Rogue Grooms Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Lady Rogue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The Star of India

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Epilogue

  Teaser chapter

  Praise for the Novels of Amanda McCabe

  Lady Rogue

  “This is a love story created by the sure, deft strokes of a master!”

  — Romantic Times

  Star of India

  “Amanda McCabe’s story [is] a thoroughly enjoyable read.”

  —Romantic Times

  Spirited Brides

  “These stories are exceptionally sweet... one winner of a book.”

  —The Romance Studio

  “Fun, witty, romantic... a capital read!”

  —Huntress Book Reviews

  “Brimming with romance, passion, humor, well-drawn characters, interesting plots, and plenty of ghosts, these stories are unforgettable.”

  —Romance Junkies

  “These books are a delight to read!”

  —Reader to Reader Reviews

  “You’d do well to add Spirited Brides to your collection of traditional Regency and Regency-set historical romances.”

  —Romance Reviews Today

  Praise for Other Romances by Amanda McCabe

  “Flawlessly crafted historical romance.”

  —Chicago Tribune

  “An enthralling spell of tender romance with a hint of danger, set against the glittering backdrop of Regency London.”

  —Diane Farr, author of Once Upon a Christmas

  “[A] terrific book that kept me engrossed the entire time! A real winner.”

  —Huntress Book Reviews

  “Amanda McCabe has been delighting readers since her debut, and this sweetly engaging tale doesn’t disappoint. She has a talent for bringing ordinary characters into soft focus and making us want the best for them.”

  —Romantic Times

  “An extremely talented new voice.”

  —Romance Reviews Today

  “McCabe is a welcome addition to the ranks of Regency authors.”

  —The Romance Reader

  SIGNET ECLIPSE

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  Published by Signet Eclipse, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc. Lady Rogue and The Star of India were previously published in Signet editions.

  First Signet Eclipse Printing, June 2010

  eISBN : 978-1-101-18820-0

  Lady Rogue copyright © Ammanda McCabe, 2002 The Star of India copyright © Ammanda McCabe, 2004 All rights reserved

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  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted,in any form,or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are 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.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

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  Lady Rogue

  To Katie Fish, the “real” Lady Kate,

  and to her parents, Hugh and Anita Fish,

  for being three such wonderful friends.

  Chapter One

  “So that is it, then? That is all that is left?” Alexander Kenton, late of His Majesty’s army and now the new Duke of Wayland, stared out of the library window at the bedraggled garden beyond. Yet he did not see the overgrown, rain-soaked bushes and trampled flower beds. He saw only the great tangle his life had suddenly become.

  The solicitor, seated at the desk behind him, rattled papers and coughed uncomfortably. “I fear so, my lord.”

  Alex laughed bitterly. “Well. You have to admire a brother who can manage to leave such a thorough mess in such a brief time.”

  “Indeed, my lord,” the solicitor answered, in a small, uncertain voice.

  Alex pushed back from the window and returned to his seat before the fire, stretching his booted feet to its meager warmth. “Tell me, then, Mr. Reed, what we have to live on, Mother and Emily and me, once all of Damian’s debts are settled.”

  Mr. Reed consulted his papers again. “Fair Oak, the house and the farm, of course. And the Kenton Grange. Those are entailed. Aside from your personal belongings, and the few family jewels now in the possession of the dowager duchess, I fear there is little else.”

  “Emily’s dowry?”

  “Gone, my lord. Long gambled away.”

  “Damn,” Alex cursed softly. “The farm has not been worked in years! Not since my father’s time.”

  “I do believe that Lady Emily has managed to keep some of the fields under cultivation. Much of the land, though, has lain fallow since your late father’s time. Your brother was not—not much interested in farming.”

  “Damian was not much interest
ed in anything but gambling and whoring.”

  The solicitor blushed.

  “Forgive my bluntness, Mr. Reed,” Alex said. “Years in the army will do that to a man.”

  “Quite understandable, my lord.”

  “So, in effect, all we have to restore this old pile and give Emily a proper come-out is my army pension.”

