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Chapter 1
Two months earlier.
Lightning split the sky, illuminating the dark street. A tiny figure stood on the doorstep of Gabriel’s house, pounding wildly at the door.
The raindrops ran in rivulets down the figure’s cloak. A small, soaked valise lay at their feet, and a horse tethered to a nearby tree whinnied uncontrollably. All of that and the fact that it was the middle of the night made Gabriel, Viscount St. Clare, deduce that the visit was unplanned.
It wasn’t the first time he had come home from a late-night rendezvous to find a potential lover waiting at his doorstep—or in his bed. This night, however, was his only live-in servant’s night off, which meant nobody could enter Gabriel’s house without his knowledge. The cloaked figure didn’t look like a potential lover, though. If not for the tiny size, he’d think it was male.A boy?Gabriel cocked his head to the side, and water streamed down his hat. He shook the excess water off his shoulders and hurried toward the distressed mare.
He patted the animal consolingly before addressing the shadowed figure still knocking relentlessly at his door. “You might want to put the horse in the stables if you are planning to enter,” he shouted over the noise of the rain.
The figure turned and peered at him from beneath the hood. Gabriel could not make out either facial features or anything else in the dark, so he gave up trying. He had no wish to interrogate the poor fellow in the drizzling rain. He also didn’t want to torture the animal, who’d be forced to soak under the tree so much longer. Besides, if this person wished him harm, it wouldn’t be the worst day to enact this wish.
Until a few weeks ago, Gabriel had been a respected viscount, a revered member of society. He was welcomed in all the clubs and ballrooms across England. Then, he had opened his cold heart to a friend in need—or rather a friend’s relative in need—and ruined his good name. All right, to be fair, his name had never been associated with anything good. Debauchery, roguery, and mayhem were more likely associated with St. Clare, but at least he could afford it.
Now, after the fiasco at Lady Wakefield’s ball, he was left without an allowance from his father, the earl, and shunned from good society for dishonoring young wives and refusing to duel. None of that would’ve mattered to him if he hadn’t been refused credit in gentlemen’s clubs and gaming hells following his disownment by his father.
His lovers were the only ones who hadn’t turned their backs on him, unless he made them do that during their tupping. They even offered to sustain him financially for the sole benefit of being serviced by him in bed.Like a mistress.Gabriel almost laughed out loud. He knew some rakes lived like that, but he couldn’t. He valued his independence, in and out of bed, too much to agree to such conditions.
Gabriel slowly untethered the horse. “Let’s go ‘round the back.” He tipped his head toward the stables and walked the animal there without checking if his night visitor followed him.
He settled the mare into the stables, woke up his poor stable boy to rub it down, and turned to the unwelcome guest. His visitor stood in the doorway, huddled under a cloak, shaking, presumably with cold. The view was pitiful. Even more pitiful than Gabriel’s own predicament. No, this person was probably not there to murder him. What did they want then?
Gabriel passed the visitor on the way out and called for them to follow him. He entered his house from the back door and kept it open for the mystery guest. St. Clare shook off his coat, took off his hat, placed them on the chair, and looked around. It was dark, and he had no idea where to find the candles.
Since his finances had taken an enormous hit, he’d let go of all his servants, except for a valet, a cook, a groom, and a stable boy. The cook had her own residence, and she usually left for her home after supper. His valet, Edward, who also took on the responsibilities of a butler, had gone to visit his sick mother in the country for the weekend. Which meant Gabriel was on his own to navigate through the house.
He groped through the side table and somehow found a candle and a tinderbox. After he lit it, he waved to the cloaked stranger to follow him. He heard the chatter of the stranger’s teeth and realized the poor creature was frozen solid. It explained the lack of conversation.
Gabriel wasn’t too eager to talk just yet, either. They walked through his townhouse in silence until they reached his chambers. He entered the sitting room and proceeded to light the fire. After he was done, he turned to the visitor.
“Wait here if you wish. I’d like to put some dry clothes on.” With those words and without a backward glance, Gabriel entered his bedroom through the adjoining door.
