A Rogue No More (The Rogue Chronicles Book 3)

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A Rogue No More (The Rogue Chronicles Book 3) Page 16

by Lana Williams


  Was she expecting too much of him?

  “I appreciate your honesty,” she said then swallowed back her disappointment. Perhaps she’d lived in the pages of her own stories for too long and was projecting her wishes onto Thomas. That wasn’t fair to him. Yet he’d already proved himself to be more than the rogue she used to think him. She refused to set aside her expectations of him. Not when so much was at stake. “No matter the reason for your involvement, I still appreciate it.”

  He nodded, seeming satisfied that she understood his position.

  “Would you care to accompany me to my sister’s home? We could review what we know and where we might go from here.”

  “Excellent notion. Perhaps Aberland would be available to shed additional light on anything he’s learned.”

  “I’m sure he’d be pleased to do so.”

  Though they had several clues that seemed to be unrelated, Annabelle thought further review of them might provide the connection they needed to discover who was behind this.

  The remainder of the hackney ride passed in silence until they reached the cab stand.

  “We could have the driver drop us at the house,” Annabelle suggested.

  “I’d prefer that we not be seen arriving together,” Thomas said. “I’ll come by once you’ve returned.”

  Annabelle was surprised at his caution but couldn’t help the warmth that spread through her at the realization of how protective he was being.

  In short order, she was advising Caroline’s butler to expect Thomas and show him to the drawing room while she changed her gown. To her surprise, the butler advised her that Caroline had to step out but would return soon, though he wasn’t certain when the earl would arrive.

  Her stomach dipped at the realization that she and Thomas would be alone together. Would he insist on leaving immediately? She supposed she would soon find out.

  With the assistance of Caroline’s lady’s maid, she changed into her primrose gown and hurried to the drawing room to find Thomas waiting for her.

  “Caroline and Aberland are out but will return soon.” Nerves fluttered deep inside her when Thomas raised a brow at her news.

  “How soon?”

  “I don’t know exactly.” She ignored the flutters. This was Thomas after all, a man who insisted on protecting her at every turn. And they were already betrothed. With a mental shake at her thoughts, she said, “Allow me to find pen and paper so that we might review the information we have.” She looked through her sister’s small writing desk and found what she was looking for before moving to the sofa and the small table that sat nearby.

  Thomas followed her slowly, his practiced gaze sweeping over her. The long, slow look had her mouth going dry before she glanced down to see if something was amiss with her attire.

  “What is it?” she asked when she didn’t see anything unusual.

  “That color is becoming on you.”

  “Thank you.” The pale yellow was one of her favorites. Margaret had said the shade suited her dark hair.

  Awareness slid along her skin as Thomas joined her on the sofa. The sensation was ridiculously distracting. How could she focus on clues when he was looking at her with such heat in his eyes?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Thomas drew a steadying breath as he sank against the tufted velvet cushion beside Annabelle. Her sweet scent enveloped him, making him realize that breathing was a mistake when each inhale suffused him in the violet fragrance that he’d forever link with her. He had never realized how appealing the scent was until she’d entered his life.

  All his senses had gone on alert when she’d walked into the room, looking so beautiful with that intent look upon her face. Did she have the same expression when she was writing? Was his sudden awareness caused by having just seen her in the widow’s garb that he was growing to detest? Comparing the two was like night and day.

  The delicate pale yellow of her gown brought a bloom to her cheeks that made her even more beautiful. The knowledge that they were betrothed and temporarily alone loosened his restraint. Perhaps his days as a rogue weren’t over after all. Not when he couldn’t seem to control himself around this woman.

  He cleared his throat, imagining Aberland striding into the room to catch Thomas ogling his sister-in-law. That wouldn’t do. He frowned as he shifted his gaze to the blank sheet of paper on the table, trying to remember what it was for.

  Annabelle reached for the paper and slid it closer, her movements graceful and feminine. “Now then,” she began.

