Chapter 21: Chapter 21

London, England 1814

Lady Louisa Felton tugged at the ill-fitting trousers she wore as part of her disguise and studied the dark windows of Granger House on Grosvenor Street. None of the servants

appeared to be awake. Perfect. Yet she couldn’t convince her feet in their unfamiliar boots to move from the cobblestones toward the garden gate.

The deed could be postponed no longer. The new Earl of Granger was expected to arrive on the morrow or the day after, according to servants’ gossip. She should’ve done this earlier in the week when her mother had first confessed her most

recent grievous error. Procuring a lad’s clothing had taken two days, but she’d wanted some sort of disguise for this undertaking. Thank heavens her lady’s maid had a young brother willing to lend her the proper attire. Another day had been spent finding the courage to don the male clothing for this late-night venture.

Blast her mother for writing love letters to the previous earl, who’d lost his life, along with his wife and son, three

weeks past when the ship they’d been on had gone down in a storm. Louisa felt a twinge of sympathy. The late earl had been a rogue of the worst sort with his son following closely on his heels. The Countess of Granger had ignored their terrible behavior by indulging in some of her own. Her penchant for belittling all who crossed her and spreading vicious gossip had been well known amongst the ton. Despite their poor behavior, Louisa certainly hadn’t wished them dead.

Louisa muttered an unladylike curse under her breath.

This was absolutely, positively, the last time she was going to rescue her mother from the brink of scandal. When she’d promised her father on his deathbed some twelve years ago to watch over her mother, she hadn’t realized how difficult a task he’d given her. Her mother’s huge heart and passionate nature

often made her reckless, causing her to fling herself from one cause—or man—to another in search of happiness.

Unfortunately, she had yet to find it since becoming a widow.

They could not risk the new earl discovering her letters

and sharing them. While many in polite society might look the other way when a married man had an affair with a widow, leaving evidence for his heir to find was a completely different matter. Louisa didn’t care to have her mother’s name bandied about again. Not only did it cause her mother distress, it also tainted Louisa’s future prospects, as would missions such as this one. Heaven forbid if she were caught.

Steeling herself, she used her own garden gate key to unlock the one before her, relieved they were similar enough to work. Their own home wasn’t far away, but that provided little reassurance. She might have been in another country as strange and disorienting as her mission was.

In the garden away from the streetlamps, the night was inky black. The late November air held a distinct chill and

added to her shivers. She approached the glass-paned door that led to the library, her palms damp from nerves. The layout of the house was similar to hers along with most of the other ones on this street.

A quick test proved the door locked. With a tug, she freed a hairpin from under her cap and went to work on the lock, something she’d practiced on the library door at home.

Minutes ticked by before she finally managed it. She drew a breath in an attempt to slow her racing heart as she

cautiously opened the door then paused to listen.

Silence. The lack of sound had never been sweeter. But the darkness was a problem. She rummaged in her coat pocket for the candle she’d brought, relieved to see a few coals still burning in the fireplace and hurried forward to light her

candle. Having to do so with the tinderbox would take far too long. The sooner she found what she sought and left, the better.

She moved to the desk with jerky strides, having already noted the library door that led to the rest of the house was

closed, and placed the candle in a candleholder to begin her search. This evening, she should’ve been at a soiree where she might meet a thus far undiscovered paragon of calm, cool, and collected behavior whom she could marry. Why had she been fighting the idea? Marrying a man above reproach sounded lovely now and far from boring as she eyed the three-drawer mahogany desk.

With a silent prayer that she’d quickly find the letters, she opened the first drawer, dismayed to find it nearly full of papers. She pulled the lot out and paged through them in the dim candlelight with no success. After returning them to their place, she tried the center drawer only to find it locked.

If a married man wished to hide letters, he’d obviously keep them in that drawer. She retrieved her hairpin once more and set to work. Why her mother had fancied herself in love with the roguish earl escaped Louisa. Nor did she pretend to understand why she’d felt the need to profess her love for a married man in writing.

