Julia London 4 Book Bundle (48 page)
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Authors: The Rogues of Regent Street
And Lilliana closed her eyes and laughed, exactly as she might if she were soaring high above the earth.
A
DRIAN FROWNED AS
a groom led Thunder onto the front drive. Standing with her hands pressed against the small of her back, Lilliana shook her head firmly and frowned right back. “You are making a goose of yourself, my lord husband,” she announced.
Max could not suppress a chuckle at that, and Adrian’s frown deepened.
“Nothing is going to happen,” she said blithely. “I am only seven months, and if anything
should
happen—which it
won’t
—Max has already promised at least one hundred times to send for you at once. Mother and Caroline are here with me, so stop worrying and go,” she said, making a shooing motion with her hand.
“It is precisely because you
are
seven months along that I am worried,” he snapped irritably, and bestowed a look that suggested he might strangle Max if he grinned one more time. “What if the child should come early?” he doggedly continued.
“This child is not going to come early, darling, Dr. Mayton told you so himself. Please, would you go? The Rogues are going to think you are dead on the turnpike.”
“I don’t give a bloody—”
“Adrian,”
she softly admonished him.
It was useless, he realized, and sighed heavily. Giving Max another scathing look for good measure, he wrapped his arm around his very pregnant wife—the part of her he could reach—and kissed her fully on the lips. When he lifted his head, his eyes narrowed. “I have your word, Princess. You will send for me the moment there is even a hint of trouble,” he muttered.
Lilliana’s dimpled smile drew a soft moan from him. “I promise!” She kissed him on the corner of his mouth before giving him a healthy shove away from her. “Take care!” she said cheerfully.
Muttering under his breath, Adrian strode toward Thunder and swung himself up. Taking the reins from the groom, he uttered the thousandth curse against the damn Rogues and their silly, stupid, inane vows. “I love you, my darling,” he said, and smirked at the look of shock on Max’s face before he sent Thunder galloping down the drive.
Leaning against the pillar of Arthur’s Mount Street mansion, Julian watched the promenade of a dozen young ladies on the street through half-hooded eyes. Next to him, Arthur was just as engrossed in the sashay of petticoats as the ladies glided away, giggling uncontrollably behind gloved hands. And the two of them might have stood on the front steps enjoying the scenery all day had the Earl of Albright not suddenly appeared from nowhere and blocked their view.
He leapt down from his mount and strode quickly forward, an irrepressible grin on his face. Julian knew, of course, that his bubbling wife was carrying his child. Judging by Albright’s idiotic expression, the earl was rather pleased with himself on that score. He jogged up the steps, and with arms akimbo, surveyed each of them before speaking. “Well? Either of you feel you are on the verge of ruination?” he quipped. “Be quick about it
if you are. My beautiful wife is carrying my child, and as much as I enjoy your stellar company, I much prefer hers. Come on then, who’s first?”
A smile slowly spread across Julian’s lips as Arthur chuckled.
“You, Kettering,” Adrian said, and motioned with his hand for Julian to divulge all.
Laughing, Julian pushed away from the pillar. “You’ll need wild horses or a good bottle of whiskey to drag it out of me, and let me state for the record that I prefer the latter,” he said, and winked at a grinning Arthur.
Adrian walked across the stoop, shaking his head. “No time for that, I’m afraid. Come on, then, we made our blasted vow, but I am quite certain no one determined how long must be spent on your little troubles.”
Arthur laughed and clapped Adrian on the shoulder. “Good to see the old Albright alive and well, even if he is a horse’s ass!” Laughing, the two Rogues disappeared inside. Julian watched them cross the threshold. It was amazing, he thought, that when Phillip had died a year ago, he was quite certain Adrian would never be himself again. Honestly, after what had happened at Longbridge, he had feared Adrian was as lost to them as Phillip ever was. Despondent, full of self-pity, and suffering from more trials than Job, their leader had slipped from their grasp.
Well, miraculously their leader had recovered.
And the most amazing thing of all was that the antidote had been a woman. No one distinctive, just a simple lass from a grange. But that lass had opened Albright’s heart and mind to a way of life that looked almost enticing.
Almost.
If there was one thing of which Julian was quite certain, it was that he did not need a woman mucking up his life. Inexplicably, the very comely image of Lady Claudia Whitney popped into his mind, but he quickly and violently shook his head. He especially didn’t need
her
mucking up his life. No thank you, he
had sisters, and that was enough to turn a man from the ridiculous notion of matrimony for a lifetime. Albright … well, he was to be excused. The poor fool never really had a family to speak of, much less a woman about, and one could hardly fault him for falling prey to one.
Ah, but never the Earl of Kettering, he thought smugly. He knew
exactly
what women were about, and he would do just as well with a handful of demimondes and a supply of fine whiskey.
“Kettering! Come on, man—I am quite certain you will take the most of our time, so please do hurry along,” Adrian shouted, and that was followed by a loud guffaw from Arthur. Chuckling, Julian sauntered inside to join his fellow Rogues and assure himself that not another one of them would fall.
JULIA LONDON is the
New York Times
and
USA Today
bestselling author of more than a dozen historical romance novels, including the acclaimed
Desperate Debutantes
series, the
Lockhart Family Highland
trilogy (for which she was twice a finalist for the prestigious RITA award for excellence in romantic fiction), and
The Rogues of Regent Street
series, including
The Dangerous Gentleman, The Ruthless Charmer, The Beautiful Stranger
, and
The Secret Lover.
