Wicked Designs (The League of Rogues) (6 page)

This room was different than the rest of the house. It felt more intimate and oddly rustic given the tall, wide windows that covered the wall opposite the sideboard. A wealth of Forsythia shrubs reached halfway up each one, the vivid yellow a bright contrast against the tangling emerald ivy that laced the windows’ edges. Emily felt as though she had walked into an enchanted world surrounded by flowers.

Rather than seem out of place, Godric ruled his lands like a god of nature. He did not swagger. Rather, his stride was graceful, almost feline, when he led her into the dining room.

Emily suffered a strange moment of pride at the thought that a man like him had offered her to join him in bed. He’d slept with scores of women, that’s what rakes did, but still…he’d declared his interest in her. As foolish as it was, she relished being wanted, until she reminded herself that she must stand strong against him and his merry band of rogues.

On the sideboard behind the table someone had spread out an array of fruits, ham, beef and eggs. Three men sat near one end of the table. A handsome man with red hair and hazel eyes read a newspaper and offered a calculated smile as Emily and Godric entered.

She glanced down at herself and realized how wrinkled her dress had become. Did he know that just outside the door, Godric had tickled her into submission? It still upset her that his means at subduing her were so effective.

The man holding the paper rose along with the other two men. They all bowed politely when Godric pressed her down into a seat across from the man who resumed his perusal of
The Morning Post
. Godric’s hands lingered heavily on her shoulders, the pressure a clear message to keep her bottom planted in her chair or suffer the consequences.

The red-haired man set his paper down and held a rack of toast out to her. “Good morning, Miss Parr. Did you sleep well?” Emily kept her head declined as she took a piece, her hand shaking as she set it on her plate. The three men exchanged glances. A silent conversation hummed in the air between them.

“Yes, thank you. I slept quite well.”

Emily became increasingly self-conscious of the fact she sat in a room alone with four powerful lords. The pale blond man on her right was Lord Ashton Lennox, a wealthy baron. She’d caught a glimpse of him two nights before, at her first come out when Anne Chessley had pointed to him. He’d been near the refreshments, drinking a glass of wine and speaking to a lovely young lady, a girl whose father was one of the owners of Drummond’s Bank.

Godric chose the seat on her left, while the third man, Cedric, sat down next to the man with the paper. The seating arrangements had her entirely boxed in.

Her hands fisted in her lap.

Breathe, Emily. Breathe
. She drew in the scented air and forced her body into calmness. If she couldn’t flee the room, she would learn as much about her captors as she could. “Pardon me, but are you the Marquess of Rochester or the Earl of Lonsdale?” she asked quietly of the fourth man.

He raised a brow.

Emily blushed as all eyes descended upon her.

“Last night I heard the names: The Duke of Essex and Viscount Sheridan. Since I’m acquainted with Miss Chessley, I’ve heard those names in connection with three more: the Marquess of Rochester; the Earl of Lonsdale; and Baron Lennox. I apologize if I was mistaken in my assumption,” she said hastily, but the man’s hazel eyes twinkled.

“Don’t apologize, Miss Parr, you are quite right. I am the Marquess of Rochester Please address me as Lucien. None of us are overly fond of titles, especially in the company of such a lovely lady. That gentleman over there is Baron Lennox.” Lucien pointed to the man who had cornered her by the coach the night before. “Lonsdale has yet to grace us with his presence. Speaking of which, Ash, would you go and rouse him? Best to get him up and walking, or last night’s port will make him disagreeable the rest of the day.”

Ashton smiled pleasantly at Emily before he departed. There was something kind in the man’s face, a sympathetic look to his bright blue eyes that gave her a flash of hope. However, she couldn’t help but wonder why he needed to wake Charles when a servant could have done so.

“You’re a friend of Anne Chessley’s?” Cedric asked.

“Yes. She’s been so kind to me since I moved to London, my lord.”

“Oh, I insist you call me Cedric. I can’t stand that ‘lord’ nonsense. Now, tell me, does she mention me often?” He waggled his eyebrows and Emily almost grinned.
This is the man who drugged you, don’t forget.

