“Good. Because I’ll find a way to convince you to fall in love with me.”
She tilted her head, a disappointed look on her face. “I’m afraid that will be quite impossible, my lord.”
Lawrence was puzzled. “Oh? Why is that?”
“You cannot convince someone of something if they already know it to be true.” A coy look came over Zehra’s face. “But perhaps I shall pretend I need to be seduced. I would like to experience your idea of convincing me.”
“I will be sure to do that, once I’m able to get you alone.” He pressed his lips to hers in a slow, sweet kiss, relishing the feel of her in his arms. But he had to let her go, at least for now. Not long, yet too long, all at the same time.
“Dream of me?” he asked her, flashing a grin. He tried to look confident, but deep inside he still feared her slipping away from him. It left him with a bittersweet ache deep in his chest.
“I’ll always dream of you, my wicked rogue.” She kissed him once more before she left him standing alone in the corridor. She joined her grandfather outside, taking his heart with her.
Epilogue
Lawrence stood at the back of the crowded assembly room, watching the most beautiful woman in the world descend the steps to the main dance floor. There was no sorrow in her eyes, no hint of the pain she’d endured. The man who had hunted her in London, Al-Zahrani, was at the bottom of the ocean after a sea battle with Ashton Lennox’s merchant fleet. Zehra was safe. Now and forever.
“Miss Darzi!” Her name was announced by the master of ceremonies, and the crowd erupted in applause.
“Can you believe it? Denbruck’s granddaughter?” a lady in front of him murmured to a friend. “She’s a princess, you know.”
“Indeed. Persian royalty, they say,” her companion replied. “True exotic beauty. No debutante this season will stand a chance against her. Thanks heavens my daughter is already married.”
“I heard she was sold into slavery but was rescued by a gentleman here in England!” the first woman whispered scandalously. Lawrence tensed, expecting to hear them condemn her.
Her friend shuddered. “Oh, Helen, you read far too many of those dreadful novels, I fear.”
Another companion chimed in. “Indeed. If it were true, I have no doubt Lady Society would have said something in the Quizzing Glass Gazette.”
“But wouldn’t it be exciting if it were true?” Helen asked.
“Oh, I suppose there’s a certain rough romance to the idea, but we shouldn’t give credence to such stories. It does her no favors, I can tell you. I heard the king himself met with her over tea yesterday and was utterly captivated. Every bachelor in England will be vying her for hand.”
Helen grinned behind her fan. “They will be wasting their time. I know a woman who was on Bond Street yesterday, and she saw Miss Darzi buying the most beautiful wedding gown.”
“What?” the others said together.
“Someone’s already asked her, I’m sure of it. I wonder who the lucky fellow is.”
“Hmph, more flights of fancy, I’m sure. I swear, Helen, those novels will be the end of you.”
Lawrence smiled to himself. He walked along the back of the room, drawing closer to Zehra, watching as all the men competed for her attention. She stood there as regal as any queen and offered them sweet, polite smiles. But when he came to stand in front of her and offered her a courtly bow, her face flushed and the crowd rippled with whispers.
“The first dance is mine, is it not?” He nodded at her card, where his name had been written days ago.
“I believe you tried to make them all yours.” She walked right up to him, her eyes only on him, just as his eyes were only for her.
“Of course. It is the only way to keep you from learning how disappointing a dancer I truly am.”
She laughed. “Nonsense.”
“You really will marry me?” Lawrence asked as they prepared to dance.
Her blue eyes were filled with sweet fire. “You think I won’t?”
“You could have your pick of any man in London now. Men with money, with titles. Men far better than me.” He curled a hand around her waist, his heart racing. She was without a doubt the most desired woman in London. Even the damned king had been taken with her. He had to know that she truly wanted him and didn’t simply feel indebted. “So, I must know. Why me?”
“Because from the first moment I met you, you saved me.”
His heart sank. It was as he had feared. “You owe me nothing, Zehra, you know that. I’ve told you a dozen times that I wanted nothing in return. I was doing my duty.”
She looked as though she was tempted to laugh. They began to spin in slow circles around the hall, the eyes of most of the ton on them, but none were close enough to hear. “Lawrence, you silly, wonderful man. I don’t mean that you saved me from those other men.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“Before you, I was without a guiding star,” she replied. “When you took me into your arms, that sense of being lost vanished. I knew I wanted you and no one else, even though I did not yet understand the depth of that desire…that love.” She ducked her chin a moment before defiantly raising it back up. “I am told the English do not speak so openly of love, but I do. I love fiercely—I love you fiercely. It is not in my nature to question my heart or its mysterious desires.” Zehra lifted her chin to gaze at him. “Do you feel that way about me?”
He couldn’t speak, not at first, but finally nodded. “More than anything.”
“That is why I am marrying you. Now, stop thinking so much, my English rogue, and dance.”
