Noble Scoundrel (Peril & Persuasion Book 1)

by Amy Sandas

  Though Warfield had once been suspect, with that issue now resolved, it was Katherine’s hope that they might forge a true relationship with the man especially considering he’d put himself at some risk to assist in last night’s rescue. Seeing Warfield tonight, she noted he was rather exceptionally handsome with his striking features, but he still retained that mysterious air which had made her nervous those couple times she’d spotted him watching her.

  If she had to hazard a guess, she’d say the man kept a few significant secrets. Still, he was Frederick’s heir and their family. All the family they had, actually.

  In nearly the exact moment she thought of her brother, he appeared. He stepped so silently into the room, she wouldn’t have noticed his arrival if she hadn’t turned toward the door before taking her seat. “Ah, Frederick,” she noted with a smile.

  As her brother came forward, looking rather fine in his evening wear, Katherine performed the necessary introduction to the marquess, who gave a proper bow before offering his hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Your Grace.”

  “And you as well, my lord,” Frederick replied earnestly as he shook the man’s hand before glancing aside at Katherine. “I feel we should apologize for not knowing of your father’s death or your inheritance of the title until only recently.”

  “No need to apologize,” Warfield replied firmly. “Only a very rare few knew of my existence.”

  Katherine was a bit surprised by the man’s ready admittance to the mystery surrounding his sudden appearance.

  “Please,” Warfield added with a flicker of his gaze in Katherine’s direction, “accept my belated condolences on your father’s death.”

  “Thank you,” Katherine replied, then hesitated. “We should offer—”

  “Don’t bother,” Warfield interrupted darkly. “The world is a far better place without the prior marquess in it.”

  After that intense declaration, they all took their seats—Mason beside her on the sofa, Warfield on the sofa across from them, and Frederick in a chair perpendicular to the marquess—and lapsed into a few moments of awkward silence.

  But not for long.

  With all that had transpired the night before, Katherine simply didn’t have the patience for it. With a heavy sigh, she met the marquess’s gaze boldly and directly.

  “I know this all feels quite formal, but that’s not my intention. I requested you join us tonight so we could properly welcome you to the family, my lord, and to thank you for your assistance last night. But, in the spirit of full honesty, I admit I’m also hoping you might be able to shed light on some lingering questions about your involvement in our recent peril.”

  Warfield’s blue eyes were a striking contrast to his black hair and slightly swarthy complexion as he met her steady stare. “I understand your curiosity and concern, my lady, but it is the nature of some questions to go unanswered.”

  Before she could respond to the cryptic statement, Mason leaned forward to rest his forearms atop his knees. “Last night, you mentioned you’d been spying on the Blackwells to ensure they weren’t in danger. Why’d you suspect they might be?”

  Warfield’s black brows furrowed over his gaze. “I wasn’t spying, Mr. Hale,” he noted, which earned a quick grunt of disbelief from Mason. “I simply observed them once or twice when my...other interests crossed paths with their location.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” Mason questioned.

  “And you’ve evaded the point of the question, my lord,” Katherine added in a firm tone. “I think we deserve some true answers.”

  Warfield hesitated as his attention flickered briefly to Frederick, who sat calm and resolute, his intelligent eyes assessing as he listened to the conversation. “It’s not exactly a tale for children.”

  Katherine met her brother’s gaze as she thought of everything he’d been through. Looking back to Warfield, she noted sternly and confidently, “My brother has been through a great deal over the last year. Even if he were not wise and mature beyond his years, I believe he’s earned the right to a full understanding of what was behind the actions committed against him.”

  The marquess narrowed his gaze at her response, then glanced briefly to Mason before settling his attention on Frederick. There was an intense look in his eyes for a moment, then he glanced back to Katherine and Mason before releasing a sigh of resignation.

  “I assume you already know the prior marquess died some months ago in Venice, but you’re likely not aware that I was also in Italy at that time. The day of his death, I’d gone to his villa, hoping to speak with him on a...personal matter.”

  A chill swept up Katherine’s nape at the way Warfield’s voice darkened with the last words. She glanced to her brother. His keen focus was riveted on the marquess.

  “While I was awaiting an audience, I happened to overhear the marquess with another visitor in the next room.” He looked pointedly at Katherine. “Lord Shelbourne. They were discussing your father’s work and his recent death in a fire.” His attention shifted to Frederick. “It was Warfield who first mentioned you. At the time, I had no context for the conversation, and I admit to being distracted by my own purpose in traveling to Venice.”

  Katherine did not miss how her cousin never referred to the prior marquess as Father, using only his name or title.

  “I suspect you’ll be getting to the point soon, Warfield,” Mason interjected.

  The marquess returned the other man’s stare before turning back to Katherine. “When I was advised the next day that the marquess had been found deceased, I was less than prepared for the sudden alteration of my circumstances.” He glanced down for a moment, as though needing to shield his thoughts. When he looked up again, his eyes were unreadable. “I apologize, but I didn’t even think of you or your brother again until I’d obtained more context for the conversation I’d overheard. Once I understood more of what Shelbourne and Warfield had been involved in...I realized the two of you were potentially in danger.”

