by Adele Clee
At Last the Rogue Returns
Avenging Lords - Book 1
Adele Clee
Contents
Copyright
Also by Adele Clee
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Thank you!
About the Author
Also by Adele Clee
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. All characters are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be copied or reproduced in any manner without the author’s permission. Distributing electronic copies of this book constitutes copyright infringement.
At Last the Rogue Returns
Copyright © 2018 Adele Clee
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13: 978-1-9998938–5-9
Cover designed by Jay Aheer
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Books by Adele Clee
To Save a Sinner
A Curse of the Heart
What Every Lord Wants
The Secret To Your Surrender
A Simple Case of Seduction
Anything for Love Series
What You Desire
What You Propose
What You Deserve
What You Promised
The Brotherhood Series
Lost to the Night
Slave to the Night
Abandoned to the Night
Lost Ladies of London
The Mysterious Miss Flint
The Deceptive Lady Darby
The Scandalous Lady Sandford
The Daring Miss Darcy
Avenging Lords
At Last the Rogue Returns
A Wicked Wager
Chapter One
Dunnam Park, Sussex, October 1820
“Calm down, Ada, before you swoon.” Miss Lydia Lovell gripped the girl by the upper arms. The maid had forgotten how to breathe, forgotten she needed to close her mouth before speaking. “Look at me, count to five and then begin again.”
Lydia drew Ada farther into the hall, away from the closed drawing room door. Arabella would have her ear pressed to the wood, listening for snippets of information to manipulate into something malicious.
“Is it about my gown for the assembly tonight?” Lydia continued, trying to ferret out the facts. “Did you hang it too close to the fire again?”
Lydia welcomed any excuse to miss the public gathering. With any luck, the dress was ruined beyond repair.
“N-no, miss.”
“Then what has you shaking like the farmer’s rickety old cart?” She’d never seen the maid so terrified.
Ada sucked in a breath, nodded and blinked repeatedly. “S-Seth … he went to Cuckfield.” She paused and sniffed. “Seth went to Cuckfield.”
“Yes, we know where Seth went.” Lydia tried to remain composed, but it grew increasingly more difficult by the minute. “And we know why he went there.”
“He went to get supplies from Mr Granger,” Ada said without gasping. “That’s when … oh, Lord. That’s when he saw him, miss.”
“Saw whom, Ada? Whom did Seth see?” Now Lydia had taken to repeating herself.
The maid’s body shook. She squeezed her eyes shut until they were as thin as her drawn lips. “He saw the … the devil, miss, that’s who.”
The devil?
Lydia swallowed a frustrated sigh. Seth would feel the sharp edge of her tongue for frightening the maid again. The groom enjoyed teasing Ada. She was as innocent of mind as she was of heart, and Lydia loved her for it.
“Perhaps you misheard.” Lydia rubbed Ada’s arms in soothing strokes. “Seth often speaks in jest.”
Ada’s eyes shot open. She glanced behind as if sensing the demon. “No, miss. Seth saw him as clear as day—a huge, hulking beast.” Ada raised her arms and stood on tiptoes to demonstrate the grotesque size of the monster. “Taller than the Reverend Wyatt when he’s standing in the pulpit.”
Convinced Ada had exaggerated the details, the only hope Lydia had of calming the poor girl was to find Seth and discover the truth herself.
“Did Seth say where he saw this devil?” Lydia would have a little more information before tackling the groom.
“In The Wild Boar, miss.”
This time, Lydia could not suppress a sigh. “Drinking in the coaching inn?”
Ada nodded.
“So, the devil rises to wreak havoc and misery on the people of Cuckfield but only after he’s stopped to sample the ale?”
“Perhaps he was thirsty, miss. Seth said his eyes were hot coals of evil. A raging fire that could turn a man to ash with one glare.”
Yes, he must be parched after spending an eternity in hell. And how was it Seth happened into the inn when he had errands to run?
“Come. Perhaps we should go upstairs to my chamber.” Lydia glanced at the drawing room door. Her sister-in-law, Arabella, looked for any opportunity to cause mischief. One whiff of Ada’s ridiculous story and fit of hysterics and the young maid would find herself banished to the scullery.
Ada nodded, and they mounted the stairs with haste.
Once nestled safely inside the bedchamber, Lydia deposited the maid in the chair and waited for the poor girl’s shoulders to relax before broaching the subject again.
“Did this devil have a name?” Lydia suspected Seth had a grievance with a man in town and merely spoke metaphorically.
“Seth just said the devil was back to rain fire and brimstone.”
“Back?” The word caught thick and heavy in Lydia’s throat. Curiosity burned. “Back from where?”
