Chapter One

Two Years Later

"O h sir!" You are an idiot.

Miss Sadie Allen, late of Scotland, held her smile by force of will. How had England ever climbed to world prominence with leaders such as this? Lord Liddican held a prominent place in the House of Lords, and yet a few flirtatious laughs had him ready to follow her anywhere.

But then the idiot proved that he was smarter than he looked. He leaned forward far enough to look down her bodice and whispered, "I know you are lying to me."

Oh hell. Never underestimate the prey.

They were taking the air in the back garden of a slightly improper masquerade party. Most of the young women here had been forbidden to attend, including herself, but they, like her, had plotted and devised a way to arrive without their guardians' knowledge.

She and her friends had a mission, and that was to ensure Lord Liddican could not harm his wife or child again. Their plan had gone swimmingly until now. They'd gotten to the masquerade without interference, Sadie had isolated Liddican, and was drawing him outside for his punishment.

And now he showed signs of intelligence?

"Lying, sir?" she simpered. "You are too powerful for me to think such a thing!"

"Stop simpering," he hissed. "It makes me nauseous."

Her, too. Damn it, this was not going well. Time to reevaluate. Except, he didn't give her a chance. The man was all but pulling her into the bushes to have his way with her.

"I know who you are, you bold Scottish miss," he said with a lascivious raise of his eyebrows.

Sadie winced. Just how much did he really know? Did he understand that, at the current moment, a dozen ladies of the ton plotted against him?

"I know you have heard what I can do."

She knew he beat up women and children. His wife had showed her the bruises. But she didn't think he was referring to that.

He grinned. "You'll get it, too, but only if I get what I want."

Clearly, they were speaking about vastly different things. He didn't seem to be threatening her. In fact, it was more like he was trying to tempt her. But with what? He had nothing she wanted, except for what she had promised his wife.

"Don't you want to know what the cost will be?" he asked. "You can't get everything for free, my dear."

She had never gotten anything for free.

But rather than say those thoughts, she squared her shoulders and faced him as her real self—forthright and bold. "What—exactly—is the cost?"

Lord Liddican rocked back on his heels and tapped his meaty fingers together. He wasn't large by Scottish standards, but he was big enough to punch hard if he had a mind too.

"My lord—" Sadie began, but he cut her off.

"I want a son."

She blinked. "I believe you should speak to your wife about that."

He snorted. "That simpering stick of a woman? She gave me a girl. A tiny, weak, simpering girl, just like her."

Sadie took a step back, away from the shadows. "I cannot change that, my lord. Even you must know that."

"Don't be smart, wench," he snapped.

"Then start making sense," she shot back.

He narrowed his eyes. Worse, his fingers twitched. Did he think to hit her? He would find her a harder woman to beat than his untrained wife.

But far from being angry, he seemed pleased. "Yes," he mused. "You've got a strong spirit. You'll bear me a son."

She shook her head. "You mean to divorce your wife? She's done nothing to hurt you."

"She hasn't borne me a son! That's reason enough." Sadly, he was probably right about that, legally speaking.

"Then you think to marry me?" Sadie asked, honestly confused. "So I will bear you a son?"

He barked out a harsh laugh. It was loud enough that he might draw the attention of someone strolling through the garden. A hasty look didn't reveal anyone, but the shadows were thick. Meanwhile, the man calmed himself enough to answer her question.

"I'm not going to marry you. You're Scottish!" He made it sound like she was a dock rat.

"Then how will I give you a son?" The moment she asked the question, she knew the answer.

"You'll be my mistress, you daft wench," he said, not even bothering to lower his voice. "But your son—my son!—will be—"

"A bastard."

"True, but I'll acknowledge him. You may be Scottish, but your blood is sturdy. And I need a sturdy heir."

He needed a clomp about the head. "And what do I get for the privilege of bearing your son?" Her tone was sarcastic, but he seemed to take the question at face value, grinning as he leaned forward.

"You know what you want."

She did, and it wasn't to be his mistress. She'd grown up caring for her wild younger brothers after her father disappeared, then caring for her ailing mother who was a bitter shrew no one could please. And now she was in London because the head of her clan thought he was offering her a bright future by sending her to find a husband.

She'd found a cause instead. From the moment her name had been attached to—and cleared of—the horrid Mr. Carr's murder, the downtrodden women of the ton had come to her for help. They named her Lady Vengeance and asked her to save them. She did what she could for them, but she longed for a day when no one needed her aid, and she could live without anyone watching her.

