivory silk with a crimson motif encased whalebone and squeezed her ribs to the point of suffocation. She could not imagine why any woman would be willing to wear such a torturous thing. And it must have cost a great deal of money—as the gown certainly had, too. She turned her head to catch Mama’s gaze.

  “Could we not sell this...torturous garment, and the frock as well, to get us through until I can find work? They must be worth a considerable fortune.” Julia turned her head to meet Mama’s hollowed-out eyes. “Wherever did you come by them?”

  “Where they came from does not signify, nor is selling them feasible.” Mama raised her hand, covering another cough. “This is your chance at a good life. Do not squander the gift I am bestowing on you.”

  Julia swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Let me get you something to drink.”

  “No, it will not help.” Mama waved a dismissive hand.

  “Then allow me to fetch the doctor.” Julia attempted to retrieve her weathered dress. Surely the doctor could help Mama. Once she felt better, maybe she would forget all about sending Julia off to London.

  “There are no funds to pay for his services.” Mama retrieved the new silk gown, then pulled it onto Julia’s body. “If only I were younger....”

  Julia wanted to press for Mama to finish her statement. What if she were younger? Would it make any difference? She turned toward the skittering of little feet in the corner of the drafty room. A large rat scurried across the warped floorboards before disappearing into a hole dug out of the straw mattress. She shivered, not from fear, but disgust.

  If she stayed here there would be nothing but suffering and long hours of hard work for little coin. At the rate they were going, there would be no wood for the hearth to keep the winter chill at bay; even if they could procure food, they would freeze. But what could she do in London? A city she had never visited, where she knew no one. And what would become of Mama once she had gone?

  Mama guided her to sit on the edge of the straw mattress where she pinned up Julia’s hair before painting her eyes and lips. Julia trained her focus on a large cobweb in the corner. She could not believe Mama was casting her out, nor could she deny that was exactly
what was happening. She tapped her foot, dumbfounded by the dawning reality of her predicament.

  “Still yourself,” Mama said.

  Julia ceased her tapping, folding her hands in her lap. “Mama, I don’t understand. Tell me what you would have me do?”

  “Just be nice to the gentlemen, Julia. They will repay your kindness with their generosity.” She rouged Julia’s cheeks before turning her toward the tarnished looking glass.

  Mama coughed again, this time harder than before, but Julia barely noticed as she studied her reflection. The girl she’d been less than an hour past had been transformed into a grown woman—no, a harlot.

  She studied her reflection. Her form clad in a scandalously low-cut frock and painted face reflected back at her, stealing her breath. This could not be right. Mama could not mean for her to...no, she’d not ponder such things.

  Mama patted Julia’s back. “You will do well, my dear. Just remember my words.” She pushed a heart-shaped locket into Julia’s hand. “The gentlemen hold the key to your future.”

  Julia closed her fingers against the cold metal, then opened them to look at the necklace. Be true to yourself. Her head spun, dizziness causing her to stumble. She did not want to go, could not fathom why Mama would give her such a thing while turning her away. Pushing her from her home and all she’d ever known.

  Mama stilled her before taking the locket and securing it around Julia’s neck. “Your carriage will be here any moment. Let us go out and wait.”

  Julia wet her dry lips as she stared at Mama with beseeching eyes. She could not will her legs to move, nor her mind to cease spinning. There had to be something she could say—or do.

  “Come.” Mama took her hand and tugged her along behind her. “In time you will discover the necessity of your leaving.”

  Somehow, Julia doubted she ever would. All the same, she held her tongue as Mama continued to pull her toward the door.

  No sooner had Julia stepped onto the frozen lawn than the racket of carriage wheels reached her ears. She pulled her hand free, her gaze locking with Mama’s. “Please, do not do this. Tell me it is but a farce.”

  “This is your chance, Julia. Do not disappoint me.” Mama grabbed her shoulders and turned her toward the path leading away from their cottage. “Your fate is now in your own hands. Make me proud.”

  The carriage halted on the road in front of the cottage and Mama gave her a little shove. “Make haste.”

  “Please.” Julia turned back to Mama, begging with her eyes as much as her words. “There must be another way.”

  Mama shook her head, giving another shove. “Forgive me, but this is the only way.”

  Julia’s heart plummeted as she fought back the tears of hurt and frustration welling in her eyes. She stiffened, reaching for the locket around her neck, then gave a tug, breaking it free and allowing it to drop to the ground. She’d not allow herself to crumble. Not now—not ever.

  Making her way to the carriage, she did not so much as glance back at Mama or the tumbledown cottage. Whatever her future might hold, she would face it with her head held high.

  Chapter Two

  London, 1818

  “You are Julia? Tabitha Honeyfield’s daughter, correct?”

  Julia nodded at the woman, her heart thundering. She’d never seen the likes of her before. Coal lined the woman’s eyes, her lips were painted ruby-red, and her melon-sized breasts threatened to burst from the low-cut décolletage of her emerald gown.

  Looking closer, Julia noted fine lines etched at the corners of the woman’s cat-like green eyes. Her jaw slightly sagged and silver strands laced their way through her brown hair, further betraying her advanced age.

  The way Mama had fashioned Julia was mild in comparison to the woman standing before her now. And what exactly was Lavinia’s Palace? Julia glanced around the room, noting the burgundy-and-gold color scheme covering nearly every surface. Ornate molding lined the door and windows, and plush carpeting, unlike any Julia had ever seen, padded the floor.

