Lady Rises (The Black Rose Trilogy Book 2)

by Renee Bernard

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  LADY RISES

  Renee Bernard

  Copyright © 2014 by R. Renee Ferguson

  Smashwords Edition

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. It isn’t good manners and even worse, it makes the author very sad. Purchase only authorized editions. Although, if you would like to send the author additional money if you feel you enjoyed the book beyond its cover price, it is permitted. (She isn’t proud and will probably take it.)

  Cover Design by Cora Graphics.

  This book is dedicated to Megan Bamford. Because there has never been a bigger heart, a kinder soul or a sweeter friend. And when I needed it most, she was there. With a generous spirit, an infectious laugh and sparkling dragons to make me believe in myself again.

  And to Andrew Bamford. Because every heroine needs a hero and I still tell everyone how incredible it is to see you with Megan and to see real chivalry and love in action. You inspire me, too.

  And to my girls who are growing too fast.

  And my beloved husband who will never grow up too fast (which is one of his many appealing qualities).

  Acknowledgments

  I know. We just did this a book ago and you’re thinking, “My God, how many people can one woman thank?” The answer is that if I took the time to acknowledge everyone who had an oar in the water and was keeping my little raft afloat, we’d certainly hit a bigger page count. Who doesn’t love a bigger page count?

  But I will do my best to keep it brief. After all, the last book ended with a bit of a cliff-hanger and I’m sure most people are really anxious to simply get on with it.

  I’m going to thank my Street Team again. Because they deserve it. Bernard’s Bombshells are amazing and I want to thank each and every one of you for all the time and effort you’ve put into getting things off the ground. Ladies. I owe you a drink, or two, or several.

  And no book happens without Lindsey Ross, my incredible friend and Executive Assistant/Online Goddess. Because only Lindsey lets my characters call her up and complain when things aren’t going well and only Lindsey lets Ashe text her.

  I have to thank Maire Claremont for providing more than a cover quote. When you admire another author’s work, it’s always humbling when they turn out to be one of the nicest human beings you’ve ever met. And to Delilah Marvelle who also generously gave me more than a quote but also a huge shot in the arm when I needed it. Thank you, Ladies!

  And Last but Never Least, Mom. We built memories together with the girls this summer and I loved that. You are still my best friend in the world. No matter what comes, it’s you and me. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Lady Rises

  Renee Bernard

  “It is the passions you bury alive deep in your past that haunt you the longest and greet you at the grave.” –A.R. Crimson

  Prologue

  Kent, 1866

  Phillip stumbled up the stone steps of Oakwell Manor, his legs numb from the pace of his ride. His clothing was sodden and his coat felt like it was woven from iced iron as it swung against him. He pounded on the door, caught in the furious storm of his emotions.

  Walters opened the door with an expression of mild surprise but was no match for Phillip’s momentum. He was past the man before he’d spoken a single word, marching toward the beckoning light in the ground floor study.

  “Trent!” he roared before he’d crossed the threshold. “Trent! You son of a bitch!”

  The Earl leaned back in his chair and calmly set down his book. “Warrick!” he said cheerfully. “Not on your honeymoon?”

  “You bastard! You well know that I am not!” Phillip ran a hand through his wet hair to pull it off his face. “You know more than anyone!”

  “Yes, that is probably true.” Trent was all smiles. “Did you come by for enlightenment?”

  For one fleeting breath, Phillip nearly launched at the smug figure seated before the fire, his hands curling into claws prepared to tear the earl’s throat out—but god, more than the satisfaction of murder, he desperately wanted to understand why his life had taken such a horrifying turn. “Yes. Enlighten me, old friend.”

  “I once promised to be your mentor, did I not? But I failed you, dear boy. You crossed me long ago and I neglected to punish you. Let’s just say, that I vowed to set things right.”

  “I…crossed you? How?” Phillip’s breath caught in his throat. “Long ago? That courtesan? Are you—is it even possible?”

  “I assure you, it is more than possible. It is a certainty. You had the audacity to mount another man’s prized mare without so much as a by your leave, Warrick.” Trent’s cheery demeanor began to fall away. “You made a mockery of me! But you’ve got the bitter end of it now.”

  “That was years ago! You—said you’d forgiven all!”

  “A bit of a lie, that. I apologize.”

  “So all of it? Raven was—all of this was some kind of scheme to destroy me in payment for tupping a slut you once bought a few dresses for?”

  “I had that slut’s keeping!” Geoffrey screamed and then went as still as stone. “No need to revisit that now. But how is your bride?”

  “What do you mean how is my bride? I’ve come here to fetch her! Tell her to come down, Trent!”

  Geoffrey’s mouth fell open, his eyes alight with excitement, as he left his chair at last. “Tell me. Tell me what happened when you read my letter, Phillip. Tell me every detail and I will do what I can.”

  Phillip could taste ashes in his mouth at the sick and strange turns in their conversation. But he wanted Raven. “What is there to tell? I read the letter while we were still in the carriage en route to Gretna Green.”

