Page 1 of A Rogue to Cherish

Chapter One

Glasgow, Scotland, April 1823

“Do you or do you not have the money?” Miles Johnstone’s whiskey-colored gaze pinned Grant Murray’s.

His lordship swished the brandy in his glass, legs outstretched as if he had not one worry. However, his impatient huff told Grant differently. “The sooner you obtain the capital for our venture, the sooner I can get on with acquiring mine.”

Around the room, the other two men, Evan Macleod, the owner of the home they were currently in, and Henry Campbell, a reformed gambler, looked on with interest.

All four had been friends for years; there was little they didn’t know about each other. Unlike Miles, who was titled and quite wealthy, Grant and the other two men came from well-established, but untitled, families in Glasgow.

Just two short months earlier, they’d met in this exact room, where Evan had presented them with a proposition to make a fortune. All they had to do was come up with the capital to sponsor a ship that was headed for the West Indies. The ship would return with spices and other precious commodities that they could sell for ten times their investment. Each man’s portion was quite sizable and therefore hard to attain, but they were determined to come up with it by whatever means possible.

The problem was that none of them, except for Miles, had much of an income and couldn’t ask their families for help. Both Grant and Evan had become estranged from their fathers. In Grant’s case, he’d done something his father deemed unforgivable, and he’d been promptly cut off. As for Evan, at a young age, he had demanded and subsequently squandered his entire inheritance. And lastly, Henry had been reduced to a small monthly stipend by his father for costing the family a fortune in gambling debts.

Because of this, they’d needed to come up with ways to obtain the money needed to sponsor the ship, so they’d decided to take advantage of their roguish reputations by seducing women, or even marrying debutants with sizeable dowries. The four men met each week to discuss the progress of the sponsorship for the ship. If any of them could not come up with their portion, they’d all have to scramble for the needed amount, so they’d given themselves until the end of the current month to come up with it.

Being who they were, they’d even embarked in a wager, of sorts. So far, Evan and Henry had come up with their portions, neither by actually seducing someone with money, but by being seduced by love. It had turned out well for Evan, whose wife came with a large dowry, and for Henry, who’d reclaimed a huge amount owed to him from a card game in which he’d wagered his life.

Miles, not to be left out of the wager, had decided that he would procure the capital without touching his own money. He’d then challenged Grant to come up with his portion first, and once that was accomplished, he promised, he’d acquire his within a week.

Grant was determined to win the wager. “Lucinda has promised a deposit will be made into my account within days,” he said, his voice much surer than he felt. “Should be a day or two at most.”

“Bravo!” Henry exclaimed. “I am glad that we will all be able to sponsor the ship and soon be richer for it.” A grin split his handsome face. “Then it will be up to you, Lord Johnstone, to come up with your portion.”

Miles once again looked at Grant. “I will believe it when you show proof of a deposit. Not a moment before.”

“Here, here,” Evan said, lifting his glass. “I, too, will only believe it then.”

“You both wound me,” Grant replied, giving them the most pained expression he could muster. “I have put days… no, weeks of effort into romancing Lucinda Roberts. She is enamored with the idea of a young lover and will do anything to keep me happy.” He smiled, looking at Miles. “Soon, I am sure, she will grow bored with me and move on, but not before gifting me for time well spent.”

“There was the incident, at Henry’s family home, which may change things,” Miles replied lazily. “Her son is quite put out about your… entanglement with his mother. Every gossip in town is having a field day over the incident at the engagement party.”

Grant waved a hand in the air, dismissing the words. “Lucinda is very independent. I am sure her son will not influence anything she does.”

After a moment, Miles shrugged. “We will see.”

Just then, Norman, the butler, appeared in the arched doorway. “Dinner is served,” he said.

Everyone stood and followed him across the foyer to the dining room, except Evan, who hung back. The tall man met Grant’s gaze. “Felicity and I are going to spend a few days at the Campbell estate. Henry’s mother is planning a picnic and that sort of thing.”

Grant gave his friend a look that expressed his distaste for such a bland event. “How positively domestic.”

At the comment, Evan laughed. “True, and I would rather do nothing more.”

Grant frowned at Evan’s retreating back. How strange it was to see two of his friends settled with wives and not seeming to mind it one bit.

Perhaps in the distant future, he too would feel so strongly for someone that he’d consider marriage. However, just the thought of losing his freedom at the current moment made him shudder.

*

After supper, heand Miles had gone to the Grant Hotel and spent several hours at a card game. The Grant Hotel’s club was not quite of the same level as a place where the elite gentlemen gathered, but it was a place where men of means congregated. He often met with his friends there. An aged whiskey had been offered to them and liking the taste of it, he’d overindulged.

Now, the house was silent, which prompted him to linger in bed. The inside of his mouth was sour, his tongue heavy, and he eyed the rope pull, considering if he should summon for something to drink. It was large, and comfortable, the mostly gray-colored bedding plush. Just a trickle of sunlight managed to get through the center of the matching draperies, giving enough light to look around the room.

His gaze hesitated on a floral painting. The bold brush strokes in red, green, and blue did not make his room feminine but seemed to reinforce the masculine feel of the space. Even the books on the table near the window, along with a quill and ink, or the lone decanter with two glasses beside them, added touches that left no doubt who slept there.

He’d not taken much interest in the room, other than to place whatever gifts arrived for him atop a bookcase or sometimes on the bedtable. Usually, the trinkets were placed into the trunk at the foot of his bed.