Even so, when he invoked his father’s name, he was admitted into the club. Dare could not understand his good fortune until he saw his father. He was sitting alone at a table and appeared to be quite drunk.
“Father.” Without waiting for an invitation, Dare sat down at the table. “How long have you been here? I have searched all of London for you today.”
“Not all, my dear boy … not all.” He raised his hand and signaled for one of the waiters. “A glass for my son. And another bottle of brandy.”
Dare waited until the glass and bottle were produced, and the waiter left them alone. “Allegra summoned me to the house.”
The duke blinked. Christ, were those tears in his father’s bloodshot eyes? “Allegra … oh, my dear poor Allegra,” he said, shaking his head. “How does she fare?”
“I have not seen her since this morning. Needless to say, she was battered and frightened.” Dare kept his voice low, but he wanted to shout at his sire. “What in the hell happened last night? Where is Charles?”
“Charles.” His father rubbed his eyes. “I do not know. I lost him in the darkness. I searched, and searched … finally, I ended up here.”
Dare leaned forward. “Father, we have to find him. Hire a Runner if necessary.”
The duke’s gaze widened as panic chased away his exhaustion. “This is Charles whom we are discussing. Not some lowborn criminal. No, no Runners. We will find him ourselves.”
Dare gripped the edge of the table. “Need I remind you that Charles almost murdered his wife? Neither one of us can vouch for his mental state, though we both know that he has gotten worse.”
“Charles has always been spirited. No more than you.” His father poured more brandy into his glass. Most of it missed the glass and formed a large puddle on the table. “We should have remained at Rooks House. Charles never does well in London. Too many distractions.”
Dare brought his hand to his lips and pinched his lower lip as if he could prevent himself from speaking the words that needed to be said. It did not help. He pointed a finger at his father. “Charles isn’t spirited, Father. He is angry, violent, and often cruel to the people who love him. He hurt Allegra last night, and there is a chance that he has attacked other women,” Dare said, not wondering for the first time if Mrs. Randall had been the victim of a random robbery. Then there was the incident with Regan.
His thought drifted back to the afternoon in the library when Charles had overheard Dare arguing with their father about him. Dare had said that Charles could not keep his bloody cock in his trousers. His brother had entered the library and replied, Funny, the same can be said about you, little brother.
At the time, Dare had thought his brother was referring to Allegra. What if he had been wrong? What if Charles had known about Dare’s pursuit of Mrs. Randall … and Regan. Dear God, what if Charles had been the one to push Regan into the busy street.
“What are you talking about?” his father demanded harshly, drawing attention from a few of his fellow members.
Dare seized the older man’s wrist when he reached for the bottle of brandy. “Sober up. Mother, Allegra, and Louise need you. If Charles returns to the house, you might want to think about locking him up in the cellar and summoning your physician.”
The duke yanked his arm free and stood. “You have no right to speak to me in such a manner. I—” He thumped on his chest. “I, alone, know what’s best for Charles. I don’t need your help. Go home. Leave me in peace.”
As Dare exited the club and headed for the hackney coach, he pondered his father’s angry words. Go home, the duke had said.
It stung a little to silently admit that Dare didn’t have one. Of course, the choice had been his, a symbol of his pleasure-seeking way of life and freedom from his family’s demands and needs. Hooked into his soul like ballast, he had been dragged down into the unexplored depths of debauchery and indulgence.
Not that he had fought his downfall very hard.
Until recently, Dare had not understood how empty his life had been. He stared up at the blackness overhead, allowing the cool night air to wash over him. Slipping his hand into his frock coat, his gloved fingers brushed the edge of the paper he had tucked away in the inner pocket.
Perhaps it was time to lay claim to what truly belonged to him.
Chapter Twenty-six
Something stirred Regan from her slumber. She opened her eyes and saw a shadowy figure leaning over her. Before she could take a deep breath to scream, a hand was clamped over her mouth.
