by The Charmer
It was his secretly held belief that there was far more to Rose Lacey than met the eye.
Oh, she played the no-nonsense trainee well enough. She certainly looked the part, as serious and disapproving as a nun with her sensible braids pinned tightly about her head. The odd thing was, the more tightly she wound herself into the perfect student, the more Collis had to wonder what would happen when she sprang free.
There was potential for a most noteworthy springing free there, he suspected. A truly respectable eruption, in fact. No one was that industrious or that quarrelsome without something pushing them hard from behind.
Not that he was interested in her or anything of the sort. She wasn’t his preferred variety of woman at all. He liked them pretty and round and bubbly. Rose was far too long of leg and far too short of bosom. Her features were austere, despite those deep hazel eyes. No one would look twice at her face—until she smiled.
Not that she often did. But by God, when she did…Collis had found himself breathless more than once, gone still and riveted by that radiant smile. Then it would be gone, and he would shake himself back to reality.
Of course, Briar Rose cared nothing for his opinion of her beauty. She cared nothing for him at all. She seemed completely consumed by her own aspirations. There wasn’t a score he’d earned that she hadn’t topped or come bloody close to, not a move he tried that she couldn’t counter. The hell of it was, the more she competed with him, the more he looked forward to coming into the Academy every morning. Sooner or later, one of them was going to collect their winnings.
Winnings. Winnings always reminded him of Ethan Damont. Never had a bloke taken more winnings than Ethan. And last night he’d been in the Liar’s Club.
The public side of the club of course, which truthfully was rather exclusive in its own right. The gentlemen’s establishment known to the world as the Liar’s Club was limited to members only. Of course, the only membership requirements were those of being rich, bored, and vaguely bad.
Ethan was all that but rich. Unless he’d come into some fortune that Collis didn’t know of, Ethan Damont worked hard for a living. Worked hard playing hard, that is. Ethan was a professional gambler, making his way through the world depriving rich and stupid young men of their—in his words—undeserved wealth.
And last night, there Ethan had been, raking in his winnings with that same wry, disinterested manner in which he’d taken every tuppence from the other boys at school. Collis watched Ethan light his cheroot from the cigar candle he held to its end. His old friend let out a puff or two, then finally flicked his gaze to Collis without a moment’s surprise.
“Tremayne,” Ethan greeted him laconically. He leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs. “Surprised to see you in this hole. Then again, you never did have any taste.”
Collis laughed easily. Ethan knew very well that the Liar’s Club supplied its members with all the finest in food, wine, cigars and gentlemanly entertainment. There was even a raised stage on one end of the clubroom for those less-than-gentlemanly entertainments, although there was a standard policy against any actual prostitution taking place.
Nodding to that velvet-draped stage, now standing empty, Collis took a chair. “You missed the show tonight. That python was the damnedest thing I’ve ever seen. Six feet if it was an inch.”
Ethan shrugged. “I heard about it. My latest victim brought me here as his guest, but not until the fun was over. Can’t say as I’m sorry I missed it. Why would any girl want to dance with a snake?”
“Same reason she’d want to dance with you, I suppose.”
That finally got a chuckle from his friend, to Collis’s relief. Ethan did not look as though he were thriving. Collis had not seen him for a long time.
Ethan and he had a long history. They had spent their years at school using their wits and their fists to get them in and out of trouble. Unlike Collis, Ethan was not highborn. He was the youngest son of a dour shipping merchant who had decided the irreverent young man was not fit to inherit any portion of the business, so after giving him an education had sent him out to make his own way. And so he had.
Ethan was a master of the cards. A cheat, yes, but the finest, most affable, infinitely challenging cheat about. The wealthy men of Society could not resist him. It had become something of a mark of social superiority to play against “the Diamond”. He fleeced only the mighty, and he only took what was needed to continue his delightful lifestyle in the Polite World.
To have Ethan in your game was to experience the height of the manly art of gambling. He never stole estates from lordlings too young to know they were out of their league. He never targeted desperate men out to restore fallen fortunes. He was a most ethical, honorable cheat. Most importantly, one could never prove the fact.
