His Wicked Secret (The League of Rogues Book 8)

by Lauren Smith

  “Lord,” Jonathan said with a laugh. “You sound so serious about it.”

  Charles was no longer smiling. “Seduction is an art, just as hunting and boxing are. It takes focus, preparation, and patience. Women are infinitely complex creatures. They may not match us in physical strength, but they more than make up for it here.” He tapped his head. “Despite what you believe, they don’t play silly games. They are masters of manipulation. Take your little sprite, for one. Last year she tried to seduce me. Me!” he emphasized with a dark chuckle.

  Jonathan sucked in a breath. “What?”

  “She didn’t succeed, mind you. I adore the little hellion, but she’s not my type at all.” His gaze turned soft and distant for a moment, and then he cleared his throat. “At any rate, once I figured out her true intentions, I knew what I had to do.”

  “Her true intentions?” Jonathan choked on the words.

  “Yes. She was fed up with her brother constantly frightening off any man who fancied her, and she had the rather mad idea that if she was compromised, or at least appeared to be, Cedric would jump at the chance to give her to a decent chap. Like you, for example.” Charles leaned over and grasped the brandy and took another drink.

  “And what happened?”

  “We didn’t do anything, of course, but I ensured she looked as if something had. Cedric went from fending off her suitors to asking for Emily’s advice on how to get her properly settled down. All he wants now is to see that she ends up with a good bloke. Which would be you, by the way.”

  Jonathan sighed across his arms, staring out a window. Audrey was still out there on the grounds, checking on her pineapples. Of course, Jonathan knew that was only a pretense to allow James and Gillian to have a moment alone.

  At least we agree on that. Those two belong together.

  “So what is your advice, Casanova?” Jonathan asked.

  Charles took a final sip, then gripped the bottle and tucked it back behind the shield of dusty books.

  “Don’t hesitate. Find her and tell her the lessons start now. Lucien has a leisure room that is perfect for sparring.” Charles slapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Give her the lessons she wants, and show no mercy on the lessons she needs.”

  Charles winked, and for the first time in days, Jonathan felt like smiling.

  9

  Audrey stared at a row of pineapples in the garden table, thinking. Not about the tart, prickly shaped fruit but about Jonathan. He was here, despite the fact that he shouldn’t be, and she had no idea what to do about it. Why was he here? He avoided social gatherings whenever possible, except for dinners with his closest friends. Why hadn’t he written to her in the last week? And why did he have to look so wonderfully handsome and virile? The flurry of questions made her head ache.

  While the house party was of a decent size, enough so that they would not need to interact too much, it was still possible that they would be forced into close proximity on occasion. And she would be here for a week. She couldn’t hide in every alcove or duck out of every balcony door when he came toward her; that simply wasn’t possible.

  It isn’t in me to retreat. Yet that was exactly what she felt like doing.

  With an irritated sigh, she turned around and walked into the hard, imposing body of the very man she had hoped to avoid.

  She stepped back and gasped, trying to ignore the sweet scent that clung to his clothes. There was a hint of something else too… Had he been drinking? Her skin prickled as she took in his tall, lean form. She remembered how his bare skin had felt beneath her hand as she’d place her cheek on his chest that night a week ago. The sunlight from the doorway of the succession house illuminated the tips of his dark gold hair, resembling a halo. But Jonathan was no angel—or if he was, he was a fallen one.

  “How are they faring?” he asked in that soft, seductive voice she liked far too much.

  “How is who faring?” she asked, now focused on his mouth. She should not be remembering the brief but heated kiss they had shared, but he had a way of erasing all rational thought from her mind. It was most disconcerting.

  He nodded at the fruit behind her. “The pineapples.”

  “Oh! Of course. They are fine.”

  “Are they now?” She felt the sudden urge to lift her knee abruptly into his groin. She would like to see him smirking then.

