Rogues to Lovers: Legend of the Blue Rose

by Laurel O'Donnell

  Livvy drifted to sleep for a while, dreaming fitfully of the elephant on the icy Thames and shared kisses in his library. She awoke to the sound of arguing outside her room. She jerked up, trying to clear her head of the fog of sleep as she listened to the voices.

  “Where is she?” a man’s cold voice demanded.

  “You will not take her, do you hear?” Her father’s shout was desperate.

  “I will. You owe me, Hartwell, and she’s the payment I want. I know you’ve whored her out before. Now you can give her to me.”

  The door handle rattled as someone tried to open it, but Livvy had locked it when she retired, not wishing to be disturbed.

  “Open this door at once, Miss Hartwell!” the man shouted.

  “No, Livvy, don’t!” Her father’s warning was cut short. She heard him grunt and a heavy thud as he fell to the floor.

  “Papa!” she shouted, pressing herself against the door.

  “Miss Hartwell, you will come out at once or else I will permanently damage your father.”

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “Wouldn’t I? Your father owes me, and I assure you, given my position, the courts will side with me, even if I were to kill him by accident.”

  Livvy’s heart sank. She drew in a deep breath before she opened the door.

  A tall, dark-haired man stood inches away from her. The second he saw an opening, he shoved the door hard. She stumbled back, wincing as her chest burned with pain from the impact. The man was on her in an instant, grabbing one of her arms and jerking her to her feet.

  “You’re coming with me. Now,” he growled, and she was dragged from the room. Her father was an unconscious heap on the floor.

  “Who are you?” She tugged on the man’s arm.

  “Lord Stamford.”

  Livvy shuddered as recognition struck her. She’d heard about him, a vile brute of a viscount, well known for escaping the consequences of his actions.

  “You will pay for your father’s debt on your back.”

  Livvy swallowed hard, barely able to breathe. “Please, let me go.” She knew begging would be of no use, but what other options did she have?

  “Know your place, woman, and you will find the time passes easier.” He pulled her through the entryway and outside. She was thankful she hadn’t yet taken off her cloak or else she would have been freezing. Stamford shoved her into a waiting coach, and she cowered in the corner as far away from him as she could. She had to think of a way to escape.

  He sat back, a cruel smile stretching his lips. She couldn’t help but see how different he was from Martin, despite the odd similarities of the situation. A pang of longing stung her heart. She would have given anything to be back in his arms.

  “Why did you take me?” she asked Stamford. “Are you so desperate for a mistress that you must leverage debts to obtain one?”

  Stamford smirked. “You have a tongue on you. Take care that you do not accidentally bite it off.”

  Livvy gritted her teeth.

  “I have taken you because some bastard named Banks challenged me to a duel over you, and I wish to punish him.”

  “Martin fought over me?”

  “I shot him, but only grazed him.” Stamford clenched his hands into fists on his thighs. “By all rights I won that duel, and I will not be made a fool by him or any other man.”

  Livvy suddenly remembered Martin returning the morning after she’d hurt him with her careless words. He had been wounded, but he’d refused to tell her how.

  “You’d better be a damned good lay. Your life may depend on it if I am in a foul mood.” Stamford’s deadly calm as he delivered the threat nearly paralyzed her.

  Don’t let him frighten you. You must find a way to escape.

  She wanted to crawl into a tight ball to escape the fear growing inside her, but she couldn’t. She had to be brave.

  The coach stopped. He got out first and snapped his fingers impatiently. She rushed out after him, and he grabbed her arm, shoving her up the steps. She nearly tripped, and he snarled a curse at her but made no attempt to help.

  She followed him inside his townhouse and glanced around. The decor was far too bold, as though he wanted to beat visitors over the head with his strength and fortune, but with no sense of place or purpose. The Persian rugs clashed with the Grecian lamps and Turkish Ottoman sofas. It was so very different from the refined elegance of Martin’s home.

  “Baird!” Stamford bellowed at the haggard-looking butler.