Collis never, ever played opposite him.
But the dashing and handsome youth from Collis’s past had become a jaded, world-weary man, though he was no older than Collis. Ethan’s eyes were flat, his gestures mechanical as he toyed with the deck of cards.
“How are you these days, Damont?” Collis leaned forward. “Really.”
Ethan didn’t look at him. “Better than you.”
Rebuffed, Collis sat back with a snort. “True. At least you still have both wings.”
“That is I. Fully fledged and nowhere to fly.”
The words were quiet, almost inaudible, but they rang in Collis’s head like a bell. Nowhere for an intelligent, wily, adventurous fellow like Ethan to fly? Excitement twined through him. Oh, had his friend come to the right club!
Still, nothing could be done without clearing the notion through Dalton first, so Collis had taken his friend’s latest address and bid him a cheerful goodnight. Recruiting wasn’t a trainee’s job, but this idea was simply too brilliant not to pass along.
And admittedly, it had not been very comfortable being with Ethan last night. His old friend’s presence had brought back far too many memories. Recalling the boy he’d once been, the man he’d become for a while…until that day on the battlefield when the cannon fire had blasted him from his horse, breaking several ribs and shattering his left arm so badly it had nearly been declared hopeless and amputated.
If not for one very observant surgeon, who had seen that the pulse in Collis’s left wrist was still strong and had ordered the arm set and left to heal on its own, he would indeed be without one wing.
But healed did not necessarily mean recovered, so his soldiering days were over almost as soon as they’d begun. No more war, no more battles, no more music—
Don’t think about it. Think about this day, this work.
It was worthy work, or would be as soon as he became a Liar in truth. He couldn’t wait.
On the few missions he’d taken part in, he’d not been a real operative. He’d once helped James Cunnington attempt to locate an elusive prostitute named Fleur. Those had been interesting days, combing every place from the finest establishments, like Mrs. Blythe’s elegant house of entertainment, to the lowest and filthiest corners of the stews—educational in itself, to be sure, but he’d only been along for the ride. He’d not even been told why they were searching for the girl.
Another time he’d donned the red vest of a Bow Street Runner to search for a traitor’s daughter—but again, errands, not missions.
For now, Collis’s mission was to graduate the Liar’s Academy—and to enjoy provoking Rose, with her flashing eyes and snug breeches that showed entirely too much length of leg—
Rose turned just then and caught him looking. Collis blinked innocently under her questioning glare, until his grin turned to laughter. She was so much fun to rile.
He crossed the room to lean one hip against the wall near where she sat with her firearms class. “That was good work on the mat. You’re going to be as good as me someday.”
Rose sighed, then put down her pistol and cloth. She folded her arms, tucking her fingers beneath her rolled-up sleeves, and eyed him with raised brows. “
Flirting again? It won’t work, y’know. I’m immune.”
He grinned at her, that easy smile that sent tiny shivers through her. “Flirting is so passé. I’m…beguiling.”
She stiffened her spine against its traitorous tendency to melt. “Well, go beguile somewhere else. I’m busy.”
“Oh, but I love to watch you work.” He stepped closer. “You’re so very…nimble-fingered.” His voice went husky and his eyes seemed to go darker, from smoke to storm cloud. He moved a step closer, until her elbow was so close to his…um, hip…that she could feel the heat of his body on her bared arm. She ought to get up and move away. She ought to say something sharp, a rebuke for such ridiculous maneuverings.
Too bad her mouth was so dry.
She always could feel him near her, as if he were surrounded by a wall of heat that seeped through her clothing to warm her skin. For once, he seemed to feel it too. The teasing gleam in his eye faded, to be replaced by something darker and much, much more intense.
Breathing was becoming a problem. She parted her lips for more air to her lungs. His eyes flashed at that small, moist sound. Oh, God, she could fall into those cloudy-sky eyes forever—
A sound came from nearby, a not-so-subtle clearing of a raspy throat.
