The Wicked Beginning

by Lauren Smith

  “What is so dangerous about him?” Emily asked.

  Anne’s face flushed crimson as she leaned in closer. “Some say he has unique tastes in the bedroom, that he likes to bind a woman down to the bed . . .”

  “To hurt her?” A small tendril of fear snaked down her spine. The gilded lamplight at the end of their shadowy group gave his hair an almost angelic glow. Yet there was nothing angelic about this man, except perhaps his exquisite features.

  “No . . .” Anne paused. “From what I have heard, he gives them the most exquisite pleasure, and he enjoys full control over a woman in bed.” Anne’s tone then filled with doubt. “I don’t know how any of that is possible, but that is what they say.”

  Anne’s lips pursed as she and Emily looked to the fourth man in the group.

  “And the man with the brown hair? He has kind eyes,” Emily noted. This last man moved with an energetic yet infinitely controlled grace as he talked to his companions and occasionally turned and laughed at something.

  Anne looked away before answering. “That is Viscount Sheridan. He is a master sportsman. He picks the best horses in any race, and he is an excellent hunter, both on foot and on horseback.”

  “You speak as if you know him,” Emily observed.

  Anne’s gaze shifted to her father. “After a fashion. Cedric is quite set on breeding his mares to some of my father’s stallions.”

  “Your father is a horse breeder?” Emily asked with genuine interest.

  “Yes, he and I both enjoy it as a hobby.”

  “That’s lovely. I would love to know more about horse breeding. I do so love to ride,” Emily confessed. “My uncle had to sell my horse before I came to live with him.”

  Anne’s eyes widened. “How terrible! Then you will ride with me every day. I won’t hear otherwise. We have plenty of horses, and they are all in need of exercise. Besides, I know of places we can ride where we can gallop and have no one gawk at us.” Anne giggled.

  Emily turned back to the League. “You said there were five. Who is the missing gentleman?”

  “The Duke of Essex, Godric St. Laurent. He rarely attends these balls. The latest gossip is that he recently parted from his mistress, some Frenchwoman.”

  “Oh, and the others? Do they all have mistresses?”

  Anne grimaced. “More like conquests. As I said, it is best to stay far away from them. Believe me. You will find no future husband in that group.”

  Emily looked once more at the group of men, wondering if they had done some harm to Anne, but she dared not ask.

  The musicians returned to their seats and prepared for another round of dances.

  “We should find Mrs. Pratchet and our new dance partners,” Anne said. They left the League to their alluring and frightening shadow court on the opposite side of the ballroom.

  For the moment, the League and the dozens of questions they’d raised in Emily’s mind were forgotten as Emily found Mrs. Pratchet waiting for her with a smiling young man at her side. She grinned at the man as he took her out onto the dance floor. Emily felt as though she were dancing on air as the night swirled away upon golden light.

  4

  One day later…

  “You damned scoundrel, I’ll have your head for this!” Lord Upton snarled, disrupting the quiet conversations inside Berkley’s.

  Cedric Sheridan scowled at the man. “I never touched your daughter, Upton. She’s far too tedious for my tastes!” Cedric hollered back.

  Upton, his powdered wig askew, started forward, hands raised as though to throttle Cedric, but another gentleman put a staying hand upon Lord Upton’s shoulder.

  “Please, my lord, do not pursue this matter. He’s one of them.” The intervening gentleman whispered this a little too loudly. Cards were abandoned, and brandy glasses froze against lips as the crowd in the cardroom waited to see what would develop.

  “One of whom?” Upton demanded, his face flushed with fury.

  “Lord Sheridan is a member of the League. Surely you have heard of them?”

  Lord Upton paled considerably. “The League?”

  The man nodded.

  Upton sized Sheridan up. “That League?”

  Another nod.

  “Blast and damnation.” Upton scowled and did not make any further move toward Cedric, who had been listening to this exchange with amusement, even though he was ready for a fight.

  When it was clear that Lord Upton would say no more, Cedric turned his back upon the crowd and walked toward the Bombay Room, a private area that he and his closest friends considered a second home.

