Read Never Kiss a Rake Page 1




  ALSO BY ANNE STUART

  HISTORICALS

  The House of Rohan

  The Wicked House of Rohan

  Shameless

  Breathless

  Reckless

  Ruthless

  Stand-Alone Titles

  The Devil’s Waltz

  Hidden Honor

  Lady Fortune

  Prince of Magic

  Lord of Danger

  Prince of Swords

  To Love a Dark Lord

  Shadow Dance

  A Rose at Midnight

  The Houseparty

  The Spinster and the Rake

  Lord Satan’s Bride

  ROMANTIC SUSPENSE

  The Ice Series

  On Thin Ice

  Silver Falls

  Fire and Ice

  Ice Storm

  Ice Blue

  Cold As Ice

  Black Ice

  Stand-Alone Titles

  Into the Fire

  Still Lake

  The Widow

  Shadows at Sunset

  Shadow Lover

  Ritual Sins

  Moonrise

  Nightfall

  Seen and Not Heard

  At the Edge of the Sun

  Darkness Before Dawn

  Escape Out of Darkness

  The Demon Count’s Daughter

  The Demon Count

  Demonwood

  Cameron’s Landing

  Barrett’s Hill

  COLLABORATIONS

  Dogs & Goddesses

  The Unfortunate Miss Fortunes

  ANTHOLOGIES

  Burning Bright

  Date with a Devil

  What Lies Beneath

  Night and Day

  Valentine Babies

  My Secret Admirer

  Sisters and Secrets

  Summer Love

  New Year’s Resolution: Baby

  New Year’s Resolution: Husband

  One Night with a Rogue

  Strangers in the Night

  Highland Fling

  To Love and To Honor

  My Valentine

  Silhouette Shadows

  CATEGORY ROMANCE

  Wild Thing

  The Right Man

  A Dark and Stormy Night

  The Soldier and the Baby

  Cinderman

  Falling Angel

  One More Valentine

  Rafe’s Revenge

  Heat Lightning

  Chasing Trouble

  Night of the Phantom

  Lazarus Rising / reprint as Here Come the Grooms

  Angel’s Wings

  Rancho Diablo / reprint as Western Lovers

  Crazy Like a Fox / reprint as Born in the USA

  Glass Houses / reprint as Men at Work

  Cry for the Moon

  Partners in Crime

  Blue Sage / reprint as Western Lovers

  Bewitching Hour

  Rocky Road / reprint in Men Made in America #19

  Banish Misfortune

  Housebound

  Museum Piece

  Heart’s Ease

  Chain of Love

  The Fall of Maggie Brown

  Winter’s Edge

  Catspaw II

  Hand in Glove

  Catspaw

  Tangled Lies / reprint in Men Made in America #11

  Now You See Him

  Special Gifts

  Break the Night

  Against the Wind

  NOVELLAS

  The Wicked House of Rohan

  Married to It (prequel to Fire and Ice)

  Risk the Night

  Married to It

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Copyright © 2013 Anne Kristine Stuart Ohlrogge

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Montlake Romance

  PO Box 400818

  Las Vegas, NV 89140

  ISBN-13: 9781477807323

  ISBN-10: 1477807322

  To

  Jane and Miriam

  For always watching my back

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  1869

  CHAPTER ONE

  MISS BRYONY RUSSELL SAT in front of the dismal fire in the tiny terrace apartment on the very edge of Whitechapel. It was a dangerous area, and well she knew it, but with the small amount of money left the three sisters hadn’t had much choice. Lodgings in London weren’t to be had cheaply in the thirty-second year of Queen Victoria’s reign.

  Bryony looked at her sisters and cleared her throat. “I believe there’s no choice for it, we’ll have to go into service.”

  Her sisters looked at her with a mixture of interest and horror. “Service?” her youngest sister Sophia echoed faintly. “As in, work? As a maid?”

  “What else does ‘service’ mean, you silly goose,” her middle sister Madeleine said. “I think it’s a brilliant idea.”

  “I don’t,” Sophia said decidedly.

  Bryony surveyed them impatiently. “Not you, Sophie. You’d get fired within a fortnight. And I’m not saying you should do it either, Maddy, if you don’t wish to. But the only way we’re going to find out the truth about what really happened to Papa is to get inside the households of those we most suspect, and I can think of no better way.”

  It had all happened so swiftly. One day they were the pampered daughters of a wealthy shipping magnate, the next they were destitute, orphaned, and under a cloud of shame. Eustace Russell had been a self-made man, amassing a fortune through the shipping company that had started out a mere fledgling business and ended up being the foremost company in England and half of Europe. He’d married a great and titled beauty who’d given him three daughters; he lived life well.

  And six weeks ago he’d supposedly embezzled a massive amount of Russell Shipping’s finances and then died in a carriage accident as he raced for the Continent, plunging to his death over the high cliffs on the southwest corner of England. His three daughters were finally beginning to emerge from the shock and grief that had overwhelmed them, only to find they were in social disgrace as well.

