Escaping the Earl

The League of Rogues - Book 16

Lauren Smith

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2021 by Lauren Smith

The League of Rogues is a federally registered trademark.

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ISBN: 978-1-952063-98-5 (e-book edition)

ISBN: 978-1-952063-99-2 (trade paperback edition)

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

The Shadows of Stormclyffe Hall

Jane and Bastian Graphic Art

Chapter 1

About the Author

1

Excerpt from the Quizzing Glass Gazette, September 21, 1821, the Lady Society column:

It has come to the attention of Lady Society that a new titled peer has arrived in London. Ladies, hearken to my words. He is thirty years of age, unmarried, without any mistresses—at least from what this clever listener can glean—and fabulously wealthy. He is also quite handsome, with eyes the color of pale amber and hair as black as a peregrine falcon’s wings. Which is fitting, given his name . . .

What is perhaps most surprising is that this gentleman is simply that: a gentleman. It has been a while since I have been witness to a man with charm and grace and selflessness, yet without a wicked bone in his body. Perhaps it is because he never expected to become an earl? If you are husband hunting, seek out this man before some other clever young lady does.

“Something simply must be done about that girl.”

The hushed, hateful whispers echoed up the stairs to where Sabrina Talleyrand was sitting. She tucked her knees up to her chin as she strained to hear the response from the other person below.

“Yes, yes, Prudence, I know. But we couldn’t afford to send her to London for the season when she first came of age, and now she’s twenty-two. It’s too late for her to be considered for any decent match.” Her brother, Jereym, let out a long-suffering sigh.

Prudence, Jereym’s wife and Sabrina’s sister-in-law, huffed. “She’s costly. We are barely making ends meet as it is. We can no longer afford to keep her. You must find a way to marry her off, preferably to someone with deep pockets who will pay off our debts.”

“Well, I have good news on that front,” Jereym said. “I met a man today at my club. He said he would be interested in meeting her this afternoon, but he’s rather a selective man. She may not be up to scratch.”

“Nonsense. She’s pretty enough—at least to get a man leg-shackled and breed a brat through her.”

Prudence’s cold tone cut Sabrina deeply. How could they speak so carelessly, so callously, of her future? She sniffled as tears began to trail down her cheeks.

“When will this gentleman be here, Jereym?”

“Sometime this afternoon. Have a tea service ready, and tell my sister to make herself presentable.”

Sabrina stood as she heard the hushed whispers grow louder as Jereym and Prudence moved toward the stairs. It took a moment to wrestle her emotions down and swallow the lump in her throat. She had to buy herself some time to figure out what to do. She wiped her eyes and rushed back to her room. She attempted to busy herself at her small writing desk as Prudence knocked on her door. The last thing she needed was Prudence discovering that she’d become adept at eavesdropping.

“Sabrina, my dear?” Her tone was sickly sweet.

“Yes, Prudence? Do come in.”

Her sister-in-law was a tall woman with a willowy figure and china-blue eyes. She would have been pretty if she smiled more and frowned less, but ever since Jereym had married her, Sabrina had rarely seen Prudence in a good mood.

“Oh, Sabrina, good morning.” The little mobcap Prudence wore seemed to make her look far older than her twenty-five years. Sabrina vowed she would never wear a cap like that, even if she grew to be ninety.

“Good morning.” Sabrina waited, praying her eyes weren’t still red.

“Your brother has met someone in London who is most anxious to meet you. I’m told he’s quite handsome, and quite wealthy too. He is coming to visit us today.” Prudence plucked a bit of invisible dust from the puffed sleeve of her pink-and-white striped gown. “I believe you should wear your best gown, the orange one.”

That wasn’t Sabrina’s best gown, but Prudence’s poor fashion sense was a good thing in this instance, because Sabrina had no desire to look good for this man. If Jereym had found him at his club, that did not speak highly of him. Sabrina loved her brother, but she did not like him very much.