  “Why don’t you check on them then?” She started to march past him, but he slid in front of her. His long legs were an advantage she would’ve killed for. Being rather short, she was not blessed with such things.

  “I was only teasing you. You were staring at them for an awfully long time.”

  He’d been watching her? For how long? And why?

  “Humph!” She wasn’t going to let his playful smile have any effect on her. No doubt it was just more of his game playing.

  “Well.” His smile faded, and he stared down at her. “I thought it was time for your first lesson. Lucien has a room that’s perfectly suited for training.”

  She blinked up at him. “You mean…the fighting lessons? Here?”

  “Yes. My ribs are mostly healed, and I think I can handle a tiny thing like you.”

  Her body flushed at the way he said handle, as though he had things on his mind other than fighting. But when they’d shared his bed, he’d been a perfect gentleman, just as he said he would be. Other than curling his arm around her waist, no doubt an unconscious habit born from the many others he’d taken to bed with him, he’d done nothing to display his interest. She didn’t like to admit it, but she’d hoped he would have taken advantage of the situation and made love to her. But he hadn’t.

  There was such a thing as being too honorable.

  “I changed my mind. I don’t think I need lessons after all.” She started to push past, but he caught her wrist. She jerked to a halt and whirled to face him.

  “Lesson one.” His grip on her hand was tight enough that she couldn’t get free. “A bad man won’t give you the chance to walk away with your adorable chin held high. They will be bastards. They won’t just want to harm you. They will want to make you feel weak and ineffectual. For example, they will grab your hair.”

  He did just that, albeit gently. Her knees weakened as her body flushed with a wave of heat.

  “They will drag you close so that you can’t escape. They will try to have their way with you. And they will take more than a kiss from your soft lips.” His head lowered to within an inch of hers, their lips close enough that his warm breath mixed with hers. It made her tremble violently.

  “Jonathan…” She was not at all sure what he wanted her to do as she clutched at his shoulder with her other hand. Was this a lesson? Was she supposed to defend herself? All she could think of was that moment at the Midnight Garden a week before. He’d used his hand to stroke and tease her until she’d come apart in his arms. Did he intend to do that again? Let her glimpse heaven?

  “You must learn to protect yourself if you want to keep playing the spy. I can’t stay by your side every minute.” His gaze lowered to her mouth. “Meet me in the leisure room in half an hour. If you do not show, I will track you down, and we will train wherever it is I find you.”

  He let go of her and walked away. Audrey took one step, her knees buckling together as she fought to regain control of herself. She finally understood why he wanted her in his bed. Being so close to him, even when he was attempting to show her the danger she faced, she’d been far too fixated on the pleasures he could give her instead.

  I should look at this in a more positive light. Evangeline says that seduction is part of my job as a spy, but that means I will need to be able to control my feelings. Learning not to let Jonathan affect me will be a valuable lesson.

  But that also meant she would indeed have to sleep in his bed—the sooner the better. Her heart gave an excited flutter.

  “God’s teeth!” she cursed, leaving the succession house and heading back to the main house. There was no sign of Gillian or J
ames. She hoped they were out somewhere enjoying the day, but for the moment their happiness would have to be entirely in their own hands. She returned to her chambers and called for Sarah, who helped her strip out of her dress and put on the clothes she had tailored secretly a few months ago.

  The dark brown trousers she’d made were nice and loose enough that she could move freely. The white lawn shirt was surprisingly comfortable. She had her maid bind her breasts with a cloth rather than stay in her corset, and then she put on a rich burgundy waistcoat. Though she was dressing like a man, it didn’t mean she couldn’t still look splendid. She pulled back her hair to the nape of her neck and secured it with a matching ribbon. She then looked over her accomplishment in the full-length mirror, grinning. Next to her, the maid blushed.

  “Heavens, miss!”

  “It’s scandalous, yes, but I’m not going to have success at learning to fight by wearing a dress.”

  The maid paled. “Learning to fight, miss?”

