Regency Rogues Omnibus

by Shirl Anders

  “The promise of a large quantity of money always works for these types,” Saxon said lowly, as sounds from a large group gathering, not too far to the west of them, could be heard in ebbs and flows carried on the wind.

  Joelle glanced in that direction. The sun was bright today and it was the Prince of Wales there to the west, heir to the throne of England. She could barely make out the colors of people moving about, with the trees obscuring her view. It was some type of afternoon outdoor gathering for the Prince involving lavish food and human chess. There was one hedgerow between them and the Prince’s party beyond. Earlier, Joelle had seen the party was set up as a large chessboard made of different blocked heights and colors of grass. She’d never seen anything like it before, but Saxon explained that the Prince was fond of this play and different people stood on the lawn chessboard acting as the chess pieces. The Prince played another visiting Prince from Germany today. It was perfect for their plan and also ideal, was the Prince’s mounted guard protecting a perimeter around the party.

  Joelle peeked through the tree branches they hovered behind and in the nearer foreground she could just see Orelan and Wyndham ... mainly because of Orelan’s afternoon lawn court dress. It was light yellow with flounces and stood out against the backdrop of green. Joelle heard a clicking and she glanced down to see Saxon checking one of the rifles once more. Joelle hoped this was going to be as easy as it sounded. Their mission was to make it appear that Baco and Cernno had tried to shoot the Prince of Wales.

  “Spirits,” Joelle muttered under her breath. Drummond certainly did think large when he got going. She was awed, fairly impressed and very anxious. However, more than anything she was grateful that Drummond had picked her and Saxon to begin the undertaking of sabotaging The Order and bringing about its downfall.

  This venture today had started with each man in the Archangels revisiting as many of their corrupt contacts and denizens of the seamier side of London as they could recall. To pass out word on the streets that there was a large amount of money to be made for two men who did not mind breaking the law. That was it, the beginning, and then they’d turned down contacts, until the right two men approached. They’d vaguely offered the rumor that the two men were needed to beat and generally harass someone their future employer held a grudge against. Voila tout, as the French would say. That was all.

  From a distance Orelan posed as the prospective employer. While Wyndham waited, hidden beside a tree near the rendezvous spot which had been directed in the written message to the German brothers, who had finally and ambitiously, applied to the sordid undertaking. The plan was to use the innocence of a woman alone to draw them closer without full wariness. Ideally, it was never intended that they should draw close enough to obtain a good look at Orelan or even realize that there was a large gathering of royalty on the other side of the hedgerow behind her.

  “Here they come,” Saxon hissed suddenly.

  Joelle stiffened and wiped her palms on her britches as Saxon lifted the first rifle to his shoulder, pointing it in an innocent direction. It was her task to call the timing of the first shot. It was nerve-wracking. She could not let them get too close, but also not be too far away, allowing them time to make the cover of trees before the Prince’s mounted guard saw them.

  “Get ready,” Joelle advised.

  Saxon tensed. Joelle held her breath as she watched the Germans lumber closer. At first they spent time darting glances around, but as they drew closer they stopped doing that and straightened up seeming to feel more secure upon seeing the lone woman.

  “Now!” Joelle exclaimed tightly. The shot, sounding so close even though she was prepared for it, made Joelle flinch while fighting the urge to cover her ears. With the vibrations of the booming sound, both Baco and Cernno halted abruptly. It was as if they were suspended, trying to decide if they really had heard a shot. Then the second shot went off and Joelle saw one of them, she could not tell which, jerk his gaze toward Orelan. Only Orelan was gone.

  By now, she and Wyndham were blended back into the Prince’s party, which likely was in a bit of an uproar.

  “Come on,” Saxon urged, tossing both discharged rifles out onto the common-grounds in plain sight.

  It had been determined that the only place that the Germans could run for hiding was in this direction, which ran through one stand of trees, then out onto the common-ground, then onto the next stand of trees, where she and Saxon had been.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ash looked at Kit, saying, “You do not like me.”