Setting aside Godric’s arrogance and veiled threats, the others did not
seem
all that villainous. But she knew of their reputations thanks to
The
Quizzing Glass Gazette
. They’d willingly gone along with Godric’s scheme to abduct her. Yet she felt safer in their presence than with a man like Blankenship. Perhaps it was because they were all naturally charming. A quality that no doubt furthered their schemes to ruin women all over London.

It was obvious that Godric was in charge, but it seemed that the other men did not bow to him in every decision. With some persuasion, perhaps a tear or two and begging, she could get the others to see what Godric had done was wrong and she should be set free. Even rogues had to have hearts…didn’t they?

Lucien returned to his newspaper. “By the way, Godric,
The
Gazette
mentioned our time in Covent Garden last week.”

“Oh? I am almost afraid to ask how our evening was relayed.” Godric collected the tray of coffee and hot chocolate from the sideboard. Emily watched him pour his coffee, taking it black. Lucien flicked his eyes back to the paper, scanning some article. “They heard about the incident with the stolen swans…but they got the number of ladies involved wrong. Underestimated our appeal to the fairer sex again.”

The men at the table all laughed at whatever antics they had been up to. Emily was certain she didn’t want to know the details. Whatever swans, ladies and Covent Garden had in common was likely to shock her.

Undeterred by this change in topic, Cedric once more demanded to know of Anne’s interest in him.

“Anne has certainly mentioned you quite often.” It was true. Anne complained constantly about Cedric, but Emily knew she rather liked the attention.

Cedric reached for the plate of fruit. “What does she say?”

“You can’t expect me to break the vows of friendship?” she asked, widening her eyes in mock innocence.

“Expect? Miss Parr, I quite demand it.”

Emily imagined no one ever refused Cedric anything.

Rather than answer him immediately, she looked back to Godric. She justified her fascination by telling herself he was like a wolf. One must always keep an eye on the creature that could do one the most harm.

Godric poured a cup of chocolate for her. Her stomach rumbled at the dark liquid that swirled in her cup. He took a tiny porcelain pot and opened it to pinch at the ground cinnamon, which he sprinkled on top. It was perhaps the strangest and sweetest gesture a man had ever made for her, as though seeing to her needs and pleasures were a natural instinct.

Emily turned back to Cedric, who still waited for an answer.

“Your attentions on Anne have been duly noted.”

“So I’m successful in my pursuit?”

“I would not go so far as to say that, but she is thankful that your attentiveness has discouraged others.”

“In other words,” Lucien chimed in, “she’d rather fight you off than half the men in London.”

A little laugh escaped Emily, and Lucien winked. She’d been under the impression he’d been reading his newspaper, and she decided she liked him. Villain or not, she admired his humor.

The thought stopped her cold. She didn’t
want
to like Lucien, nor did she want her only moments of joy in this life to be with the men who had abducted her.

“At least I’m not resigned to bachelorhood, like someone I know.” Cedric whipped his head pointedly in Lucien’s direction. “I am simply very selective.”

Godric took Emily’s plate and filled it with a little bit of everything before he sat down and replaced it before her.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” she said demurely.

“Oh, come now, if you call Cedric by his name you must call me Godric.” The seductive glint in his eyes flushed her with heat. How could this be the same man that minutes ago growled at her and pulled her fully beneath him? Emily’s face flamed with embarrassment, but no one noticed.

The Marquess then chimed in. “And call me Lucien. I don’t like to ‘lord’ myself over my new friends.”

“Perish the thought.” Ashton sniggered as he and Charles walked in. Charles’s face was drawn with weariness, but he was still as handsome as the others with his golden hair and gray eyes.

“Morning, all,” Charles mumbled as he plopped down on Godric’s other side.

A flicker of concern washed through Emily as she took in the man’s appearance. His clothes were immaculate, his tan breeches snug on his muscled thighs, and his silver satin vest sparkled faintly in the morning sun. But his sleep-tousled hair was unkempt, the wild halo of a rogue angel about his brow. Strain laced his eyes and his voice sounded rough, like a man who’d screamed until hoarse. Something wasn’t right about this…she could sense it.

