The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 5

by MacMurrough, Sorcha

  "But I’ll be with you in court," she replied in a firm tone.

  He shook his head, looking aghast at the very idea. "Oh, no—"

  "Surely. My disguise as a young clerk is pretty effective, you have to admit."

  "And one touch of your hand is going to give me a full-blown cockstand that will scandalise the entire British justice system."

  "I know it’s fearsome big, but surely one of two of them have seen something better than a little tiddler before."

  Alistair guffawed.

  She shook her head. "I doubt you would be distracted. You’re a professional, superb at your job, and with the most impressive powers of concentration, as you’ve just shown. And I can always take care of your cockstand during the dinner recess."

  He laughed despite himself. "You are so naughty."

  "I’m teasing."

  "Mmmm, no, no tease at all," he panted, giving himself up completely to her kisses and caresses. "You’re delivering admirably." He moved his hands over her now to add to her delight.

  "Oh, Alistair—"

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  The following day Alistair and Viola found a lovely eighteen-century detached manor house a few blocks away from The Three Bells with a huge property surrounding it and ten foot high walls. They left a message for Sebastian that any of his friends who wanted to leave the trade would be welcome to apply as servants. The bigger and burlier, the better. The same applied to the girls.

  "Except about the burly part," Alistair said with a laugh.

  "But even if you don’t want to leave The Three Bells, you’re always welcome to visit," they told everyone sincerely.

  When they had finished with the rudimentary legal paperwork involved in the purchase of the estate, they went to see Philip at the brothel in Tavistock Crescent and asked him what his plans were.

  "Jasmine has been shaken a bit by all of this, but she’s a sensible woman. She’ll cope."

  "What do you say to a house with ten foot walls and a troop of toughs? We’d be more than pleased to share."

  Philip was delighted, but looked doubtful. "The last thing you’re going to want is us around when you’re in your honeymoon phase."

  "There are two fabulous wings, with a suite with a full private bathroom each. We never have to bump into each other if we don’t want to. But at least we’ll both be safe, and can look out for each other. I’ve never had a brother, Philip. I’d like to consider you one now. You’ve come up trumps for me every time. I want you in my corner, if you’re willing to come back to work for me."

  "Willing? I thought you’d never ask. I want a piece of those bastards." Philip turned to Viola. "Are you sure about the house?"

  She nodded. "Absolutely. You’ll love it. Come see it, and then we can start buying furniture and fabrics together."

  "I don’t want to decide on anything until we see Lawrence," Philip said. "He has shiploads of stuff coming in all the time, and I’d rather give him the business than anyone else. I’m going to make my half of the house rival the Brighton Pavillion."

  Alistair grinned broadly. "Fabulous idea. Juliet did wonders with the Goodwood flat. Let’s have a touch of the exotic and Oriental by all means."

  "Oh dear. Bordello more like," Viola said with a grin.

  "Well, the two of you both came out of one, in different ways of course. So why not?"

  "And you and Jasmine have also lived in one now too," Alistair pointed out.

  "True," he agreed.

  "Anyway, Philip, Viola, whatever you want, go right ahead and get."

  "And you, Alistair, old chap."

  "I tell you what. We can each pick a room."

  "I want a small main parlor in Turkey red. Jasmine and I—"

  Alistair had heard the racy story before from Philip and his wife. "Er, yes, quite, enough said, before you shock this poor young miss here." He put his arm around Viola. "So let’s get Jasmine and see the house."

  After their grand tour, they went around to visit Thomas and Randall, both recovering nicely and being pampered half to death by their wives. They were loving ever minute of it.

  "I ought to get nearly assassinated more often," Randall joked. He was sitting up in bed, pale and wan, with his head bandaged.

  That earned him a reproachful look from Isolde which set his teeth on edge. "Sorry, love. Touch wood to avert disaster."

  "It certainly would be," the lovely young woman declared with a shake of her auburn tresses. "You are not leaving me alone with fifteen children and an aging mother-in-law. Not to mention a brother-in-law who would be hell-bent on revenge," she said firmly, her adoration for her huge handsome husband evident for all to see.

  "No, darling, you’re quite right. I have no intention of leaving you for another hundred years."

  Thomas was slightly more subdued, white-faced with pain and also indignantly furious. He was already working on the speech he planned to deliver in the House of Lords at his earliest opportunity.

  "Tell me how you think this sounds. ‘Nothing but rigour and coercion have been resorted to. Would not the new bills rather exasperate than repress? A dead silence in the country might for a season be produced by soldiers and penal laws, but nothing could reconcile the people to the loss of their rights, or compel them to submit quietly to that grievous deprivation. Property never could be exposed to greater danger ultimately than for an organ of government to pass nothing but acts of rigour, and omit all attempts at kindness and conciliation.