She wanted a home of her own where no soul could tell her what to do. She wanted enough money to live quietly. Maybe she'd help out in a girls' school somewhere. She wanted to teach them to read, to understand numbers, and to not allow any man to touch them without consent.

But first she had to deal with Liddican. "What exactly do you think I want?"

"The thing I do. The thing that makes women scream."

She hadn't the foggiest idea what he meant.

He flicked his tongue at her. Up and down like a snake, and almost as fast. When she stared at him in revulsion, he squeezed her arm.

"Never mind, my dear. You'll know soon enough. And once my son is in your belly, you'll have everything you want."

He meant everything he wanted. "And if I don't?" she asked. "If I don't want this wonderful thing you do with your tongue?"

His gaze darkened and his mouth pulled wide in a leer. "Too late, my dear," he drawled.

"What?"

"Look about you. It's dark now, and we're far removed from the ball." He chuckled. "Your reputation is ruined."

"Really?" she gasped as she looked around her. It did appear quite deserted, but then, she knew it wasn't. "Actually, I believe it is your reputation, my lord, that is in danger."

Of all the men she'd taken on, Lord Liddican was one of the worst. He was young, large, and prone to temper tantrums when he didn't get his way. He might hold himself in check when around men he respected, but once in private, he turned his rancor on his wife.

It was his mother-in-law who had sought out Sadie. She was afraid for her daughter and grandchild. And now, Sadie stood in front of him, ready to mete out Lady Vengeance's punishment. Sadly, even this had to be explained to the stupid man.

"You're confused, Lord Liddican. You see, I'm ill and have retired for the evening, as any number of women will say. You, however, are well known for lying and cheating."

"I never—"

"Against women, my lord. You lie to us, you hit us, and you will cease that now."

His laugh was both loud and evil, sending ugly chills down her spine. But that only served to raise her Scottish ire. Scotland wasn't without its own abusive men, but it was the duty of all Scots to see that such villainy ended. Apparently, the English didn't have such restraints, so it was up to her.

"I am about to beat you bloody, my lord. This is not my preferred means of handling one such as ye, but sometimes a physical reminder is needed." She winced as her brogue slipped through. This wasn't a Scottish matter. This was a woman's matter.

"You?" he scoffed. "You beat me?" Now his laughter could be heard booming through the garden. Loud enough, in fact, for several ladies to step out of the shadows.

These women were her friends. They slid into view, each carrying a weapon of sorts. They looked ridiculous, brandishing small knives or heavy rocks. One ancient matron pulled out a dueling pistol in shaking hands. But their faces were set in angry lines as every one squared off with Lord Liddican.

He looked around him with open scorn. "You are all being ridiculous! Go back inside before you hurt yourselves."

Sadie happened to agree with him. Her friends couldn't do much damage to anyone but themselves. Still, it warmed her heart that these ladies would come to her aid, and she would make sure none of them regretted helping.

She squared off with the man, making sure the ladies stayed behind her while she trapped him between a tall hedge and an oak tree. "You are outnumbered, my lord. Now heed my words. Go home. Go back to your county seat and let your wife and child visit with her mother forever. Because this I swear, she is never going back to you."

"Why you filthy Scottish whore! She is my wife, and she will go where I say. And you—"

He barreled toward her. He was not a quick man, but size had its advantages. Fortunately, Sadie had grown up with brothers and knew what to do. But before he could get close to her, a figure stepped out from behind the oak.

A man.

A large man who moved surprisingly fast as he threw a single fist at Lord Liddican's face. The bastard's head snapped back, and he dropped hard onto the ground.

Sadie gasped. She hadn't even seen the stranger arrive. She ought to have been more aware. And damn it, what if Lord Liddican were dead? She might be able to escape one accusation of murder, but not two!

Fortunately, she was lucky, or the unknown man had dealt his blow carefully. Lord Liddican was flat on his backside, but he wasn't dead. He wasn't even unconscious as he maneuvered up onto his elbows, murder in his eyes.

Meanwhile, Sadie took a step to the side, hoping to see more of the newcomer's face. But all she could see were broad shoulders and an impressive expanse of back. With little room, she had to content herself with a look at Lord Liddican's furious expression while the intruder held up a single large hand.

"You seem to have gotten a great many people angry, Eddie. Not just these ladies, but the Prince Regent himself."