You may write Julia at P.O. Box 228, Georgetown, Texas, 78627, or
[email protected]
. For news and updates, please visit her website at
www.julialondon.com
.
THE DANGEROUS GENTLEMAN
A Dell Book
Published by
Bantam Dell
A Division of Random House, Inc.
New York, New York
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents
either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved
Copyright © 2000 by Dinah Dinwiddie
Dell is a registered trademark of Random House, Inc., and the
colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
eISBN: 978-0-307-48353-9
v3.0
For Matt.
And Jimmy and Duane and Raymond and David …
For all of them who helped to shape my life yet didn’t live
long enough to shape their own.
Of all the pains, the greatest pain
is to love, and love in vain.
“
THE HAPPIEST MORTALS ONCE WERE WEE”
GEORGE GRANVILLE, BARON LANSDOWNE
D
UNWOODY
, S
OUTHERN
E
NGLAND
, 1834
“Know ye in this death the light of our Lord, the quality of love, and the quality of life, And know ye the quality of mercy, Amen …”
T
HE
V
ICAR’S
W
ORDS
scarcely penetrated his consciousness. Standing over Phillip Rothembow’s open grave, Julian Dane felt as if he were trapped in some sort of macabre dream, for what had happened on that yellow field was simply inconceivable. One shot
fired
—Adrian deloping, bowing to Phillip’s inebriation and the absurdity of the duel. It should have ended at that moment, but Phillip had actually fired on Adrian—had tried to kill him—and Julian had been stunned almost beyond comprehension.
Phillip’s shot was absurdly wide; he could barely hold the gun straight. Yet in the blurred moment that followed, he seemed to regain his balance, twisting around and lunging for Fitzhugh’s double-barreled German pistol, which protruded from that fool’s coat. Phillip had looked wild, almost maniacal as he turned on Adrian then, and Julian had tried to stop him, but his legs and arms had felt as if there were weights tied to them, and everything happened so
quickly
.
In what seemed like the blink of an eye, Lord Phillip Rothembow was dead. Shot through the heart by his very own cousin, Adrian Spence, the Earl of Albright, who had fired in self-defense.
Julian remembered seeing his shock and disbelief mirrored on Lord Arthur Christian’s face. He remembered falling onto Phillip’s body, pressing his ear against the blood-soaked waistcoat, and hearing the words from his own mouth, “
He is dead
.”
That was the moment the dream had taken hold of him, deepening every hour since, holding him down and refusing to let him wake fully. But even the dream could not spare him from the ugly realization that Phillip had actually
meant
for Adrian to kill him, that he had sought to end his own life after months of drowning in debt and drink and Madam Farantino’s women. Months Julian had spent with him, duly concerned about his excesses … but never in his wildest imaginings did he suspect Phillip so desperately wanted to end his life.
How could he have possibly imagined it? Phillip, Lord Rothembow, was one of the bloody
Rogues
of Regent Street! An idol of every man of the Quality, just like Julian Dane and Adrian Spence and Arthur Christian. They were the Rogues for God’s sake, living by their own code, risking their wealth to make more wealth, never fearing the law or society. They were men who purportedly broke young hearts among the clientele of the upscale Regent Street shops by day, extracted intended dowries from their papas in the Regent Street gentlemen’s clubs at night, and saved the best of themselves for the notorious Regent Street boudoirs. They had pushed every limit, but this time Phillip had pushed too far, falling like an angel at their feet.
And Julian had tasted his own mortality.
He understood that he was, in part, responsible for this tragedy. He stared blankly at the pine box in the gaping hole before him, wondering if this dream would find its end. What had the vicar said? Know ye in this death
the light of our Lord and the quality of love …
The notion was so absurd that he almost laughed out loud. He knew what it was to love a father so much that he would swear to almost anything as the throes of death descended. He knew what it was to love a sister like his own child and have his heart wrenched clean from his body as she lay dying in his arms. And God help him, he knew what it was to love a man like a brother and watch helplessly as he spiraled down into the clutches of madness and suicide.
He knew the quality of love, all right, and it was of little comfort.
Julian tore his gaze from the grave and looked at Arthur standing rigidly as the gravediggers pushed earth into the hole. Arthur, the peacemaker, the one with the admirable ability to fall into pace with any of them. Arthur, who had broken down last night as they drowned their sorrows in a bottle of brandy, confessing he’d noticed the downward slide, but did not understand the depth of Phillip’s trouble until it was too late.
Neither had Adrian.
Julian shifted his gaze to their unofficial leader, Adrian Spence, who wore the horror and disbelief of what had happened etched deeply in lines around his eyes. Adrian hadn’t seen Phillip’s slide, he had said, because he had been blind to all but his, his ongoing war with his father.
And while his friends had grieved, he, Julian Dane, the Earl of Kettering, had sat there ruminating, thoroughly numbed by guilt and despair.
A fine rain was falling now, but Julian’s gaze remained transfixed on the mound of dirt that was quickly turning to mud. It was hard to believe that the man who had been his constant companion since the four of them had met at Eton so many years ago was lying in that grave.
God!
It was so bloody difficult to understand how this could have happened. How could he have
allowed
it to happen? Had he been too mindful of Phillip’s pride? Too sure of his strength? Had he not been forceful enough with Phillip, not made his concerns clear?
Had he perhaps been too infatuated with Claudia?
It hardly mattered. It remained that he hadn’t done enough to stop Phillip’s decline, and death was his reward. The misfortune being, of course, that it was not his own.