  “Yes, my lord?” Baird glanced at her and hastily looked away.

  “Take this woman upstairs to my bedchamber. I want her stripped and bathed. She is to wait for me there.” Without another word, Stamford walked away.

  Livvy and the butler exchanged glances. “This way…Miss…”

  “Hartwell. Livvy Hartwell.” She raised her chin, desperate to hide her fear.

  “Miss Hartwell.” Baird’s eyes were apologetic as he waved for her to follow him. She lifted her skirts and followed him upstairs. When the butler showed her to his master’s room, he kept his eyes downcast.

  “A maid will be up shortly to assist you. A footman will fill the tub.”

  Livvy swallowed her response. It would do neither of them any good to tell him she wasn’t going to strip and bathe. She waited for him to close the door, and then she turned the key in the lock after she heard his footsteps recede.

  Stamford may prey on other women, but he would not prey on her. She faced the room and noticed a heavy writing desk. She dragged it across the room and wedged it against the door as best she could. Then she rested a brief moment, her stays pressing tight against her ribs, making it hard to breathe.

  There was a wide window behind her, and it gave her a sudden idea. She rushed to the window, opening it wide. She dug through the armoire until she found extra bed linens. She worked to knot the sheets together, then dropped one end of the makeshift rope down the side of the house. It worked for Lady Leticia in a Gothic novel, so it just might work for her. Of course, she wouldn’t use it the way Leticia did, but it would serve a purpose all the same.

  She tied the other end to a metal pole at the base of the windows used to hold back the curtains. She feared there was no way her rope would carry her, but if she could trick Stamford into believing she had escaped, it would give her time to slip away while Stamford’s focus was elsewhere. She slipped under the bed to wait and prayed her plan would work.

  The Gentleman's Seduction

  Lauren Smith

  Chapter Sixteen

  Martin gazed unseeing at the snow falling outside his study window. Stacks of letters lay unanswered, their words left unread. His cup of tea, hot only a short time ago, was now tepid. The room was icy despite the fire some kind footman had lit for him during his distraction.

  His happiness, what little of it he’d claimed in the last few days, was gone. It was like losing his mother and his home all over again. If he didn’t know better, he might have sworn his black heart was broken clean through. If it was, it would never heal.

  My Livvy is gone. Gone because I was too much of a coward to fight for her. Regret weighed so heavily upon him that it was hard to draw in a breath without his chest aching.

  He knew his servants would be worried, and his clients’ letters needed answering, but Martin couldn’t find the strength or desire to care about anything at the moment.

  His thoughts were miles away, on Livvy and how she’d been so brave to touch the elephant at the frost fair. How she had made him do it as well and face his fear. She’d brought out the best in him over and over.

  And yet I was afraid of what she made me feel.

  He rubbed his eyes, suddenly very weary.

  “Sir?” Harris’s voice came through the closed door.

  He turned away from the window. “Yes?”

  “I hate to disturb you, sir, but Mr. Hartwell is here.”

  “I will not see him,” Martin growled.

  “Sir.” H
arris’s voice was louder now and more insistent. “He’s been badly beaten. He told me he needs your help. Someone named Stamford has kidnapped Miss Hartwell.”

  “What?” Martin leapt out of his chair so fast he knocked it over. He opened his door and faced Harris. The butler nodded toward the front door. Edwin Hartwell stood just inside the doorway, hat in hand, his face swollen around one eye.

  “Livvy’s been taken? What the devil happened?” Martin demanded.

  “She’d only been home a few hours. She was sleeping and he showed up, demanding to take her for a debt. It seems word of your arrangement with her has spread around town.” Edwin’s face darkened.

  “A debt? I paid him for that debt. He has no right to her. Why didn’t you stop him?” Martin wanted to blacken Edwin’s other eye.

  Edwin stared at him, his face stony. “I refused his demands, and the bastard hit me hard. When I awoke, they were gone. I would’ve done anything to protect her.”