  “Impatient boy! Did I not write on the envelope that you were to wait until after your marriage?”

  “That? That is your complaint now?” Phillip had to clench his jaw and count to three before he could continue. “Raven was asleep and I found the note in my pocket. I didn’t think it would make any difference… But it made all the difference, didn’t it?”

  “You didn’t make your wedding vows?”

  Phillip pressed a hand to his eyes, the grip of a headache starting to clamp down. “We weren’t in any hurry. We’d stopped along the way and…I never thought to rush.”

  “The letter.”

  “Yes! I read it! I was bored and it was pouring rain to make for slow going and I read the damned thing!” Phillip dropped his hand, fury carrying him past the pain. “It was an ugly scene, sir! I woke her and threw her from the carriage! I ordered the driver to ride on and had every intention of never turning back!”

  “Brilliant!”

  “Was it? The carriage barely made it to the next hamlet before the mud became too much and the roads impassable. I was drinking at a roadside inn and cursing both of you to the fiery pits of Hell when it—occurred to me that I’d made a mistake.”

  “Only one?” Trent prodded with a laugh.

  “Raven is mine. The lack of dowry stings but money can be made, sir. If there is one lesson you did convey before descending into madness, it was that one. As for the rest of her villainy, I…” Phillip swallowed hard. Here was the harder hurdle. His instincts said that Raven was an innocent when he’d taken her that first time
, and he’d have sworn her maidenly barrier was not contrived with theatrics. But the vile flatness of the language the earl had used; the vague threat that every male servant inside this hall was even now laughing at him behind his back because they’d had her in every room of Oakwell Manor… Phillip started to choke on the bile that rose up his throat. “It is between us. I will attend to her failings and if I have to keep her under lock and key, then so be it. Tell her to come down.”

  “And my promise to notify the papers?”

  “By all means,” Phillip countered. “Of course, you’ll have to include that she was your ward and under your supervision. The implications will be that you approved. Approved of every misstep and may have even encouraged it. I fail to see how your reputation is not also forfeit, so by all means. Contact the reporters. I’m sure they will have all manner of questions about how to raise a vile slut as one would a house cat.”

  Trent nodded. “Good point and one I hadn’t considered. Good man! Oh, well. I will savor my victory in private then.” Geoffrey brushed off his hands. “Thank you for stopping by. I’m sorry I can’t offer you a room but you have so much to do, sir.”

  “Yes. Keep your petty revenge, you piece of shit. Now, Raven. Tell her to come down,” Phillip repeated, a new chilling fear snaking up his spine. “The weather delayed my return but when she wasn’t…She’d abandoned all her things but I know she would have found her way back home.”

  Geoffrey tugged on the bell pull. “She is not here.”

  “She has to be here.”

  The earl smiled. “No. Don’t be a simpleton. A woman abandoned in a rainstorm by the side of the road with dark fast approaching? Use your imagination, boy. Go on. What do you suppose can have happened to your Raven by now?”

  “God. No.” In his glorious upset, he’d seized only on the one outcome. She’d thrown a fit by the side of the road, dumped out her trunks in a temper and then marched homeward until securing transportation of her own so that she could return to the welcoming arms of her nefarious guardian and his praise for her conquest.

  But now…his imagination achieved a dozen horrifying scenarios in the space of a single heartbeat and Phillip staggered back as if the earl had struck him in his midsection with an andiron.

  Trent clapped his hands in malicious glee. “Look on the bright side, baron. Your whore has given you a gift and freed you of worry. Death is a quick solution and she’s either drowned in a fen, succumbed to the cold of exposure or actively hung herself from the first obliging tree she could find.” The earl shook his head. “It amazes me how women are so resourceful!”

  “I murdered her,” Phillip whispered.

  Strong hands began to seize his arms and Phillip’s misery was compounded by the humiliation of realizing he was about to be forced from the earl’s house.

  “Undoubtedly! But what nonsense! What do you care?” Geoffrey scoffed and then started to laugh. “Although it is an unexpected thrill to see you so devastated, Warrick. For that, I shall never be able to repay you as you’ve made years of planning and all my pains worth it.”

  No matter what wicked part she’d played in his downfall, the guilt he felt at her destruction was paralyzing. “All this? Because years ago, I fancied myself in love with Lacey?”

  “Was that her name?” the earl asked.

  Phillip’s gaze narrowed, his rage returning in full force, choking him. Only the footmen’s hold kept him from hurling himself at Trent.

  “I’d forgotten,” Lord Trent admitted softly. “Throw him out and see that he is never admitted to my property again. Good bye, Warrick.”

  “This isn’t the end!” Phillip struggled as the footmen began to haul him backward. “I’ll make you pay!”

  “Stupid to threaten a man of rank and with witnesses, sir. You’ll do no such thing. Or I’ll start asking what happened to my sweet little ward and you’ll swing from a hangman’s noose.” Trent’s brow furrowed with impatience. “It’s ended so prettily, don’t spoil my evening, boy! Out!”