That voice. She knew that voice, but it couldn't be him. Not the one man who had humiliated her in front of her guardian. True, he had saved her from a murder charge, but he had done so in the most dismissive, arrogant, obnoxious way possible. It couldn't possibly be him here now, interrupting her attempt to save a woman from a disastrous marriage.

Except that voice sounded so familiar…

Meanwhile, Liddican was regaining his wits. "I have nothing to do with Prinny!"

"That was once true," the intruder said. "But now you've sold your vote to Lord Parisham. Prinny was most unhappy about that." He shrugged. "Unhappy enough that I was sent to speak candidly with you. So I followed you here and what do I find? You and a bevy of very unhappy ladies."

Liddican's mouth gaped open. "How could Prinny know?" He swallowed that train of thought as he maneuvered to his feet. Personally, Sadie wouldn't have allowed that, but the man in front of her gave the bastard enough room. And as much as she hated it, she had to appreciate the skill of a man who could walk into a mess and immediately take control of the situation.

"Parisham bragged about it. He all but wrote it in the newspaper."

Lord Liddican flushed dark. "He cheated me! He cheated at dice and then gave me no choice!"

"I don't really care," the intruder interrupted. "You're going to vote as you promised Prinny." He leaned forward. "It is the right vote, you know. It is best for the country—"

"But I can't! He'll beggar me!"

" You beggared you."

"But he'll say things about me. Things that aren't true!"

The man sighed as if he was tired of the whole situation. Truth be told, he wasn't the only one. "Let me make this simple, Eddie. I've bought out your debts—the ones to your tailor, your valet, your bootmaker, and even your cook. You will vote as you promised Prinny or I will send you to debtor's prison."

Well done. She was impressed.

Lord Liddican gaped at the intruder. "You can't do that!" he rasped, though Sadie could see that his face had gone slick with sweat.

"I can and I have, Eddie. Now go home and think of a way to get back into Prinny's good graces. Otherwise, you'll have to learn to make friends in prison."

Liddican growled like a feral dog. "Why you—"

"Don't finish that thought. There's no need to be impolite in front of all these ladies." He made an expansive gesture to where the women had been. He didn't realize many of them had melted back to the ballroom.

Meanwhile, Sadie finally stepped around the impressive man. "I don't care about any vote," she said. "We want his wife free of him."

"Ah yes," the stranger said. "Does she want a divorce?"

Sadie shook her head, trying to use the motion to see his face. He remained frustratingly in shadow. "She's afraid of the scandal, but she never wants to see him again."

"And you, I presume, were going to see that done?" He turned slightly, and she caught sight of a white cheek, a broad forehead, and a lock of curly hair. All surprisingly handsome and yet still his identity eluded her. At least, she hoped it eluded her. "Why would you risk yourself on him?"

"I'm not risking for him," she huffed. "It's for her. Because there were no men ," she sneered the word, "to see him controlled."

"Well," he drawled. "I am here now. I shall see to his wife's safety."

Liddican straightened with burning eyes. "No man controls me."

"Except your king, your prince, and the holder of your debts." The stranger pointed a thumb at himself. "You have a choice of obeying…or you can go to debtor's prison." Then he turned to address the remaining women. "Now if you ladies will allow me, I should like to escort you back to the ballroom." Only they'd all left.

Meanwhile, Sadie knew Liddican's measure, and was ready when the man lunged forward. He made no sound, but his attack was real.

So was the stranger's.

She and the man hit Liddican at the exact same moment—her in the jaw, him on the chest. The result was that the idiot went down flat, sprawled against the oak tree as if sleeping.

"Nice punch," she said, meaning it.

"Damn," said the stranger. "I hadn't meant to knock him unconscious."

"Speak for yourself," she quipped. "I am very pleased with the result."

"The business of the Crown requires subtlety."

"I might have broken his jaw," she said as she leaned over Liddican. "He won't be able to speak. That's subtle."

"Well," he said in an equally matched drawl. "For you, it would be."

Finally, the light from the nearest garden torch caught his face and she saw everything she'd seen before—broad shoulders, rugged jaw, a rakish confidence.

It was just as she feared. He was the man who had plagued and saved her two seasons ago. His name was Lord Heath, he worked for the Prince Regent himself, and he had delighted in telling her exactly what he thought of her.

And while she was sorting through her churning emotions, he began to smirk.

"Didn't recognize me until now? I'm hurt. But you, Miss Allen, are recognizable everywhere. And living up to your reputation as a Scottish idiot."

Which is when, sadly, she lost her temper and punched him straight in the face.