The Kiss of a Rogue Read online

  The Kiss of a Rogue

  A "Tales From Seldon Park" Novel

  By Bethany M. Sefchick

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016

  Bethany M. Sefchick

  All rights reserved

  For Amy, Pat, Candy and Abby:

  The real-life inspiration for my own Miss Abigail Northrup

  See you in Columbus!

  Prologue

  Late April 1820

  From the far side of the ballroom, Adam watched Diana positively glow from within the circle of Lachlan's arms. She seemed happy, almost deliriously so. Perhaps he had done the correct thing by letting her go, even if the process had been a bit...messy. Then again, his sister Sophia also looked utterly blissful as she danced with Lord Selby and Adam knew for certain that he had not done the correct thing where his sister was concerned.

  Adam had given in to Sophia's almost relentless badgering solely to appease her, even though he had known in his heart that it was the wrong thing to do for so very many reasons. Sophia and Selby might be truly in love - though Adam had his doubts on that count as well - but that did not mean it was suitable for his sister and the scoundrel to wed. Adam had attempted to explain that repeatedly to both Mama and Sophia over the last few days without revealing the true reasons why he had forbidden the union. For to reveal what he knew - or at least what he suspected - might well turn his sister against him forever, and that was something he could not bear.

  His attempts at reasoning and rational conversation had done no good. As always, Sophia wanted what she wanted and the more Adam refused her, the more she took to her room weeping and generally behaving like a silly, willful girl of eight years of age rather than the respectable Society lady of five and twenty that she was. At least that was how Adam saw things. He was fairly certain most other men would have agreed with his position.

  However when Sophia had stopped eating, refusing even the decadent trays that were sent to her room at each meal, he had become alarmed and had known that something needed to be done. Except that he had no idea what to do because by that point, almost all of London thought him a terrible brute and the worst sort of cad imaginable. It was unlikely that anyone would agree with him that Sophia was making a terrible mistake. So Adam had granted his permission for the betrothal that very morning, and prayed that eventually the answer about how to set everything to rights would come to him. Thus far, it had not, much to his chagrin.

  Still, if Sophia had been his only troublesome female, he might have been able to handle the situation. But she was not. And the rest of the mess was all of his own doing. Unfortunately. Cork-brained idiot that he was. Which was among other choice names that he had been called over the course of the last few days.

  Across the room, Adam watched Miss Phoebe Banbrook glare daggers at him from behind her fan. Though he had never actually witnessed her crying, he could tell by the redness in her eyes that she had shed tears rather recently - most certainly over him. He hadn't wanted that to happen either. He had never wanted to hurt her. He merely wanted to enjoy himself for the briefest of moments before the parson's noose slipped around his neck.

  Why? Why had he acted out the way he had? Even now he could not say. He wanted to simply believe that it was because he was a duke and that he could do as he pleased, but that was far from the truth. Perhaps it was more accurate to say that with Miss Banbrook, unlike with Lady Diana, he did not feel trapped and pressured to live up to a promise regarding his future that he hadn't even been alive to make. With her, there was no pressure and no commitment. He could simply be Adam and not a rich and powerful duke who was of little value to anyone beyond his account ledgers.

  At least, it had been that way at first. But just like every other woman he knew, in time, Phoebe began to stop seeing the man and instead saw only the title.

  Adam liked Phoebe, certainly. He enjoyed kissing her and she was fun to be around, if not much of a conversationalist. He enjoyed courting scandal with her because it was such a novel thing to do. After all, such actions were daring and skirted just close enough to the edge of ruin to be interesting without ever crossing a line he had never even so much as glimpsed before. He had never planned to cross that line and plunge them both into scandal. He believed she had felt the same. Apparently, she did not. Instead, she had designs upon his person and an enormous desire to become the next Duchess of Hathaway. He hadn't known that. Or perhaps he had, and he simply hadn't cared enough about her to pay attention. More fool him, then.

  When he had informed Miss Banbrook that no, he had no intention of marrying her, she had thrown a fit - much to his surprise really, for he thought she was a far more level-headed sort of chit - and declared him the worst sort of rogue imaginable. One who liked nothing more than to toy with a young lady's delicate heart.

  Then she had all but called him out in the middle of this infernal ball, hurtling insult after insult in his direction until Lord Hunt and Lord Blackmore had attempted - rather unsuccessfully, it should be noted - to remove her from the ballroom. Had Miss Banbrook been a man, Adam had no doubt that there would have been pistols at dawn. When he had suggested that she was simply overwrought, she had hit him with her reticule and fled the room, making an even bigger spectacle than he had anticipated she would.

  To Adam's mind, the entire scene had been a bit harsh. He had made no pretense with Miss Banbrook. Or had he? Adam rubbed at his temples, which were throbbing wickedly. He really didn't know any longer. In the beginning, Miss Banbrook had been a welcome distraction from the mess with both Sophia and Lady Diana. So welcome that perhaps - just perhaps, mind you - he hadn't paid as much attention to her true motivation for seeking him out as he ought to have done.

