Chapter Five

December 16, 1818

Rogue’s Arcade Club

Mayfair, London

What the hell has happened to my life?

By the time Cornelius wandered into a private room at the Rogue’s Arcade, he’d already downed two servings of brandy, but as soon as he saw familiar faces of some friends, his mood instantly elevated.

“You look like a dog’s breakfast, Timelbury.” This from the Earl of St. Vincent. He was one of the founding members of the club, but he was rarely seen at the place anymore, at least while Cornelius was in residence. “Hard night?”

“You could say that.” He loosened the knot of his cravat, for even though there was some propriety observed at the club, in a private room, he felt a bit more relaxed. When he dropped heavily into a chair around the large, round table that could easily fit eight or more, he sighed and glanced about at the other men that had joined them.

Viscount Aldren was there, very charming and suave with his dark looks. Surprisingly, the Earl of Baselton was also in attendance. He was a bit of a recluse—not as bad as the Duke of Broadmoor—but only just. The older man with silver threading through his blond hair seemed at ease and relaxed as he chatted with the Viscount of Winteringham. That man’s red hair gleamed beneath the candlelight since the private room was on the interior with no windows to let in the natural afternoon light.

St. Vincent snorted. “Did you wish to expand on why you aren’t as put together as usual, or did you want us to extract it from you, piece by piece?” He took a sip of his brandy. “Grant me this boon, if you please, as a distraction. My infant has colic, and I need something to take my mind off the constant crying.”

“Ah. I hope this stage of life goes quickly for you and your wife.” Honestly, Cornelius knew next to nothing about babies or raising children, but as was the course of things with his fellow rogues, they had taken to childrearing with aplomb, and instead of handing off the young ones to servants or wet nurses, they were intimately invested in all stages of a young child’s care.

“We shall see, but thank you.” The earl nodded. “It’s the worry that does a man in. That, and the lack of sleep.”

At that point, every man at the table rested their gazes on Cornelius, but it was Winteringham that answered him.

“I well remember those days.” Currently, the man had a seven-year-old son, and in addition to being recently wed for the second time, Cornelius wouldn’t put it past the man to immediately begin filling his nursery, for he was a man who wildly enjoyed being a father as well as a husband. “They will pass, just as every phase does. You might not enjoy it now, but you will remember this time with fondness.” Then he raised an eyebrow. “However, we all know Timelbury has not entered with particular part of his life yet, so what has you at sixes and sevens?”

“Uh…” He tugged on the knot of his cravat again. It was disconcerting to have his brothers-in-arms staring at him, but he knew deep down they would help him if they could, and he had been on that side of the table many times so to speak. This was what friends did. “I believe I made the stupidest decision of my life yesterday.”

Good-natured chuckles went around the table.

Baselton grinned. “Do you think we all haven’t? I’d rather like to say that sometimes what our existence needs is a wrong decision to push us onto the path fate has for us.”

“This is true,” St. Vincent said with a nod. “God, how true. Why, when I met the woman who is now my wife, it was under risqué circumstances.”

Aldren held up a hand. “Spare us. We don’t need another recount of the story of how she was tied to a bed.” As another round of laughter went around the table, he grinned. “However, I will say that horrible decisions tend to forge us into the men we need to be, for whatever reason.”

“Perhaps.” Slowly, Cornelius nodded. Perhaps what he’d done wasn’t as bad as he feared. “Well, yesterday, a diamond and pearl bracelet I’d given to my aunt went missing. Around the same time, a young lady had come by canvassing for her charity. She’d admired the piece.”

Winteringham chuckled. “And you jumped to the conclusion that she must have stolen it.” That wasn’t a question.

“Yes.” Heat sneaked up the back of his neck.

Aldren wouldn’t let up. “Was she attractive?”

He shrugged. “I suppose. Outside of her blonde-brown hair, I didn’t notice, for I was in a bit of pique when I tracked her through Mayfair and showed up at her home.”

The laughter turned to groans.

“What happened then?” Baselton asked with interest in his expression.

“We argued a bit, and during that time, she told me of all the ills currently in her life, which included taking care of her father who is losing his faculties. I guess it was loud enough to summon her father down, and that was when I apparently went insane.”

Aldren snickered. “Meaning?”

“Meaning that when her father mistook me for a beau and went on about how much relieved he was to see her future settled, I…” He forced a swallow into his suddenly dry throat. “I told the man that she and I had just become engaged.”

At least two of the men laughed.

