A Most Peculiar Season Series Boxed Set: Five Full-length Connected Novels by Award-winning and Bestselling Authors

by Michelle Willingham

  She had to do something. Quickly. And she could think of only one way to divert him.

  She slipped her hands from his neck, moving them down his chest, then lifted her lips to him in a clear invitation. He accepted and, for a moment, Trudy forgot what she was about. Collingwood cupped the back of her head with one hand and slowly slipped his other from her back to her side, his thumb brushing the swell of one breast. She gasped, almost forgetting her purpose.

  A part of her got lost in the sensations Collingwood created, but the more rational part of her performed the oft-practiced moves. And when she was done, she yielded to him, losing herself to him, trusting him to not let her fall from the dizzying brink to which he’d taken her.

  When the hackney rolled to a stop, he gripped her shoulders and set her away from him with a muffled curse. “You’re home, Trudy. But we are going to talk about this tomorrow. I will watch until you are safe inside.”

  “You cannot, Collingwood. I climbed out my bedroom window which is on the garden side of the house.” She retrieved her cap, twisted the length of her hair on top of her head, and covered it with the cap. “I shall have to go ’round back and climb the apple tree to get back in.”

  His eyes darkened with something she thought might be anger. “Did you not think to bring a key?”

  “I thought of it, but the servants were still about. I shall remember a key next time.”

  He shook his head. “There will be no ‘next time,’ minx. If you do this again, I will surely tell your father. For your own good, of course.”

  “Of course.” She smiled as she swung the coach door open and hopped down. When the coach pulled away, she opened her hand to view her prize.

  Collingwood’s watch.

  As the hackney drew away, Dare leaned back against the leather squabs and closed his eyes. He scarce knew himself these last days. Placing bets at White’s? Flirting with a stunning female who was not even allowed callers? Giving in to intimate impulses? Indulging in completely inappropriate conversations? All of it so utterly unlike him.

  Try as he may, he couldn’t understand the attraction. He’d known beautiful women before, but Trudy wasn’t like those polished, elegant, jaded women. She was fresh and original. She was antithetical to all he believed. All he’d been so careful to build for a quiet, ordered, predictable life. And now all he could say for certain was that, whatever this... this... obsession was, it was the strongest pull he’d ever known—stronger than friends, family, or his own good sense.

  Bloody hell! If she’d just slapped his face in Vauxhall Gardens when he’d kissed her, he might have been able to recall himself to his senses. If she’d only played the coy little games other women played, he’d have been able to walk away. If she hadn’t made him laugh with her irreverent observations and honesty, he’d be able to turn his back with his life and future intact. Now, however, he knew he needed to rescue Trudy Carr from herself and certain ruination.

  Prowling taverns in the middle of the night, dressed as a boy? Following her brother to see what men do? Absurd. That was a blind. Trudy, like all women, knew exactly what men do when left to their own devices, but liked to pretend they didn’t. No, Trudy had some other motive. A motive he suspected and feared. Every instinct for self-preservation told him to walk away.

  But Dare wasn’t stupid enough to think he could do that now. Whatever lay ahead, they were not done with one another. At the very least, he’d have to get his watch back. And find out if she was the Mayfair Shadow.

  Dawn was staining the morning a startling pink when Trudy awoke. She shivered, feeling that something was dreadfully wrong or that someone was in her room. But her maid would never bring tea so early.

  She pushed herself up against her pillows and blinked to focus on that sweet little fairing on her night table. If Mother found out it was a gift from a man, she’d take it away and have it returned. But Trudy wouldn’t tell, and Fiona and Father hadn’t seen that gallant little gesture. She was safe.

  She smiled, then gasped when she saw a dark figure in the chair by her fireplace. At the sound of her wakening, he stood and stepped into the faint morning light.

  “Where is it, Trudy?”

  Thank heavens! It was only Lancelot. She knew he would come. “What? Where is what, Skippy?”