After their parents had died, Jereym had become her guardian, but Jereym could barely look out for himself, let alone her. Had it been possible, Sabrina would have left this house and gone out into the world to take care of herself, but there were so few useful skills she possessed. Her poor sewing skills left dreams of millinery shops and seamstress positions out of the question. And she could not entertain thoughts of those professions she could perform, especially those of a more degrading nature.

“Thank you, Prudence. I will change and come downstairs to wait.”

“Good, good.” Prudence left her, a smug smile twisted on her mouth as she exited the small bedchamber.

Sabrina went to her armoire and stroked her hands along the peeling painted wood. It was one of the last pieces of furniture her brother hadn’t sold to pay off his debts. Their drawing room looked passable, as was Jereym’s bedchamber, of course, but the rest of their little cottage was in poor shape. Most of the decent silver and furniture had been sold years ago.

The panels on the armoire were decorated with wildflowers, ones her mother had painted when Sabrina was a child. She traced her fingertips over the snowdrops, dog roses, cornflowers, and bluebells. Their mother had fallen ill a year after their father had died on a hunting trip. Jereym had been a young man then, barely twenty, and she but a girl, and it had changed everything. He had married Prudence and had hoped his new wife’s small bit of wealth would sustain them, but Jereym’s love of fine clothes and gambling tables had left the three of them worse off than they’d hoped to be. Rather than take out her frustrations with their situation on Jereym, Prudence targeted Sabrina instead.

Sabrina removed the orange gown from the armoire and winced at its blinding color. It was one of Prudence’s castoffs. The style was a bit out of date, and the hem needed to be mended. Sabrina had mended it four times already, but her poor sewing skills always left the gown in need of further repairs.

“Miss?” Their single housemaid, Louisa, came into the room. “The master said you might need some help?”

“Oh, yes, thank you.” Sabrina was glad to have help as she changed out of her pale-blue muslin gown and into the orange silk day gown. She combed her hair with Louisa’s help until it was pulled up and pinned in place. Her dark hair and brown eyes did look all right with the gown after all, but that actually made Sabrina frown. She didn’t want to look appealing to whomever Jereym was bringing to meet her.

“Thank you, Louisa.” She dismissed the maid, who still had plenty of work to see to. It was one more thing that Sabrina wasn’t pleased about. They had been forced to dismiss all but a handful of their servants. It wasn’t because she liked to be waited upon hand and foot, but rather because most of the staff were friends, and seeing them leave to find work elsewhere had hurt. And those left behind had found their duties doubled. Louisa had stayed on, acting as an upstairs maid and housekeeper, and one footman had stayed, shouldering the responsibilities of the butler as well. They also still retained their cook and one gardener.

By the time Sabrina summoned the courage to go downstairs, she was sick to her stomach. The next few hours became a painful lesson in patience and perseverance as she sat in the drawing room trying to read.

It was all such nonsense. Sitting and waiting for a man to change her life, likely not for the better. She had a thousand other things she could be doing at that moment. She’d never been one to be idle, except when she was reading, which of late she had done a fair amount of. Before they’d lost most of their money, she’d baked bread and prepared other food in baskets for the local elderly neighbors and the poorer farmers nearby.

She’d even assisted the local schoolmaster in teaching some of the female children whose parents couldn’t afford to send them to school. Mr. Wilson had been kind enough to allow her the use of a separate room to teach the girls, and she did it without expectation of any payment. She believed in education for both boys and girls, and if she could offer her help, she would teach without charge.

“Master, you have a visitor,” the footman announced.

Jereym stood up, excitement clear in his eyes as he told the footman to show their visitor in. A tall man entered the drawing room a moment later. He was fair-haired, slender, and rather delicate for a man, but in a way that would make him rather attractive to some ladies.

Her brother puffed up with pride as he shook the man’s hand. “Simon, welcome. Please let me introduce you to my wife, Prudence, and my sister, Sabrina. Prudence, Sabrina, this is Simon Booker.”

“Welcome, Mr. Booker,” Prudence purred. “Do come in. We were just about to have some tea.” She reached for the silver bell beside her chair and rang it a little overzealously. Under other circumstances, Sabrina would have laughed, but not right then.