However, it was Winteringham who regarded him with compassion and sympathy in his eyes. “I know exactly why you were prompted to do such a thing.” After a sip of brandy, he continued. “Sometimes, when we meet a woman, there is that note of fragileness to them, a hint of vulnerability of what or why we have no idea. We can’t help but want to protect them even if we don’t know them well.”

“That’s not it at all.” Cornelius frowned. “I’m convinced Miss Marchington stole my aunt’s bracelet. I want it back, so I’m going to make a nuisance of myself every day in her company until she’s so sick of me she returns it.”

“How the hell can you be so na?ve, Timelbury?” St. Vincent asked on the heels of a laugh.

“I quite agree,” Aldren added with a shake of his head. “You might believe you’ll hound her until the bracelet is found, but the fly in the ointment, Timelbury, will be the spending of the time with her. Once you start squiring a woman about Town, do activities and visits together, come to know her family, things will change for you.”

“From the accounts, her father is all she has on this earth.”

“Even worse for you then, because she’ll latch on and crave the companionship.”

Cornelius shook his head, but he couldn’t quite evict her blue eyes from his mind. “I doubt that. There is one mission only and that’s that.”

Another round of laughter went about the table.

Winteringham raised an eyebrow. “One more question. Have you kissed her yet?”

The heat on the back of his neck continued. Not for worlds would he tell them they’d almost had to kiss in the drawing room at her father’s behest before Miss Marchington had made an excuse about mistletoe. “Yes, but merely to shut her up. She’s got quite the tart mouth, and she went on and on, so I—”

Additional laughter interrupted him.

Amusement danced in St. Vincent’s eyes. “One thing is certain, then. You’ll soon be in the thick of it.”

Winteringham nodded. “Just promise us you won’t hurt her or trifle with her feelings. Regardless of if she’s a thief, she’s still a woman who is apparently under a good bit of strain.” He held Cornelius’ gaze. “It’s difficult to watch a parent decline in front of our eyes, or anyone for that matter, and if he was in the military at one point, you at least have that in common with him.”

“I understand that, but this isn’t a real engagement. I feel nothing for her nor she for me. Hell, I didn’t even properly ask her. I just said we were engaged for her father’s benefit.” Did the protest matter? “Surely he can’t remain in the present for much longer, then we can break the betrothal.”

Winteringham snorted. “And in the meantime? You shall have to do right by her and treat her as a doting fiancé would. A connection will no doubt form. At least, it did for me even if my circumstances and mine are slightly different.”

“Well, damn.” When he’d kissed her and shortly before she’d slapped him, there had been a jolt of feeling, a hint of attraction, but it had been a fleeting affair. Perhaps he’d misinterpreted it. Yet for the first time he admitted to himself the sham engagement might not have been a good idea, for there was bound to be some collateral damage.

And he didn’t want to be that personally.

“Right.” Cornelius nodded. “I promise not to hurt her. Besides, I’m not looking to offer my heart to any woman again after what happened last time.” When a footman came into the room, Cornelius declined another round. “I need to get home. My campaign for finding that damned bracelet starts tomorrow.”

St. Vincent chuckled. “I wish you luck. In both endeavors. Women have a way of burrowing beneath our skin when we least expect it.”

“But take heart, Timelbury,” Baselton said with a grin. “It’s been ages since you’ve had to search for a stolen piece of jewelry. Enjoy the adventure. Might just put light into your Christmastide season.”

“And make sure you come back and keep us updated!” Aldren called as Cornelius left the room.

Wanting to take in the air, Cornelius decided to walk through Mayfair and planned to hire a cab near Piccadilly, for he needed to clear his head.

What was he to do about Miss Marchington? Hell, he hadn’t called her by her Christian name yet, and she? Well, she’d made use of his yesterday when talking to her father with him present. Of course, that was possibly because they were supposed to be engaged…

It was a conundrum, and if they were truly engaged, at least for a bit, he should probably call on her.

As soon as he reached an alley between buildings, someone jumped out at him, caught him with a shoulder to the chest, and they both went sprawling to the cold ground.

“What the devil?” Shoving the attacker off him, he scrambled to his feet. “Who are you?”

“That doesn’t matter. I am but an emissary.” The stranger got off a punch that landed on Cornelius’ chin and sent him staggering backward.

“For whom?” He delivered an uppercut to the other man’s cheek that spun him about. “Tell me!” But deep down, he knew.

They exchanged a few more blows before the man of indeterminate height and build sent Cornelius sailing onto the ground, temporarily stunned and lying on his back.

“Tell your friends in the Rogue’s Arcade that punishment and retribution is coming soon.” He wiped at the blood seeping from his broken nose. “Lady Stover will make certain it’s swift and sure… and deadly.”