Ada shrugged. “Wherever it is, Seth said his face has a golden glow like he’s been keeping watch over the fiery pits of hell for the whole time he’s been gone.”
The whole time he’s been gone?
So this devil was native to the area.
The first flicker of suspicion sparked.
“I imagine the man”—for he was a man and not a devil—“has spent a considerable amount of time abroad. The sun has caused his bronzed complexion, not the flames from the burning corpses of sinners.”
Ada gave a little whimper, and Lydia chided herself for not choosing her words more carefully. The maid would have nightmares tonight. Of that she was certain.
“Wherever he’s been, miss, he’s back now. And I don’t imagine it’s to dance around the maypole and take tea with the vicar.”
He’s back.
A sudden gust of wind rattled the shutters and howled at the window. An ominous warning that something sinister was afoot. Lydia shivered. Only one man had a heart black enough to survive in the underworld. Only one man might be mistaken for Satan.
No!
It couldn’t be.
“Fifty coaches pass through here e
very day while travelling between London and Brighton,” Lydia said, clutching on to the hope that this was merely a figment of Ada’s wild imagination. “What’s to say Seth hasn’t made a mistake, and this fellow has business elsewhere?”
What’s to say Seth wasn’t in his cups when he concocted the ridiculous story?
Doubt crept into Lydia’s mind.
What if every word from Seth’s mouth was true?
What if the rogue had returned?
Him.
Greystone.
Bane of her existence.
The mere thought roused a fiery heat in the pit of her stomach. By God, after what he’d done, she would whip him with a birch if he even tried to offer an explanation. Give her five minutes with the devil—for Greystone was indeed a soulless creature—and he’d be on his hands and knees scrambling to get back to his earthy grave.
Lydia drew in a deep breath to ease her pounding heart. The maid’s hysteria was contagious. Then again, the impending assembly had already set Lydia on edge.
The assembly!
Lydia glanced at the window. It was almost six o’clock, and dusk was already upon them. She should be bathing in preparation for the event, not daydreaming about Lord Greystone’s return.
Oh, God. The assembly!
An evening of fake smiles and forced laughter with self-indulgent prigs was not Lydia’s idea of entertainment. Biting back her opinion would achieve nothing but a sore tongue. She should have feigned an illness. But then perhaps she wouldn’t have to. Each startling revelation left a throbbing pain in her temple.
Lydia closed her eyes briefly.
In less than a month her problems would be over. She would come into her inheritance and never have to spend another night listening to Arabella’s constant criticism. Never have to watch her weak, insipid brother bow to his wife’s demands.
“They weren’t riding in a coach, miss.” Ada’s words dragged Lydia from her reverie. “They were both sitting astride huge muscled beasts. Beasts that snorted puffs of smoke if you dared look ’em in the eye.”
“Both?”
“The devil and his friend who’ve come to stay at Greystone Manor.”
Good God! It was him!
The room spun.
Clutching her hand to her heart, Lydia shuffled back and flopped onto the bed.
Seeing her mistress’ calm countenance shaken, Ada made an odd mewling sound. “Oh, miss, he must surely be the devil to cause fear to flash in your eyes.”
It wasn’t fear that gripped Lydia and refused to let go. It was shock. Quickly followed by a burning anger capable of obliterating any demon from Hades’ realm.
By God, she would rip into Greystone and tear him limb from limb. Even if it meant eternal damnation.
But she should wait, bide her time, speak to him in a composed and rational manner.
No!
The problems at the manor had long passed the need for sense and reason.
“Ada, there’s no time to bathe this evening. I must go out.”
The first guests would arrive at the assembly at seven o’clock. Cecil had arranged for the carriage to leave the house just before eight, all because Arabella insisted on making a grand entrance. Lydia would be back from Greystone Manor within the hour.
“Go out, miss?”
“Yes.”
“Now?”
“Now, Ada. There is no time to lose.”
“But—”
“Lock the door behind me. If Lady Lovell knocks, you’re to say I’m in the bathtub.”
Ada’s eyes bulged. “But what about the assembly?”
“I shall be back in plenty of time.” And feeling remarkably better for having put the rogue in his place. Indeed, it would go some way to making the evening more enjoyable. “Wait here. Do not leave this room until I return.”
Ada nodded.
“Now find my cloak, the blue one with the hood.” Lydia possessed great skill when it came to sneaking about in the dark. She was light on her feet, could move stealthily through the shadows.
Within minutes, Lydia had exited the house through the servants’ quarters and was racing along the woodland path on her way to Greystone Manor.