  As she tipped her chin up in a silent prayer, the mirrored ceiling reflected her image back at her. Hells bells! What a peculiar place to put a looking glass. Where the devil had Mama sent her? And who was this woman?

  As if the woman had read her mind, she said, “I am Madame Lavinia, the proprietor of this establishment, as well as its namesake.”

  Julia trained her attention back on Madame Lavinia, forcing herself to offer a smile. “Pleased to meet you, Madame.” Only she had the sinking feeling deep in her gut that this meeting would result in the exact opposite of pleasurable.

  “I’ve ordered a room prepared for you and Millie will be here presently to give you instruction on your duties.” Madame Lavinia glanced at the door. “In the meantime, have you any questions for me?”

  Where to start? Julia rolled her stiff shoulders, her mind racing. “What is Madame Lavinia’s? A coaching inn, perhaps?” Even as she asked, Julia was quite certain this was no coaching inn, but what else might it be?

  Madame Lavinia laughed. “Did your Mama not explain to you where you were being sent?”

  “No, Madame. She said only that I should be kind to the gentlemen.”

  The woman’s laughter increased in volume. “Good advice indeed, for this is a brothel.”

  Julia blanched, her stomach lurching in protest. How could Mama send her to such a place? She was sitting in a house of ill repute. She, an innocent maiden. One who’d never so much as been kissed now resided under the roof of a brothel. This simply could not be...and yet, it was.

  Despite her lack of experience, she was not stupid. Julia knew what happened in these establishments. More than that, she knew she could never belong here. Julia stood, squaring her shoulders. “There must be some mistake.”

  “I assure you, no mistakes have been made. I have your mother’s letter right here.” Madame Lavinia sashayed over to her desk and lifted the parcel. “She chose my establishment due to our good reputation. You see, we protect our girls. Keep them safe and ensure they earn a fair rate for their services.”

  A rapping at the door prevented Julia from saying anything further. Instead, she focused her attention on the room’s entrance and waited as Madame Lavinia welcomed another woman into the parlor. A pretty blonde whose face was painted in the same fashion as the Madame’s, who appeared to be closer to Julia’s age.

  Could this be her fate? Her stomach roiled, threatening to toss up its contents. No. Julia would never—could never. There had to be an escape, another way for her to survive—to live. She would not accept the life of a whore.

  “Millie, this is the new girl, Julia.” Madame Lavinia waved a hand in her direction. “See her to her room and answer her questions.”

  “Yes, Madame.” Millie came closer to Julia as she sized up her new colleague from head to toe and back again. “She will do well.”

  How insulting! They were discussing her like a horse in harness. Taking her measure, appraising her worth. She’d not stand for it. Julia fought to calm her pounding heart.

  No way would she remain here, but where could she go? She needed time to think, to devise a plan. Time she feared she did not have.

  Julia glanced between the women. Perhaps she was here for some other purpose. To serve drinks, maybe. If so she could abide it for a time. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it.

  “I suspect as much, and she will fetch a premium for her maidenhead.” Madame Lavinia leveled her gaze on Julia. “You are a virgin, correct?”

  She was most certainly not here for anything as modest as serving drinks. Julia looked at the carpeting, her heart pounding. She’d not discuss her virginal state, or any other, with these women.

  “Oh, the gentlemen will be fighting for who gets the chance to rut with her first.” Millie placed her hand under Julia’s chin, tipping it up and smiling. “How exciting for you.”

  Exciting? The girl must be daft. Julia could not imagine a worse fate than the one being laid out in f
ront of her. She inhaled, turning her head to free herself from Millie’s grasp. “Thank you for your time, but I will not be staying here. I’m sure it is a wonderful establishment, however, I have no desire to become a...a...I’ll not be bedding anyone.” She made haste for the door, her mind set on escaping.

  Mistress Lavinia grabbed her elbow, jerking her to a halt. “Do not be daft, girl. You’d not make it five minutes out on the streets. Besides, gentlemen have already begun bidding on the chance to lay with you.”

  “You’ll not be doing the bedding at any rate. The men will. All you need do is follow their lead.” Millie added.

  Julia struggled to free herself from the woman’s grasp, her cheeks burning. “I will take my chances elsewhere.”

  “You’d rather have your innocence ripped from you by a street scoundrel than earn coin for it here, in the safety of my establishment?” Madame Lavinia tightened her grasp on Julia’s arm.

  Millie stared at her from where she stood, blocking the doorway. “Madame Lavinia tells the truth; if you venture into the London night, someone will assault you. I dare say, you may even turn up murdered.”

  Julia considered their words. She knew nothing of London. Could not even say where about she was in the city. She’d heard stories of London’s underworld from those who had visited the city—pickpockets, murderers, all sorts of vagabonds. She closed her eyes and swallowed.

  True, leaving would put her in danger, but staying could never be an option for her. Julia ceased her struggling. “Very well.”

  “You’ve made a wise choice.” Madame Lavinia released her arm. “Millie show—”

  Julia stomped the Madame’s foot and ran toward the door, tossing her full weight into Millie. The girl stumbled back, allowing Julia the opportunity to burst from the room. Her heart pounded as she made her way down the hall to the stairs.

  As she clutched her skirts in one hand and descended the stairs, she heard the beating of footfalls behind her, but she dared not look back. Her heart pounded frantically as she hastily made her way toward the landing.