Louisa heard a satisfying click as her hairpin unlocked the drawer. But she held still, crouched before the desk.

Something was amiss. The fine hairs on the back of her neck told her so. She looked up to see that she was not alone.

“Looking for something?”

The man who watched her as he walked forward from the now open doorway was no servant. The breadth of his shoulders, the arrogance in his stance, along with his handsome features said otherwise. An untied cravat dangled

about the open neck of his shirt, and his coat was unfastened as well. His gaze raked her over from head to toe, convincing her that he’d seen through her disguise. Her heart hammered with fear.

The hairpin she clutched would hardly prove a satisfactory weapon. She stepped back from the desk, anxious to put as much distance between her and the stranger as

possible then risked a glance over her shoulder to see how far away the door was.

Too far. She looked back at the tall stranger, dismayed at how much closer he’d gotten so quickly.

“Who are you?” he demanded, the deep timbre of his voice all the more intimidating. He was close enough to the candle she’d left on the desk to see his attractive features.

Dark tousled hair brushed the collar of his shirt. His narrowed eyes were framed by black brows. He had to be the new Earl of Granger. The one who wasn’t due to arrive for at least

another day. She had no doubt he was a rogue through and through, much like the rest of his family.

Blast. So close and yet so far from her goal.

Louisa had no intention of answering his questions when her voice would give her away if her feminine features hadn’t already. She shook her head, hoping the cap kept her disguised. She held up her hand, palm out, to show she hadn’t taken anything. Then she turned and bolted.

Before she’d taken more than a few steps, he had hold of her arm with strong fingers.

“I asked you a question.” He gave her arm a shake and her cap fell off, causing her hair to escape its knot and tumble past her shoulders.

His surprise at the sight loosened his hold, and Louisa jerked free, filled with hope that escape might yet be possible.

As she neared the door, she felt his hands grasp her upper arms, dashing her hope. He spun her to face him, his dark gaze raking over her, making her feel as if he’d laid her bare for his perusal. “Who are you?”

~*~

Benjamin Wright, the new Earl of Granger, couldn’t wrap his thoughts around what was happening. Mayhap his travels had exhausted him more than he realized. He’d arrived in

London earlier in the day, still processing the news that had

abruptly ended his work abroad. Inheriting the earldom had

changed his whole future. Finding a lad in his uncle’s—rather, his own—library was a shock, but to realize he was a she upended his thoughts completely.

“Release me,” the woman demanded.

“So you can run again?” He shook his head and firmed his grip. “I think not.” He might not know why she was here, but if she escaped, he’d never discover the reason.

He eased her closer to the single candle flame that sputtered on the desk to gain a better look. Golden hair the color of spun honey hung in soft waves nearly to her waist.

Wide blue eyes framed with dark lashes, arched brows, high cheekbones stained a tantalizing pink, and full lips made him think of a Botticelli painting come to life. She was an English beauty for certain, and he’d been abroad long enough to

appreciate the sight thoroughly.

Her shifting eyes suggested she weighed how best to answer his question.

He waited, intrigued at what choice she thought she had. Was she a former lover of his uncle’s? She seemed too young, but he well knew money could buy almost anything, and his uncle had made depravity his middle name.

“I’m merely searching for something that doesn’t belong here.” Her proper English tone sounded exotic to his ears.

He’d definitely been gone too long.

“And what might that be?” He glanced at the bare desk, unable to guess what could be within the drawers that she desired.

Again she hesitated, as though choosing her words with care. She shifted to make it clear she desired her freedom, but

he continued to hold tight. “Private correspondence…between my mother and the earl.”

“Love letters?” Benjamin raised a brow, relieved to hear the woman wasn’t personally involved.

“I wouldn’t know as I haven’t read them.” She lifted her chin, a small gesture of defiance that matched the fire in her eyes.

Why did that feel like a challenge?

Buy A ROGUE’S REPUTATION today!