On her way to a date with a devil.
The rusty gates of Greystone Manor told a visitor all they needed to know about what lay at the end of the long, winding drive. Like Greystone’s desperate tenants, flakes of paint clung to the iron railings in the hope help would soon arrive. Ivy strangled the stone pillars. But the structures were stronger than the poor people forced to live in ramshackle cottages and beg for work in local villages.
Damn the man.
No, damn the devil.
How Greystone’s steward lived in such a sombre place beggared belief. Mr Gilligan had no hope of keeping the estate maintained when given such a paltry allowance. And where was Greystone while his ancestral home rotted away? Abroad if Seth’s description proved accurate.
But not anymore.
The day of judgement had come.
The rogue had returned.
Lydia had imagined this moment many times in her dreams, had rehearsed exactly what she would say if ever their paths crossed. Oh, and she would have her say. Even if she had to march up to his front door and barge her way inside.
Raising the hood of her cloak, Lydia stepped out from the line of trees, strode over to the entrance and pushed the rickety gate. It creaked and groaned in protest, refused to budge more than a foot. The thing was as useless as its master. She kicked the bottom, stubbed her toe and cursed the devil back to hell.
Refusing to suffer defeat at the first hurdle, she wrapped her fingers around the bars and practically throttled the thing. But the sudden pounding of horses’ hooves drowned out the sound of her ragged breathing.
Lydia swung around but struggled to focus in the dark. She stepped back onto the narrow lane, noted two menacing shadows approaching and knew it was too late to hide.
It had to be Greystone.
Who else had cause to descend on the estate like a horseman of the apocalypse ready to rain pestilence over the landscape?
Fear rippled across her back.
If the man had no conscience, how would he react when pounced on by a lady at night? Perhaps she should have waited until morning. But the memory of the Roberts boys gathered around their mother’s grave was enough to chase away her apprehension.
Lydia watched them approach. Two horses—one black, one grey—charged closer. For a heart-stopping moment, she thought they’d failed to notice her.
“What the blazes?” A deep, masculine voice rent the air.
The black horse shrieked and reared. Lydia froze as the animal came up on its hind legs, striking the air with its hooves.
“Get out of the blasted way, woman!”
The angry curse dragged her from her stunned state. She stumbled back, trod on the hem of her cloak, fell and landed on her bottom with a bump.
With skill and mastery, the rider settled the black horse and swung down to the ground.
Heavens above. Ada was right. Satan had come to Cuckfield. He marched towards her in his billowing greatcoat, stopped at her feet and scanned her from head to toe. The beast stood a head taller than any mortal man.
Ada had been wrong about one thing. There was nothing heated or fiery about his terrifying eyes. They were dark, desolate pools, devoid of life.
So this was the demon who invaded her every waking thought, who had the gall to visit her in slumber, too.
Lydia’s father had inherited the estate two years before Greystone left for India and so she had but a vague recollection of him from her youth. This black-hearted scoundrel was exactly what she’d expected.
And yet it wasn’t Lord Greystone who captured her attention.
The intriguing figure on the grey horse stared at her with a level of intensity that made her stomach flip. Lydia couldn’t help but meet his gaze, couldn’t help the sudden spark of awareness that ignited deep in her c
hest.
The beast towering over her braced his hands on his hips. “So, the ladies have heard news of my visit and are falling over their feet to offer a hearty welcome.”
Oh, Greystone was as crass and as odious as she imagined.
“Don’t just stand there,” the fascinating gentleman on the grey horse commanded. “Help her up.”
There it was again—the little quiver in her stomach roused by the rich timbre of his voice.
The beast obeyed and offered a gloved hand. “Come on, wench, let’s have you on your feet. Let me inspect the goods on offer.”
Anger raised its head once more.
Lydia would rather play nursemaid to Arabella for a whole month than receive assistance from this miscreant.
“I am quite capable of standing on my own.” She batted his huge hand away and scrambled to her feet. “And I am no man’s wench.”
The beast laughed though his eyes failed to convey amusement. “Ah, a capable wench. Just the sort I like. And eager, too, why else would you be waiting alone in the dark?”
Lydia brushed dirt and damp leaves off her cloak, hitting out at the material to relieve her frustration. “If you are in any way implying that I might be free with my affections, then you’re sorely mistaken. But rest assured, I have come to see you.”
Oh, she had witnessed the evidence of this man’s cruelty. The locals deemed him a disreputable rake. Judging by his crude manner they certainly had the measure of the man.
A growl of approval resonated in the devil’s throat. “Then come up to the house. I’m sure we can find somewhere private to conduct our … conversation.”