  Kit reversed her gaze from the hunting party in the Prince’s honor that was milling below the balcony she and Ash had stepped out on. They were toward the rear of the balcony, one of many on the face of the royal residence. The monstrosity of the monarchy was a country mansion built within the teeming city of London and encompassing many acres of land. Kit imagined it had fed some long-dead King of England’s desire to show power and importance, to have the place built where it was.

  They were hidden from view of the participants, of the hunting party below, still Kit stepped back, looking up slightly at Ash. “It is not you personally, sir, it is that you don’t take seriously how lethal The Order is and especially its leader’s maniacal ambitions.” She paused. “Much more than trivial nuisances,” she added emphasizing the word she found distasteful.

  “Do not take too seriously what I say. It is all carefully calculated,” Ash said, with the brown in his hazel eyes showing bronze tints flashing in the daylight.

  “What would the uncalculated, Ash, say?” she countered.

  Ash’s smooth, even lips curved slightly. “I am not sure I can do that anymore.” He paused, with barely perceptible hints of a mental struggle. Then he said, “I have done this too long. I am not certain there is an, ‘Ash,’ any longer, so I will calculate to trust your opinion.”

  Kit did not have knowledge what Ash’s, “this,” was. Being a spy for England, perhaps, or in the military. Whatever it was, she only had an intuitive notion that, for a moment, Ash had been more honest with her and himself, than anyone else in a long, long time. Kit speculated that it was a unique experience for Ash to work beside women whether trained spies or otherwise.

  The hunting horns sounded, breaking into her thoughts, bringing her reverie, and she noticed, Ash’s to an end. They stepped forward to glance down at the party gathering for the fox hunt. Brynmore was down there. There were so many people, not many would get close to the Prince, who would not participate in the hunt, but merely preside over it.

  Brynmore would though, as part of the plan, he would be near enough to say a few words to Prince Charles, while Dame Baset watched from further away. That was the entire point of this first foray, to use, and then to set up Dame Baset. She needed to see Brynmore speaking to the Prince. It was why, when Brynmore had sent his first message to Dame Baset, he’d not requested a meeting and further information on how to gain entrance to The Order. Instead, Brynmore had sent her an invitation to join him at this gathering for the Prince of Wales.

  Actually, Brynmore had worded it more like a command that Dame Baset attend him. Brynmore had said he knew what he was doing and Kit had laughed and replied that she knew he knew what he was doing, and she would come to his command anytime. That nearly landed them in bed, which they had not done since the night at The Satyr Whip Club. Only, it was as if there was an unspoken agreement between them that they both wanted to wait, until they could be themselves. The thought between them, believing how powerful that would be.

  “There he goes,” Ash muttered.

  “Where is she?” Kit asked.

  “Over there by the flags,” Ash responded. “She is watching Brynmore all the way.”

  “Now, won’t she just run back to Hellion and tell him this!” Kit’s half smile was curling in satisfaction.

  “I believe she will,” Ash said, then he glanced at her pointedly. “It is likely you will have to attend one of the cult ceremonies.”


  Kit tried not to feel uncomfortable. She wondered how detailed Ash’s knowledge was of her and Brynmore’s visit to The Satyr Whip Club. They probably all knew, she silently chided herself. And, she determined, she was just going to have to ignore that fact. Including having to do it again at a cult ceremony.

  Kit sidestepped Ash’s leading question. “It feels more profitable now that the action is in place. I am glad Baco and Cernno were dealt with so quickly and efficiently. I do not think Hellion or Dame Baset have any idea that those two rattlesnakes are in prison and are never getting out.”

  Ash raised an eyebrow to her colorful American phrasing. “Likely to be hung one day, protesting the entire way that they had nothing to do with it. Really brilliant. How could they explain why they were there and running away from the spot, where two rifles were found in near vicinity of the shots?”

  Kit smirked. “And they dare not mention Hellion, his cult, or try to seek help from any of them. Not that there is any.”