  “Do not be coy. I know you have it.”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about.” But she did. Last night, after she’d climbed back through her window, she’d gone to Lancelot’s room and removed the emerald brooch from his hiding place. And when he found the emerald missing, he would know she had done it. He would come to her and they could talk without his constant denials. Now she had it safely tucked away in her hiding place. And, together, they’d find a way to make this right.

  His voice was angrier than she’d ever heard it when he curled his lip and said, “You are being ridiculous.”

  She yawned and stretched her arms over her head. “And now you know how you sounded when I first asked you if you were the Shadow.”

  “Trudy, I am in no mood for games.”

  Oh, she knew that by his use of her name—Trudy, not the affectionate Gertie. “Then come clean, Lancelot. Tell me what you hope to accomplish. Do you not realize you could hang?”

  “Painfully aware. But it was a risk I had to take.”

  “Nothing could be that dire, Skippy. I have a bit of savings. I could have helped—and I will. Or you could have gone to Father.”

  “You haven’t enough and going to Father would be worse than stealing, Trudy.”

  “You lost at gambling, did you not?”

  The starch seemed to go out of him and he sank to the end of her bed looking utterly defeated. “If father knew... I cannot imagine what he’d do. He’d probably send me off without remittance as he’s threatened before.”

  “The situation is that desperate?”

  “Worse. If I tell you, you must swear not to repeat it to a soul.”

  “You do not even need to ask, Lancelot.” She reached across the distance and took his hand. “You know I’d never betray you. And do not spare the details. Tell me the whole truth.”

  He sighed and shrugged. “At first, you see, I didn’t understand, and when I did, I couldn’t believe it. I thought I was mistaken.”

  “You lost at cards and were gambling too deep. What else is there to understand?”

  “It wasn’t my fault.”

  “Lancelot, no one forced you to place bets. Was it Faro? Rouge et noir? Vingt-et-un? Whist? Hazard?”

  “Hazard.” The tone of resignation in Lancelot’s voice told Trudy that he had abandoned pretense. “And Whist.” He shrugged. “A few losses at Faro, but nothing out of hand. I don’t believe there was cheating at the Faro table.”

  Her heart sank. “How have you kept this quiet? The Mayfair Shadow has been at work for months.”

  “Two and a half,” he said, then looked down at his hands. “They agreed to give me three months to come up with the ready.”

  Three months? Less than two weeks remaining? “They? Oh, Skippy...”

  “I swear it was not my fault. I was cheated.”

  Was that not what all gamblers said? “How? How were you cheated?”

  “I noted something odd amongst some players. Something secretive from the corner of my eye. How one would signal another when they thought I wasn’t watching. At first I thought it was some sort of game they played amongst themselves, but I was consistently bilked. I kept thinking I was wrong, that it was just the occasional losing streak. But it was more insidious than that. I think they were palming the dice at hazard and using weighted dice, then passing the ordinary dice back to me. I am certain they were targeting me, Trudy.”

  She frowned. “You? Just you? Who were these men, and why would they take advantage of you?”

  “Because our father is indecently rich. They know he has the money, and that I’m his only son. They expect he will make good on my debts. But you know the price I’ll pa
y if he does.”

  “Banishment.” She nodded. “But there is no other way, Lancelot. If this comes out, you will be ruined and Father will send you away. If it is found out that you are the Shadow, the courts will sentence you to hang. And the things you’ve stolen... how would you get money for them without giving yourself away?”

  He heaved a heavy sigh and stood to go look out her window at the breaking dawn. “Well, that was a part of my plan, you see.”

  “How?”

  “Oh, Trudy. You do not want to hear this.”

  She fixed him with her sternest look.

  “I was going to blackmail them.”

  Her jaw dropped and she couldn’t catch her breath. Of all the harebrained schemes... of all the convoluted plans... this had to be the worst ever. Her brother had lost his wits! “You... you are saying these items belong to the men you think cheated you?”

  He nodded.

