At Last the Rogue Returns (Avenging Lords 1)

“Don’t,” he said, and he meant it. “You were not to know.”

Their eyes met, and he held her gaze. His heart raced in response. Something about her bewitched him though he could not decide what.

“But I should have written to you.”

“And where would you have sent your missive? Gilligan was the only one who knew my direction.”

She cast the steward a sidelong glance. “No doubt that would have proved false, too. Oh, I’d been so quick to believe the worst.”

“Deceivers know how to mislead people. They know what to say to achieve the desired result.” His mother’s name had been dragged through the dirt, trodden and trampled over, and all to ease his father’s conscience.

“Mr Gilligan was extremely convincing,” she said.

“Those we least expect are often the ones most guilty of betrayal.”

Lord Lovell coughed into his clenched fist—the sound breaking the brief spell that held Miles captive.

“Well, I think we’ve put the world to rights this evening,” the lord said. “Best get back to the dancing.”

Good lord, the man had done nothing but stand there looking gormless. Miles might have told him so, but he wanted something from Miss Lovell and upsetting her fool of a brother was not the way to go about it.

“Then perhaps you might direct me to the magistrate, so I might deal with Mr Gilligan while you flex your dancing slippers.” Miles failed to keep the hint of contempt from his tone. “I presume you’re not listed on the Commission of the Peace else you would insist on accompanying me.”

“Well … no. We plan on living in London in the near future and—” He stopped abruptly and did not continue.

“London?” Miss Lovell’s blue eyes turned frosty as she considered her brother. “And when is that?”

“Oh, well, I would see you wed before we make any definitive plans.” Lord Lovell gave an indolent wave. “But now is not the time to discuss private matters.”

Miss Lovell frowned. “Why when you insisted on being party to Lord Greystone’s affairs?”

“I came out here merely to act as chaperone,” Lord Lovell said.

“A wise decision.” Miles offered a mischievous grin. “You thought I might murder Gilligan and then ravish your sister.” The idea had merit and Miles had considered doing both during the time they’d stood hidden in the shadows.

Miss Lovell’s cheeks flushed pink. “I’m confident you had no intention of doing either, my lord.”

“Still, your brother is right to protect your virtue.” Had she come alone, Miles might have tasted those rosy lips. “Some rogues just can’t help themselves.”

Confident blue eyes considered him. “But we have just established you’re not a rogue.”

“The only thing we proved is that I knew nothing about the problems at Greystone Manor. I have never professed to be a gentleman.”

If Miss Lovell were his sister, he would throttle any man who spoke so openly in her presence. Lord Lovell was more interested in the music spilling out from the assembly to show concern over anything Miles said. When it came to her protector, the lady deserved so much better.

“Cecil?” A shrill voice pierced the air. “Are you out here?” A lady muttered something incoherent. “Oh, Rudolph. What if Greystone has gone on the rampage? You saw the devilish look in his eyes.”

“I care not for your husband, my dear, but someone needs to rein in Miss Lovell before she ruins what is left of her precious reputation. You cannot expect me to marry a girl who risks her good name at every turn.”

“I know. I know. Lydia needs a firm hand. She needs a husband she cannot browbeat into submission.”

Lydia. Lydia Lovell.

Her name ran through Miles’ mind like silk slipping through his fingers. The cadence stimulated the fine hairs at his nape. It brimmed with sensuality, carried a hint of the mysterious. Much like the lady herself. He studied Miss Lovell’s stiff countenance—a clear indication she had no desire to marry the pompous oaf.

Distracted by his thoughts, Miles failed to notice Mr Gilligan shuffling out of arm’s reach. By the time he heard the clips of shoes on the pavement, the steward was across the road and darting along the high street.

Lord Lovell was too stupid to notice. “We’re here, Arabella,” he cried, hurrying out of the darkness. He glanced back over his shoulder and beckoned his sister.