The absence of his valet left Gabriel to fend for himself in the wardrobe department as well. He took off all his sodden clothing and left them hanging on the chair, then found his banyan and threw it over his naked form, loosely tying it around his waist. Gabriel returned to the sitting room, not caring about his half-naked appearance for his late-night visitor. His banyan gaped open, showing off his bare chest. His feet and ankles peeked out from under the robe when he walked. But if the visitor was offended by his state of dishabille, they were more than welcome to sod off his property.
Gabriel walked through the door, turned to the fireplace, and froze in surprise as the cloaked figure carefully drew the hood back, revealing a shock of long, curly, flaming red hair. Gabriel stared at the young woman, who stood with her back to him and extended her hands to the fire. Anticipation flared deep inside his crotch. Perhaps thiswasa new lover who’d come to warm his bed. Gabriel bit his lip and craned his neck to better see her face. The moment he did, he sobered immediately.
“Well, well, well,” Gabriel drawled, recognizing his visitor at last. He didn’t believe for a moment that she was there for a late-night tryst, which immediately dowsed any flicker of anticipation he’d had just a moment ago. There wouldn’t be any entertaining her in his townhouse. Not unless he wanted to die at the end of his friend’s pistol.
Lady Eabha Montgomery, the granddaughter of the late Duke of Somerset, and currently the Duchess of Somerset in her own right, was untying her cloak, in his sitting room, all bedraggled. Still, her head was held high as if nothing untoward was happening at all. As if she hadn’t come knocking on the door of a notorious rake in the middle of the night during a heavy rain.
Gabriel crossed his arms and regarded her with narrowed eyes. “If it isn’t the pain in my arse, the sole reason for my downfall, the weapon of my destruction—”
“D-don’t be melod-dram-matic,” she interrupted him with a stammer. Her teeth were still chattering from the cold.
Gabriel gritted his teeth and held back the urge to throw her out on the doorstep and leave her there, come what may. She was cold, and she wanted something from him. At least that last held him curious. And even if she was the reason that he’d gotten mixed up in a mad scheme a few weeks ago and subsequently got shunned from society, she wasn’t entirely at fault.
All right, it wasn’t her fault at all. He was the weapon of his own downfall. All he had to do was grant a personalfavorto Lady Wakefield during her ball, and in return, she would invite the duchess’s guardians to the ball. This would have allowed the duchess to elope with her suitor. Only Gabriel got bored and arranged a tryst with Lady Stanhope at the same time and got caught. The frustrating part was that the tryst wasn’t even satisfying, and the duchess hadn’t eloped with her fellow. So this was all for naught.
No matter whose fault, Gabriel really wasn’t in the mood to grant another favor to the troublesome duchess. Just having her in his bedroom was a sure way to spell trouble.
In any case, he’d known the duchess ever since she was a young girl, and he couldn’t very well let her die on his doorstep. His best friend, the Earl of Clydesdale, wouldn’t be too happy with it, either. He was the husband of the duchess’s cousin and was very fond of her. Gabriel pressed his lips together in irritation and studied the lady before him.
In the warm glow of firelight, he could see her appearance more clearly. Her cloak—which still covered her from head to toe—was sodden, the hem was covered in dirt, and her hair was soaking wet and plastered to her head and face. Her forest-green eyes were rimmed with red, heavy shadows beneath them, and her usually lush pink lips were blue and trembled lightly.
With a sigh of resignation, he invited her to sit in the chair in front of the fire and collapsed into another chair across from it with an audible ‘oomph.’ He wanted to show her with every gesture that she was an unwanted guest, intruding on his solitude. Not that she hadn’t known that already.
She looked around, then draped her cloak on the back of a chair. Gabriel’s eyes widened as he saw what she was wearing. No wonder he hadn’t immediately recognized her for a lady. Underneath the cloak, she had on a white linen shirt—a masculine shirt—and dark brown breeches! They were tucked into a dainty pair of women’s riding boots, which were covered with mud and had probably soaked her feet. Gabriel fought to conceal his surprise. If he seemed indifferent to her plight, she might just leave him alone.