  Now, his reputation was in tatters and while he could likely recover, for he was a wealthy duke after all, he knew it would not be easy. Diana was beloved by just about all of Society. As for himself? Well, Adam knew very well that he had been referred to as "The Dastardly Duke" quite often over the years, though in his opinion undeservedly so.

  He wasn't a bad man or an evil one. At least not in his own estimation. Yet he was well aware that he had his flaws, women - and how he dealt with them - chief among them.

  How had his life come to this? He honestly had no idea. Though really, he supposed, it had all started with Lady Diana and his refusal to wed her in what all of Society seemed to believe was a timely manner.

  Adam hadn't wanted to be wed just then, so he had resisted. And he had made it plain to all and sundry that he had no intention of becoming so at any point in the near future.

  He had thought he was behaving no worse than most of his friends and better than many. True, he had no real desire to take a bride ever, which was why he had put off the parson's mousetrap with Diana for so long, but he had expected that in time, he would do just that. But not now. He had assumed that Diana would wait for him. After all, their pairing had been arranged practically since the cradle by their mothers. He had always assumed that would never change. It had never occurred to Adam that Diana might feel otherwise on the subject. The truth was, he didn't give Diana or her feelings much thought. She was simply there and he assumed she always would be.

  It was...difficult...in some ways to realize that was not the case.

  Then again, as he had just admitted to himself, Adam had never been particularly skilled with women. He'd never had to be. He was fated to marry Diana...eventually anyway. Now that she was being swept away by Lord H
allstone, however, Adam was faced with a new predicament.

  He would need - somehow - to figure out how to woo a woman. And not just any woman, but a woman of Society. A woman of fine manners and good standing. The only problem was, he had no idea how to go about such a feat.

  Opera dancers, mistresses, Cyprians, and ballerinas? Those sorts of women he knew how to approach. Women like Miss Banbrook? Well, given what a muddle he'd made of that situation, he clearly hadn't a clue as to what sort of behavior was appropriate with a lady.

  Then again, he was a duke. Before tonight, he'd never even had to wonder.

  Now, it seemed, he did. And he also found that he did not care to be put in this position. He was a duke, damn it! His actions should not have consequences such as these. But they did. And he would have to figure out how to deal with them.

  However that was for another time. Another evening when he was feeling more like himself, and he hadn't just been humiliated in front of all of Society. There was time. After all, he might be the Dastardly Duke, but he was still welcomed in the best of Society homes. Tomorrow was another day and he could begin his search for a duchess then. And figure out what to do about Sophia and Selby. And how to put his life back together. After all, he was at his lowest point. The only place to go was up, after all.

  "Do you really believe that remaining here is such a good idea? Hasn't poor Lord Devonmont already suffered enough embarrassment for one evening?"

  Adam had not heard Lord Raynecourt approach the dark corner he had been occupying for nearly an hour, doing his best to blend into the rather ornate tapestry of what looked to be some sort of Scottish land battle, complete with castles and moats. Then again, the duke had been unaware that the earl was even back in Town. The last Adam had heard, Rayne was still gadding about the Continent studying...well, whatever it was that he studied and making noises that he would take one Miss Marietta Crestwood as his mistress for the remainder of the Season upon his return.

  With a cool eye, Adam turned to the other man. He might not be feeling particularly superior at the moment, but he would do his best to act it - just as his tutors had taught him when he was but a young boy. "I was unaware that I was no longer welcome here." Though in truth, he wouldn't be surprised if that was truly the case. At least for the remainder of the evening. He had caused a scene after all.

  Rayne shrugged, looking disinterested, though the glint in his eyes said otherwise. "You are a duke. You are always welcome, as I am certain you well know."

  "However..." Because in Adam's experience, there was always a "however" when someone spoke in such halting tones.

  The earl shrugged again. "However, it might be in your best interests to, shall we say, decline a few invitations in the coming days. This is no mere wallflower that you have trifled with. It is Lady Diana, a true paragon of Society and beloved by many. And who is a friend to The Bloody Duke. The damage you have wrought tonight will likely have repercussions for a good long time. If the damage is ever truly undone."

  That gave Adam pause. On principle, he didn't fear anyone in Society. Nor did he fear long-term damage to his reputation. After all, he was a duke. But he did have a healthy amount of respect and fear for Lord Candlewood. One did not upset the Bloody Duke and not expect that there would consequences, sometimes lasting ones. Adam had been unaware that the man knew Lady Diana or that he knew her well enough to consider her a friend. It was yet one more thing he had been in the dark about, it seemed.

  "I see." That was as much as Adam would admit to, for surely it could not be as bad as all that. He suspected the earl was merely trying to scare him. Well, objective accomplished. Adam would never be so foolish or step this far out of line again. There was too much to risk, even for a duke.

  "No, I do not think you do." Rayne shook his head. "But that is not for me to discuss further."

  "So I am to be banished? Is that it?" Adam was incredulous now, fear slowly sinking into the depths of his soul. He was the Duke of Hathaway. No one treated him this way. Except that he was afraid that Society was about to - for reasons he did not fully understand. And that there would be no easy recovery.