“Thank you for the warm welcome.” He sat down beside Sabrina on the settee, and she tried to scoot away from him. Her brother shot her a glare.

“Miss Talleyrand, your brother spoke highly of you, but he failed to tell me of your beauty.” Mr. Booker spoke with an eagerness that made her uneasy. The look in his eyes was unsettling, as though he were examining a horse he was anxious to buy. It was a possessive look that made her stomach turn.

“Oh, thank you.” Sabrina, wildly uncomfortable, still did not wish to be rude to this man. She was not the sort of woman to be ungracious, even when facing something detestable.

“I know it heartens a lady greatly to hear her looks spoken so highly of,” Mr. Booker said with a proud smile.

Sabrina fisted her skirts, nearly shredding the threadbare satin. He was admitting to giving her compliments just to put her in a good mood?

“So, Simon, how long will you be in this part of the country?” her brother asked.

“A few days, and then I must return to London.” But his gaze slid meaningfully to Sabrina, and she could picture her brother and this man at his club in London planning this very interaction.

“Oh, heavens, I just realized, I must tell our cook something very important about this evening’s meal.” Sabrina jumped to her feet, causing her brother and Mr. Booker to rise as well.

“I’m sure whatever it is, it’s not important at all,” Jereym said firmly.

“Oh, but it is. I shall return shortly. Please excuse me.” She ducked into the corridor and caught her breath at a sudden rush of panic at leaving. She’d thought for a moment her brother might try to stop her, but he hadn’t.

Sabrina rushed out of the house then and into the gardens behind the cottage as fast as she could without breaking into a run. There was no way she was going to sit there and endure more of that. Yes, that was the right word for the torture that visit would have been. She’d only made it halfway through the garden before she heard someone running after her. She turned and saw it was Mr. Booker.

“Drat,” she muttered as she slowed enough to let him catch up with her.

“Miss Talleyrand, I hope you don’t mind me joining you. It will give us a chance to get better acquainted if we are to . . .” He suddenly stopped speaking.

She stopped walking altogether. “If we are to what, sir?” she asked quietly.

“Well, you must be aware of my reason for being here. I am in need of a wife, and your brother assured me you would be most willing, given your financial situation.”

Sabrina closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Mr. Booker, we may indeed be facing difficulties, but I’m not prepared to marry you—or frankly anyone. Please understand I mean it as no insult. I simply don’t wish to marry.”

She actually would have loved to be married, but to a man who adored her for who she was and whom she felt the same way toward.

“Oh, I do understand. But I require an heir to continue my line, and you will do quite well giving me one.”

An heir? Was he serious? Surely not.

She tried to keep her temper reined in. “Sir, I’m not a broodmare.” She was not a woman prone to shouting or getting openly upset, but this man seemed to know just what to say to provoke her.

His face reddened. “I disagree. The most important thing a lady can offer is her breeding abilities.”

“I’m not a creature to breed, sir. That is the end of it.” She said this with such finality she hoped she truly had put an end to the matter.

Instead, the last of Mr. Booker’s civility vanished. “You will be my wife. You will bear me an heir; or else I will call in your brother’s debts. He owes me quite a lot of money, you see.”

For a moment, she simply stared at him, stunned. He was going to blackmail her?

“I do see, and he is the one indebted to you, not me.”

Mr. Booker grasped her arm tightly when she tried to walk away. “You are the form of payment I expect,” he warned. “I tried to be polite, but you are proving that you don’t deserve my best behavior.” He jerked her toward him and slammed his mouth over hers.

Sabrina froze for a heartbeat, then shoved him back and swung a balled fist. She hit him square in the jaw hard enough that he let go of her.

“Why, you little—”

Sabrina ran before she could hear what else he said. She sprinted into the woods behind the cottage. He didn’t come after her, but she didn’t dare stop running.

When she finally stopped, her lungs were burning, her eyes were blurry with tears, and her hair was streaming down in wild waves. She sagged against a tree and sank to the ground, shaking. Had she truly just been accosted by that man?

Sabrina waited at least an hour before making the walk back home, and she deeply regretted it when she did. Her brother was waiting for her.

