At Last the Rogue Returns (Avenging Lords 1)

But that still left Miles to deal with the deranged woman who had orchestrated events to satisfy her own selfish needs. One look at her cold, empty eyes told him there was only one way to tackle a money-hungry harpy.

“And as for you, Lady Lovell, know that Lord Randall is broke and cannot pay his creditors. It is my belief he has no intention of touring the Continent. Once he has used a portion of Miss Lovell’s inheritance to keep him from the Fleet, I have a strange suspicion you would become but a distant memory.”

The fact Lord Randall did not bother to contradict the statement spoke volumes. Doubtless his mind was engaged in plotting the quickest route to Dover.

Lady Lovell turned to the disgraced lord. “Have no fear, my darling. I know better than to listen to this rogue’s jealous diatribe.” She gave a snort of disdain. “When you shoot Greystone in the morning, what will his whore do then?”

His whore!

A black cloud of rage obscured Miles’ vision. Every muscle in his body tensed. For a moment, he imagined wringing the woman’s neck. But the light touch of Lydia’s hand on his arm brought an element of calm to the situation.

Miles cast her a sidelong glance, and his heart swelled for she possessed the same confident air he’d witnessed the first night they met.

Lydia fixed her gaze on Lady Lovell. “We’re leaving now,” she said, and though she spoke softly, her voice carried a threatening undertone. “But should there be any confusion regarding my intentions, there is something I must do before we go.”

She captured Miles’ hand and led him out into the hall.

He followed without pause or question—he would follow this lady anywhere.

Once there, she turned to him. “There was a time when I thought you were amongst the worst of men, the kind of man Lord Randall turned out to be. But I was wrong.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

Her dainty hand came to rest on his chest, covered his heart. “It may or may not have escaped your notice, but I’m in love with you.” She paused and caught her breath. “I love your loyalty to your friends, your devotion to righting the wrongs of the past, your strength of heart and mind. Most of all, I love the way you make me feel.”

Miles captured her hand and brought it to his lips. “Then know that your feelings are returned. I fell in love with you for the same reasons.”

She smiled, though he could feel the nervous tremor in her fingers. “With that in mind, I want to ask you if … if you’ll marry me, Lord Greystone. Oh, I know it’s not the done thing for a lady to propose. But it is my way of showing you I’m willing to risk everything for you.”

Miles’ throat constricted and he found it hard to breathe. In his youth, he’d stood by helplessly and watched events unfold around him. As a man, he’d taken control of every aspect of his life with a steely determination. Yes, he should have been the one to ask. He needed to marry this woman as much as he needed to take air into his lungs. But knowing the strength it took to make the declaration touched him to the depths of his soul.

“Does that mean I get a trousseau?” he said, offering a wicked grin.

She watched him, fear and hope filling her sapphire-blue eyes. “Well, I do owe you a new shirt.” A weak smile graced her face. “Will you? Will you marry me, Greystone?”

“Love, I’ve wanted to marry you from the moment we met.”

The sound of sniffing drew his gaze to the beaming figure of Ada standing near the drawing room door.

Lord Randall was nowhere to be seen.

Lady Lovell stood gripping the console table, her upper lip curled in disdain. “I think you’re getting ahead of yourselves, don’t you?” she spat. “Cecil will never agree to the match. I can assure you of that.”

“Lord Lovell will grant us permission to wed,” Miles countered coldly. “And if not, we shall elope to Gretna Green.”

Nothing would prevent their union.

“You’re no different from Rudolph. One only has to look at the dilapidated state of the manor to see you want her money.”

“All I want is her love,” Miles corrected.

“And you have it,” Lydia said sweetly.

Lady Lovell’s face turned a dark shade of crimson. “You should have stayed away. You’ve ruined everything.” The woman jolted as if an evil presence had taken command of her body. Her frantic gaze darted about the hall. Anger radiated—wild and feral. The woman growled—deep and low and menacing. She grabbed the silver candlestick off the table and charged forward.

“Good God!” Lord Randall cried as he appeared in the hall. “Arabella! What the hell are you doing?”

But Lady Lovell had her beady eyes locked on her target. She swung the candlestick at Lydia’s head, but Miles pushed his love out of the way. He ducked, as he would from one of Dariell’s lethal sidekicks, and Lady Lovell flew over his shoulder.