“It’s me.” He peered at her. “Why are you in bed?”
When she realized that it was Dare, she moaned in relief.
“Whatever you do, don’t scream.”
Regan sank her teeth into the fleshy part of his palm.
Dare softly yelped and staggered backward. “Bloodthirsty woman,” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. “Are you trying to wake the entire house?”
Regan climbed out of bed and walked over to her dressing table. She was wearing her nightgown, but Dare had seen her in less. “What are you doing here, Dare?” She lit the small oil lamp.
“I had to see you,” he said, reaching for her.
She evaded him and went to the doors that opened to the balcony. She opened them and peered over the iron railing. “How did you get into the room?”
Dare kissed her on the neck. “The balcony.”
Her forehead furrowed as she thought of the risk he had taken to reach her. Regan glanced over her shoulder. “You could have broken your foolish neck.”
He spun her around and pulled her against his chest. “You are not the only one who can climb a balcony.”
Dare kissed her before she could ask him how he had opened a locked door. The kiss was demanding, all-consuming. The bruising pressure of his mouth expressed his residual anger over their earlier parting as clearly as if he had spoken. In retaliation, she bit his lower lip and then eased the sting with her tongue.
“Christ, I’ve missed you,” Dare murmured after he dragged some much-needed air into his lungs. His chin dropped to his chest as he began to work the bottom of her nightgown up her body. He groaned. “No, I should not be doing this.”
Regan grabbed his wrists to prevent him from pulling her nightgown over her head. “Why are you? I thought you were staying away from me.”
“You’re right,” he said abruptly, breaking her hold as he released the hem of her nightgown and smoothed the fabric over her hips.
“I am?” Insulted, Regan tried to shove Dare away, but he was as solid as a marble column. “If I had the strength, I would toss you over the balcony. How dare you sneak into my bedchamber like a thief and—”
Dare placed his hand over her mouth. “Hush, love. Do you want to bring the entire household down on my head?”
Regan nodded vehemently. Although she was certain it was too early for Frost to find his bed, she longed for her brother to give Dare the beating he deserved for trifling with her heart. Her words came out muffled, but Dare seemed to comprehend the direction of her thoughts.
Giving her an exasperated look, Dare leaned forward until they were almost nose-to-nose. “You are a perplexing creature, Regan Alice. I’m doing my best to keep my hands off you, and you want to see me castrated for it.” He removed his hand from her mouth and spun her around. “Now get dressed. We haven’t much time to tarry.”
Dare gave her backside a firm smack to emphasize their need for haste.
Regan whirled back around and seized him by the front of his dark evening coat. “And what gives you any right to order me about in my brother’s house?”
She expelled a high-pitched squeak when Dare tugged her closer so that she was standing up on her toes. “What gives me the right? Arrogance. I’m stronger than you, and am willing to fight dirty to get what I want.”
Regan sputtered at his outrageous boast. “That is not a reasonable answer!”
“Give me an hour, and I will have one for you.”
&n
bsp; “Oh, really,” she said, angling her head so she could stare down her nose at him. It was difficult but she was angry enough to manage the small feat. “You do not need an hour to convince me. I already know you have the manners of a cross-eyed donkey.”
Instead of an angry retort, Dare merely grinned at her. “Arguing with you would be a waste of breath. I intend to marry you, Regan.”
* * *
His declaration managed to render Regan speechless.
At any other time, Dare might have savored the quiet. Now it was beginning to irk him.
Regan’s soft kissable lips parted in mute surprise as her fierce grip on the front of his evening coat went boneless. If Dare didn’t have his fingers wrapped around her upper arms, she might have landed on her delectable backside.
“Say something,” he demanded, giving her a little shake.
Regan blinked. Wariness crept into her stunned expression. “You do not want to marry me.”
“Care to wager on it? You’d lose.”
