by Lauren Smith
“Then there is nothing more to do but place the banns in the papers and ready St. George’s. Your marriage to Lucien won’t be as bad as I feared. He is one of my closest friends after all and now to be a brother-in-law.” Cedric laughed as though genuinely amused. “What an odd notion that is. But it is no longer an unwelcome one.”
“Will you walk me down the aisle?” Horatia asked after a moment.
“You wish a blind man leading you to the alter? Sounds like a bad omen, my dear.”
Horatia hugged her brother and pretended not to see the tears streak down his face. In that moment, she would have given her life in exchange for his sight.
“You don’t have to lead me. Just hold my arm and trust me to guide you. You’ve always cared for me. Now let me care for you.”
Cedric’s smiled trembled. “Then guide me, because I will most certainly be there to give you away.”
“You could never give me away. We are stuck with each other. In marrying Lucien I don’t believe you’ll ever be rid of either of us again.” Horatia sighed, thinking of how happy Christmas Eve the night before had been. “Happy Christmas, Cedric.”
Her brother chuckled. “I hope to God next year we have the dullest holiday ever.”
Audrey returned with a maid bearing a tea tray, her eyes still red and puffy.
“Anyone care for some tea?” she asked with a falsely bright tone that might have fooled a small child.
Cedric moved to sit up. “I would love some.”
When he released Horatia, she joined her sister to help with the tea tray. Audrey’s hands trembled so badly that Horatia took the offered cup and saucer before it rattled to pieces. Horatia prepared Cedric’s tea just as he liked before she returned to the bed and reached for his hands. She placed the cup in his open palms and he slowly raised it to his lips. He sipped carefully so as not to spill.
“Well…that was easier than I expected. Thank heaven for small favors,” Cedric remarked. The maid returned and addressed Horatia.
“His lordship is awake and is asking for you, ma’am.”
Horatia looked at her brother’s face, and even though he could not see her, he must have sensed her gaze upon him.
“Well, what are you waiting for? Go and see the man.” Cedric shooed her out of the room. “Lucien abhors tardiness.”
Horatia rushed back across the hall into Lucien’s bedchamber. He was sitting up, his bare chest bandaged around his lower waist. His hazel eyes lit up like topaz stones when he saw her.
“Thank God you’re all right,” she said.
He held his arms out for her and she curled up in his embrace as though she’d never left him. He grunted and winced.
“That might be overstating my condition a little.” He chuckled.
Lucien kissed her gently, a compassionate expression of his love, but it soon burned hotter, threatening to consume them both. After a long delicious moment he freed her lips and just held her close.
“Cedric has given us his blessing. If you still want me…” Horatia was suddenly uncertain. Maybe Lucien would not want her because of all the trouble she’d been. Duels and assassins were not exactly easy obstacles to dodge.
“After all I’ve endured to have you? If you think I’ll just let you escape after that, you are quite mistaken. I plan to marry you as soon as possible and if that requires tying you to my bed I most certainly will.” Lucien’s hands slid down her back to cup her bottom teasingly. Horatia tried not to grin.
“You already have tied me to your bed, and I quite enjoyed that experience. Should I feign escape to ensure that you do it again?” She stroked his chest, relishing the feel of his warm skin. She would never get over how easy it was to be with him, to tease and play in a way she’d always longed for.
“That sounds like a game I should certainly like to play, as soon as I am no longer at the mercy of my mother.” Lucien winced. “Or the doctor.”
“You had better heal soon, darling, because I am in desperate need of you.” Horatia brushed her lips lightly across his. “All of you…”
“And what of Cedric?” Lucien asked Horatia. “No one has told me how he is.”
Horatia tensed in his arms, and a darkness fell over her.
“What’s wrong?” His heart lodged in his throat as he saw tears glimmering in the corners of her eyes.
She bit her lip and looked away. When she still didn’t answer, he caught her chin and turned her face back towards his.
“What is it, my love? Just tell me.”
Her shaky nod tore at him. “Cedric is alive but…he is blind.”
“Blind? God in heaven!” Lucien cursed. He couldn’t begin to comprehend the torture of that affliction. To never see anything ever again? Lucien’s arms tightened about Horatia.
“Is there nothing we can do?” he asked her.
“The doctor does not know if it is temporary or permanent. We need to be there for him. Support him. Life will be difficult for him from now on and he will need his family and friends to see him through this.”
“You are always so brave, my love. And you are right. He will need us now more than ever.” Lucien shut his eyes and held Horatia, to let her know that he would never let her go again.
“You know, when I went out to the field this morning, I thought to myself that my greatest regret was all the time I wasted without you,” he whispered into her soft brown hair.
“Don’t worry, Lucien. I plan to make up for it.” Horatia kissed him with all the love she’d been holding for him and him alone.
When their mouths parted, he cupped the back of her head, pressing his forehead to hers.
He was like a man viewing his first sunrise and seeing its striking beauty, that was how it felt to know he and Horatia would be happy. He was awestruck knowing how fortunate and blessed he was to have her in his life and in his heart. They had fought through the very fires of hell itself to be together and now they deserved joy, great joy.