  “Yes.” Audrey grinned. “I’m taking lessons.” She left room with the maid still gaping and headed for the leisure room. It was in the opposite wing of the house, and she prayed she would not run into any guests on the way there. She wasn’t ashamed of what she was doing, but what she was wearing was another matter. If Horatia got word of this, she would ask questions Audrey did not wish to answer. And given how soon she was to become a mother, Audrey did not want anything upsetting her sister.

  Thankfully, she passed by no one, and when she reached the leisure room Jonathan was already inside, facing away from her. He removed his coat and dropped to a crouch to remove his boots. She stared at him, wanting to ask what he was doing. He straightened and then turned, still seemingly unaware of her.

  She was about to announce her presence, eager to know what he thought about how she was dressed, when he suddenly spoke.

  “Now that you’re here, let’s get started—” He turned to face her and then froze. He blinked once, his face reddening. “What…are you wearing?”

  Audrey happily pranced into the room. That was the reaction she’d been hoping for.

  “These are my fighting clothes. Quite splendid, don’t you think? I made them myself.” She turned and glanced at him over her shoulder so he could see the outfit from all sides.

  “Splendid? What…where…” He stuttered and waved a hand to her chest. “Where are your breasts?”

  Audrey’s face heated at the inappropriate remark, but she refused to let him render her speechless. “They are bound up tight so as not to interfere.”

  “And will you be wearing this same outfit on your missions?”

  “Well, no.”

  Jonathan slapped his hand to his head and groaned.

  “You have to learn to protect yourself with the natural hindrance of your clothes, your usual clothes.”

  Audrey frowned. “At some point, yes, but in order to study effectively, I believe this way first is better. It is entirely possible that I might have to dress as a boy for a mission or to escape capture.”

  He sighed. “Lord, you have an argument for everything, don’t you?” She knew he didn’t expect an answer, but she found prodding him strangely satisfying.

  “Of course I do. Now, teach me. Where do we begin?” She moved into the center of the room, wondering if he would try to grab her again. She would have a better chance of escaping him without her pesky skirts getting in the way. She stared down at his stocking feet. “May I ask, why did you remove your shoes?”

  “I do not wish to step on your tiny feet. The last thing I want to do is hurt you.”

  Part of her wanted to say that he had already hurt her plenty, with his cold and distant nature. Teasing her only to back away, like a cat who’d lost interest in a new plaything. But she couldn’t help but throw his own argument back at him.

  “And will my attackers be so considerate on my missions?”

  Jonathan cocked his head. “You will hardly be able to learn if you are limping about with broken toes. Now, if we may finish with the verbal sparring, perhaps we can begin with something more physical. I think I should teach you a bit of boxing first, begin with how to move your feet and protect your face,” Jonathan said. “That way, our later lessons will make use of your new skills. No sense in showing you how to escape a hold unless you can defend yourself once you’re free.”

  Audrey’s heart beat a little faster. This was really happening. “I think I’m following you.”

  “So come closer and mimic my stance.” He pointed to a spot on the floor beside him.

  He had one leg, his left, slightly forward and his right leg behind him. His hands were balled into fists close to his face. He looked fierce. She did the same, feeling awkward at having her legs braced so far apart. Skirts were so confining. One could scarcely run in them, let alone stand with one’s legs apart. Yet she couldn’t deny the power and stability she now felt. If this was the way men felt all the time, she was jealous. A pang of disappointment shot through her. She adored dresses, but this freedom was irresistible, and the thought of changing back into skirts afterward was not a welcome one.

  “Not bad.” Jonathan left his position and was now standing on the other side, examining her body.

  Without warning, he shoved her right shoulder. She nearly fell but kept her balance.

  “What was that for?” she gasped.

  Jonathan ignored the question. “Good. You’re still on balance. Balance is vital.” He continued to examine her, and she frowned at him. “Now, your hands.” He pried open her balled fists and freed her thumbs, then folded her fingers back into position. “Never tuck your thumbs inside your fingers.”