  They had him through the foyer and pushed down the steps with the added indignity of a beating to ensure that it was all he could do to crawl back onto his horse. The heavens reopened with an icy downpour and before Phillip reached the gate, his stallion was lame.

  He dismounted and limped toward the village.

  Broken.

  A man broken with nothing.

  Phillip Warrick was lost.

  London 1873

  Chapter One

  “Please.” The man’s voice cracked, the tip of his tongue nervously touching his lips as he laid his losing hand of cards on the table and accepted defeat.

  Lady Serena Wellcott calmly laid her own cards down. The soft whick of the stiff paper meeting the table’s firm surface made her smile along with the sight of her quarry flinching in abject misery. “It was not your night. I believe this ends the game, sir.”

  He shifted in his chair, trying to resummon his dignity. “I’ll write you an IOU and see that—“

  “No.” She shook her head slowly. “That will not satisfy. Not this time.”

  “The rules of polite society dictate that a gentleman’s IOU is always—“

  She pulled out her black and emerald beaded reticule and retrieved a dozen small pieces of paper writs in his own handwriting and spread them out in front of her. Serena watched his show of bravado falter and fade at the staggering debt at her fingertips. “It’s a heart-stopping sum, is it not, Mr. Hill?”

  “You…have all my markers?”

  “And I’m calling you on them. Now.”

  “Oh, god. I’m ruined,” he whispered.

  “It seems so.” She sat back in her chair, primly organizing her paperwork. “But I’m prepared to offer you a solution to your woes, Mr. Hill.”

  “A solution?” His head came up quickly; his eyes gleaming in the lamplight, anxious for any miraculous solution that would make his financial problems go away.

  She almost felt sorry for him.

  Almost.

  “The house in Bath, all its contents and furnishings, the stables and livestock, surrounding land and rents attached to the property. Sign it all over and I’ll tear up your markers and consider your debts erased.” Serena took a deep breath and simply waited for him to absorb what she’d said.

  “B-Bath?” His jaw dropped open in shock. “Impossible! That estate has been in my family for generations.”

  The tendril of sympathy she’d felt for him died instantly. “Liar. It’s been in your wife’s family for generations.”

  He stiffened, his face going red. “The house is off the table. I’ve leveraged it to the hilt and—“

  She waved a hand in dismissal. “I’ll deal with the creditors once you’ve done as I ask.”

  “No! I’ll pay you what I can and then—“

  She interrupted him again, this time by sweeping the pile of markers back into her purse. “You’ve mistaken this for a negotiation, Mr. Hill.” She lifted a silver bell from the table and rang it.

  The door to the private gaming room opened behind her and two identical broad-shouldered muscled hulks wearing matching black suits and coats entered to stand behind their mistress. The door was closed and locked before they transformed into cold sentinels awaiting her next command.

  “W-what is the meaning of this?” Mr. Hill demanded, his voice shaking.

  “You cannot be that slow of wit, sir,” Serena protested, her tone mocking him. “You’ll write out the terms I’ve dictated and your intent to give me all that I’ve asked and you’ll sign it here. Then you’ll be at your solicitor’s door before the man’s had breakfast to make it perfectly legal and binding, delivering the deed into my hands before dinner.”

  Hill’s eyes widened but he said nothing.

  “Naturally, Jasper and Jack will be with you at all times for the process to guarantee a successful and flawless transfer of the assets. All of this is to be a confidential transaction in which you will never mention my name or
repeat the story of this evening’s events to anyone for as long as you draw breath.”

  The red color drained from his face but to his credit, Mr. Hill salvaged some of his wits. “And if I refuse to play along?”

  The twins smiled in perfect unison behind her in a mirthless promise of pain and Serena sighed. “Then they’ll kill you. I’ve never given either of them limitations as to the methods they prefer and for that, the men have assured me that I am their favorite client.”

  She gave Mr. Hill a chilling smile that underlined her words. “In truth, the boys enjoy their work, sir, so I leave the messy details to them. But no worries. I have requested that in your case, if the worst should come to pass, that they deliver your head in a hatbox to your family so that they’ll know to mourn your passing and to tidy up legal matters. You see? I am not completely heartless.”

  It was all a blatant lie. The twins were muscled props and consummate actors who knew their brutish roles by heart. They hadn’t murdered so much as a spider in all the years she’d known them but it didn’t matter. She’d yet to meet a man who’d been willing to test their gory claims.

  “You bloody bitch! You—“ He was on his feet but held in place by the presence of the dangerous brutes at her back. “I’ll be ruined! M-my wife…would never forgive me. Sh-she loves that house…”

  “If your wife’s feelings were truly a priority, perhaps you’d not have leveraged the house and gambled against it in the first place,” Serena pointed out, the last of her patience draining away as she also stood from the table. “We have an agreement, Mr. Hill. The house and property in Bath delivered to me before I sit down to dinner.”

  She calmly adjusted her bonnet to lower the black lace veil over her features and to collect what notes and money remained on the table into her purse.

  Hill’s fury outweighed his intellect. “Fuck you, you icy whore!”