Perhaps it wasn’t so bad, to be a rake redeemed.
He smiled and stole another kiss from his love.
There are only good things to come, he silently promised her with his lips and with his heart.
Epilogue
Anne Chessley always seemed to forget how to breathe whenever she was near Viscount Sheridan. With short breaths she watched him walk down the aisle in St. George’s. Light pierced the stained glass at the front of the church, showering a rainbow of colors onto the altar and the people gathered in the pews.
Miss Sheridan and her brother moved arm in arm down the aisle. His free hand gripped a cane that he swept over the floor ahead of them. Music echoed off the walls and floated to the ceiling in a roar of wondrous sound. At the front of the church, near the altar, the Marquess of Rochester waited to receive his bride.
A wedding of the ages. A rake reformed—or so the Quizzing Glass had reported—and a quiet, beautiful woman, blossoming with love. Anne felt a little ache in her chest as she wished to be so fortunate.
All too soon her attention was pulled back to Cedric. Even thinking of him made her so happy. Yet sadness lingered at the edges of her joy like shadows. Cedric’s dark eyes roved over the crowds, unseeing. Anne fisted her fingers in her handkerchief.
Blind. The man she’d spent many dreams with during the night was blind.
Her father leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Brave man, that Sheridan. Always liked him before, but now, well, he’s damned courageous.”
Anne agreed. She closed her eyes, wondering if she would be as brave as him to walk down the aisle without being able to see?
No. The very thought of it terrified her. To be that helpless…that dependent. How did he bear it? She wasn’t that brave. Cedric had no choice. He had to face that eternal darkness every second of every hour of every day. A shudder wracked her body and she moved closer
to her father. He put an arm around her shoulders. He was such a good man, a good father.
Anne knew how lucky she was to have him. Her mother had died so long ago, but her death hadn’t broken him. He’d doubled his love for Anne and they had become inseparable. It was a good thing she never intended to marry. She could not bear the thought of leaving her poor papa alone.
Her eyes found Cedric again, unable to look away from him for long. She adored the way he offered his sister a sheepish smile and kissed her cheek before stepping back to allow her to join Lord Rochester. Lord Lennox stepped up from the front pew, whispered something to Cedric and then with a guiding hand, helped him find his way back to his pew to sit.
The sight moved Anne. The League of Rogues had always fascinated her with their scandalous ways, but what she admired was their kindness towards each other. Like a large family. She only wished she could be a part of it. Alas, that path was not for her. She wasn’t like Emily, the Duchess of Essex or Horatia, the soon-to-be Lady Rochester.
The ceremony itself was a blur for Anne. Instead she had focused on Cedric. The way his chestnut hair was a tad too long and curled at the ends. He was so handsome to look at, and yet somehow his personality, even his soul, came out through his expressions as well.
Cedric was different. There was a warmth to his smiles. The faint laugh lines around his eyes and mouth would crinkle when he grinned and laughed. Watching him, adoring him, knowing he would never belong to her was bittersweet. It was rather like stumbling upon a painting in a secret gallery. She could look, admire, love from afar but never step through the painted canvas into that world.
If only you were mine, Cedric. If only I was yours…
Cedric leaned against the railing of the last wooden pew at the back of the church, speaking with the final guests as they trickled out and onto the steps outside. Lucien and Horatia had already gone on ahead in a carriage to Lucien’s townhouse to prepare for the wedding breakfast.
A chasm opened up in Cedric’s chest at the thought of returning home to find Horatia’s empty bedchamber. It would be just Audrey and him for now…and Mittens of course. The poor old cat missed her littermate Muff terribly. The first few weeks following his death she wandered the house at all hours, crying, yet never heard Muff’s answering call.
After a month she’d given up and taken to stalking Cedric at night, finding him wherever he was and eventually settled down to sleep, whether it was his bed, a settee in the parlor or elsewhere. At first he’d hated her direct attentions, especially the way she’d pounce on him without warning, claws digging into him as she kneaded herself into a blissful state of contentedness. But once he’d grown used to Mittens’ impromptu nightly appearances he’d settled in with her and relished the warmth of her small body and the steady purr she made. The sound was perhaps the most comforting aspect of the arrangement. It reassured him that nothing loomed out of the darkness to harm him when he could not see it. His enemies would have no chance of sneaking up on him, not while Mittens manned her post.
Audrey slipped her hand in his, pulling his attention back to their guests.
“Lord Chessley! Anne!” Audrey greeted eagerly.
“Miss Sheridan.” Lord Chessley’s deep baritone voice was full of amusement. “For now you are indeed Miss Sheridan, since your sister is now married. What a lovely ceremony, wasn’t it? Anne and I were thankful you thought to invite us.”
“Of course!” Audrey replied without hesitation.
“Yes, we were very happy to come,” Anne said.
Cedric’s breath hitched. He’d always loved the sound of her voice, warm like a glass of fine brandy.
“Thank you so much for inviting us. Your sister looked so beautiful. I can tell she and Lord Rochester will be very happy.”
Audrey laughed. “They had better be, given all that has happened.”