The spell over Rose popped like a soap bubble. She spun toward Kurt in relief. “Yes, sir?”
With a grunt, the trainer jerked his chin toward the dismembered pistol before her.
Rose blinked. Right. The pistol.
She picked up the pistol, refusing to notice how her hands had that tendency to shake again. She was immune to blarney-bleating toffs with more looks than honesty. Immune.
Completely.
And as soon as her body stopped quivering with unreleased heat, she was going to prove it.
Collis watched Rose handle the pistol, unable to take his gaze from her quick, skilled fingers. Her hands were actually quite elegant, despite the short, practical nails. She cleaned the barrel, her touch almost caressing as she stroked the cloth up and down.
He was quite sure he was choking. What would it feel like to have those hands on him, stroking him in just that skillful way?
Rose never fluttered her hands like some women he knew. Every movement she made had a purpose, with grace and economy combined. She had very sensible hands.
Collis found himself suddenly convinced that anything else was just plain silly on a woman. Who wanted a female who couldn’t keep a grip on her own fan, for pity’s sake? Who wanted to be touched with weak, flaccid fingers when he could be held fiercely tight by a woman who meant it?
Elegant, sensible hands.
How intriguing.
Through the opening into the hall, Collis caught a glimpse of the proprietor of the Lillian Raines School—Sir Simon Raines himself—talking to Dalton.
Collis smiled and strode forward. Just the men he’d wanted to see.
Chapter Two
When Rose returned from helping Kurt lock away the pistols and kit—she suspected Kurt of using any excuse to accustom her to handling cold iron—she found that Collis was still in the arena talking to Lord Etheridge and Sir Simon. Sir Simon Raines had been the spymaster of the Liars before Lord Etheridge and now ran the Academy with his wife, Agatha. With a nod, Sir Simon exited the room, leaving the Etheridge men in deep conversation.
Collis had only thrown a bit of toweling over one broad naked shoulder. He looked entirely delicious. Rose forced herself to look away. The fighting dummies were looking very smart this evening.
She looked back at Collis. Yes, still delicious.
Side by side, he and Lord Etheridge seemed more like brothers. Dalton Montmorency the elder, more sober brother, and Collis Tremayne the younger, more dashing one.
“Rotter,” the young ladies of the aristocracy whispered of Collis Tremayne with fascinated longing. “Rake. Heartbreaker.”
“Charmer.”
There were, unfortunately, many opportunities to watch Collis in the act of charming any and every woman in his path. Even her.
The first time had been when he’d first joined the Liar’s Club a few weeks after her own arrival. Rose shook her head, thinking of the diffident creature she’d been only months ago. He’d been standing by his uncle, much as he was now, who was showing him about the place. Collis had turned to her with a smile that had transformed her knees to water, and had beckoned her closer with one lazy finger.
She’d obeyed out of habit and out of the deepest enchantment she had ever experienced. His cloudy-day eyes twinkled warmly at her, and his smile spoke of sweet intimacies she’d only dreamed of. He was so fine and handsome, so elegantly rugged, so—
“Fetch me some tea, won’t you, ducky?” He’d smiled that patented melt-away grin at her.
Icy comprehension had doused Rose’s thrall in a moment. She’d stood frozen, too indignant to turn and walk away. She’d only been in the club for a few weeks, yet already she had begun to expect the treatment of an equal. The bloomin’ gall!
Lord Etheridge had won her heart and loyalty forever when he’d frowned at his nephew. “Rose is not the help. She is a trainee–second grade.” His lordship’s lips had quirked. “One grade higher than yourself, actually.”
The grin had drained from Collis Tremayne’s handsome face. The moment had been sweet indeed. She’d dipped a saucy curtsey and walked away, leaving Collis Tremayne slack-jawed and quite without his tea.
Unfortunately, Collis had soon caught up with her in rank. She began so far behind, after all. Now with both Rose and Collis standing at trainee–first grade, they ran neck and neck to achieve full induction into the club.