  But she didn’t reach for the pen and inkwell. Instead, she shifted closer, their thighs nearly touching. He could feel the heat of her body, which served to stir him more.

  Some primal part of himself felt as if she were his. Was it so wrong to want a taste of her?

  Her hand moved from the paper to her lap, and he looked up to see her eyes fastened on him, twin pools of awareness, suggesting she waited for him to say or do something. Her lips parted and her tongue appeared briefly to moisten them.

  Damn. She left him no choice. Just one taste.

  He gently placed his hand on her thigh as he leaned close and captured her lips with his. They fit together perfectly. Did she have any idea how much he desired her? Needing more, he traced the seam of her lips with his tongue, rewarded when they parted and allowed him entrance. She tasted even sweeter than he remembered.

  Her response was more than he could’ve asked for. The feel of her hand along his jaw sent his heart hammering. He imagined those soft, delicate fingers exploring other areas of his body. His hand eased along her thigh, massaging the firm flesh beneath her gown. He could clearly see her curves in his mind’s eye, and they were perfect. She was perfect. Perfect for him.

  He shifted his hand to her narrow waist and squeezed gently before lowering it to her hip and holding tight.

  Her soft moan broke their kiss as she moved closer. Her fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, sending shivers along his spine.

  “You are beautiful,” he whispered. “So lovely.”

  “Thomas.” His name on her lips sounded like a plea. What could he do but respond?

  He reached to lift her gently onto his lap, loving the feel of her rounded bottom against him. He kissed her with all the skill he had, giving into the passion threatening to pull him under, much like a wave on the beach, crashing as the tide rolled in, sucking him deeper into the pool of desire.

  All thought fell away as she shifted on his lap to wrap her arms around his shoulders, her movement teasing him. Damn, but he wanted her. Burned for her. He held her waist then eased upward in search of the swell of her breast. She arched in response as if she wanted his touch as much as he wanted to caress her.

  He cupped the weight of her breast, molding the bottom of it with the hope of pleasing them both before at last seeking the tip. Her nipple was firm through the fabric, and he gently rolled it with his fingers.

  She drew back, her breath coming in soft gasps even as her hip shifted against his swelling manhood. He moved as well, wanting her to know how much he desired her.

  Her response was more than he could’ve hoped for. Already he could see her in his bed, her hair spilling across his pillow as he explored her curves.

  The sound of a feminine throat clearing had them pulling apart. It took a moment for the haze to clear from Thomas’s thoughts before he looked at the doorway to find Lady Aberland standing there, one brow raised in disapproval.

  Annabelle jerked to her feet. “Caroline. I didn’t realize you had returned.”

  “Lady Aberland.” Thomas rose to bow, aware his passion for Annabelle would be clearly visible by the ridge in his breeches, but there was little he could do about it.

  A glance at Annabelle showed her cheeks were a delightful shade of rose even as she worried her lower lip. “I invited Mr. Raybourne in so we could discuss the clues we have thus far.”

  Lady Aberland walked slowly forward, a puzzled expression coming over her face
as she studied the still blank sheet of paper. “Oh? And how is that progressing?”

  “We were just getting started.” Annabelle seemed to gather herself and gave her sister a pointed glare as if to suggest she stop her teasing. “Perhaps you’d like to join us.”

  “I’ll leave that to Richard, who will be along shortly.” Her glare directed the statement at Thomas as if to remind him to behave himself.

  Thomas was relieved Lady Aberland had been the one to interrupt them rather than her husband. While he and Annabelle might be betrothed, they were not yet married. But he was looking forward to that day even more now.

  ~*~

  Thomas sat next to Aberland in the comfortable wingback chairs at Brooks’s, a drink at each of their elbows.

  Three long days and nights had passed since he and Annabelle had visited with McConnelly. That day, Aberland offered to increase his efforts to aid them, and this afternoon, they’d agreed to meet at the club to share what they had learned. Unfortunately, that amounted to very little.