  "The right of meeting has not only been taken away, but the broad liberty of the press has been invaded and encroached upon.

  "Nothing will satisfy this present government than an attack upon the very vital principles of the British constitution. But not by revolutionaries. Nay, but by their very own ministers. The new laws are not such as the public exigency required. The extent, and even the existence of disaffection has not been proven; and until it should be so, it is the duty of every honest man to pause before giving the ministers and even bigger stick to beat the common man with.’"

  Alistair gaped in shock. "Oh, Thomas, it’s most admirable, but you can’t say—"

  "I can and I will," the Duke insisted. "They want to bring back all of the Gag Acts from the last time the Spenceans locked horns with the Home Office spies. Well, they’re not going to get away with it this time. And they’re also forgetting that Alexander is a peer, an earl himself in fact. Earl of Ferncliffe. I know he’s been very quiet since he and Sarah went to Ireland, and over to Waterloo. But if we put it to him—"

  "Wonderful. More cannon fodder for Sidmouth’s insanity!" Alistair shouted angrily. "Is all this not bad enough without Alexander deliberately putting himself in the line of fire once again?"

  "We won’t be in danger. Not if we all stick together," Thomas asserted.

  "You know they’re going to try to offer me a judgeship. Buy me off."

  "Which you ought to take. Four of us on the benches together in the Lords—"

  "Are still far too few. At least I can make a real difference with the bench I sit on."

  Thomas sighed. "I know you’ll do your best, old chap. But they’ll resort to every nefarious means at their disposal to secure a conviction."

  Viola lifted her chin proudly. "Then Alistair will just have to be that much more thorough, and work that much harder."

  "They’ve not been arrested yet. Perhaps Thistlewood and the others will get away," Thomas said hopefully.

  Alistair sighed. "I wish to God they would. But Edwards knew everything. He’ll know all their bolt holes too."

  Thomas shook his head. "Who would have ever thought the little squit would end up so dangerous."

  Alistair stared at him in confusion. "Who?"

  "Why Edwards, of course."

  Alistair shook his head. "I don’t understand."

  "You don’t remember him? Weedy little chap without shoes. Used to sell plaster busts of famous people on the Eton High Street. Randall or Michael, I can’t recall w
hich, tripped and broke a couple. Paid for them, of course, but he maintained it had been done on purpose.That they had ruined the two he had been most proud of on purpose. I really had to take great pains to calm him down."

  "You don’t think— After all this time?" Viola asked.

  Thomas shrugged. "Who knows? It could just be a coincidence. Or one might think that even all those years ago they perceived us as dangerous. Radicals they had to keep an eye on."

  "Then that would imply that one of us had betrayed the others."

  He shook his head. "I can’t believe that for a minute. We’ve all stood by each other through thick and thin."

  "That’s not to say that one of you didn’t start out to betray the others," Viola pointed out gently.

  Alistair spread his hands in despair. "I don’t believe it. I don’t want to believe it. If it were true—"

  "If it were, they haven’t harmed us, not in all these years. And it makes no difference now. We’re all friends, brothers," Thomas argued. "In any event, maybe it’s just what they want us to think in order to get us to mistrust each other, when really we have to stand firm against the encroaching darkness."

  "But who—"

  Thomas fiddled with the bedspread uncomfortably. "My money would be on Philip, because he needed the money so desperately. And they did try to kill him."

  "But he went to Botany Bay—"

  Thomas nodded. "He did in the end. And he never saw us after we all left school and he went to stay with his parents in debtor’s prison. So probably it wasn’t him."

  "Well it’s certainly not you or me, Randall would never have benefitted, Michael is as honest as the day is long and was away so many years. Likewise Lawrence. So that leaves Jonathan, Clifford, Blake or Martin. And neither of the last two are political."

  "And the first two were in the war with me. So that leaves only one," Thomas said.

  "But he was away for years, and has no memory. I also can’t believe that so many years ago—"

  "Think about it. We know he was a spy during the war. I don’t blame him. At the time it would have been Lord Hawkesbury as Foreign Secretary. He was thick as thieves with Sidmouth, plain old Henry Addington as he was then. Just the threat of sending Alexander back to France would have been enough to keep him in line."

  "Lord Hawkesbury is now Lord Liverpool, the Prime Minister. Diabolical." Alistair shook his head.

  Viola was looking from one to the other. "You can’t be in earnest. You really think your friend Alexander betrayed all the Rakehells? Would allow them to go to their deaths?"

  Alistair shrugged. "Or tried to. Or sat on the fence when everything began to unfold."

  "Or maybe they want you to think that so they can divide and conquer," Viola argued, her eyes sparkling with fury. "And who better to ruin than the one other man who had the right to an hereditary peerage?"

