The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 6

by Sorcha MacMurrough

  "You did the same for me."

  "Still, I don’t know how long the search for Simon will take—"

  "As long as it has to now that we know he’s still alive. And who knows, perhaps he’s made his way to your other brother somehow?"

  George nodded. "Anything’s possible."

  "Have you made any decisions about The New Rose?"

  "I will rebuild, but I think I’d like to just give it to Milly and Daniel as a wedding gift. I did love it, but I’m soon to be a married man, and I want a normal life. Out in the country, away from bloody London."

  "We’ll go have a look at Brimley, see if we like it," she suggested, trying to restrain a smile. "We don’t have to decide anything at once. We can stay with Juliet or Matthew, you know that. Meet all of the Rakehell set at last, eh?"

  Miranda was dying to blurt out to them that they had found his brother Jason, but she wanted to proceed cautiously. Alexander, as he was known now, had been badly injured in the war by all accounts. And if he still worked for Castlereagh, as they suspected, there was no telling what he might be like.

  She couldn't be sure he would even remember George or Simon after all he had suffered. The last thing she wanted was for George to have searched for so many years, and then end up seemingly rejected by someone not quite themselves. Or just shocked beyond measure at his brother seemingly coming back from the grave after so many years.

  "Sebastian is going to go around to Bedlam again to find out anything he can. We will find him, I promise."

  "I certainly hope so. But you’re right. I want to make a new start. I’ve had enough of you putting your life into some sort of limbo. I’ll write to Castlereagh tomorrow telling him to hand over his network to someone else, that we’re both leaving, me and Sebastian, and not to call upon us any longer. I know Sebastian has said in the past that he's finished, but I also know Castlereagh has summoned him recently. I just hope to God—"

  "It’ll be fine. you’ll see," she said, trying to distract him now before he put two and two together and discovered Sebastian had almost betrayed them both. .

  "Miranda. My wonder of wonders." He grinned. "Except that you’re wearing far too many clothes."

  He began to undo the ribbons of the nightdress and suckled her nipples like a starving man. She could feel her flesh give and yield to the pressure of his hands, and eventually his striving manhood.

  "Oh! Now George, the doctor did say—"

  "He said to rest. I’m in bed. Best place for it."

  "Not if you keep doing that with your hips."

  "I may not be able to manage all of your favourite positions, but I’m willing to die trying."

  "No thank you, dear. I want you alive and pronking for many years to come."

  He grinned lustily. "You brought me to life, Miranda. Every time I’m inside you it’s like a rebirth. And I intend to stay alive, I promise. If only to ensure I get to do this, and this, at least thirty thousand more times. In fact, I plan on dying in bed right on top of you, after seeing the heavens open and the angels sing just as they do now."

  Miranda laughed but wrinkled her nose. "So long as I get to die with you."

  "Isn’t our timing always perfect? We die together all the time."

  She giggled at the double entendres. "You certainly have plenty of synonyms for sex and er, orgasm."

  "And I’d like to invent a few more."

  Her dark eyes sparked. Nibbling his earlobe, she decided two people could play at that game. Miranda rasped, "Come for me now, George. Come on, let me feel your hot seed explode inside me until I can feel you right up in my tight, clenching---"

  George choked and followed her beguiling instructions word for word.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Miranda helped George get all of his London affairs in order so that they could leave for Somerset at the end of the week. She tried not to fret, but it all seemed so final. She had been happy in London, but now their quest was taking them away from the places she loved, to be with the man she loved. And who knew when or if they would be back.

  George was by no means a pauper, and insisted on drafting an appropriate will leaving everything to her in preparation for their marriage, which he hoped to carry out as soon as possible. Miranda had told him to wait a little longer, until he decided where he wanted to live.

  He also made provision for future children in the documents, but it was almost like shaking his fist at the heavens, she felt. She prayed that all would be well, and they would be so blessed. One thing was for certain, if he kept making love to her a dozen times a night, it would happen soon enough.

  Mornings were her favourite time, when warm and relaxed from sleep, he would lay her on her side and enter her from behind. His long deep thrusts set her most feminine flesh trembling, and his hands worked a magic all their own.

  Sometimes she would reach back to massage his buttock. Other times she would spread her legs wide and reach to caress his pouch, thighs, even ring his throbbing flesh in her hands to drive him on, or press and send him soaring.

  Arched backwards, her head turned to receive his kiss, this was the love she had longed for. It was a complete act of possession for both of them. In those blissful moments, she knew they truly belonged together. That this was just the beginning of their happy new life side by side, if only she had faith.

  Though she had no idea how it had happened, and she had had some nightmares along the way, everything in her life had come together perfectly. She yearned with all her heart that it would remain that way, nay, become even better once George was reunited with both his brothers at last.