  “But, Lancelot! Lady Beatrice’s brooch? The Duchess of Fortrose’s ring? Lady Eton’s pearls? And... and Miss Clark’s necklace?”

  “Not them. Their husbands, fathers and brothers.”

  “No. You cannot be saying that the Duke of Morvill cheated you. Or Lord Halston. Or—”

  “That is exactly what I am saying, Trudy.”

  “But those men are wealthy. They have no need of your money. Why would they bother?”

  “Because some men simply don’t like to lose—no matter the game, or who it’s with.”

  Yes, Trudy had noticed the same with women. Lady Beatrice took after her father, it seemed. “How many men are involved in this?”

  “No more than eight or ten. I’d been on a winning streak until then. Must have made them angry. Perhaps they wanted to force me out of their games. But it went too far, and now I owe them...”

  “What? How much, Lancelot?”

  “Nearly ten thousand.”

  “Pounds?” Her voice rose and she heard a note of hysteria there. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to tell their father! “And that was the list in your drawer? The men who’d cheated you, and what you’d taken from them?”

  Another nod.

  “So you thought you’d simply go to them and offer to give them back their stolen goods if they would forgive your debt to them?”

  “Of course not, Trudy. That would have no chance of success.” He ran his fingers through his hair and began pacing. “I thought I could find proof of their cheating. Confront them with it. They’d have to forgive the debt and keep their mouths shut if they wanted the jewelry back. Or be exposed as cheats.”

  What an awful plan! But she knew the futility of pointing out the holes at this point. “And now there are only days left before you must pay them or have your debt revealed. And then your accusations of cheating will sound like some weak excuse for poor playing. Not a single soul will believe you. Then they will go to Father for payment.” She threw back her bed covers and shrugged into her robe. “What can I do to help?”

  “Stay out of it, Trudy. And keep your mouth shut. The last thing I want is for you to be caught up in this mess. I’m not one of your little friends who needs rescuing.”

  How could she tell him she was already caught up in it? That she’d stolen Collingwood’s watch to divert suspicion away from him? And that she’d do whatever she must to ensure he did not hang. He’d be furious and accuse her of treating him like a baby. A half-lie, then.

  “You are my brother, Skippy. I will be your confidant, if nothing else. You will not have to go through this alone.”

  “What will you do with Lady B’s brooch?”

  “Never mind about that, Lancelot. I will keep it safe.”

  Chapter Seven

  DARE WAS SHOWN into the Carr residence and entered the parlor, his hat in his hand. The room was quietly elegant, done in deep blues, white and silver, reflecting a sense of refined taste and the money required to achieve such an effect. He’d known Robert Carr was wealthy, but he hadn’t quite realized the scope of that wealth. Old wealth, he guessed, not the gaudy ostentation of the emerging merchant class.

  And that made it all the more difficult to conceive of Trudy being larcenous.

  He’d never been good at waiting, so he went to the window overlooking the back gardens and glanced out. The grounds were extensive and quite beautiful. Flowers of every description and color tumbled out of beds bordering clipped lawns. A fountain bubbled from the center of a small maze while hedgerows and trees surrounding the property guarded their privacy. Carr had created an expansive haven in the midst of the city.

  Behind him, someone cleared their throat. He turned to see Trudy standing in the doorway. She was stunning in a willow-green gown sprigged with embroidered flowers around the hem. Odd, how he’d never noticed what women wore before and now he could remember everything Trudy had ever worn, including her costume last night—the way the britches had hugged the curve of her bottom, the shape of her calves in the white stockings, the swell of her breasts beneath the waistcoat—

  “Good afternoon, Lord Collingwood.” She smiled as if last night had never happened. “How pleasant to see you again so soon. I was quite surprised when Bosworth, our butler, said that you were in the parlor. Mother should be joining us any moment now, so if you have something private to say, this is the time to say it.”

  Ah, she knew why he was here and was warning him about her hovering mother. “My watch, Miss Trudy. I’d like it back.”

  She came farther into the room and blinked innocently. “You’ve lost your watch?”

