Lord Rogue
(Secrets & Scandals, Book 5)
by
Tiffany Green
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Lord Rogue
COPYRIGHT © 2018 by Tiffany Green.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information : [email protected]
Cover Art by Fiona Jayde Media
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
To the best writing teacher in the world. The mother of my heart, Fleeta Cunningham.
Prologue
March, 1821
London
Jeremy Longwell, Lord Fielding, lay still, trying to calm the frantic beating of his heart. He concentrated on counting seconds to keep track of the time, nothing more. But those whispered words uttered just moments ago tantalized him. No, he would not react. Not yet. He slid his eyes shut, forced his tight muscles to relax, and waited in the cool inky darkness. Another two minutes crawled by. Every nerve in his body burned, urging him to scramble out of bed, but he dared not move for another quarter hour. He had to be sure the warm, soft body curled against his side was asleep. Even as an ache developed in his shoulder, he kept still and silent, listening to her breaths even out, then draw in slow and deep.
Finally!
Removing her head from his arm without her waking would be tricky. Fortunately, he had lots of practice with the maneuver and carefully rolled back his arm. She mumbled something, then snuggled further into her lavender scented pillow.
Jeremy blew out a soft exhale and rose from the muddled blankets. An expert at dressing in the dark, he pulled on his clothes, having memorized their exact location scattered about the room. His hands actually shook as he thought about what lay ahead. Slinking to the door, he could not resist one last glance over his shoulder. From the silvery-blue moonlight trickling in through a crack in the curtain, he could see Vanessa on her side, one hand curled under her chin, a milky shoulder poking through the mass of dark auburn curls. With a nod of thanks, he closed the door with a soft click and padded silently down the cold, dark hall.
Not until his back rested against the tattered velvet cushion of the hired hack did he take his first deep breath.
Dear God, he finally found them!
Within two hours, he stood before the Guardians, excitement pounding through his veins. Six years. Six long years and he finally had some information. Real meat to sink his teeth into. Not just the crumbs of rumor, but something substantial. He could hardly wait to share the news with the others.
“What say you, Rogue?” the head of the Guardians asked, waving him forward.
Jeremy bit back a grin. “I have the London location.”
The eight men and two women sitting at the horseshoe shaped table turned to each other, murmuring in excited, hushed tones. There were a dozen empty chairs, nine members out on missions, two reserved for new recruits, and his seat on the far right. Elder, occupying the center chair, held up his hand and the room fell silent. A distant drip echoed from somewhere deep in the catacombs that made up the Guardians’ headquarters. “You’re certain?” Elder asked, his grey eyes shining in eagerness.
Jeremy inclined his head. “As you are aware, I have been meeting with Lady Wesley for almost a year.” He kept his voice even, his features carefully schooled. “After she had admitted to finding her husband’s Viper ring last month, I knew I had to redouble my efforts with her.” He refrained from rubbing his hands together. “Tonight, she gave me an address.”
Whispers broke out. Elder once again held up his hand to silence the others. “You’ve verified the address?”
“Just before my arrival here. I saw Wesley enter the building.” Jeremy paused briefly and watched several Guardians lean forward to catch his every word. “He was with Lord Sheffield and Harold Taskers.”
“Who have already been verified,” Elder said as murmurs broke out once again. This time, the man did nothing to silence them. “And? Did you get into the building? What did you find?”
Everyone quit speaking and waited for the answer. “The building is actually a storage facility for rugs and carpets. Most likely tied to the import business owned by Wesley’s cousin. I sneaked inside and found the three using a secret entrance behind a bookcase in one of the offices. A carefully hidden lever triggers a spring mechanism that allows the bookcase to slide inward. It leads to a room in the back of the store, nicely hidden away. I would have taken a better look after the three left but one of the guards patrolling the building didn’t move from the bookcase.” Jeremy took a step forward, his excitement once again bubbling up to the surface. “That has to be the location we’ve been searching for.”
The silence lasted for several seconds until what he had said sunk in. Then everyone began speaking at once. The room filled with a palpable energy. Finally, after six years, they were close. So close. The secret organization so many feared, known as the Viper’s Nest, would finally get brought down.
Jeremy closed his eyes.
And his father’s death would finally be avenged.
Chapter 1
Jeremy lifted his champagne glass and sipped, keeping his eyes trained on the group of men having a serious conversation in the far corner of the grand ballroom. Of the five, he knew four. It was the tallest man, the one talking, more like directing the others, who interested him. He had to find out the man’s identity. It was crucial. Around the gilded room with the gold so bright it nearly hurt his eyes, the masquerade was in full swing. Another start to another season, another Huntington masque to launch the whole nauseating husband hunt.
He knew the exact layout of the room and the general vicinity of everyone within. A slight movement, the smallest shift to his right told him someone had separated from the shadows and moved to his side. Jeremy tensed for a fraction of a second until the brief hint of an authentic Cuban cigar indicated the man was no stranger.
“Know who he is, Rogue?”
