The Mark of a Rogue (Scandalous Sons 2)

Mr Trent spent a few minutes explaining his visit to a woman named Mrs Crandall who knew all the disreputable men of the ton.

“That makes three people who bore the mark of the Brethren,” she said. “Three dead people.” Surely Mr Trent believed there was a connection now. “And that’s only the ones we know about.”

A tense silence ensued before Mr Trent said, “Tomorrow, I shall visit Isaac Bradley. He may know more about his brother’s dealings with this deranged group.”

Verity waited for Mr Wycliff to offer to accompany him, but he did not. While Mr Trent looked more than capable of dealing with any man of violent temperament, she didn’t like the thought of him investigating this matter alone.

“Then I shall come with you, sir.” Mentally she winced, braced herself for an argument. “A second pair of eyes might be valuable when judging a man’s sincerity.”

Mr Trent handed her the book and stood. No doubt he was used to people feeling intimidated by his broad shoulders and muscular thighs. And in her current seated position, she had a perfect view of the latter.

“No, Miss Vale, you may not come with me tomorrow.” Mr Trent drew his hand down his face and rubbed his firm jaw. “After I have seen you safely back to Jaunay’s Hotel, and rented every available room in the establishment, I suggest you lock your door and remain with your maid.”

Verity swallowed. “I came without my maid. There was but one place left on the coach.”

With a mild sense of panic, Mrs Wycliff sat forward. “There is no need to return to the hotel, Miss Vale. You may stay here with us.”

While the lady bestowed a genuine smile, Mr Wycliff appeared mildly displeased. Being newly married, it was clear he preferred to be alone with his wife.

“Thank you, but I like Jaunay’s.” That was a slight exaggeration. No one liked sleeping in a strange bed with all sorts of odd sounds keeping one awake at night. “And if Mr Trent has his way, I shall be the only resident.”

Her mocking tone failed to raise a reaction from the gentleman who seemed too preoccupied with where she slept at night. While Mr Trent had no intention of explaining his overbearing manner, Mr Wycliff spoke on his behalf.

“My friend’s brash nature stems from a fear for your safety, Miss Vale. He has witnessed the darker sides of people’s characters, which can often make him sound like a patriarchal oaf.”

Verity kept her expression neutral despite Mr Wycliff’s amusing quip. “And my persistence in this matter stems from a fear of becoming a helpless victim, sir.” Honesty was the best policy in this situation, and these people knew her darkest secret. “As a spinster, I fear—”

“One would hardly call you a spinster,” Mr Trent countered as his intense gaze searched her face. “In town, you will attract the eyes of many virile men.”

The veiled compliment sent her heart skipping. With all this emotional to-ing and fro-ing, she was likely to develop a megrim.

“I am five and twenty, sir, with no intention of marrying, and every intention of making sure no other woman suffers at the hands of a masked degenerate.”

But what could she do as an unmarried woman alone in town?

Nothing, without the help of this man.

“No.” Mr Trent’s expression was as severe as his reply.

“No?” Verity frowned. “I know my own mind, sir.”

“You ask me to place you in danger when it goes against everything I believe is wise and just. How many times must I say no? How many times must I argue against your eagerness to place yourself in precarious positions?”

Oh, the man was too stubborn by half.

Knowing she was fighting a losing battle it was best to make a temporary retreat. But in a show of female solidarity, it was Mrs Wycliff who came to her aid. The lady stood and crossed the room. Shock marred Mr Trent’s countenance w

hen Mrs Wycliff placed her hand on his arm.

“Trent, when a woman is wronged in such a fashion, helplessness eats away at her soul. In a world where men hold the power, how is a woman to defend herself against such cruelty?”

The hard planes of Mr Trent’s face softened. When he glanced at Verity, she could feel his inner torment. “I have a bad feeling about this whole situation. My intuition is never wrong.”

“Then all the more reason you should work with Miss Vale, not against her.” Mrs Wycliff glanced at Verity and smiled. “The lady is determined in her cause. Lord knows what trouble will befall her if she’s left to fight her battle alone.”

Mr Trent sighed but made no reply.

“Weakness breeds contempt, contempt for oneself. I should know.” Mrs Wycliff spoke with conviction. “Allow Miss Vale to fight for her honour. Help her as Wycliff helped me, and I am convinced all will be well.”