  "You know, she’s right, Alistair. Perhaps all fingers are pointing at Alexander because they want them to."

  "Damn. This is absurd. Chasing shadows. Seeing danger lurking in every corner. This isn’t like me."Alistair gave a shaky sigh.

  "I know. What has you spooked?" Thomas asked, staring at him.

  Alistair took Viola’s hand without embarrassment. "I suppose I never really had so much to lose before."

  Viola looked up at him in surprise. "But you’ve already lost everything. The house, the office, your money. I know Sidmouth said you would get it all back, but I wouldn’t trust him if my life depended on it."

  "Which is precisely why I’m nervous," he admitted. "None of that means anything without you, Viola. Neither of us ever planned on falling in love. But now that I have, to lose you is unthinkable."

  "And you’re stronger with each other than without," Thomas said with a warm smile. "I’ve done things I never would have imagined possible thanks to having Charlotte at my side. She gives me courage, even when the rest of the world tries to pull me down.

  "Viola does the same for you, I can see that. It’s only natural to feel fear at the loss. But love is all about risk as well, you two. Just stick together and trust in each other’s love."

  Viola smiled. "That sounds like good advice for you and all the Rakehells. Trust in each other. You’ve been friends for years. If this man Edwards really has been lurking in your backgrounds since your Eton days, there must be others as well. Or servants. Whatever you do, don’t start pointing fingers, wasting your energies trying to find the culprit when one might not even exist."

  Alistair nodded. "You’re right, my love. As usual, you're a rare combination of beauty and common sense. It was all too easy to go with my gut instinct and point the finger at Alexander. But the fact is, he wasn’t at Eton with us, only Oxford, so he couldn’t have know Edwards.

  "You’re right. They want to divide and conquer. We need to stick together. I’m going to have the fight of my life no matter how many of them they arrest. So we’d better get ready. Go to Newgate, try to see them, now that they will have been up in front of the magistrates."

  "Let me know if there’s anything I can do."

  "Thanks, Thomas, but I think your speech is risky enough."

  The Duke looked positively smug. "It will certainly put the cat amongst the pigeons."

  Alistair sighed. "Sidmouth is no pigeon. He’s not done with us yet. I can feel it."

  Viola took his hand and together they moved to leave. "If we hold firm, we can’t fail."

  "Good luck," Thomas called from the bed.

  "See you soon. Be careful."

  "Don’t worry. We will. And the same to you, Thomas."

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  As soon as Alistair had Viola alone in the privacy of the carriage he began to devour her with the most passionate lovemaking.

  "Careful," she said throatily. "You’re going to do yourself an injury like that."

  "Am I hurting you?" he asked, pausing mid-stroke.

  "Not at all. I revel in your body, the things you do to me. But you're acting like the hounds of Hell are pursuing you."

  "Time’s winged chariot hurrying near?" he quoted.

  "No," she said, clutching his buttocks as she slowed the pace. "We’re going to have a lifetime. As soon as this is over. Just make sure this," she said, with a roll of her hips, "isn’t over too soon. I feel mighty peckish."

  "I’m more than glad to feed your appetites, love," he said with a cheeky grin. "Would you like a second helping, or third?"

  "Let’s just concentrate on one course at a time, and savour every morsel."

  "You’re certainly a toothsome snack, darling," he said, swirling his tongue over her breast before opening his mouth wide to draw the tip right in.

  "Do you think we can have the biggest bed money can buy in our house? I mean, not that I don’t adore everything that happens between us wherever we are, but I would love a huge bed with silk sheets so I can appreciate this feast of the senses without being jolted all over London."

  Alistair grinned impishly. "Oh, I don’t know. I think riding hard over all the ruts and fissures adds a certain special thrill to the whole banquet. Driver!" he shouted up. "Keep going until we tell you to stop."

  He sat her up and placed his buttocks at the very edge of the seat so that she was sitting upon him with her legs dangling helplessly either side of his thighs. He kept her upright by her breasts, which he teased to fullness over and over again. "Let’s just see where the ride takes us, eh?"

  The deepening and unpredictability of the contact, the rhythm and sway of the coach, sent wave after wave of bubbling bliss through her body. Viola lost track of the number of times she shuddered against him, jouncing, grinding and gliding as the carriage did.

  Finally he cradled her perspiration-soaked faced against his strong shoulder, and told the driver to bring them to Westminster Bridge. He only hoped the two of them would be able to shuffle the rest of the way to The Three Bells, for truly he wasn’t sure he even possessed the power of speech any more, let alone the abilit
y to walk.

  As the carriage set them down, Alistair read the placard at the nearby newsstand. All the elation of the past two hours dissipated like the morning dew on a summer’s day. "Look. Damnation. Thistlewood’s been arrested."