  Oxnard was at his wit’s end. How had everything fallen apart so quickly? Ever since he had met that bitch Miranda, and had been approached by Castlereagh, his life had spun out of control.

  One might have said it was all his fault for committing such a heinous crime, and not having paid at least some of his debts owing. But the money he had got from Castlereagh for supposedly eloping with Miranda had all gone toward his usual pursuit of pleasure and now he was still in the River Tick, with ever more impatient debtors.

  At the time he had spoken with Castlereagh, the money had been far too tempting for him to bring up a little salient fact like already being married. That and the prospect of taking his perverse pleasure upon the little actress had been a spur to his overwhelming greed and lust.

  Since then, though, rumours about what he had done had abounded, making neither Surrey nor Dorset safe for him. He had gone back up to London and tried to woo one or two women, but the news of how many wives he had had and the fact that his last one was still alive and in Bedlam was not conducive to romance.

  Even if it were, no father with good connections would permit their daughter to ruin herself for such a man.

  Who on earth could have betrayed all of his cruel dark secrets? His sister-in-law was the most likely choice, of course. The vindictive little bitch just couldn’t keep quiet. If he had had any sense he would have married her. Even the most spirited wench could be cowed in time, as he had discovered with his other wives.

  But no, he had wanted to despoil the innocent one. Now look what had happened.

  Of course, it might also have been Miranda, getting even for all he had done. After all, Castlereagh didn’t take a personal interest in a man like George and woman like Miranda for nothing. Damned if the filly hadn’t turned out to be an heiress. He should have known there was more to the story than met the eye.

  Well, he had tried to get her once, and this gossiping had been her revenge. Yes, Miranda was the source of all his ills, he decided. She and that bastard she was consorting with.

  But Castlereagh would take care of him, he was sure. That would leave her ripe for the plucking once more. He'd almost had her the night of the fire. He was determined to have her, her money, and his revenge.

  He had failed due to Hugo making his appearance too soon, and by all accounts he had died in the fire. But there were others willing t
o do his dirty work for a bob or two. He would just bide his time, and call on his remaining accomplices once more. Then he would get Miranda, money, all his heart desired. But above all, he would get revenge. He went off to his friend Jonson's house. He not only made an excellent vicar, he had a superb collection of pistols….

  A week after the dreadful theatre fire, Georgina and Kitty checked their reticules and approached the gate. Oxnard lurked outside the back entrance to the garden, just waiting for his chance to snatch his prize and make her pay.

  Miranda was shocked to discover they had had the nerve to call. Sebastian’s description of the orange sellers who had attacked him and her own suspicions now had her on the alert. She asked Trent the butler, "Can you please find either of your two mistresses, and in the meantime send for Mr. George or Mr. Sebastian?"

  "Very good, Miss."

  Miranda entered the small Turkey red parlour. She was immediately on the offensive. "I wonder you have the gall to come here."

  "Why, Miranda, we just wanted to pay a friendly call," said Kitty, surprised at her sharp tone.

  Her eyes narrowed. "I know what you are. The orange wench lark wasn’t just a game to you. You really were futtering those men in the alleys."

  "La, wherever did you get such an idea?" Georgina laughed nervously.

  "From all the witnesses. Not to mention the fact that that tall blond man in the Ariel costume happens to be a friend. You helped Oxnard set the theatre on fire, and raped him!"

  Georgina stared at her in shock. "No, no, we had nothing to do with the fire."

  "You lie."

  "No, really, Oxnard just said to—" She clamped her mouth shut, but it was already too late.

  Miranda glared at her. She had just admitted her own guilt. "And what about the Rakehells? What was the price of betraying them?"

  Kitty shook her head. "The Rakehells? What are you—"

  "Not you. I'm talking to Georgina."

  The blonde's eye rounded. "What do you mean, betray?" Georgina asked in genuine consternation.

  "Don’t pretend. You knew something was amiss that night at Simpson’s. That man Edwards the spy was coming to see you, wasn’t he? Thin, ferrety-looking. Surely you must recall, since the moment George was out of the restaurant, you and your companion fled."

  "Yes, but I warned you to be careful, didn't I. I don't know what you mean about spying, but I’d overheard things—"

  She cast a withering look in her direction. "I’ll bet you overheard things, with all the spying, and listening at keyholes that you do. Not to mention trying to swive with all the Rakehells one by one in order to get into their inner circle, the better to get the information your employers were paying you for."

  Georgina shook her head. "I don’t know what—"

  Miranda pointed at her commandingly, as she would a dog. Or bitch, she thought angrily. "Stay there."

  She fetched the file, full of all Georgina’s own letters reporting on the Rakehells.

  "But I never— Where did you get these?" she asked in horror.

  "From Lord Castlereagh."

  Georgina went white. "My God. But he's--" She went two shades paler as the import of Miranda's words began to sink in. "It can't be. It can't be true." She looked as though she were about to faint. "No. It can't be true. There must be some mistake!"