  “What exactly were they involved in?” Katherine asked, though her body went cold and tense in preparation for his reply. She was certain the answer would not be pleasant.

  His gaze flickered to Frederick before the marquess replied, “They were lifetime members of a very exclusive club—or brotherhood, as they called themselves. There are a dozen men in all who form this brotherhood. Every one of them very rich, very powerful, and absolutely evil.”

  The icy chill Katherine had been resisting danced down her spine. She glanced quickly to her brother and noted his expression of intense curiosity. She wished she had his courage at that moment.

  “I reckon they weren’t engaging in weekly sewing circles,” Mason offered darkly.

  Warfield gave a discordant laugh as he lowered his chin. “It’s all you could imagine and worse. Malevolent practices. Rape. Murder. Carried out over decades with total impunity.”

  Though she felt she knew the answer, she still had to ask. “My father?”

  Warfield’s focus flew swiftly back to her. “Just a pawn, Lady Katherine. He had no idea what he was involved in.”

  She glanced to Mason. “I think he suspected. Near the end.”

  The marquess shifted in his seat, leaning forward to meet her gaze with a sharp and poignant stare. “The brotherhood and all its members will be destroyed. Lord Shelbourne’s death last night marked the beginning of their end. I intend to ensure that end comes quickly and completely.”

  “It sounds like you have a personal stake in the fate of this brotherhood,” Frederick noted evenly, speaking for the first time since Warfield began his explanation. “Something that goes beyond your father’s involvement.”

  A shadow flickered in the marquess’s pale blue eyes. “I do.”

  Frederick tilted his head. “I suspect it involves the circumstances of your birth?”

  The cold curve of Warfield’s mouth couldn’t quite count as a smile. “Not my birth so much as my conception. As I said, the wickedness of the past
shall be rectified.”

  Warfield’s vow left no room for question or debate. It was clear he intended to do exactly as he declared.

  Sharing a quick look with her brother, Katherine leaned forward. “If there’s anything we can do...”

  “No, my lady.” Warfield shook his head. “You and His Grace have been pulled too far into it already. Aside from the prior marquess and Shelbourne, it’s highly doubtful any of the other members knew of Shelbourne’s activities involving your family. It would go against their code. I’ve learned that the brotherhood’s existence relies upon very strict rules of secrecy. Even amongst themselves. I don’t believe you need to worry of any further attention from the brotherhood.”

  Katherine hoped what he said was true, but she wasn’t quite so trusting.

  “You seem to know a great deal about them,” Mason noted.

  Warfield’s expression darkened even further as he tipped his head to Katherine. “Like your father, the prior marquess left behind some journals. During his extended exile to the Continent, his loyalty to the brotherhood became a rather fluid thing.” His jaw clenched. “He revealed a great many secrets in his writing, including a detailed explanation of the rules that govern the brotherhood. Rules that had exiled him from so many of the pleasures he enjoyed.”

  As Warfield’s words settled into the room, Foster intoned from the doorway, “Pardon the intrusion, but there is a man here who insists on speaking with Mr. Hale. Immediately.” The butler’s expression made it clear what he thought of the impudence of such a suggestion as he settled a hard gaze on Mason. “He claims you’re expecting him, sir.”

  Katherine looked to Mason, wondering what this was about, but the man was already on his feet and halfway across the room. He did glance over his shoulder at her, however, to offer a quick smile. She didn’t miss the light of expectation in his eyes.

  “It’ll only take a moment,” he noted.

  She looked to Frederick questioningly, but he gave a shake of his head. The nature of Mason’s unexpected departure from the room triggered an awkward moment of silence as they all waited for his return.

  It was barely a few minutes later before he stepped back through the doorway. His gaze found hers right away as he strode swiftly to the sofa. He held a black woven sack in his hands.

  “An important delivery, Mr. Hale?”

  “The most important,” he replied with a tilted grin as he reclaimed his seat beside her.

  Before she could ask what it was, he reached into the sack and pulled out three slim volumes. She recognized the binding immediately.

  An overwhelming feeling of astonished relief washed through her, clogging her throat and shortening her breath. “Father’s missing journals,” she gasped.

  “Every bloody one.” Mason set the short stack of books in her lap. “The dates all line up.”

  Smoothing her hand over the cloth covering of one journal, she looked at Mason in stunned wonder. “How did you...”

  “I had my mate fetch them before they could be found by anyone else.” Fetch. As in burgle. He flicked a glance at Warfield. “In case Shelbourne had associates who might step in and take on what the lord had failed to do.”

  Surprise and overwhelming gratitude twisted her tongue for a moment as she looked to Frederick then back to Mason. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “Then don’t,” Mason replied gruffly.

  Turning the books over in her hands, she considered what they meant. The contents had brought about such tragedy and ruin. Their father’s heartbreaking demise, the loss of their home, and the deaths of possibly countless others.

  Lifting her head, she met Frederick’s heavy stare and saw the same emotions in his eyes that she was experiencing. Then he gave a stern nod.