Cedric detected the note of anxiety in his sister’s tone and gently nudged her ribs to remind her to be silent. The news of his blindness had been unavoidable. However, the matter of how he’d lost his sight—other than ‘in a fire’—was a matter best left unremarked upon returning after the holidays. If only he could shake the nightmares, rid himself of the horrors of the lost memories. What was worse was knowing that Charles suffered the same sort of dreams, had for years now. He relived drowning in the River Cam far too often. Could a man ever come back from that? Perhaps not.
“Well, Anne and I must be going. Thank you again for allowing us to come. Lord Sheridan, Miss Sheridan.” Lord Chessley bid his goodbyes.
Cedric extended his hand, shaking the other’s and then he waited for Anne to take his hand as well. A moment of hesitation, then Anne slid her gloved fingers into his grasp, which he raised to his lips, brushing a soft kiss on the backs of her knuckles. A tendril of longing spun in him, like a fine gossamer thread and as delicate as a bloom after a harsh frost.
In another life he would have claimed her for a dance at the ball where they had first met. In another life he might have been the first and only man to kiss her lips, to see her smile and hear her laugh.
In another life, she could have been mine…
Hugo Waverly waited inside his coach just outside the church. The door opened and Daniel Shefford slid in. Waverly rapped his cane on the roof and the coach started forward. He settled the cane on his lap, a gloved finger running over the silver head. Once he’d had a cane with lion’s head. A gift from his father, a gift that Cedric Sheridan had stolen from him when they’d been at Cambridge. Now his cane bore a wolf’s head. The creature’s teeth were bared in a silent, menacing snarl. For that was how he saw himself. A wolf amidst a flock of insipid sheep. It was only a matter of time before he feasted upon his prey.
“What have you to report?” he asked Shefford.
“Mostly good news. Gordon made it to your ship in Brighton. He’s heading out first thing for Spain. He’ll be of good use there because he is fluent in the language.”
“Excellent.” Hugo hadn’t been too disappointed by the report of Gordon’s failure to kill Horatia Sheridan. After all, the true purpose had been achieved. The League knew that their loved ones were no more safe than they were themselves. The exercise had been a fruitful one because it revealed the League’s weaknesses. Ones he could exploit over time until he was ready. And he couldn’t deny the pain he caused along the way was pleasurable. Like a cat beating a mouse senseless but staving off the death blow, fascinated with the stunned little creature lying limp beneath its paws.
“Sir, Avery Russell has been active in our office these last few months. Should we reassign him elsewhere while we engage in this current business?”
“No, leave Russell where he is. We can use him to keep an eye on his brother. He might even become useful to us later. I want you to focus on our Brighton connections. There’s a small bit of an underground slave trade that I wish to remove from the port.”
“Slaves?” Shefford scowled.
“Yes.”
“Very good, sir.”
Waverly settled back in his seat, his mind ever turning with possibilities.
“How was the wedding by the way?” he asked Shefford.
Shefford shrugged. “Nice, I suppose. I don’t much care for them. Since Sheridan has lost his sight, he’s become a source of pity by most of the ton. They avoid him when possible.”
“Do they now?” Waverly couldn’t repress a smile. What a delightful little turn that had been, to learn of Sheridan’s blindness. A fitting end for the thief. The fact that the ton had turned their backs on him was an added reward.
“I believe there is one who overlooks his condition. A woman named Anne Chessley. She and Sheridan were speaking just before I left.”
He’d heard of the Chessleys. Her father was a baron, a wealthy one. That situation would bear watching. He would not let Sheridan have a bride. He didn’t deserve happiness. Perhaps
he could make use of the slavery situation in Brighton before he had it shut down. Weren’t there always markets abroad for genteel bred ladies with fair skin? If Sheridan ever married, it wouldn’t be for long.
Acknowledgements
I’d like to thank my editor, Noah Chinn for being a wicked mad plot genius. You are the best thing to ever happen to me and my manuscripts. I would also like to thank my Regency Romance Critique group; you ladies have been through countless drafts on my various stories and have supported me the way the best of friends always do. Lastly, I’d like to thank the readers who were so excited to read the first book in the League of Rogues Series and who have patiently waited for Lucien’s story. I hope you all enjoy the book! Your support means everything to me and the League!
About the Author
Lauren Smith is an attorney by day, author by night, who pens adventurous and edgy romance stories by the light of her smart phone flashlight app. She’s a native Oklahoman who lives with her three pets—a feisty chinchilla, sophisticated cat and dapper little schnauzer. She’s won multiple awards in several romance subgenres including being an Amazon.com Breakthrough Novel Award Quarter-Finalist and a Semi-Finalist for the Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley Award.
Check her out at www.laurensmithbooks.com. You can follow her on Facebook at www.facebook.com/LaurenDianaSmith and on Twitter at @LSmithAuthor. Her blog is theleagueofrogues.blogspot.com.
Look for these titles by Lauren Smith
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The League of Rogues
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Wicked Designs
© 2014 Lauren Smith
For too long Miss Emily Parr has been subject to the whims of her indebted uncle and the lecherous advances of his repulsive business partner, Mr. Blankenship. Her plan to be done with dominating men forever is simple—find herself a kind husband who will leave her to her books and her inheritance.