Lawrence beamed down at her, unable to repress his joy. “Now that is something I’m happy to do.”
Tonight they would dance. Tomorrow he would announce their engagement in the papers. While he had met her under the most scandalous of circumstances, he would not let their marriage begin under a similar cloud. The musicians readied for the next dance and couples spread out on the dance floor, but neither he nor Zehra saw them. They were together in a world that held only them and the music that poured into their hearts.
* * *
Zehra stepped into her bedroom at her grandfather’s townhouse, her feet still aching from all of the wonderful dancing. But she sensed something was amiss and froze. Her bath had been drawn, yet she didn’t remember asking for one. She walked deeper into the room and saw red-and-orange-tipped petals floating in the water like a colorful blanket. She stared at it, shocked, and jumped when Lawrence stepped out from behind her changing screen. He placed a finger to his lips for silence. Smiling, she tiptoed over to him.
“How did you get in here?”
He nodded at her bedroom window, which was still open.
“My brother Lucien taught me the value of climbing trellises in my youth.”
“Oh? And was this to make it easier to seduce the young ladies?” she asked.
“In this case, one particular lady.” He waved to the bath. “It’s nice and hot. I thought after tonight you might need it to relax.”
“It’s a wonderful idea. Will you join me?” She turned her back to him so he could unbutton her gown.
“If you wish me to.”
She smiled impishly. “And if I wish for you only to watch?”
He leaned down to nibble her bare shoulder. “Then I will suffer the sweet agony of only watching.”
“Lucky for you, then, that I do not wish you to suffer agony.” She let her gown drop to the floor at her feet. “Today.”
Soon they lay in the large tub together. She leaned back against him, their hands playing with the petals. Zehra lifted one orange petal up, examining the colors closely.
“Where did you find these? They are not English roses.”
“When you told me about the roses from your home, I hunted every florist in the city to find a way to acquire some Persian roses. I’m now in possession of several plants at a hothouse in my garden. They will soon be yours.”
She had to take a mom
ent to collect herself. “You brought part of my home here?”
“To make your new home as close as I could to your old one,” he answered, nuzzling her neck.
“How did I ever deserve to find a man like you?” Zehra asked.
“Sometimes, two people find their way together. Fate gave us our chance that night I stepped into the White House. I thought I was trying to save you to make up for mistakes I made in the past, but I was wrong. I didn’t know then that you would be the greatest gift in my life.”
Zehra turned around on his lap, straddling him. The colorful petals rippled around them on the surface of the water, their perfume making her dizzy in the most delightful way.
“And you, my wicked rogue, are the greatest gift in my life. My rescuer, my lover, my partner in life.” She leaned into him, kissing him with the passion and love that burned like an eternal flame in her heart, and he swept her away in his wicked embrace.
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You’ve just read the 6th book in the League of Rogues series. The other books in the series are Wicked Designs, His Wicked Seduction, and Her Wicked Proposal, Wicked Rivals, and Her Wicked Longing. Be sure to grab your copy of the next League adventure: The Earl of Pembroke!
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The Earl of Pembroke
Chapter 1
London in the day was a bustling city with carriages speeding along the cobblestoned streets and women selling flowers in heavily perfumed baskets while the crowds perused the shops and paid calls on friends. But as darkness fell, shadows couple play tricks on the eyes of those foolish enough to walk the streets after the sun dropped beneath the horizon.
And I am one of those fools.
Gillian Beaumont squinted at the nearest alley, swallowing hard and holding back a scream of fear every time she thought she saw something fluttering in the mews like a bat’s wings. The coach she had taken to the Temple Bar District was already rattling away, leaving her alone. The leaves of the early fall scuttled along the ground, tangling in her skirts like brown spiders, making her jump. She gripped her gown below her knees and gave the fabric a shake, trying to loosen the dried leaves from her dark purple satin gown. Then she faced her surroundings. She stood on the street close to the Royal Courts of Justice and the entrance to Twinings Tea Shop.
Through the heavy gloom she could see the gilded sign that read Twinings and just make out the two Chinese gentlemen sculpted into the stone above the tea shop’s name. Their faces seemed fierce in the shadows and Gillian looked away, turning her attention to the tall black form of the griffin statue that now looked more like a dragon because the shadows played tricks on her eyes.
In that moment she wished she was back in her warm bed. Asleep. Asleep and dreaming of one particular man and the stolen kisses they’d shared that kept pushing into her consciousness.
James Fordyce. The Earl of Pembroke was a dashing gentleman with a heart of gold and the warmest brown eyes she’d ever seen. She could still feel her hands threading through the strands of his dark hair as he kissed her in the corner of a book shop and whispered poetry to her. He was everything she’d dreamed of but could never have. She was a servant, and could be nothing more than that. A pang deep in her chest made her catch her breath, but she straightened her shoulders, shrugging off the pain, something she’d been trained to do for many years.