  “When all is said and done that is a plan that should go into the books. Unfortunately, it will become more difficult. Dame Baset will be a little harder, and Hellion ... hmm, well, that is going to be tricky. Yet as brilliant as Drummond’s overall plan is, and the first capture of Baco and Cernno was spectacular ... the amazing part is once these malcontents start dropping in the Gaol, one after another, in such a short amount of time, all accused of trying to kill the Prince, the authorities are going to notice and start nosing around, connecting them together into a larger conspiracy.”

  “And the remnants of this perverted and murderous cult will never rise again,” Kit stated with satisfaction.

  “I hope that is true for you and for all of England,” Ash said, with encouraging vehemence.

  Kit was surprised at the emotion Ash showed. It was as if he gave her a glance into his real feelings and it made her think there was more to Ash and his first feigned nonchalance. She let it pass, believing that she understood him just enough to realize that he would close inward if she expanded the conversation. Instead, she changed subjects to their next victim.

  “Once we give Dame Baset enough time to tell Hellion that it seems Brynmore is on intimate footing with the Prince, and she gives us a set-in-stone entrance with a date into the cult, then we can get rid of her too.”

  Ash nodded as they both turned to look over the balcony railing. They watched Brynmore bowing to the Prince, then doing an about-face and strolling back to Dame Baset’s side.

  ***

  Several hours later, Brynmore grimaced as he paced the small confines of the library-study in his London townhouse. He’d just arrived back from his assignation with Dame Baset at the Prince’s fox hunt. Really, what he wanted to do was shudder in distaste. He felt...

  Brynmore turned in his pacing. Bloody hell, he felt dirty and not at all in the enjoyable lusty sense. Dame Baset had been all over him, and according to plan, he was compelled to be all over her in the carriage ride to and from the fox hunt. It had been mild to begin with going to the hunt. But after! He felt like he was unwashed with Dame Baset’s touch and scent covering him. He was surprised at how difficult this was, at how much it affected him. So much for the fallacies that men had no taste in these matters. It thoroughly disgusted him, and...

  Kit rushed into the room, breaking his disturbing thoughts. He knew that she’d been upstairs when he arrived. Now with his mind still in turmoil, he backed up quickly making sure a chair was between them, stopping her from coming closer.

  “Well?” she asked. Filling the room with her rush of interest, intensity, excitement, and anxiousness.

  “Aye, she was impressed,” he said, rasping some of the words as he tried to clear his dry throat. “We have entrance to The Order and supposedly in a rare occurrence Hellion is to speak to us after about the price. Well...” Brynmore coughed, still trying to gain his footing. “She called it an investment, but we both know tis something they want to hold over us, if Yojo is right.”

  Kit started around the chair. “That is wonderful and I think Hellion might be edging to ask you for a connection with the Prince. I do not think blackmail, but that was Incubus’s style.”

  Brynmore moved around the chair away from Kit’s advance. She’d been talking, but suddenly she seemed to realize. “Brynmore, what is wrong?”

  She stopped trying to get closer to him, thankfully, as his hand rose to his mouth and he rubbed his lips. Abruptly, he realized the gesture he’d used numerous times to wipe away Dame Baset’s rouge. Of course, it had to be gone by now. Helplessly, he muttered, “She was all over me. I need to bathe, rid myself of her scent, and change clothes.”

  Brynmore felt like everything slammed to a halt. A wall fell, stopping all in it tracks, and what was on the other side, the next breath was forever changed. Kit’s eyes were wide as she said nothing and he stepped around her to leave. Maybe, if she’d tried to stop him, that suffocating feeling of change might have eased or fallen away. He did not blame her that she could find no words. Neither could he.

  Kit knew the moment that Brynmore told her of Dame Baset’s physical demands that he’d been forced to have relations with her. In that moment, suddenly, she realized that she loved him. It was a stupid time for it to reveal itself as fact to her, she thought.

  “Oh yes,” she muttered to herself as she climbed the stairs toward the bed chambers. “Brynmore had to fuck that awful woman and now you realize that you love him!”

  It was his reaction. She could feel it seeping inside, she was so closely connected with him. When had that happened? They still barely knew each other, beside some nerve shattering sex. They could not know each other now because they were not acting like themselves — they were enacting these characters they had conjured for the downfall of The Order. The rest of the time they were in the thick of planning revenge or justice, no one acted like themselves during such tense and strange times.