  Two banks had failed immediately following the discovery of their father’s perfidy, setting off a financial panic that had wide-reaching effects. It was no wonder the name of Russell was viewed with scorn and mistrust nowadays.

  For the past six weeks Bryony and her sisters had been in a fog, numbed by grief and confusion. Everything was gone—the money, their good name, their faith in their father. Their former town house on Curzon Street had been set on fire, presumably by Eustace to cover his tracks, and the ruined shell of it remained, mute testament to the shame
that had come to their family. Even Renwick, the vast country estate in Somerset, had been taken, the entailed property returned to the heir upon Russell’s death. The three daughters had arrived from the country with no place to stay, and it had taken all Bryony’s force of character to keep her sisters from feeling the shame and hopelessness that was crushing her. It was a blessing that their delicate, high-strung mother wasn’t still alive to endure the public recoil. It was hard enough on Bryony, and she accounted herself far sturdier than their mother had ever been.

  It hadn’t taken long for Bryony to pull herself together, take a clear look at the so-called proof of her father’s iniquity, and realize it was all a lie. The scribbled note, in her father’s own hand, had further convinced her.

  Don’t trust any of them. Someone’s stealing money, and it looks like Kilmartyn’s in league with them, no matter what excuses he makes. Don’t trust Morgan either. Never trust a pirate. Something’s going on, and I’ll get to the bottom of it, or

  Don’t trust anyone. That’s what her father had dashed off, a note to himself, but for Bryony it was something else. It was purpose. The idea that there was actually something that could be done was a tonic to her soul. There was no way she could bring her father back, but if she could ensure whoever was truly behind this met justice it would give them all some kind of peace, or, at the very least, resolution.

  “We don’t even know that he was murdered,” Sophie protested. “Simply because you found an odd note among Father’s papers doesn’t mean we should pay it any heed. Carriage accidents do happen, you know. And who’s to say that Father didn’t take that money?”

  “Because Papa was almost maddeningly honest, and he instilled those values in all of us,” Bryony said firmly. “I simply cannot believe he would ever do such a thing.”

  “I told you,” Maddy snapped at her younger sister. “If you ever used your brain to think about anything but fashion and food…”

  “We aren’t getting to enjoy any fashion,” Sophie shot back, plucking at her black-dyed mourning dress. “And since I’m the only one who can cook around here we’re not getting to enjoy the food either.”

  “Stop fighting!” Bryony said wearily, not for the first time. “I swear, the two of you are like angry cats. If we’re to get through this with any kind of success we have to work together.”

  “Sorry,” Sophie muttered, casting a half-resentful, half-apologetic look at Maddy.

  “I’m sorry, Bryony,” Maddy said with a degree more sincerity. “Where do you propose we start?”

  Bryony sat back, pouring herself another cup of the strong, cheap tea they were subsisting on. “I can think of three suspects—Papa named two of them. The Earl of Kilmartyn was his business partner and made a fortune at Papa’s side. Papa distrusted him, and for some reason the bank panic didn’t affect him in the slightest. He’s the most logical choice. He’s a well-known rake, despite his beautiful wife, and he’s got the morals of an alley cat, or so I’ve been told.”

  “He’s too obvious,” Maddy said. “What about Captain Morgan? Father had just removed him from his command, and he was on his way to Devonport when the accident happened. When our choice is between a peer of the realm and a former pirate the answer seems logical.”

  “Privateer,” Bryony corrected firmly. Maddy had a tendency to be overdramatic. “You’re right, though. Captain Morgan appears to be a man who wouldn’t blink at the thought of murder. I don’t believe Father ever trusted him completely. Although there are a number of reasons to drive to Devonport—visiting Captain Morgan being only one of them. There did appear to be bad blood between them.”

  “There was bad blood between Father and almost everyone he ever met,” Sophie scoffed. “Honest or not, he was hardly the most convivial of individuals. Surely you’re not suggesting Captain Morgan embezzled a fortune and killed our father out of pique?”

  “It’s something you would do,” Maddy said pointedly.

  Sophie shrugged with surprising good nature. “I suppose I might, if someone annoyed me enough. But what about Viscount Blackhurst? With our father’s death he regained ownership of Renwick, no small treasure. He already murdered his wife. Why hesitate to kill a total stranger if you stand to gain that much?”

  “We don’t know that he murdered his wife,” Bryony corrected her. “It’s just rumor. And of the three I admit he seems the least likely. The man was already wealthy, and he owned several estates. Besides, Father didn’t seem to suspect him.”

  “Clearly Father didn’t know everything, if he ended up dead,” Sophie replied, sinking back on the window seat and staring out into the rain-drenched city, the sheen of her unshed tears barely noticeable. She looked like a gorgeous, shining doll amidst the trappings of a black crow. Mourning clothes had been expensive, even using the cheapest of worsted, but instead of diminishing Sophie’s vibrant beauty the stark black only made her more stunning. “Why don’t we simply go with our original plan? I’ll marry someone fabulously wealthy and very handsome and support the two of you.”