  “It all comes back to the East India Company.” Thomas didn’t care for the realization, even though he arrived at the same daunting conclusion each time he considered the various pieces of the information they had.

  “That comes as no surprise.” Aberland slowly turned the crystal glass with umber-colored liquor on the small table between them, his relaxed pose deceptive. An observer would be hard-pressed to realize their discussion involved murder. Luckily, they had the corner of the room to themselves and by keeping their voices low, ensured their privacy.

  Aberland had mentioned that he preferred not to hold too many conversations at home for fear of upsetting his wife. He’d rather she didn’t know everything they’d discovered, though Thomas wondered how much Annabelle had already told her sister. The two were quite close from what he knew.

  Thomas didn’t pretend to understand how Aberland had come to have the contacts he did but was grateful for any help the lord could provide. The man’s mind was clever and sharp for someone whom Society considered a reformed rake since his marriage.

  Thomas had described the paper he’d found in Sir Alexander’s desk that mentioned the Company’s interest in Sir Reginald’s shipping business and also expressed the man’s frustration that Sir Reginald had been unwilling to sell thus far.

  “Without including the Company, the murders make even less sense.” No matter how Thomas reviewed the information, he couldn’t understand why someone would choose to copy the details in Annabelle’s book in such a fashion. What purpose did it serve? “I have to believe they’re related to the dock, as was the incident with the worker attacking Sir Reginald and Annabelle.”

  “The man has now admitted he’d been previously employed by East India. We have to assume he still is, despite also working at Sir Reginald’s dock. We should also assume A. Golden’s true identity has been discovered by someone.” Aberland scowled as if displeased by the thought. “But if they know who the author is, why not spread the news? Why bother to copy scenes from her book when we might’ve easily overlooked the similarity? They couldn’t have expected the police to discover it.”

  “The identities of the murder victims are confusing as well. One man the brother of a nobleman. The second a dock worker.”

  “But not employed by Sir Reginald’s company.” Aberland held Thomas’s gaze. “I confess I’m at a loss. We need more information to see a pattern.”

  “Unfortunately, we might have another murder on our hands if this person continues to follow the details of the book.”

  “That’s not the sort of information I hoped to hear.” Aberland drained the last of his drink.

  “The only connection is that of the East India Company.” Thomas emptied his glass as well. “If they want Sir Reginald’s dock so badly, wouldn’t they be more likely to buy it cheaply if his daughter is disgraced?”

  “You think one of their members somehow knows Miss Gold writes under a pen name, and they’re murdering people using her scenes with the hope it will prove to be a big enough blow to the family that Sir Reginald will want to sell?” Aberland asked.

  “It’s the only explanation I can think of,” Thomas said. “Your involvement has stolen their hope of causing the business to lose profits. Revealing Sir Reginald’s infirmity could just as easily bring additional business if people choose to show support for him, especially if they know you’re overseeing things and they’re unlikely to lose money.”

  “It takes a twisted mind to turn business dealings into such a terrible scheme.” Aberland shifted to the edge of his chair, his gaze holding on Thomas expectantly. “How do you think we should proceed if we assume your conclusion is correct?”

  Thomas blinked at the man, startled by his question. It was on the tip of his tongue to deny having any ideas. He had no experience in these matters. He could practically hear his father’s scornful laugh at the idea of Thomas solving a problem like this one, let alone one involving the powerful East India Company.

  Yet Aberland waited patiently for an answer. And Annabelle was depending on him.

  Before he could decide whether his suggestion was reasonable, he said, “I think Sir Alexander would know if the Company was involved in this. He seems to know everything about what they’re doing at every level.”

  Aberland considered the idea and nodded. “You’re right. We need to find a way to press him for details. He is known to have an overabundance of pride. If he’s behind this, he must think himself clever.”

  “Do you think he’s the type of man who tends to talk when he’s had a few too many drinks?” Thomas smiled at the thought that it could be so easy.