  The fact was, she did know him on a deeper level and she understood right now that he was feeling molested ... battered. There were many things she might have done, discovering she was in love, if the situation were different, silly, joyful, and unthinking things that a woman in love might do. She held that back. She would do those things someday, she promised herself. Now she quietly entered Brynmore’s bedchamber and she moved silently to the large brass bath before the fire where Brynmore reclined. He was unmoving, staring at the fire, with steam rising around him.

  Kit knelt at the head of the tub behind Brynmore’s head with her gown softly rustling. Brynmore must have heard the sound because his head began to turn, but before he could turn very far, Kit clasped her arms around his shoulders from behind for a hug. Her cheek lay along the dampness of his cheek and hair as his hand rose and clasped over her hands locked together.

  She wanted to tell him that she loved him... “Bry, it is all right. It will be all right,” she murmured, tightening her embrace, while rubbing her cheek along his.

  Brynmore’s broad hairy chest lifted with a sigh. “That you can even touch me means...” His pause said more than his words. “It’s better.”

  His head was bowed and Kit moved her lips to his ear and whispered, “Tell me, Bry. Tell me all of it. It will help.”

  The sound he made was sharp, a rude laugh that cut off before it started. “Help? It tis ... was disgusting.”

  But then, he kept talking, telling her what he’d done. How he’d kept his hard-edged seduction intact, controlling his dislike, through rapier flirtations. How he’d kissed and fondled, touching breasts and cunt. Always with an edge of controlled roughness. Biting Dame Baset’s neck, rolling her beneath him, trying not to, but knowing he had to.

  “So I fucked her like an animal. There, on the carriage seat. Yer going to hate me, but I had to divorce myself from what lay beneath me and the only thing I could do was think of you, wanting you.”

  “No,” Kit cried softly. “I do not hate you.” She tried to turn their thoughts to take away the sting even as sh
e gulped and she tried to make it more practical. “Did you draw blood? Keep with the plan you started?”

  “Aye,” Brynmore huffed. “Aye, I did on her some. She was thrilled.”

  Brynmore turned his body with his large hand clasping her nape. Looking directly at her, he blurted hoarsely, “I didn’t come, Kit. I didn’t give her my seed. I just pretended. She couldn’t tell, she was heaving and panting too much in the aftermath.”

  Lord, she was a fool, the biggest idiot. She never listened to her own reasoning, timing. Timing! “I love you!” Kit exclaimed and she leaped from her knees to embrace him.

  “Kit?” Brynmore questioned.

  “Do not say anything,” she begged him. “Not now. Just believe it.”

  He tugged and skirts, gown, and all, fell into the tub with him. Water sloshed up over the sides, as he asked with desperation marking his voice, “Will ye kiss me?”

  Kit grappled her hands around his neck, pulling with her body laden in drenched material, but sliding into the water. “Yes!” she whooped fiercely, pressing her lips passionately to his mouth.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Harrison slipped out of the bushes in Vauxhall Gardens where he’d concealed himself, waiting for the elaborately dressed, rotund woman. It was near midnight, the woman never saw him coming, He slipped the cloth filled with chloroform over her mouth and her nose as his other forearm latched her waist. She tried to struggle, but within seconds her hefty weight went lax in his arms. Dame Baset was petite of height, but heavy and Harrison welcomed Ash’s help as he arrived to grasp Dame Baset’s legs.

  Chloe slipped alongside them carrying the bow and quiver of arrows, while both men quickly lugged Dame Baset in the direction of their intent.

  “The Prince is going to get irritated at these close attempts to shoot, skewer, or blow him up,” Ash muttered.

  Harrison shrugged and remained silent. He thought as long as the Prince stayed alive, let him be irritated. Chloe had thoughts too. “Some say he has the madness disease of his father. Let us ask Buddha’s divine help that he does not become too excited and start seeing assassination attempts everywhere and in innocent people.”