  He sighed. “I should have taken it back last night, but I was a bit distracted. I believe that was your intention, was it not?”

  “I haven’t the faintest idea what you are talking about, Lord Collingwood.”

  She was so ingenuous that he glanced toward the door, expecting to see her mother there. But no. They were still alone. “My watch. The one you so expertly removed from my waistcoat last night. Tell me, how did you manage to take only the watch, and leave the chain and fob?”

  “Are you accusing me of stealing?”

  “I’ve never known you to be coy before, Miss Trudy. I do not think I like it.”

  She lifted her chin and arched an eyebrow at him. “Goodness, Lord Collingwood. What have I said to upset you?”

  Ah, it wasn’t that Trudy didn’t know how to play coy games—it was that she ordinarily chose not to play them. This cool, sophisticated woman in front of him now was not the real Gertrude Carr. He liked her better in her natural state. He glanced around to be certain the mother wasn’t lurking.

  “Do not toy with me, Trudy. You would not like the outcome. Are you the Mayfair Shadow?”

  “La! From flirting to accusations! How could you ask me such a question?”

  “Answering questions with questions, my dear? Did you not once inform me that is how you tell when one is lying? I find it interesting that you have not answered a direct question since you entered the room.”

  She took a deep sigh and he could see the steel melting from her backbone. “So you think I am the Shadow, do you?”

  “I hadn’t suspected a woman until last night. Now, after observing your skill firsthand, I must consider it. ‘Twould explain the thief’s access to the ton, and the ease with which the thief is able to make away with valuable goods. And you were in very close proximity to Lady Beatrice before her brooch went missing, were you not?”

  Trudy looked down, then up to meet his eyes with a challenge. “If you think I am the Mayfair Shadow, prove it.”

  “I was set on unmasking the Shadow even before you lifted my watch. What were you thinking, Trudy? Do you dislike me so much?”

  “Not at all, Collingwood. I do rather like you. Too much, I think.”

  His pleasure in hearing this was tempered by his anger at her deceit. “Surely you know the risks you are taking. And for God only knows what reason.”

  “Trudy! Where are your sisters?” A tall woman with Trudy’s generous mouth stood in the parlor doorwa
y looking vaguely disapproving.

  Dare concluded that it was the custom for sisters to chaperone one another when callers came if their mother was not immediately available.

  “I’m sorry, Mother. Fiona should be on her way down. She said she would only be a moment, and I did not like to leave Lord Collingwood waiting. He is a very busy man.”

  The woman finally acknowledged Dare with a regal nod followed by an arch look at Trudy.

  “Oh! Lord Collingwood, this is my mother, Mrs. Ellen Carr. Mother, please meet Lord Collingwood.”

  “Mrs. Carr, delighted to make your acquaintance.” Dare offered a polite, but cool, bow. The exchange between Trudy and her mother had told him all he needed to know about the woman.

  “Lord Collingwood.” She dropped an equally polite curtsy followed by a quick frown at Trudy. “I hope you will not think us remiss in our manners. I have ordered tea. You must stay.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Carr, but I haven’t much time. I have an appointment in an hour. I came to speak with Miss Trudy.”

  Mrs. Carr gave him a cold smile and inclined her head as permission. She, however, went to sit on a settee near the windows. He had no doubt she’d have refused him even a short conversation had he been any less than an earl.

  Trudy led him back to the windows. “Had you more time, my lord, I would show you the gardens. Under the circumstances, a view will have to suffice.”

  Clever of her to lead him away from her mother but stay in plain view. When she turned back to him, she looked a bit panicky. She lowered her voice. “Can we not talk about this a different time?”

  “After you’ve been hauled off to Newgate? No, I think the time to discuss this is now, my dear.”

  She glanced toward her mother. “You know I cannot.”

  “Where will you be tonight?”

  “The Tully residence for a musicale. Lady Edith is playing Bach on the pianoforte. Afterward, if Mother does not have a headache, we are invited to a ball at Devonshire House.”