Things were not going well. Instead of being happy, Regan looked confused and a little sad. His ribs felt like they were going to rupture if the pressure continued to build in his chest.
She smoothed away the wrinkles from the front of his evening coat. “No … Even if I agreed, it cannot be done.”
“Have some faith in me. I do not make promises that I cannot keep.” The arrogance and determination that had driven him since he had left his father’s club evaporated when Regan started to tremble. “Ho! There, there … Christ, don’t cry. I thought you would be overjoyed that I finally came to my senses.”
“You call this coming to your senses?” Regan laughed even as she wiped away the wetness clinging to her eyelashes. “You sneered when I told you that Lady Karmack was interested in finding me a husband.”
“I sneered because you do not have to look for one. You have me.”
Regan was not particularly overwhelmed by his declaration. “Why?”
“Why?” He frowned at the question. “Because I am tired of fighting the attraction between us. Although I tried to deny it, that need was there, just beneath the surface when we kissed at Nox five years ago. Time has not caused it to wither. Denial has not smothered it. My feelings for you continue to flourish despite my futile attempts to resist—”
“Of all the insulting things to say!”
His throat burned as bile and panic rose. With all the ways he had imagined revealing his plans to Regan, Dare had not considered that she might reject him. “Do not try to lie and tell me that you do not feel it. We belong together.”
Her lowered gaze did not bode well.
“Is it not true that you defied your brother and came to London for me? Earlier this evening at Lady Karmack’s, you claimed that you were willing to accept a relationship on my terms.”
Her chin snapped up. Anger blazed in her blue eyes. Dare preferred it to sorrow and defeat. “You are twisting my words.”
“You want to hear my terms? Fine. I want to marry you. Tonight.” He caressed the silky strands of her hair, wondering if he could convince her to not pin it up for their wedding. “I will settle for nothing less.”
“You told Frost that you had no intention of marrying me. Now you come to me and claim otherwise. Why? This is about Lady Karmack’s small gathering, is it not? You fear that you might lose me to another,” she said solemnly, her watchful gaze studying his face.
“You are wrong.”
“Be honest, Dare. If I had not arrived in London, you would be happily bedding Mrs. Randall or some other lady who had caught your eye this season.”
One of the tiny muscles under his left eye twitched. The unpleasant realization that Regan had struck closer to the truth than Dare cared to acknowledge did not mean that she was correct. “It is unfair to hold me accountable for something that never happened. You did come to London, and seeing you again gave me a chance to come to my senses. There is no other woman for me but you.”
Dare had grown weary of talking. He captured her lips with his and tried to explain without words his feelings for her. As his mouth moved reverently over her lips, he could taste the salt of her tears. Threading his fingers into her dark tresses, he silently coaxed her to open her mouth. His confidence grew as Regan tentatively returned his kiss.
They were both breathless when he pulled away.
“Oh,” she said as another tear slid down her cheek. “I believe you.”
Relief swept over Dare. Still, he would not be satisfied until he heard the words from her lips. “And what about you? Has another man caught your fancy? Perhaps one of those preening peacocks hovering over you at Lady Karmack’s?”
Regan gave him a watery smile. “No. There is no one else.”
The pain in his ribs lessened at her confession. “Good. Then it is settled. Get dressed. We’re getting married.”
“Now?” She made an exasperated sound when Dare opened her large mahogany wardrobe and retrieved a dress from the clothes press. “It is impossible. We cannot marry without a special license—”
“The license is in my coat pocket.”
The whites of her eyes widened as luminous as moonlight. “You have a license?”
“I purchased it shortly after Frost ordered me from the house.” He held up a dress. “What about this one?”
“But why?”
Dare glanced at the dress and scowled. “Do I have to have a reason? It seems fine enough for a—”
“I am not talking about the dress!” She marched over and plucked it from his hands. “Although it certainly will not do. I was referring to the special license.”
He stepped aside and watched as she searched for a dress. “After what was said, I assumed I would need more than an apology.”