“Where the devil have you been?” he snapped. “Mr. Booker waited for you for more than an hour, and when you didn’t return, he left here furious.”

“As he should. That man—for he is no gentleman—accosted me, Jereym. Against my wishes.”

Her brother looked momentarily uncertain before his gaze hardened. He’d once been such a handsome man, but living on the edge had made him age in the last few years.

“You have no idea of the position you have put me in. My wishes are what matter here, and they are to be obeyed. I owe that man quite a large sum of money. Now that he has seen you, he has made up his mind that he wants you. If I give you to him, I’ll settle my debts completely.”

Sabrina’s mouth ran dry as she stared at her brother in horror. “No, no, Jereym! You cannot force me to marry him.”

“I absolutely can. You have no choice. A doctor will be here tomorrow morning to inspect the state of your maidenhead, as per Mr. Booker’s request.”

“My maidenhead . . .” Words failed Sabrina. The man wanted her to be a virgin?

“Yes. He insisted he will only marry a virgin. I have assured him that you are untouched, but he insisted that a doctor confirm it. So tomorrow morning you will present yourself for inspection.”

“Father would never have done this to me,” Sabrina said quietly. “Never.” She was torn between rage and despair that her own brother would sell her like this.

“Father is dead.” The words were delivered more harshly than any slap Jereym might have ever given her.

“How could you?” Sabrina hated the fresh tears that stung her eyes. After five years, she thought she’d become accustomed to this. But she hadn’t, not really.

A shadow of doubt passed over Jereym’s face, but it quickly vanished. “Go to your room. I don’t wish to see you at dinner.”

Sabrina rushed up the stairs and into her room, slamming the door so hard that it rattled in the frame. Then she threw herself upon her bed and buried her face in the blankets. A long time later, when she lay exhausted, she could hear voices downstairs. The house’s thin walls were her allies, it seemed. They always warned her of danger. Jereym and Prudence were somewhere one floor below, speaking.

“I thought we were to attend the ball at Lady Germain’s tonight,” Prudence whined.

“Not tonight. I am in a foul mood,” Jereym growled.

“But my dear, it is a masquerade. You know how I enjoy those . . .”

The conversation died out as Jereym and Prudence moved out of her hearing. But it didn’t matter. Sabrina had found a way out. She’d thought at first to simply run away, but now she had a way to make sure that tomorrow morning she would not have her precious maidenhead and Mr. Booker would leave her alone for good.

She slid out of bed and once more opened her armoire. She had one gown worthy of a masquerade, her mother’s court gown. It was silver silk and pearls with a silver-threaded embroidered bodice. She pulled on the bell cord to summon Louisa. When the maid arrived, she clasped the girl’s hands in her own.

“Louisa, I need your help. I must leave tonight for a few hours. If my brother or Prudence asks after me, can you tell them that I am ill?”

“Yes,” Louisa said.

She embraced the maid. “Thank you.”

“Now, let me help you change, miss.” Louisa assisted Sabrina as she changed into the silver satin gown. Sabrina was lucky enough to have a masquerade mask that had also belonged to her mother. It was a gold-and-silver glittering thing that had exquisite decorations painted on it. It also covered most of her face except for her mouth and chin. A perfect disguise.

Once she was ready to leave, Louisa kept watch in the corridor so that Sabrina could escape to the front door of the cottage and leave. It would be a long walk to the Germain estate, but if she left early enough she should reach the grand manor house just in time for the ball to start.

2

Peregrine Ashby was incredibly grateful for the protection of his domino as he watched the crowds flow across the ballroom in Lady Germain’s grand manor house. The mask allowed him to move through the well-dressed people with more anonymity than he’d had in the last few weeks.

As the new Earl of Rutland, he’d risen from a somewhat obscure gentleman to a man with far too much popularity, in his opinion. Most of it had to do with the Lady Society column posted in the Quizzing Glass Gazette. She’d told the unmarried ladies of London far too much about him, despite her attempt not to name him directly.