So then his hunch had been correct. This man worked for the countess.

“My brothers-in-arms can take care of themselves.” Cornelius wiped at the sweat on his brow with the sleeve of his greatcoat. “I rather doubt Lady Stover will be successful. Hasn’t she tried numerous times to bring us down but hasn’t succeeded?”

“That is your opinion.”

“No, it is actually facts.”

The other man threw him a withering glance. “It isn’t just about the rogues who are in Lady Stover’s sights. It is also their families and everyone each man cares about.” When he grinned, blood stained some of his teeth. “That includes your new fiancée, Lord Timelbury.”

“What?” Shock slammed into his chest.

The man drew himself up to his full height and then drilled a gloved fingertip into Cornelius’ chest. “It would be a shame if you were made a widower before you were even a groom, hmm?”

“I…” How the devil could Lady Stover and her minions have known that? The engagement only happened yesterday. “Leave Miss Marchington alone, or there will be hell to pay.”

Was there a spy in the club? If so, the Duke of Edenthorpe would be alternately heartbroken and livid.

“Don’t think to dictate anything to us, Lord Timelbury.” The man struck out and caught Cornelius in the belly, which made him double over in pain. “While the men of the Rogue’s Arcade have been distracted by women and nurseries, Lady Stover has been building her organization. We are poised to take away everything you work for and defend.” He reached out, and since the top hat was nowhere to be seen, grabbed a handful of Cornelius’ hair and jerked his head upward. “And when we finally take out every last one of you, she will own London. There will be no one left to stop her.”

As he gasped for breath, Cornelius straightened his posture. “What the devil does she want to rule London for? And is she silly or stupid to do so right under Prinny’s nose?”

“You will discover that in due time.” Then, he vanished down the alley as quickly as he’d come, leaving Cornelius standing alone on the pavement, frowning into the shadowed space.

After he retrieved his top hat and then jammed it on his head, he glanced about but the handful of witnesses looked away and continued on their way. With a scowl and shoulders hunched into the December breeze, by the time he reached the Piccadilly area, both anger and annoyance churned through his chest.

What was the world coming to when a man was attacked, and the people in charge allowed it to happen to begin with?

By the time he returned home, his body throbbed with pain, but for the moment, he ignored that in favor of giving into the cold worry circling through his gut.

His butler stood waiting in the entry hall for his outer clothing. “Was there an issue at the club this afternoon, my lord?”

“Not at the club, but directly related to it.” Even as he spoke, the hurting parts of his body made themselves known. “I was attacked by an unknown assailant.”

“Do you want me to send a footman for a constable?”

“Not quite.” He shoved the fingers of one hand through his hair. “I will, however, want a hot bath to soothe the bruises, as well as a healing balm.”

“Of course, my lord. I shall have those things ordered immediately.”

“Thank you.” He nodded. “I will also need a footman at the ready. After I dash off a missive, he will need to deliver it to the Duke of Edenthorpe’s home.”

“I’ll send John to your study.”

With a nod, Cornelius went directly there from the entry hall. As soon as he seated himself behind his desk, he pulled a piece of stationery toward him then dipped a pen nub into an inkwell. Edenthorpe needed to know what had happened to him and what his assailant had told him. He also put forth the thought that there might be a dissenter within the club’s ranks. And finally, in the missive, he made it a point to tell the duke there was a creditable threat thrown down regarding the rogues’ families and wives.

Something must be done. Hopefully, Edenthorpe would call a council of war so that every member of the club could go under intense scrutiny as well as discuss what to do in the immediate future. As soon as he folded the letter and slipped it into an envelope, the footman arrived at the door.

“Ah, John.” Cornelius stood and was immediately obligated to stifle a groan, for now that he was home, his bruises were quite evident. “Take this to the Duke of Edenthorpe’s home, and don’t put it into anyone’s hand but his. No exceptions. If he is not at home, chase him down. It is important.” Quickly putting a glob of wax on the back, he set his seal into it, and then gave the letter to the waiting man. “And post haste. No dawdling.”

“I understand, my lord. You can count on me.” He gingerly took the envelope and then left the room.

Damn it all to hell!

This new threat changed everything. There was no chance that he would willingly break the faux engagement any time soon because he now had an obligation to protect Miss Marchington. None of this was her fault. He’d simply hadn’t wanted her father to find further disappointment in the woman. It didn’t matter that he knew her not at all. She didn’t deserve to be thrust into danger because of an arbitrary decision on his part.

Even if she had stolen the bracelet, she needed him and his protection.