Regan straightened and shook out the dress in her hands. Her right brow lifted as she peered over the fabric in her outstretched arms. “Hmm … I do not recall receiving an apology or an offer of marriage from you at Lady Karmack’s.”
“That was because you were too busy flirting with those gents!” he snapped. He immediately regretted his outburst. A man did not coax a skittish lady into marriage by slapping at her with his sour temper.
She brought her hand up to her opened mouth. Dare braced himself for tears or a severe scolding because he deserved both for being so clumsy with his words.
After a moment of silence, Regan surprised him by laughing. Soft melodious sniggers began in her chest until they frothed and bubbled through her fingers and she had to let her hand fall away so she could catch her breath. Staggering backward, her back bumped against the door of the wardrobe as she hugged the dress tightly to her chest. “Good grief, you were jealous. How perfectly splendid!”
Dare stalked toward her. “You sound rather pleased with yourself.”
“Oh, I am.” She bit the tip of her first finger and stared at him artfully. “Lord Hugh Mordare, worried about a few—what did you call them?—Ah, yes … peacocks!”
Regan Alice was enjoying herself at his expense, but his pride could take the licks and scrapes. He grabbed the edge of the door of the wardrobe with one hand and braced the other on the wood above Regan’s head, caging her with his body.
“Keep your bloody peacocks. I won’t begrudge a few wishful glances from lovelorn gents if you end my torment and marry me.” His lips brushed her right temple. “Marry me, Regan.”
Dare moved closer, letting his hips brush against hers. He was aroused, and had been since he had entered her bedchamber. If he could not gain her consent with reason, then perhaps he should try seduction.
“You need more than a special license,” Regan argued, forcing Dare to concentrate on the task at hand. “You will need Frost’s approval.”
“Do not worry about Frost.” Regan was one year under the age of consent, and that had slightly complicated matters. While Dare had secured the necessary papers, he doubted Regan would approve of his methods. So he refrained from mentioning them.
Dare c
upped Regan’s face with both hands. “All I need is your consent. What say you? Will you marry me?”
Chapter Twenty-seven
At the stroke of midnight, Lady Regan Alice Bishop married Lord Hugh Mordare in the Marchioness of Netherley’s drawing room. At Dare’s insistence, Regan had worn the same amber dress she had donned for her first night in London. Bearing witness to their union, the marchioness stood beside Regan, quietly weeping into her handkerchief. Next to Dare, Vane stood like a silent sentinel.
It was not until Regan had entered Lady Netherley’s drawing room that she realized Frost and the rest of their friends would not be joining them.
Her new husband had neglected to inform her that they were essentially eloping. Always a practical man, Dare had managed to marry her without bundling her into a traveling coach and heading for Gretna Green. Before she could work up any ire over Dare’s high-handedness, Lady Netherley rushed up to them and proclaimed their nuptials the most romantic she had ever witnessed.
With a watery glance at Vane, who was studiously ignoring her, the marchioness told the couple that their love match had given her renewed hope that she would find the perfect lady for her wayward son.
Vane snarled at his sweet mother and sent Dare a glare that promised retribution before he excused himself. Satisfied that their paperwork was in order, and his duty fulfilled, the vicar was the next to depart. Dare had not told her how much he had offered the vicar to marry them at such a late hour; however, both men seemed content with their private arrangement.
Soon, Dare was announcing their departure to Lady Netherley. As he once again expressed his gratitude to the marchioness, Regan took a moment to admire the ring Dare had placed on her finger. The five-carat pale honey–colored topaz gleamed like captured firelight within its silver-cream circle of natural pearls. It should not have surprised her, but the rose-gold ring fit her finger perfectly. Regan cast a sly glance at her husband. A gentleman who carried a ring and a special license in his coat pocket had not been exaggerating when he expressed his earnest desire to be leg-shackled to her.
After Dark with a Scoundrel Page 18