  Rising to her feet, she took the journals to the fireplace. And without hesitation, tossed them into the flames. As she watched the fire consume her father’s work, she released a long-held breath.

  Turning back to the room, she lifted her chin and smoothed out the wrinkles in her gown. “Now, they’re destroyed. As Father intended.”

  Mason’s eyes, as he looked at her then, glittered with admiration and respect. It was such a contrast to his usual mocking humor that she stilled as her heart began to beat heavily in her chest.

  “Well done, Lady Katherine,” Warfield noted quietly. “You cannot realize how many victims may have been saved by such a simple, brave act.”

  The marquess rose to his feet. His expression was grave as he bowed his head toward Katherine then to Frederick. “My focus on bringing an end to the brotherhood has caused me to be greatly remiss in my duties as guardian. I’d like to rectify that in any way you require, but I have no desire to interfere in your lives unnecessarily.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” Frederick replied, his tone warm but firm. “My sister and I have done well enough since Father’s passing, and I’ve no doubt we’ll continue to do so. But it will be nice to have family in town.”

  Though the marquess appeared to stiffen at the reference to family, his next words sounded nothing but sincere. “Please know, myself and all the resources of the Warfield estate shall be available to you both should you ever need them. In regard to this matter or any other.”

  Warfield turned to Mason. “If, for some reason, I’m wrong in believing there is no longer anything to fear from the brotherhood, I trust you’ll let me know.”

  “On one condition.” Mason crossed his arms over his chest and eyed the other man with a heavy look. “You tell me how you managed to evade the men I had watching you. None of them saw you leave your townhouse yesterday.”

  The marquess gave a careless shrug and a slow smile. “I’m afraid that is one of those questions that must remain unanswered.”

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Mason sat on the floor of his bedroom, leaning back against the solid post of his large bed. Sketches—some rough, others more detailed and complete—were scattered across the rug beside him. Dozens of images of Claire, a few of Freddie, some depictions of random people he’d encountered here and there. There was even a recent one of his sister.

  But the sketches he couldn’t seem to stop looking at were those he’d drawn of her. Lady Katherine.

  His hands tensed to sweep them all away or crumple them in tight fists, but he couldn’t bring himself to destroy them. In fact, looking through them only made him want to create more. He didn’t have one yet that depicted her imperious brow lift. Or her reluctant smile. Or that glimmer of stubborn bravery she so frequently displayed.

  Mason had excused himself as soon as possible after dinner. As the conversation between Katherine, her brother, and her cousin had progressed throughout the meal, Mason acknowledged the Blackwells were no longer alone in London. They had family. A man of obvious means who had proven a loyalty to his cousins.

  The journals had been destroyed.

  They’d no longer need a bodyguard. They’d no longer need him.

  It was a good thing. A great thing.

  Mason had the means to move forward with his new venture. The two men Newton had brought in would be perfect for Pendragon’s needs if they’d wish to accept positions at the brothel.

  Claire would struggle with the separation from Freddie, but she had her papa, and Mason was going to make sure that whatever he did allowed for plenty of time for him to spend with his daughter.

  It was definitely a good thing.

  It wasn’t as though Mason could expect to remain in Mayfair forever.

  His hand curled into a fist over the sketch on the floor beside him. He just barely stopped himself from crumpling the image of Katherine seated gracefully, looking over her naked shoulder.

  He couldn’t stop thinking of the words he’d spoken in the carriage just as she’d arrived at Shelbourne’s party.

  He’d take it back if he could. He hated himself for it.

  Her soft words had made him feel things he’d never wanted to feel. Desire and longing had
rioted through him, sparking an urge to reach over and haul the woman into his lap. The rush of tension and possession had been so swift and strong. But it’d been accompanied by a cold feeling of doubt. He’d not been made to offer sweet words and tender caresses. He was a rough and rowdy good time. One who swatted a woman on the arse as she made her way to the door.

  Katherine deserved more than that. She was worthy of a man far better than him.

  In that poignant moment in the carriage, he’d forced himself to recall he truth of what he was. He was a scoundrel of the East End. A bruiser and a cad. Good for a fuck but nothing more.

  The reminder had been for him, but he realized as he’d thrown her words back at her that he’d needed her to remember that truth, as well.

  He just hadn’t expected to see the quiet, stricken look in her eyes. And he couldn’t have known how her brief, quickly concealed flash of pain would hurt him so inexorably.

  He rubbed at the spot in his chest where everything had been squeezed so tight since that moment. It wouldn’t release. Had, in fact, expanded to twist his stomach in a knot. It nearly choked him.

  KATHERINE STOOD OUTSIDE his bedroom. She could see the flicker of light in the crack beneath the door, but she could hear nothing from within.

  Anxiety rushed through her, making her fingers and toes tingle. Her heart raced so fast she couldn’t discern the individual beats, and her belly twisted with an urging so strong it had pulled her from her bed and forced her to this spot.

  Because she’d come to a realization in the last couple hours as she’d lain staring into the darkness, running her mind through every look, every conversation, every moment and thought she’d ever had with Mason Hale.

  He was an impossible man. Arrogant, smirking, crude, and coarse. He annoyed and infuriated her.