  Miranda stood over her with her arms folded across her chest, glowering. "There was, and you made it.

  She shook her head. "No, I never meant for any of this to happen. It can't be true. It can't be. Don't you see? It was all supposed to be a bit of fun, that's all. Just a lark."

  "What was?" Miranda demanded angrily. "What did you think was all a lark? Tell me!"

  All the colour had drained from Georgina’s face by now. Her voice trembled as she admitted, "It was all for my friend from school, a girl called Serena. She asked me to keep her abreast of everything in Brimley. I wondered why she would never come visit me. She wanted me to write about all my doings. Especially since I was welcome in the circles of a Duke and an Earl. I can see now that she was just using the information, selling it onwards to people who wanted to do them harm because of what, their political beliefs?"

  Miranda nodded. "Oh God, my sister Ellen and her husband? Clifford and Henry? My niece? What about Martin and Eswara?" She grew more tearful and trembling as each new, even more horrific thought struck her. "You mean I betrayed my whole family for a bit of a laugh? To show how worldly and, er, popular I was?"

  Jasmine Marshall pushed into the room, her expression livid. "Do you realise how many enemies Thomas and Randall have? What a dangerous game you’ve played? I always wondered how it was that you were still accepted in decent houses despite all you had done. Despite what a whore you’d become," she said angrily.

  Georgina looked as though she could barely hold herself up. "Jasmine, I never meant—"

  "Are you proud of yourself? These people tried to burn me and my children to death in our beds last year." She pointed at the folders furiously. "They nearly killed Philip and Alistair! Not to mention Thomas and Randall."

  "I don't understand—"

  "Your sister Ellen’s husband Ash is a Radical too, and your cousins Blake and Martin. Martin's wife Eswara supports their outspokenness. Are they too to be hounded? Are Ash and Eswara to pay a price also, when all they've done wrong is try to seek justice for England, even though they come from India?"

  Georgina blinked. "Well, Castlereagh may have been taking his Foreign Office duties too far there, but surely--"

  "What right could he have to persecute innocent English people? We were nearly all burnt to death last year in our own home because Alistair had accidentally stumbled onto the Cato Street Conspiracy plot orchestrated by the Home Minister, which nearly ended in disaster for Thomas and Randall. A Duke and an Earl, no less. Castlereagh was in it up to his neck, to be sure. Taking his duties too far? The man is a monster, and you helped him add fuel to his hatred and mistrust of them with every word you penned."

  "Dear God, this can't be true!"

  "Surely you can see that these men will do anything to stay in power, and keep it. So I ask you, Georgina, was it worth it for the thrill, the cash? And the question is, where does it all stop?" Miranda demanded, standing over the woman imperiously.

  Georgina stood up on trembling legs, and squared her shoulders and jaw. "It stops now. With Oxnard for one. He’s outside. He said he wanted to speak with you, but I think he must be involved with all of this—"

  Two loud pops outside the front gate brought all five women running.

  Miranda screamed, "George!" as she saw him lying on the pavement outside the gate house.

  She ran out of the house even as Jasmine tried to halt her for safety's sake. She threw herself down on the ground to kneel beside him. "George, speak to me!" she begged.

  His face was covered in blood. As she dared to wipe it with a handkerchief, she could see that mercifully, only a brick chip had gouged into his temple. "It looks like only a flesh wound, but—"

  "I’ll get a doctor anyway." Jasmine waved for the butler.

  Viola came out of the house now and gasped.

  "George! Oh God." She knelt down to pat his chest, and looked as though she would faint.

  "I’m all right, ladies," he insisted, squeezing his beloved's hand. "Just a bit stunned, is all. I can barely hear a bloody thing, he fired that close."

  Miranda looked daggers at Viola across the prone form of the man she loved, but she need not have worried. George only had eyes for his wife as he asked her for a kiss and to help him up.

  "No, love, stay where you are until the servants come out and carry you up to our room."

  "Just the kiss then, my darling. Are you all right?"

  "Fine, just so scared," she said tearfully.

  "Me too. I thought he might have—"

  "No, I’m fine."

  "I saw him from the carriage window and panicked. Thought he might have taken you. I tried to grab him
and be pulled a pistol. I jumped back just in time but he still shot at me. Thank God you're all right. I couldn’t go on without you. If anything were to ever happen to you, my love—"

  Miranda silenced him with a kiss. "Don’t ever say it. I love you above all else, George. We belong together for all time."

  "From the moment we met I knew you were the other half of myself. Come, darling, one more of your lovely kisses, and then I’ll meet you upstairs."

  She kissed him and held his hand as the three burly footmen Viola had summoned raised him from the pavement, and then she began to follow. As she stood up, she looked at her companions.