  “Can’t hurt to try,” Aberland said. “At least until a better idea comes to us.”

  “Surely we can discover his schedule for the next two or three days and then place ourselves at his club at the proper time.”

  “My butler excels at uncovering those sorts of details from other servants.”

  “Perfect.” Thomas nodded, satisfaction at the plan filling him. “I’ll mention it to my valet as well to see if he might be able to discover anything. Send word if you do and I’ll do the same.”

  For the first time since the second murder, Thomas held hope that they could solve this. Then Annabelle would be safe, they could marry, publish her book, and all would be right in his world.

  ~*~

  Annabelle sighed as she followed her cousin, Louisa, into the Hadley ballroom after greeting their hosts. The only reason she’d agreed to come was the hope she’d have a chance to speak with Thomas. Her mother had remained at home with her father, who’d had a poor day.

  Three long days of silence had passed since she’d last seen Thomas. She was certain he was taking action. But the fact that he was doing it on his own concerned her. He’d told her not to worry and that he’d advise her if anything of interest occurred. But surely something had happened since then.

  Had he spoken with McConnelly again? Had he been able to contact a family member of the second murder victim and make inquiries? Was he doing anything to try to solve the murder?

  Focusing on writing, something that normally soothed her, had proven impossible when she was so troubled.

  She’d called on Caroline earlier in the day, but her sister hadn’t raised the subject. Did that mean she truly didn’t know anything? Annabelle was certain Aberland was assisting Thomas. Was her brother-in-law not telling Caroline anything so as not to worry her? Was Thomas doing the same?

  Heaven help him if that were the case. She was going to tell him in no uncertain terms that he needed to keep her apprised of any and all news. They were in this predicament together, and she wanted their relationship to be a true partnership.

  Acquaintances greeted her, many of them congratulating her on her betrothal. She’d nearly forgotten this was the first ball she’d attended since they’d decided to marry. All the extra attention made her uncomfortable due to the fact that their betrothal still felt unreal.
But she smiled and visited with well-wishers as if she had nothing more on her mind other than her upcoming wedding.

  “What’s wrong?” Louisa asked when they had a moment alone.

  “How do you mean?”

  “I thought you liked Mr. Raybourne. That there was something special between the two of you.”

  “There is,” Annabelle admitted after a moment. Louisa’s statement brought to mind their interlude in Caroline’s drawing room. She’d never doubted the passion between them, but if she had, it would’ve been dispelled by those few minutes. The way he’d made her feel, so awash with desire and a longing for more, was something she wanted to experience again. Just thinking of it made her wish for her fan.

  She’d known Thomas had the power to make her lose her normal reserve after their kiss some months ago. But she hadn’t realized just how much she would desire him. How the feel of him against her would stir her so. Even now, desire simmered just under the surface. One touch from Thomas would set her aflame again. Though it was unsettling to feel as if she were on the edge of control, she wanted to explore their passion further.

  “Yet you don’t seem the least bit happy when you speak of your betrothal,” Louisa continued.

  “I suppose I wish it had been the result of his wish to marry me rather than being forced to do so.” The words slipped out before she could stop them, though she knew Louisa would understand.

  She’d told her cousin only the bare bones behind the betrothal but not about the murders or the attempted attack at the shipyard. She and Caroline had decided against doing so for now. Why worry her until they knew more?

  “Would you have agreed if he’d asked without duress?” Louisa asked.

  Louisa knew how important writing was to her, but Annabelle had never shared that Louisa’s own mother’s behavior was one of the reasons she hadn’t wanted to marry. Aunt Felton had grieved her husband’s loss deeply then filled the emptiness in her life in all manner of ways, each of them more concerning than the last. Louisa had been grateful for the entrance of Count Eastov into her mother’s life. He was an old friend of Louisa’s father and seemed to genuinely care for the marchioness. Since his arrival, her aunt had been happy, much to Louisa’s relief.

 

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