  “Why not?”

  “If you punch hard enough, your fingers will press back against your thumbs and break it. You won’t be putting up much of a fight with broken thumbs. I assure you, the pain is excruciating.”

  His face twisted as he said this, and she wondered if he had personally experienced it. “Did you ever…?”

  “Not from fighting, no. But when I was twelve, my thumb was caught in a drawer I shut with too much vigor. It had to be set, and I cried like a babe.”

  “How ever did you manage that?”

  “It is not something I am proud of. A moment of youthful anger and frustration. I simply wasn’t paying attention.”

  “Oh, that’s so dreadful, I—” She started to step out of her position, but he smacked her bottom with his hand so hard that she squeaked.

  “Stay in your position,” he said. She turned to him in anger, ready to lash out, and before she knew it he’d smacked her bottom again. “That is another lesson for you to learn. You may think that anger will give you strength in a fight, but in truth anger blinds, and that makes you vulnerable.”

  Audrey winced. Her bottom stung. Skirts, as irritating as they were, at lease provided a much better cushion. Of course, she hadn’t thought that spanking would be part of her lessons. She glared at him, but rather than anger she saw humor in his green eyes.

  “Now, when you have your fists up, you must keep your face protected. Use your left hand to block your face, and keep your right hand closer to you. Do you have a guess as to why?” To her surprise, his instructional tone was not condescending.

  She thought about what she was trying to punch. “If it is closer to my body, I will be able to strike with more force?”

  “Exactly.” Jonathan’s grin made her stomach flutter, and she tried to focus.

  “The left hand guards, and your dominant hand, the right, is your weapon.”

  “I see,” she said, nearly bouncing with excitement. She already felt more confident. “How do I punch?” she asked.

  His low chuckle was both simple and delightful. “So bloodthirsty.” She was struck again by how playful he was acting, not cold and aloof.

  This was the man I wanted to be with.

  “We will discuss striking in a moment. But first I must teach you to block. Your first instinct will be to try to respond
to my attack with one of your own. That leaves you open. Your goal should be to redirect the arm coming at you, not stopping it.”

  “I’m not sure I understand.”

  Jonathan faced her and raised his fists. “Slowly extend your hand as though to punch me.” She did as he commanded. When her fist got close to his face, he pushed his own arm up between her fist and his face and then pushed her hand away using his strong forearm. “That is how you block. If I simply just caught your fist, it would have knocked me backward, hurting me and still giving you have the upper hand. Does that make sense?”

  “Yes!” She couldn’t contain her excitement at this revelation. If they had taught this to her instead of dancing lessons before she came out last year, it would have been a very different first ball experience.

  Jonathan came around to stand in front of her and reached for her right hand. “Now, to strike you have several options.” He gripped her wrist and pulled it slowly to his nose.

  “The nose is best. You can break it, and it will bleed. Never worry about blood—”

  The thought of blood made her suddenly dizzy.

  “Audrey, are you all right? You’ve gone pale.” He caught her by the hips, steadying her. She only used him for support as long she had to before she could stand again.

  “I’m sorry. I’m a bit squeamish around blood.”

  “And apparently just the thought of it as well.” Jonathan chuckled, though he didn’t seem to be laughing at her. “Let’s not use that word then. Striking the nose can also make the eyes water, which will effectively blind a man during a fight, so think on that instead. Now, arms up…” He let go of her. She raised her fists again, and once more he took her wrist, guiding her hand.

  “After the nose, you may strike any number of places, but the most effective are the chin, throat, and ears.”

  “Why those?” Audrey studied his face, for once not as a number of distractingly handsome features, but rather as objects to hit.

  “They are vulnerable. Chins and jaws can break with enough force. The throat can stop them from breathing, and the ears…well, if you’ve never had your ears boxed, you can’t imagine the pain. If you ever have a chance to hit a man’s ear, go for that.”