After his great-uncle Frederick had died, the earldom had passed to him. It was entirely unexpected. There had been at least three other gentlemen ahead of him, yet all of those men had also died in the last year. All three of them had been together on a small cutter ship that had sunk off the coast of Egypt, and all lives were lost.

Now at thirty years of age, Peregrine had opportunities in abundance. He had moved out of his cramped bachelor residence in a rough part of London and into his great-uncle’s townhouse in Grosvenor Square. He’d also inherited the family estate, Ashbridge Heath, in the Cotswolds, and though he had not visited it yet, he’d been corresponding with the butler and housekeeper there. He hoped to see it in a few weeks’ time, but until then, he was enjoying himself here as much as he could.

“Ashby? That you?” a familiar voice greeted him. He saw a tall blond-haired man wearing a dark-blue domino striding toward him through the crowd. Despite the mask, Peregrine recognized his friend. Those bright-blue eyes were unmistakable, along with that wicked smirk that promised trouble.

“Lennox, keep your voice down,” Peregrine said as Rafe Lennox joined him at the back of the crowded ballroom.

“What? Afraid someone will recognize you?” Rafe asked.

“Yes, exactly,” Peregrine grumbled. For the last three weeks, it seemed he had dodged every young female and scheming mother in London and the surrounding boroughs. That was not an easy thing to do, but he was determined to avoid marriage, at least for the time being. He was in no hurry to get leg-shackled. He’d only just been given a new life, and if he was burdened with a wife, he feared he would be obliged to stay at home, or at the least feel duty-bound to stay home. He was also wary of English society for the moment. He’d been at the bottom of society for many years and had been treated poorly. Now he was out of his depth in his new position, and he needed to take the time to sort out the good from the bad in the upper echelons of the ton.

When he did eventually have to marry, he wanted to marry someone he could tolerate. Until then, he just wanted his freedom, and marriage was the opposite of that. At least, it had been for his parents. Neither of them had liked each other, and they’d lived much of their lives as far apart as possible, even while under the same roof. And given how little money his father had had to support them, this had been most of the time.

It became easier when his mother died, because his father’s temperament had softened a little. But he had died not long thereafter, leaving Peregrine entirely alone.

Rafe jovially put an arm around Peregrine’s shoulder and hollered at the people nearby. “We’ve got Lord Rutland here.” He pointed at a gaggle of girls. “You lot, line up and be ready to dance with him.”

Peregrine rammed an elbow none too gently into Rafe’s stomach.

Rafe doubled over, his breath escaping in a rush. “Bloody hell, man. I was only teasing.”

“Yes, well, now you’ve outed me, and those ladies look ready to hunt me down and mount my head on their mantels.”

The young women Rafe had so recklessly shouted at were now huddled together, their fans flapping and their heads bent as they whispered to each other. Occasionally one girl would glance at Peregrine over her shoulder.

“Christ, they do look rather serious, don’t they?” Rafe smoothed his waistcoat out as he now eyed the ladies in return with no small amount of trepidation.

“I think, given how you’re raising that adorable little ward of yours, that you should be the one to get married, Lennox.”

“What? The devil take you, man. Marriage is not for me. The world is full of women in need of a proper kiss, and it is my solemn duty to provide myself to them. Besides,” Rafe chuckled, “Isla would never be content to share her new papa with any woman.”

It never ceased to amaze Peregrine that Rafe, a man known for his devil-may-care attitude, had returned from visiting Scotland with a small child in tow. More surprising was the fact that she was not his by blood, but he’d taken her in as his daughter all the same. Fatherhood had wrought many positive changes in the notorious rogue, but he would always be a brave and irresponsible troublemaker as well as a damned loyal friend.

“Well, given that you caused this mess, I believe you ought to do the honorable thing and throw yourself upon the sword for me.” Peregrine pushed Rafe into the crowd of young ladies who had broken up their little war council and were headed toward him.

Rafe wobbled comically as he stumbled through the pack of husband hunters, giving Peregrine a moment to duck out of sight. He used the tall marble pillars in the ballroom to hide and moved far enough away that the pack could not find him so easily. He reached the orchestra at the back of the ballroom near the doors, where a servant was announcing the newly arriving guests.