Elder’s voice came whisper soft, barely recognizable as words. Jeremy’s ears were every bit as keen as his sight. He caught every syllable. Keeping his eyes trained on the five men, he answered just as softly. “Not yet.”
“See if you can move closer without being noticed. I have Ghost here to help you.”
No wonder that servant holding out the silver tray to Mrs. Templeton seemed so familiar. Jeremy took another sip of his champagne to hide his displeasure from Elder. Damn it, he didn’t need the help. Finding the fifth man’s identity should be easy.
“Falcon is also due to arrive.”
Unable to resist, Jeremy turned to Elder and lifted a brow. “The new recruit? We haven’t even been introduced.”
“I know, but the opportunity to test Falcon tonight was too good to pass up. You will meet soon.”
Jeremy turned back to the five men. Two Guardians here to help him, and a first mission for one? Not even a first mission. The test before full membership. Blast it to hell, he didn’t need this interference. And he damn sure didn’t need the help.
“I know what you’re thinking, Rogue.” Elder patted Jeremy on the shoulder. “You are quite mistaken, I assure you. I’ll explain in due time.”
Elder melted back into the shadows, his wide Lord Nelson hat disappearing into the darkness. With a sigh, Jeremy lifted a fresh drink when a silver serving tray appeared before him. “Stay out of my
way, Ghost,” he whispered as he placed his empty glass on the tray.
White teeth flashed. “How did you know?”
“Your wax nose is crooked,” Jeremy lied.
Another glance at the men told Jeremy the conversation had turned intense. He watched Ghost move closer to them. The man was quite good, imitating a servant to perfection. No one in the room would ever realize he was actually an earl.
Jeremy held his breath when Ghost stood directly behind the men unnoticed, acting as though he politely waited on them to finish speaking before offering the tray. Surely, Ghost was getting some good information. The sharpening of the man’s dark eyes made it obvious.
His fingers tightened on the crystal stem, wishing he could move to Ghost’s side. But that would arouse too much suspicion.
After thirty seconds, Lord Wesley glanced around and noticed Ghost standing there. He waved him away angrily and tucked back in with the others once Ghost moved off.
The slight stiffening of Ghost’s shoulders told Jeremy his friend got nothing of importance. He couldn’t help feeling a dash of pleasure. This assignment belonged to Rogue, and Rogue always came through.
Feeling better about the mission, Jeremy gave the room another scan to be certain nothing had changed. Who was this new member Elder spoke of? Just days ago, Falcon was mentioned as a recruit, the first in several years, and now was already on a mission of this caliber? For his test, no less? The fellow must be quite good, Jeremy thought, watching Lady Crawley accept a dance from the ancient Mr. Harwood, Elder’s senior by a good fifteen years. Just who was Falcon?
Glancing around, Jeremy realized there was something missing. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He narrowed his eyes on a couple across the room, trying to solve the mystery. The newly married Lady Ravenwood slipped her hand into her husband’s and the answer came suddenly.
The sad brown eyes were missing. For the last six years, Jeremy felt her watching from a distance. Lady Evie usually kept away from the general mass, only coming out of hiding to chat briefly with her friends. The plump brown mouse would then skitter back to the shadowy corners of the room to watch him. He had grown used to it over the years. But she was absent tonight.
“Lord Fielding!”
Damn. Jeremy cringed, knowing that shrill voice well, then relaxed his shoulders and turned to Lady Whitechapel with resignation. The woman had been trying for at least eight seasons to foist three daughters, a niece, and even a second cousin on him. Never mind the cousin was old enough to be his mother.
The portly woman stormed passed him in her hideous Tudor costume, all ruffle collars and boat hips which probably didn’t need the usual amount of framework under the dress. Jeremy supposed she was going for Queen Elizabeth. The pile of red horsehair curls on her head was a sure clue.
The lady stopped behind the group of men he’d been watching for nearly an hour and tapped Harold Taskers right on the shoulder with her ivory fan. Jeremy grinned and slid unseen behind a marble column, adjusting his red and black domino mask.
At that very moment, the room came to a sudden hush, leaving several violin notes hanging in the air. Then it exploded with chatter. Jeremy swiveled around to see what had happened. Perhaps Prinny had come dressed in something even more outrageous than last year’s Napoleon costume. The memory made him grin.
Following everyone’s upturned faces, Jeremy lifted his gaze to the top of the stairs and drew in a quick breath. Helen of Troy stood there, surely even more beautiful than the day two nations went to war over her. Wrapped in gold and cream silk outlined in crimson trim, the costume followed every luscious curve. Thrown over her slender right shoulder, the silk revealed the fullness of her breasts and wrapped around her tiny waist, then flared slightly at the hips. He licked his lips, knowing true beauty was before him.
But who the deuce was she?
She wore a gold half-mask that hid much of her face, but surely, he knew this woman. Didn’t he know every lady present? Especially the young beauties?
Taking a glance over his shoulder, Jeremy was satisfied to see Lady Whitechapel leaning forward, holding her pince-nez to Harold Tasker’s face as he slid his mask up, giving him a careful inspection. Good. They would be occupied for several more minutes, at least.