  Adam had acted out just once in his entire life and now he was facing serious consequences because of it. It was not right. But he had the impression that was the way it was to be. And that he did not have a say in the matter.

  With another shake of his head, Rayne rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I will only say that you had best hope that Lady Diana and Lord Hallstone make the expected love match. I do not think you wish to discover what happens if it is otherwise. A duke you might be, but when Lord Candlewood is angered..." He did not bother to finish that thought.

  Then the earl was gone, disappearing back into the crowd and leaving Adam rather shaken. But the fear quickly gave way to anger as he attempted to soothe his own conscience. Just who did that impudent earl think that he was? He might be wealthier than Adam, but that was all. And simply because the man was friends with The Bloody Duke did not hold any meaning with him either.

  Or at least it should not. Then again, Adam knew very well that he was treading a dangerous path as it was. His behavior as of late had been questionable. Even he was not so foolish as to think otherwise. However he was far from being the sort of reprobate that Rayne implied he was becoming. There were other men with far worse reputations than Adam's, after all.

  With a huff of indignation, Adam stalked to the far corner of the ballroom where the refreshment table was set up. He did not need this additional aggravation. It had been a trying enough night as it was. Perhaps a cool glass of punch would calm his nerves. Yes, that was just the thing!

  As he made his way through the crowd, he did his best to ignore the stares and whispered that followed him. Because in truth, if they were less than welcoming, he did not wish to see them anyway.

  Chapter One

  Late June 1820

  Fairhaven

  Hampshire

  Why were there twittering birds in his bedchamber? And better yet, when had his nice, soft bed been exchanged for one that was so bloody hard and felt more than a little damp? And who in the bloody blazes had left the curtains open?

  Moreover, why was he still wearing his breeches and Hessians? His topcoat, waistcoat, cravat and evening shirt were long gone. His gloves, if he'd had them, were gone as well. Did his valet only half undress him and then leave him to fend for himself? Was even his own staff now turning against him? And where in the hell were those bloody birds?

  Opening one eye, Lord Adam Reynolds, the Duke of Hathaway, was a little shocked to see green blades of grass within his line of vision rather than his own bed linens. Or the walls of his bedchamber for that matter.

  When Adam opened his other eye, he could see a piece of fine Italian statuary in the distance, a gurgling fountain, the gentle curve of a tree trunk - likely where those infernal birds were still twittering - and the first rosy fingers of dawn beginning to streak delicately over the horizon.

  Where was he? He was in London. Wasn't he? Or...not. Oh. Wait. That was right. He was at Fairhaven, the Duke of Enwright's country estate outside of London and home to the official yet unofficial end-of-the-Season house party and masquerade ball. By why was he outside? He had been assigned a bedchamber. Hadn't he? Or...not. He wasn't quite certain. Actually, other than his name and where he assumed that he was, he wasn't really certain of anything.

  Other than that his reputation was in shreds, nobody liked him very much any longer, his sister Sophia would also likely never speak to him again, and no reputable lady of good breeding would come within a ballroom's distance of him. And he was only at this house party by the grace of the one man who had once possessed a reputation worse than Adam's own at present.

  He also remembered, albeit a bit hazily, his final night in London when he had been all but physically removed from Lady Carlisle's Grand Finale Ball for showing up with an opera dancer as his escort for the evening. One who had been dressed in little more than
feathers and a few strategically placed bits of silk. After all, if he was going to be branded the "Dastardly Duke" and viewed as little more than a reprobate, then why not truly embrace the part? If Society could erase one and thirty years of excellent behavior and become fixated upon less than a month of slightly questionable decisions, then why not be the utterly despicable lout he was now rumored to be.

  It had seemed like the perfect plan. Until...it wasn't.

  And it had occurred to him that if he kept up his current behaviors, it would be too late to salvage what was left of his reputation - dukedom or no dukedom. If it wasn't too late already, that was.

  In a wash of shame, Adam also remembered all too well the humiliation his mother and sister had suffered that same night when he had been dumped on the front doorstep of their London townhome by a bunch of ruffians who had found him in the gutters of Covent Garden. Not to mention the stunning lack of invitations for the entire Reynolds family the following day, though he had managed to correct that quickly enough. At least where his mother and sister were concerned. However there was also the little matter of the invitations already issued to him that had suddenly been revoked.

  All but one - to the Duke of Enwright's end-of-season house party and masquerade. That one had not been, and Adam knew it was the last chance he would have to redeem himself and his reputation before he was tossed from Society for a good long while. No matter that he was a duke.

  Because in the last several weeks, he had become the rogue so many had believed him to be after that night when he had ended things with Diana. And his reputation had suffered accordingly, until now, it was just about too late.

  Oh, yes. Adam did remember all of that rather clearly. That still did not answer the question as to why he was lying in Enwright's garden, half naked and flat on his back with no memory of how he had come to be there. Or how much additional damage this little escapade would inflict upon his reputation.