  Lucien grinned at him from the doorway, arms folded across his chest. “I see Lord Uptight—pardon me, Upton—is accusing every man he sees of seducing that insipid daughter of his. Someone tell the old boy that no one wants her. Yes, she’s lovely, but she’s a brat, and a vapid one at that.” Lucien chuckled.

  Cedric harrumphed and entered the room behind Lucien. Cedric prided himself on his seductions, and it was a damned insult to his pride that Upton would accuse him of ravishing his daughter. Cedric liked girls who had a playful side. Laughter in a woman—true, happy laughter—made every woman beautiful. And Upton’s daughter did not laugh.

  Inside the Bombay Room, Ashton and Charles engaged in a game of écarté.

  “Charles, did you say Godric was coming?” Ashton asked.

  Godric’s absence was unusual. He had also missed the ball last evening, which wasn’t like him when he knew Cedric and the others would be there. They made their necessary appearances and enjoyed hanging at the edge of the floor, scaring off little bright-eyed debutantes and their scheming matrimony-minded mothers.

  “Perhaps one of us should send a note to his home,” Ashton suggested. As the eldest of the League, he was a bit of a mother hen at times, much to the amusement of the others, at least when his clucking was not directed at them.

  Charles’s lips twitched around his cigar as he studied his cards. “Blast, this hand is rubbish.” He slapped his hand down on the table and tapped his cigar on a nearby ashtray before answering. “I told you he would be here. Why are you so concerned?”

  Cedric and Ashton shared a look, and Cedric rolled his eyes. Charles never worried about anything.

  “You know Godric’s temper. He’s furious with this Parr fellow,” Ashton explained.

  “Is this Parr man the one he invested with?” Lucien poured himself and Cedric a brandy and handed Cedric a glass.

  Cedric took a sip and joined Charles and Ashton at the card table. “And the man Godric believes embezzled from him.”

  Ashton delicately laid his cards down, and Cedric tried not to laugh as he noticed Ashton’s hand was far worse than Charles’s had been. Charles’s impulsive nature had let him lose the game, and he didn’t even seem to realize that.

  Ashton continued. “Parr was a damned fool to cheat Godric. He said the mine isn’t working and that Parr lied about everything. Apparently, he used Godric’s money to pay off debts he owed to other investors.”

  “Christ, how the bloody hell do you know all that, Ash?” Lucien asked. He was beginning to put away the brandy decanter, when Charles coughed politely.

  “I say, Lucien, will you fetch me a brandy as well?” Charles flashed Lucien a lopsided grin. Lucien sighed and returned to pour Charles a glass.

  “Cheers,” Charles said, raising his glass to Lucien.

  Bloody Charles, always has to be the center of everything, Cedric thought.

  Cedric steered the conversation back to the most important subject. “Now, about Parr. What do you think Godric will do, exactly?”

  “Nothing too serious, I hope,” Ashton said. “But Godric is furious over the matter. Though I cannot imagine why. The amount is a trifle for him, surely.”

  Lucien reached for a cigar and lit it, then puffed a small ring of smoke into the air as he contemplated Godric’s position. “Ash, he’s afraid to fail.”

  “Why?” Charles cut in.

  “B
ecause he thinks he can’t?” Ashton guessed.

  “Quite the opposite. He wishes to be talented at something, and he fears that he isn’t,” Lucien added.

  Ashton steepled his fingers. “In many ways, he is the heart of us. His talent is to bring us together,” Ashton said with brotherly fondness.

  “Ash,” Cedric said. “How did you hear about this Parr business?”

  “I was with him in his study when he learned about the ruse Parr set in place.”

  “I suspect he didn’t take it well? How many Ming vases is Simkins going to try to put back together?”

  Godric’s temper was legendary, and his townhouse was full of priceless antiques, including a few Ming dynasty vases.

  Godric would never hurt an innocent man or woman. He had a good heart and was known to be kind. But when someone crossed him—particularly when someone knowingly did him wrong—there would be hell to pay.