  “You didn’t protect her from me!” Martin snapped. “How was I any different than Stamford?” He hated the truth of those words, but he couldn’t deny them either.

  Hartwell looked at the floor. “My shame for not standing up for her more with you is what drove me to stand up to Stamford. But you are not the same kind of man as him. I saw the clothes and books you sent back with her. I saw her face when she talked about you. My daughter loves you, and I think perhaps you might love her as well. Whatever you feel for me, hatred, loathing, I am sure I deserve in full measure. You must understand that everything I did was to protect my own family. I was not lining my pockets with your family’s money—I was keeping my own family in our home. It doesn’t erase the villainy of my actions toward you, but what I did, it was for Livvy. If you at all care for her, you must help her now. Please, I’m begging you.” Edwin’s eyes were full of desperation. “What I did to you was beyond despicable, but please don’t let Livvy suffer for my sins. I fear what Stamford will do with her.”

  Martin cringed inside. He shared that fear. The man was dangerous. “Harris, have my coach brought round at once.”

  “I have a hackney already waiting,” Edwin said. “I’d hoped you would come with me.”

  “Then let us make haste.” Martin didn’t bother to fetch a coat. He was on fire with a building rage. If Livvy was harmed in any way, he would kill Stamford.

  ***

  Livvy listened to the pounding on the bedroom door.

  “You little—aargh!”

  The door broke open with a thud, and the desk blocking it shifted a few inches. Another thud and the desk shifted yet again. Each time the wooden legs scraped harshly on the floor, the sound made her ears hurt. She covered them with her hands and watched the desk shudder and slide inch by inch as Stamford threw himself at the door. Then he had space to squeeze through and stomped around the room. Livvy watched his boots as he paused at the window.

  “Think she can get far? We’ll see,” he growled and left the room. Livvy held her breath. After several moments, she slid out from under the bed and tiptoed toward the desk and open doorway. She heard Stamford’s distant yelling from below on the first floor. There weren’t any servants about as she quickly rushed down the stairs and headed for the front door. If she could just get to the street…

  Pain ripped through her skull as she was yanked backward by her hair.

  “Think yourself a crafty bit of muslin, do you?” Stamford’s deadly purr pushed her to fight. She reached up and clawed his cheek, drawing blood. He hissed and released her, only to strike her with a closed fist. It caught her cheekbone, driving agony through her. Her knees buckled, and she fell at his feet. Stamford kicked her in the stomach, and she curled up on one side, gasping for breath. He began to lift his foot again, and she curled into a tighter ball. A rap on the door made Stamford back away. He stared down at her.

  “One bloody sound out of you and you won’t live to regret it,” he warned.

  Livvy cowered in the shadows behind the door, and Stamford opened it.

  “What are you—”

  The scuffle and sounds of a fight made Livvy close her eyes at first. Then she opened them to see Stamford staggering back. A second later Martin, her avenging angel, advanced on Stamford, his fists raised.

  “Where is she?” Martin demanded.

  “I’m here!” Livvy choked out.

  Stamford took advantage of the distraction to lunge at Martin, tackling him to the ground. Stamford seemed ready to drive Martin’s skull into the floor when someone else suddenly knocked Stamford off of him.

  “This is for my daughter!” Her father had mounted Stamford and was punching him over and over. Livvy watched in horror while Stamford groaned and writhed, her father attacking him like a wild animal. Martin gripped her father by the shoulders and dragged him off as Martin said something in her father’s ear. Only then did he get off Stamford, though he kicked the man in the ribs and then dusted himself off before he was done with him. He looked up and saw her.

  “Livvy!”

  “I’m here.” Livvy used the wall to stand up, though her legs were still shaky.

  “Thank God.” Her father embraced her. “Did he hurt you?”

  “Yes, but not as much as you hurt him, I think.” She winced as her ribs screamed in protest. Fire lit her father’s eyes as Martin put a steady hand on his shoulder.

  “Take her to the coach,” Martin said. “I’ll handle this.”