  “There is a small income from the tenants still left, my lord, and Lady Dorothy has an annuity of her own. But, in essence, yes, you are right. I fear so.” Mr. Reed gathered his papers together and stood. “If you have no further questions of me at this time, my lord, I will leave you to your supper.”

  “Yes, of course. Thank you, Mr. Reed.”

  Alex turned his gaze back to the flames as the library door clicked shut, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

  They were not happy, tranquil thoughts.

  “I should have stayed in the army,” he muttered. “Spain and Belgium were simpler than this.”

  But then, with the war ended, there had been no point in staying with the army. He had longed for home, for the green coolness of Fair Oak, for the company of his family. His excellent father had died almost five years ago, when Alex had been in the heat of the fighting. His older brother had died last year of a fall from a horse, during a race. Alex had not wanted to be the duke, but he had come home prepared to do his duty.

  He had not known until just now how badly Damian had bungled things.

  In less than five years, Damian had managed to gamble away a very comfortable fortune. He had spent so recklessly on mistresses, parties, horse races, and cards that everything that was not entailed had had to be sold to pay for them.

  What was Alex to do now? He himself could live comfortably, if frugally, on his pension. His mother, though, was aging, and not in good health. His sister, who had held the household together for so long, deserved a fine Season, a good match. His ancestral home was collapsing about his ears. Even now, he could see plaster loosening from the ceiling, damp seeping down into the carpet and the draperies.

  Yes, he should have stayed in Spain.

  The library door opened, and Emily’s golden-curled head popped inside. “Alex? Has Mr. Reed gone?”

  Alex looked around at her, and smiled. Even in such dire circumstances, his sister could not fail to cheer him. She was a bouncing, elfin little thing, seemingly always laughing. Even in a faded, mended blue muslin frock, she shimmered.

  “Yes, angel-puss, he has gone.”

  She came and sat in the chair next to his, stretching her own feet to the fire. “It is very bad, is it not?”

  Alex could not lie to her. Not when she turned her wide, guileless blue gaze onto him. “Yes.”

  Emily sighed. “I knew it. I had hoped, though, that there would be something. Even Farmer Ellis, who sells us our butter and eggs, won’t want to give us credit any longer!”

  “What do you know about butter and eggs, angel?” Alex laughed.

  Emily’s lips pursed. “A great deal as it happens, brother. Our housekeeper left above six months ago, and someone had to deal with such things. Mother is not able.”

  Alex grew somber again. “I am sorry, Em. You should not have had to take on such tasks.”

  “I do not mind. But now I shall not have to, as you are here, and will no doubt conceive a great plan for our salvation!”

  “I do not have a plan as yet, Em,” he warned. “Damian left us in a very great mess, and it will take time to sort it out.”

  “Hm, yes. He was very naughty. Not at all like you, Alex.”

  “You do not think me naughty?” he teased.

  “Of course not, how could you be? You have all those medals for bravery, and valor, and good deeds, and who knows what else. Earning all those would not have left you much time for anything else.”

  He laughed. “Quite right!”

  A companionable silence fell between them. They sat and listened to the crackle of the fire, to the soft patter of the rain hitting the windows.

  Then Alex said, “You may have to wait until next year for your Season, Em.”

  She shrugged. “I like it here at Fair Oak. Much more than I would in London, I’m sure. Who needs balls and routs?” Her face was wistful, despite her lighthearted words.

  “You must have a proper Season!”

  “So I shall. When things are better for us.” A bell rang out from the direction of the drawing room, and Emily rose and smoothed her skirt. “That will be Mother, summoning us to supper. Thank goodness Cook is still with us! I fear I would be quite hopeless in the kitchen.”

  Alex caught her hand in his, and kissed it gently. “Things will be better for us soon, Em. I promise.”

  She smiled down at him. “I know. You are with us now; how bad could things be?” The bell rang again. “But come. Mother will be becoming impatient.”

  As Alex took her arm and led her from the library, she said, “What will you do now?”

  “I think, sister dear, that I will go to London. Perhaps the solution to our troubles is there!”

  Chapter Two

  “Does it always rain in London?” Mrs. Georgina Beaumont leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the morning room window, watching the endless silvery sheets falling down on the small, beautifully manicured garden.