Rose had never struggled so hard in her life, not even for the demanding Mr. Wadsworth. Collis, however, seemed to hardly need to work at all, except for hand-to-hand training. There she surpassed him, at least defensively.
No matter that her new spectacles had allowed her to advance quickly through the reading and writing courses that Milady Raines had created. No matter that she had excelled at both subject identification drawings and mapmaking. No matter that even Kurt had difficulty laying hand or blunted weapon on her in the arena. Collis was always there, coming up behind with ease and that lazy teasing smile.
Now, seeing Collis with his lordship, she hesitated. She’d hoped to get in a few more hours of practice with the weapons before bed, especially after her backsliding cower earlier. She hung back in the doorway, waiting for Collis to leave.
“He was here last night playing cards,” Collis was saying to his uncle with sure urgency. “And winning. He lives not far from here, in High Street. He’s the perfect recruit, I tell you. Imagine the places a professional gambler can go—the people he can associate with all over Europe!”
The man Collis spoke of must have been spotted in the public rooms of the club, which actually stood on the opposite corner. The school was connected to it by a damp and unpleasant stretch of tunnel, so most trainees and Liars seemed to regard the two structures as one establishment.
Rose detested the tunnel. Give her a drafty old attic any day. Despite her freshly applied education, there were still a few cracks where her common up-bringing showed. Underground was where bodies were buried. That was that.
Lord Etheridge noticed Rose hesitating in the doorway of the arena and beckoned her in. Collis was half turned away and didn’t notice in his zeal.
“I’ve known Ethan Damont since school, Dalton. I’m sure he is to be trusted. He’s a good man beneath that gambler insouciance. He’s a smart bloke, very fast on his feet. We need more men like him.”
Etheridge nodded, obviously considering the matter. Then he smiled at Rose as she came closer. “What do you think, Miss Lacey?” He always addressed her as a lady. “Do you think I ought to consider a gambler for the club?”
Rose didn’t think the idea sounded profitable at all. Even she knew who the Diamond was. The Voice of Society news column mentioned him regularly and with great relish. “I wonder if someone so pub
lic would be a good recruit, my lord. Milady Etheridge and Milady Raines are hoping you’ll be bringing in more girls for training, like me. After all, a chambermaid can go right into a suspect’s unmentionables drawer in the middle of the day with no questions asked.”
“Hmm.” Lord Etheridge tilted his head and cocked a brow at Collis. “When your gambler friend can do that, I’ll recruit him.” Then he turned away with an approving nod to Rose and left. Rose stared after him. Was his lordship chuckling?
Rose began to remove the shawl she’d donned earlier against the cellar dampness. She looked up from untying the knot in front to see Collis, still half-naked, still delectable, gazing at her with his arms folded over his gleaming chest.
“I can’t suss you out, Briar Rose.” Disappointment was plain in his voice. “Ethan Damont could be a true asset to the club. One would think you were afraid of some competition once I graduate.”
“You graduate before me?” Rose lifted her chin and crossed her own arms. “That’s amusing, considering that I was here first. And who sent me here?…Why, I believe it was his lordship!” She smiled sweetly. “I would think it all depended on whom one knows…except I didn’t know him at all, did I?”
She hit the mark with that arrow, she knew. Collis was very sensitive about being “qualified” by no means other than nepotism.
There was no reason to think that, of course. Collis was everything the club needed—brilliant and brave. But challenge flashed in his gray eyes all the same. Oh, no. Now she’d done it.
“Prove it,” Collis taunted with a gleam in his eyes. “Here and now. Prove that you deserve to be a Liar before me!”
Rose narrowed her eyes at him. “I have nothing to prove to you, Collis Tremayne. To Kurt perhaps and certainly to his lordship—but I could quite happily go to my grave without knowing or caring for your opinion of me.”
He came closer—a bit too close for her peace of mind—and smiled seductively at her. “So you aren’t a bit curious?” His voice was soft and deep. Oh, she was curious all right. Curious about the way his taut skin rippled over his hard belly. The way his training trousers hung just a bit too low on his lean hips, showing that intriguing path of fine hairs that led—