  She followed her father outside but turned to see Martin as he stood above Stamford, his hands curled tight at his sides. He looked at her a moment, then, without expression, closed the door. It was for the best. She didn’t want to see whatever he might do, even though Stamford deserved it. The coach swayed as she and her father climbed inside. She sank back against the cushions, breathing hard. Her father watched her anxiously.

  “Why did you bring Mr. Banks?” she asked quietly. After everything she’d just gone through, her body felt like it was on fire. She wanted to cry. She wanted to go back in and punch Stamford herself. She wanted Martin to come back and hold her. The conflicting desires were almost too much to bear. She clasped her hands in her lap to conceal their trembling.

  “Why? Because it’s obvious the man is in love with you.”

  “You are mistaken.” He wouldn’t have sent me away if he was.

  “When I told him Stamford took you, he was enraged…”

  “He’s a gentleman. I am sure he came to my aid for only that reason.”

  Her father stared at her as if she were mad. “Trust me. I know that look. It is the look I carry for you and your mother. That love I have for you both made me do things I now regret to keep you safe and happy. I see the same look in his eyes. That man adores you.”

  Martin finally entered the coach and wiped his bloody knuckles on his trousers. He glanced away from Livvy when he caught her watching. For a second it was as though her father wasn’t in the coach with them at all. They were alone, just the two of them, and that was all that mattered.

  “I shall see you both home,” Martin finally said, tugging his gaze away from her.

  Livvy recoiled at the cold response and tasted bitter disappointment on her tongue, but she forced herself to speak.

  “Thank you for coming to my aid, Mr. Banks.”

  Martin nodded stiffly and looked out the window. Livvy looked to Martin, praying for some sign that he was hurting as much as she was. But he didn’t even spare her a glance. He kept his focus on the window opposite her.

  When the coach reached her home, she motioned for her father to leave, but he shook his head. “Let me have a moment with Mr. Banks.”

  She left the coach and headed inside. Livvy put a hand to her mouth as she turned away, swallowing a fresh wave of pain inside her heart. Was it possible for a heart to break a second time? Because she was quite certain it had shattered again.

  ***

  “Tell me you don’t love her,” Edwin said.

  More than you can ever kno
w. More than I ever dare admit to anyone.

  “I…” The words were there on the tip of Martin’s tongue, but they wouldn’t come. It wasn’t easy to admit his feelings to a man who had taken so much from him.

  “I know you and I will never be friends, and the barest cordiality will exist between us, but please do not let my sins destroy your future with her, if that is what you desire. I can make no excuses for the wrongs I’ve committed against your family. I can only say that I was fighting to prevent my own family from being ousted from our home. I made regrettable decisions to protect Livvy and her mother, but I don’t regret trying to protect them. I know you understand that, if nothing else. If you love her, don’t let the past ruin that.” Edwin’s eyes held no cruelty, no mockery, no evidence of the man he’d been over a decade ago. Was it possible the man really had changed?

  “I will think on it,” Martin said finally, but even as Edwin exited the coach, Martin knew how he truly felt. After seeing Livvy bruised and hurt, his rage filled him with a blinding need to protect her.

  I cannot live without her. If that means forgiving her father in some small way, I shall do it. She was worth keeping, worth protecting. Worth loving at any cost.

  He rapped the ceiling of the carriage with his cane. The cane she had convinced him to buy at the frost fair.

  There was much to do.

  The Gentleman's Seduction

  Lauren Smith

  Chapter Seventeen

  He didn’t come for me.

  Livvy sat in the drawing room, a book clutched in her hands, the words unread. The embers were dying in the fire, and outside the snow was falling thick in the early morning. It’d been a full week since she’d been rescued from Viscount Stamford, and it felt as though she’d been trapped here. All she could do was replay that moment when Martin came to her rescue. But then he’d let her go home with her father, and she knew then that she would never see him again. She’d carried hope within her that he might come and whisk her away to be married. But he hadn’t. He’d cared for her, but it wasn’t enough for him to come back.