Turning back to Helen, he watched her lay a delicate white hand on the bannister to start down the steps. Jeremy caressed the stem of his champagne flute with his thumb, cursing Huntington for not announcing the visitors. Actually, it had been Silver’s idea, wanting everyone to try and guess who was behind the costumes before the unmasking at midnight. At the time, Jeremy thought it a fantastic idea. Now, he hated it.
Who the deuce was this temptress?
A small gold slipper came out to the first step and his stomach clenched at the glimpse of her shapely calf. With her head bowed to watch her progress down the steps, Jeremy could tell she had shiny hair the color of rich chestnut, mostly drawn up in curls, but several long spiraling ribbons flowed down her back and over the exposed shoulder. A thin gold crown glistened in her hair when she moved, making him certain he had guessed her costume correctly.
Jeremy couldn’t have met her before. He would not have forgotten her. He never forgot a beautiful woman, and one as lovely as this, who undoubtedly put every female in attendance to shame, well except for the Duchess of Claremont, he would have recalled their meeting.
He threw back the rest of his champagne and took several steps in her direction before remembering his mission. Damn. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Lady Whitechapel stomping off, crooked red lips twisted down, and the men starting to move away.
What in the hell should he do?
Jeremy gave Helen another glance and knew from the tightening of his loins he would have to meet her tonight. The damn witch captivated him, even from across the room. But he had to learn the fifth man’s identity first. Never had he been so close to the truth before. He would not have another opportunity. Viper never came out of hiding. How could he let it pass?
The men moved into the billiard room, and Lord Wesley glanced around before closing the door behind them. Jeremy could go into Huntington’s study and hear every word. He had to do it. The Guardians were counting on him.
So why in the bloody hell weren’t his feet moving in that direction?
Helen took her last step and the crowd moved in around her.
He had his answer.
Lady Evie Thornton cleared the last step and exhaled slowly. She prayed her knees would stop shaking. Never had so many people watched her. A calm, warm hand touched her on the shoulder. “Never mind them, Evie,” Aunt Arabella said from behind.
With a deep breath, Evie pushed back her fear and walked further into the room. She was quickly surrounded by masked faces and people whispering about who she was. Evie knew it would be difficult to recognize her, having spent the last four months losing weight in France under Aunt Belle’s care. And with a whole new wardrobe, she hardly recognized herself in the mirror.
“No, no, I think the Duchess of Claremont is over there,” a woman said as Evie made her way to the center of the room.
“Perhaps the Countess of Ravenwood, then,” another said as the colorful costumes parted before her.
The music started and Aunt Belle’s much younger escort came forward. Jean Claude was closer to Evie’s age of twenty-three than her aunt’s mid-fifties, but the man was smitten with her aunt. And Belle didn’t have the heart to send the beautiful young man away, or so she claimed was the reason.
“Dance with Jean Claude while I take a look around,” Belle said and turned away.
Jean Claude scooped up her hand. “Shall we, Cherie?”
With a nod, Evie followed him through the dance, claiming the attention of the entire room. As they neared the far corner, the fine hairs at the nape of her neck rose. A small tickle developed in the pit of her stomach. She knew he watched her.
For several long seconds, Evie tried to ignore his eyes. They bored i
nto her, stripping away her costume, delving right into her very soul. It might take Jeremy a few minutes to figure out who she really was. But he would.
A little shiver went down her spine.
Evie had to ignore him. How many years had she wanted him to notice her? But now, it was too late. Evie had a new life with a new purpose. And it had nothing whatever to do with that despicable rogue, Jeremy Longwell, Lord Fielding.
Just as the dance drew to an end, her aunt gave a furtive nod. The feathers of Belle’s Minerva mask quivered slightly. The men had been found.
After a curtsey to Jean Claude for the dance, Evie made her way to her aunt. Belle leaned over and spoke softly. “They are in the billiard room. Here is your chance. Go now.”
Evie didn’t hesitate, but turned away and melted into the crowd. She examined a piece of her dress as though it needed a repair and headed for the lady’s withdrawing room down the hall. With a glance over her shoulder, she quickly dashed into the opposite room when two servants strolled by holding drink trays. With her heart beating in her throat, she faced the five stunned men as they glanced up from studying a large map that had been unrolled over the billiard table.
Giving them her most innocent look of surprise, she splayed a hand over her chest and took a step forward. “Oh, do pardon me, gentlemen, I had no idea anyone was in here.”
As she suspected, most of them broke out into wide grins. It was only the tall man dressed in solid black, whose piercing blue eyes stared at her through the black mask he wore that made her pulse leap with concern. He had a dangerous energy about him. Lethal, even.
Evie swallowed back her nervousness and took another step forward. “I thought to repair my dress,” she said, holding up the small ripped piece in her hand. As the men glanced down at her partly exposed leg, she chanced another peek at the billiard table. She could just about make out the map. Somewhere north of London. Wy-something. Evie parted her gown a bit further, revealing even more of her thigh, and edged closer to the table. She got the name! A smaller scrap of paper caught her attention and she skittered over the contents, but dared not press her luck.
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