To Con a Gentleman (Dalton Family 1)

Rose adjusted her posture and smoothed out the thick blue fabric of her skirt. “Well, I rarely ever do what’s right and I find being ‘proper’ deucedly dull. Can we quit being missish and get on with it?”

“You know, Rosie,” he continued, his eyes still looking as if they held a sermon within their depths. “You rig yourself up in all that armor, but I suspect that underneath it there’s a woman wanting to be loved and cared for.”

She tried but couldn’t resist the urge to grimace. “Keep talking to me about what I want, Uncle Felix, and you will likely find yourself with a hole blown through you.” He knew her ways. And he knew that she was perfectly serious about the pistol she kept strapped to her leg at all times. It was most likely why he laughed a full hearty laugh.

“Alright, you don’t have to warn me twice! I’ll quit prosing and tell you what we’ve got.”

“Please do,” she said, feeling more inclined to jump out of the moving carriage than endure one more second of personal conversation.

Uncle Felix leaned down and picked up a small bag that looked to have come from a fancy milliner’s shop off Bond Street. Whatever was inside that bag, Rose would not let herself become attached to—no matter how much she liked it. Discarding the finery after a job was a necessity. She could not risk being identified by the objects after a job was finished.

He sat the bag in his lap and pulled out a light blue bonnet with a touch too many ruffles for her taste, along with a pillow. So. It was that kind of job, was it? She had, unfortunately, pulled it off enough times to recognize the costume. Dread settled over her.

“Which unlucky gentleman is about to find himself with an increasing mistress?” said Rose.

That dangerous glint entered Uncle Felix’s eyes—the same one that had helped them scam wealthy gentlemen out of thousands of pounds over the years. “That would be the Earl of Newburry.”

Rose’s body stiffened. “Lord Newburry?”

Although she had never personally seen the disreputable earl in person, she knew everything about him. Actually, anyone with ears in most of England knew who the imbecile was. The notorious libertine was known for his extravagant tastes and a fortune to match them. If the rumors were right, the man possessed an income of ten thousand pounds each year.

Lord Newburry—her nose crinkled even thinking the name—was just the sort of entitled aristocrat who felt himself at liberty to call a housemaid into his bedchamber in the dead of night for reasons that had nothing to do with housework. Unfortunately, too many young women felt the need to obey their master’s orders out of fear of losing their post without pay or reference.

That was one particular reason Rose decided to hold the strings to her own life instead of entering service. And even though hers was not the noblest profession, it kept her stomach full and her body untouched. She made her own rules and would be dashed before willingly handing herself over to another’s untrustworthy authority.

She narrowed her eyes at Uncle Felix. “I’ve been hoping to get my hands on that devil’s fortune for years. Why now?”

The hackney bumped and jolted, making Uncle Felix’s full smiling cheeks vibrate. “Because I’ve finally got the perfect reason to pay the rakeshame a visit.” But the far too eager twinkle in his eyes gave Rose a little pause. “Didn’t even have to dig around for information with the usual gossips. The tip came from my own flesh and blood.”

“Brutus?” It wasn’t difficult to figure out since Rose knew that Brutus was Uncle Felix’s only living relation. And although usually Uncle Felix had nothing pleasant to say about his starched-up, know-better-than-anyone-else, butler of a brother—his words not hers—it would seem that the man’s tip was good enough for him to claim kinship again.

“Happened a few months ago. Seems our mighty lordship went for a visit to old Grantham’s estate and took a fancy to one of the chambermaids. The girl found herself in the family way a few weeks later and was kicked out without a reference.” Poor girl. Why was it always the servants who were left to pay the devil for a gentleman’s indiscretions?

“And I’m to play the part of this chambermaid?” she asked, already knowing the answer and not at all relishing the idea.

“Right! And you won’t take less than two thousand pounds to keep this business quiet. Play your hand right and we will walk away from this one with plump pockets.” He patted the pockets of his waistcoat as proof of where he would stuff the banknotes.

But something tugged inside her. She didn’t

feel good about profiting from another woman’s misfortune. The pregnant young maid was most likely scared, alone, and penniless. Those feelings were all too familiar to her. “I’m assuming the girl has not already approached Lord Newburry herself about the matter?”

Uncle Felix shook his head. “Was too scared of word getting out and her never being able to work again after the baby is born. Brutus says she’s gone to hide it out at a tenant’s farm as long as they’ll have her. If you ask me, I say the girl’s daft to not go bleed the earl dry herself!”

“Well, I didn’t ask you,” she gave him a reprimanding look. “And I dare say the girl is too afraid to face him.” Most females had not grown up as self-sufficient as she had.

Uncle Felix eyed her for a long moment, searching her face for something. And then, he cringed. “Oh Lud, there’s the look. Devil take it, Rosie, you aren’t gonna give our money to the girl are you?”

She smiled. “Of course I am. No, don’t give me that look. She ought to have a cut of the haul since it’s her story we are using.”

He eyed her from beneath heavy, suspicious lids. “How much do you intend to give her?” Excitement did not touch his voice.

“I think it’s only right that she gets half of the cut since she’ll be the one with a child to support.”

He agreed, but only after a dramatic sigh of long-suffering. Rose knew that inwardly, he was just as content to give the money to the girl as she was. It’s probably why they were the poorest and yet most successful criminals in England.

Rose took the blue bonnet and plopped it on her head. “So what’s my story?” She fumbled with the ribbons of the ugliest bonnet she had ever beheld before tying it under her chin. When this job was over, she was revoking Uncle Felix’s purchasing privileges.

“Your name is Daphney Bellows,” he said. “Lord Newburry took a liking to you at a house party about three months ago. The real Daphney didn’t spend much time with the earl outside of that night so you don’t need to bog yourself down with the details of her life. Just state the facts. Threaten to release a scandal and get out of there as quick as you can with the rhino.” If Rose hadn’t grown up on the streets, she likely would never understand that the man was talking about money. But really, street slang was her first language. It was more difficult for her to speak as a gently bred lady than a thief.