  Lady Elizabeth Hollingsworth, seated before the fire with her feet up and a blanket tucked about her cozily, laughed.

  Georgina’s new dog, Lady Kate, a small white terrier Georgina had saved from being drowned by a farmer in Scotland, looked up at the sound of laughter. Then she yawned, stretched out on her satin cushion beside the fire, and went back to sleep. For once she was not barking and running about like a tiny bedlamite.

  “Georgie,” Elizabeth said. “It rains just as much in Venice as it does here.”

  “Hm. But it seems a much warmer rain there. Romantic. Here it is merely dreary.”

  “Then come away from the window, and sit here by the fire. What do you think we should do this evening? The Beaton ball? The Carstairs musicale?”

  Georgina left the window and sat down on a settee next to the fire. She eyed Elizabeth worriedly. “Should you not stay home tonight, Lizzie? We were out so very late last night.”

  “I am enceinte, not ill!” Elizabeth protested. “I am barely showing as yet. I must have fun while I can, before I grow as big as a house.” She tugged the blanket aside to peer down at her belly, only a bit rounded beneath her pale green morning dress.

  Georgina laughed at the vision of her petite friend as round as a full moon, waddling about Bond Street. “I shall have to paint your portrait when that happens!”

  “Don’t you dare!” Elizabeth protested. “But I promise that if I grow fatigued I will say so. And no doubt you, under Nicholas’s orders, will drag me home immediately.”

  “What a proud papa Nicholas is becoming! I vow one would think he had done it all himself, the way he has been preening about.”

  Elizabeth smiled softly at the mention of her husband. “Yes, he will be an excellent father. It seems we have waited an age for this, and now it is upon us!”

  “I am so happy for you, Lizzie.”

  “Well, you, I am sure, will be the most excellent of godmothers.”

  “Oh, yes! I shall teach him or her to paint pictures and run wild.”

  “You will teach them to be true to themselves, to enjoy life. Those are the most valuable lessons of all, you know.”

  Georgina’s laughter sounded a bit sad, even to her own ears. After three marriages, she remained childless. She had thought it all for the best; her life as an artist, racketing about the Continent, was not a very stable one. But now, seeing her friend’s radiance, she could not help but be a bit regretful.

  “Well, it was very good of you to come stay with me now, Georgie,” Elizabeth continued. “I know how you miss Italy.”

  “I would not miss this time with you for the world! Besides, we are having a marvelous time, are we not?”

&nbs
p; “We are! I am only vexed that Nicholas will not let me ride with you in that curricle race next week.”

  “I would not have let you in any case! You can watch safely from the side of the road as I trounce that arrogant Lord Pynchon.”

  “And I will make a great deal of money from wagering on you!” Elizabeth turned her head as a single ray of yellow-white light fell from the window across the carpet. “I do believe it has stopped raining! Shall we go out? I need to visit the lending library.”

  Lady Kate sat straight up, her ears perking at the mention of the word “out.” She leaped off of her cushion and trotted over to the cabinet where her leads were kept, barking her sharp “go for a walk” bark.

  “I think Lady Kate is in agreement,” said Georgina. “We should take her for a run in the park, as well.”

  “What a good idea! And let us call at my brother’s house and see if my niece Isabella would like to accompany us. We could take her to Gunter’s for ices after. She is rather lonely, with Peter and Carmen still on their wedding trip.”

  “Oh, yes, let’s! We shall make a day of it.”

  The first thing Alex saw was the hat.

  It was wide-brimmed, fine-milled straw, with fluttering streamers of pale green and white satin. Perhaps not precisely appropriate for London in early spring, but certainly fetching.

  Then his gaze lowered to the lady beneath the hat, and he very nearly fell from his saddle in startled admiration. She was—well, she was very vivid. Quite a contrast to the giggling young misses his friends had taken to hurling in his direction since his return to London.

  She was not very tall, but her posture, her manner of walking, made her seem almost Amazonian. She wore a pelisse of a green that matched the streamers of her hat, and the hair that fell from beneath that hat could only be described as red. Not a fashionable auburn, or a demure dark blonde, but the very red and gold of flames. Or—or a sunset.