  “I’m quite sure the entire half mile surrounding his townhouse heard of his irritation with Parr. I’ll be deaf for the next week from all that bellowing.”

  “Poor Ash,” Charles snickered.

  “Yes, poor Ash,” Ashton growled. “None of you have ever tried to rein that man in when his temper starts up.”

  Lucien puffed his cigar again, smirking. “That is because we know better.”

  “Well, enough of Godric for now. Cedric, how are your racers?” Charles asked.

  Cedric leaned back in his chair. Any topic that included hunting or other outdoor activities put him right at ease. He always proclaimed himself a horse-and-hound man, and it was no exaggeration. He was one of the few men who had the devil’s own luck at the races and never had any gambling debts. His estate near Brighton was populated with some of the finest foxhounds and the best English Thoroughbreds.

  “I’ve a mind to start breeding racers. I purchased two elegant broodmares, but I’m having difficulty securing a stallion for breeding. I had hoped to woo Lord Chessley’s daughter, and thus convince her father to sell me breeding rights for my mares with his best studs.”

  “Are you sure it is the horses you mean to secure breeding rights for and not the lady?” Lucien’s eyes glinted with mischief. The art of seduction was Lucien’s forte. He knew all the eligible ladies each Season and had tasted most of them at some point.

  “Are you suggesting my intentions toward Miss Chessley are less than honorable?”

  This was twice that Cedric had had his honor impugned. Normally he quite enjoyed the challenge of seducing a lady of quality. He kept few mistresses and preferred instead brief but fiery encounters with his conquests. But Anne Chessley was different than the others, not that Cedric could say how exactly. If he decided to seduce her, that was his business and his alone. Besides, his little sisters, Audrey and Horatia, absolutely adored Anne. He couldn’t do something that would upset either of them. Ever since he’d lost his parents, he’d been protecting his sisters from the world and from all its dark dangers.

  “Methinks Cedric doth protest too much,” Lucien quipped.

  Cedric’s face flushed, and before he could respond, the door to their private room burst open. A dark figure stood in the doorway, and his mood was fit to kill.

  Godric had spent the entire day planning his revenge on Albert Parr. But until he acted, his fury would continue to build inside him. He viciously dragged a hand through his hair to get it out of his eyes. He swept his gaze across the room. His friends stared at him, unmoving, and he choked down a laugh at their startled faces. He must look quite the terror at the moment.

  “Brandy. Now,” he snapped as he removed his cloak and threw it over the back of a chair.

  Charles nodded at Godric’s cloak. “You know they have lads at the front door who collect those, don’t you?”

  Godric ignored him and went to the window overlooking the street below. Dusk was beginning to appear at the edges of the horizon.

  Ashton left his seat and poured Godric a brandy. “I’m assuming by your demeanor that you’ve decided what to do about Albert Parr? I was explaining your situation to the others.”

  Godric sighed and turned back to his friends. Lucien stole Ashton’s seat and collected the scattered cards. He shuffled them for a new game as Ashton handed Godric a glass.

  “I have. But I doubt you will like it, Ash,” Godric said after a long drink.

  “So, it’s to be retribution on the field of honor, then?”

  Duels, despite their morbid results, were still an easy and final way to settle things between gentlemen. And while Godric knew he was a rogue, he still had some gentlemanly honor left in him.

  “Yes, I believe I must—”

  “Wait a moment,” Lucien interjected. “Godric, there may be an alternative solution to the Parr problem.” He set a copy of the Quizzing Glass Gazette on the card table, covering the cards he’d intended to play with, and opened it to the society pages.

  Godric and Ashton leaned in. The article there was in bold typeface, and Godric could see what Lucien had in mind by way of revenge.

  Charles glanced around at him and the others, his brows raised. “What? This bit about cravats on sale at Mme. Borbon’s? I love a good neckcloth as much as any man, but what does that have to do with Parr?”

  Godric sighed and pointed to a news item a few inches above the advertisement.