The room seemed filled with companionship, and an air of intimacy between them that struck Emily as beautiful in the way only true friendships could be. For a brief moment she forgot the dangerous circumstances that brought her here and lost herself in the shared smiles and teasing banter of the rogues.

What would it be like to be counted among their friends? As their captive, she was very alone, like a hungry dog that looked through a butcher’s window on a winter’s night. The chill of this position stung deep inside her soul. Emily ducked her head and took a bite of her breakfast.

In the span of a few short minutes, she’d come to understand them better. They were reasonable men, even if they had wickedly seductive tendencies where women were concerned. If she approached them with logic, and argued her case for freedom…

Maybe if I tell Godric I could produce Uncle Albert’s account books, he could take it up with the magistrate
. Then justice would be meted out and she could go back to London.

“Coffee, Charles?” Before the man answered, Godric poured him a cup.

“Can someone pass the toast?” Charles asked.

Cedric slid the toast rack in his direction. Emily at first only nibbled on her food, but soon hunger overtook her, and she dug into her well laden plate.

Emily discovered what was so oddly comforting about this meal. The five men were so at ease with one another. They were almost like a family. What could have drawn these five men together so?

Charles spread liberal amounts of raspberry jam on his toast, gleeful as a boy stealing cherry tarts from the kitchen.

“Charles, you had better eat more than just toast. Have some fruit.” Ashton slid the tray of pears, apples and plums past Emily and Godric.

“Fine, fine.”

It amused Emily to watch them mother Charles. Her tiny smile caught Charles’s attention.

“I expected them all to fret over you, Miss Parr, allowing me to escape their coddling for a few days, but you’ve failed me,” he teased. “Shame on you.” The earl’s eyes were a sharp grey, clear and deep in their intensity.

Emily’s cheeks flamed when Charles’s gaze slid along her body.

Lucien’s voice broke the tension that settled because of Charles’s wandering gaze. “Would you like us to fret over you, Miss Parr? Perhaps that ought to be your job, Charles.” Lucien ducked behind his newspaper, narrowly avoiding sliver of pear that looked suspiciously like the one Charles had begun to eat.

“Please, I would have no one fret over me,” said Emily

“Well, fret we shall, Miss Parr, because I fear you will attempt a third escape,” Godric said.

Emily returned her attention to Godric. She had begun to appreciate the other men and enjoy their company, circumstances aside. Godric however… The man deserved another well placed slap. It was just her luck that marriage to him would mitigate her ruination, assuming she could even convince him to such a course of action. She narrowed her gaze and pursed her lips. To her sheer frustration, the duke laughed.

Ashton spoke up, his blue eyes fixed on her. “Third? As in, she tried a second time?”

Emily stared down at her plate. She was to be mocked now? The merriment that came at her expense spurred them on.

“She tried to escape through my bedchamber, practically stole the keys right off my wrist.” He jangled the keys she’d fought for over the table. Emily nearly sagged in relief when Godric failed to mention that he’d tackled her to the floor in the hallway outside.

Charles smirked into his coffee cup. “Bet you woke him right up doing that.”

Godric pretended to stretch and thumped Charles soundly on the back. He spilled his coffee, and his eyes cast daggers at Godric.

“Manners, Charles, manners,” Ashton intoned in a schoolmaster’s voice. “Now, Miss Parr, could we beseech you to refrain from any further attempts at escape? I assume you know why you were brought here, and that leaving now would only create more scandal. Best to ride out the storm and let Godric see to your needs while you remain here.”

Emily ground her teeth in frustration. The men had pretended to use reason and good sense in taking her and would likely not listen to her pleas.
Abandon my original plan of persuasion, and prepare for war
, she thought, then raised her chin. “I apologize, Lord Lennox, but it is my duty to escape your clutches and return to my uncle.” There, she’d done it. Whatever might come, she had to free herself from Godric and his friends.