  “This mythical husband of yours has yet to materialize,” Maddy pointed out. “And may I remind you that my suitor discovered a pressing need to travel to South America when all of this came out?”

  “Just because you couldn’t hold on to Tarkington doesn’t mean I’ll have similar problems.”

  “Stop it!” Bryony said sharply. “This is difficult enough. If we spend all our time arguing with each other we’ll never find out what happened! Surely you don’t want our father’s murderer to go scot-free?”

  “We don’t know for sure that he was murdered,” Sophie said in a sulky voice.

  “No, we have no proof. A hasty note in Father’s hand that tells us not to trust anyone. Not to mention the fact that every penny of his fortune has disappeared, leaving us on the streets,” Maddy pointed out in a caustic voice.

  “Not on the streets,” Bryony said, a stickler for accuracy. “These rooms are warm and comfortable, and there are relatives who have offered us a home any time we choose. In fact, we were just about to leave when I found the note in a box of his papers.” She glanced over at the stained piece of paper on the small table. No matter how many times she read it, it still failed to make any sense.

  “Of course there are,” Maddy shot back. “I could live with second cousin Rosalie and take care of her seven ghastly children in between running errands.”

  “And how is that different from going into service?” Sophie countered.

  “Because there’s no way out from Cousin Rosalie’s,” Maddy said gloomily. “No answers to be found, and not even a farthing to show for it. I’d rather be an honest maid than a slavey for Cousin Rosalie.”

  “I thought the whole point was not being particularly honest,” Sophie pointed out.

  “That’s enough,” Bryony said firmly. “Neither of you is required to do anything. I came up with the idea, and I’ll follow through. If I can get a job in Lord Kilmartyn’s household it would give me access to his papers. No man can keep secrets from his domestics. Within a matter of days, weeks at the most, I should have my answer, and if he proves innocent I can move on to the viscount or Captain Morgan.”

  “What do you intend to do?” Maddy asked, putting her own cold tea down with a grimace. “Could we even pass muster as maids?”

  “I’m going to apply for the post of housekeeper. Apparently Lord Kilmartyn is always in need of one—the last stayed less than a month. Given his reputation, he probably drives them away with his reprehensible behavior. I don’t know how his wife can bear it. But I’m not going to be driven away. You know that I’m much better suited to being a housekeeper. Maids are supposed to be pleasant to look upon. Have you ever seen a maid who looks like me?” Bryony said evenly.

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” Maddy snapped. “You’re beautiful!”

  “My face is covered with pox scars, Maddy.”

  “Only half of it,” Sophie piped up with devastating loyalty. “And the ot
her side is very pretty. Of course you’re not as pretty as I am—no one is—but you’re still well enough.”

  Bryony laughed, used to her sister’s backhanded compliments. “I also know more about running a household than I do about cleaning and dusting. I ran both the town house and Renwick for years, ever since Mama died. I think I’d be perfectly prepared to be a housekeeper. And I already have the right clothes.” She plucked at her plain, ugly dress.

  “And when would this start?” Maddy said dubiously.

  “I have an interview tomorrow.”

  Her two sisters stared at her in dismay. “Don’t you think you should have brought this up earlier?” Maddy said finally.

  Bryony managed to smile. “I was afraid you might talk me out of it.”

  “And so we should,” Sophie said. “This is absurd.”

  “At least I feel I’m doing something,” she shot back. “Not just sitting around waiting… waiting for God knows what.” She sighed. “In the meantime I want the two of you to go stay with Nanny Gruen while I’m working in the Kilmartyn household. I’m old enough to stand as chaperone to the two of you and keep your reputations intact, but you cannot stay together without someone to look out for you. Nanny Gruen has been begging us to come ever since Father died, and I’ve written to tell her you’ll be on your way.”

  “Awfully high-handed of you, Bryony,” Maddy said sternly. “Just because you’re the eldest doesn’t mean you have say over our actions.”

  “I don’t want to stay with our old nanny,” Sophie broke in. “Her cottage is too close to Renwick, and if you think I can sit by and watch that… that wife-murdering usurper swan around our house then you’re mistaken.”

  “Renwick isn’t our house anymore, Sophie,” Maddy said with more kindness than she usually showed her spoiled baby sister. “And it wasn’t ours in the first place—Father won it from the current viscount’s father in a card game. We only had lifetime rights to it, rights that vanished when Father died. We need to accept that.”

  Sophie glared mutinously, obviously not prepared to accept anything, and Bryony spoke before another battle could erupt.

  “I’ve bought tickets on tomorrow’s stage to Somerset and I’ve written Nanny to expect you. Don’t fight me on this, please. I hate the thought of separating.” Bryony gave Maddy a rueful smile. “You would have left me soon enough, if Tarkington had come up to scratch.”