  “Miss Emily Parr, presented to society last night, is the daughter of Robert and Clara Parr, both deceased, and is currently living under the guardianship of her uncle, Albert Parr. Tonight she is to make her second appearance at the annual September ball at Lord Chessely’s manor,” Godric read aloud.

  “Parr has a niece? Is she attractive?” Cedric asked.

  “I would assume so,” Lucien said. “Though, I would have heard of her by now if she was a real beauty.”

  “I’d say she’s quite attractive,” Godric mused.

  “You’ve seen her?”

  “Only for a brief moment, when I met Parr at his house. She was in the gardens. We weren’t introduced.”

  Lucien smirked. “So, do you see the opportunity?”

  “I do.” Godric couldn’t help but grin back. He was feeling much better with this new plan in mind. “Anyone interested in an abduction?”

  Charles nearly knocked his chair over as he leapt up, thrusting his hand in the air.

  “Absolutely! I’ve never abducted anyone before.” Charles was nearly bouncing on his feet like an overeager schoolboy.

  “Abduction, eh?” Ashton smiled, the expression full of amusement. “I conducted a few of those in my youth.”

  “So we abduct Parr’s niece. But why?” Charles asked. “I mean, other than for sport.” He clearly hadn’t grasped the significance of the plan yet.

  “Blackmail, of course,” Ashton explained.

  “Exactly. If word were to get out that the young girl was my guest, and if certain parties were to spread the word that she had rather enjoyed her time alone with me, she would never find a suitable match. Parr will either have to find a way to pay me back before I expose her ruination, or he will suffer being saddled with a girl he’ll never be able to marry off.”

  Godric had no intention of compromising the girl, at least not physically. Holding her captive at his estate would be more than enough to ruin her reputation if anyone ever found out. Emily Parr would be completely safe in his hands, which, given who he was, was quite ironic.

  “But if you threaten her reputation, Parr might demand that you marry the girl to salvage her reputation,” Cedric said in concern. “He would be well within his rights.”

  “What could an untitled gentleman do to force me to marry the little chit? Not a bloody thing, and I know he won’t demand satisfaction either.” Godric had power and influence on his side, as well as royal relations.

  “She’s a debutante, isn’t she?” Lucien asked.

  “If one believes the papers,” Godric said.

  “I suppose you could handle her. She’d be, what, all of eighte
en?”

  The men all laughed. None of them had gone after innocent young things since they themselves had been younger and more innocent. They had all matured into a contented state of bachelorhood and preferred to seduce women who were more worldly.

  “What’s your plan to keep the girl hidden from her uncle?” Ashton asked, ever the strategist.

  “I won’t keep her in London, of course. I’ll take her to my estate in Essex.” He could feel the plan coming together now as he embraced this new and dangerous idea.

  Ashton eyed Godric and took a sip of his drink. “You feel confident you can play nursemaid to a debutante? She will likely faint in terror and do all manner of silly things.”

  “I don’t anticipate any problems. She’s only a child.”

  This earned him collective mocking laughter from his friends.

  “Were you a child at eighteen?” Lucien snorted. “I know I wasn’t.”

  “What I mean,” Ashton amended, “is that we should not underestimate this girl. She may have some claws. Most women do, even at a young age.”

  “There are ways of retracting those claws, aren’t there?” Godric snickered. It always amused him how his good looks and title could attract a woman, and a few deep kisses and clever caresses could make her pliant and begging to please him. He would simply employ his weapons as required, should little Miss Parr decide to start trouble. Being so young and innocent, he could probably bend her to his will without even a touch. One smoldering look from him might be sufficient. The poor child had no hope.

  “Very well, then. We will abduct Miss Parr. When’s it to be?” Cedric asked.

  Godric smiled at the unflinching loyalty behind Cedric’s use of the word we. “Tonight. We know exactly where she will be heading.” He pointed at the paper on the table.

  Ashton agreed. “Tonight it is. I imagine that her uncle will hire a coach to take her to Lord Chessely’s ball. We can pay the coachman to take a detour to whatever location we desire so that we might procure the girl. Such men are easily bought.”