As dangerous as a dream of James was to her equilibrium, it was a far sight safer than what she was currently engaged in—chasing after her wild, headstrong mistress, Audrey Sheridan.
Audrey was this very night attempting to expose a group of scoundrels who belonged to a hellfire club known as the Unholy Sinners of Hell. Such a dreadful name for a dreadful group of gentlemen. As a lady’s maid, Gillian’s duties ought to have been limited to dressing Audrey, preparing her for the day, and coming up with new ways to style her hair. She should not be sneaking about in the Strand after dark in a half domino mask and a dark purple evening gown with an impossibly low bodice, searching for a group of dangerous men who were rumored to seduce virgins and make sacrifices to the devil.
“Heavens, Audrey, what have you gotten us into?” Gillian muttered to herself. She hastily examined the addresses of the buildings nearby, and recalled the location from a letter Audrey had shown her earlier that morning which contained directions to the club.
The letter said the club was inside a tall, white building two doors down from Twinings Tea Shop. The door knocker was an iron gargoyle’s face sneering at all visitors. As she reached the rather unremarkable structure that supposedly housed a den of devil worshipers, Gillian studied the door. Her heart tripped a few beats as nerves threatened to freeze her in place.
There was no other option other than to go inside. Audrey, her wayward mistress, was also her friend, and earlier that evening she had promised Gillian she would not go to this place. Yet when Gillian had awoken and found Audrey gone, she knew where her mistress must have gone.
She lied to me. No doubt out of some silly notion that she was protecting me, but she isn’t.
Gillian would have charged into the fires of hell to protect her mistress. They were the same age, only nineteen, and in another life they might have been close friends, meeting for tea at Gunter’s or off to balls.
In another life… if she had been born an heiress to her deceased father’s estate instead of the daughter of an earl’s mistress.
Her half-brother Adam, was now the Earl of Morrey and her half-sister, Caroline didn’t even know she existed. The previous Earl of Morrey had been careful in keeping his long-term mistress, Gillian’s mother, well set up in a house in Mayfair and had even seen to Gillian’s education but even with such aid, her future had held limited options.
Gillian raised a gloved hand to the grotesque gargoyle and wrapped the knocker twice loudly. Her breath held fast in her lungs and she waited, her body shaking at the thought of the nature of the men inside. When the door finally opened, a grim-faced butler looked her up and down, before his lips curled back a cruel smile.
“A little late, but ’tis no matter, they’ve plenty of energy tonight to see to every lady.” He waved her to enter. Gillian hesitated before taking a tentative step forward. Her skin crawled as the butler came too close when he closed the door, sealing her inside. She tried not to think about what his greeting suggested.
“T
his way.” The butler led her down the corridor to a chamber and opened a door for her to enter. The drawing room, if indeed it could be called that, was outlandishly decorated with dark brocaded furniture and red satin walls. These dubious men were certainly trying to create a sinful and seductive atmosphere, but rather than tasteful, it seemed crass. Yet they were clearly prepared for guests. A fire was lit and a tea tray was on the table.
“Freshly brewed,” the butler assured her. “Help yourself. When they are ready you will be summoned.”
Gillian murmured her thanks and settled herself on the couch. She reached up again to make sure the domino mask hadn’t slipped. It was still fixed securely over her features.
Where was Audrey?
She had left half an hour before Gillian woke, according to the other servants in the Sheridan household. Had she sought out the protective escort of Charles Humphrey as she’d said she’d had planned to? Gillian dearly hoped so, otherwise Audrey was putting herself at great risk. The Earl of Lonsdale was an eminently trustworthy gentleman, but with a wicked reputation that would allow him entry to this club.
Earlier that day Gillian and Audrey had been warned by a man of their acquaintance not to seek out this hellfire club tonight. One of its members, Gerald Langley, had vowed vengeance upon Audrey, or rather, anonymous identity as the writer of the social column Lady Society. She had destroyed his reputation. Her remarks in the Lady Society column had been accurate and honest but the outright cut direct from all of the ton against Langley had made him desperate for revenge.
Fortunately, he did not know Audrey was Lady Society, that was at least one small blessing. But Audrey and Gillian had been warned that Langley would lure Lady Society to his devil’s lair with the threat of debauching virgins against their will among other things, and Audrey was not the sort of woman to turn back on a challenge. But they’d had a plan, one they’d made together earlier that morning. They were to reach out to a few female members of their silly hellfire club and switch places with them for a proper payment. Yet after the adventures of the day and the dangers Gillian had faced when a man had attacked her, a man she suspected was in league with Gerald Langley, Audrey had promised to abandon the plan of going to the club tonight. Yet when Gillian had woken from her rest, she’d found her mistress gone. Had Audrey contacted one of those women? Surely she had.
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