Page 1 of The Rogue’s Offer

Chapter 1

London, 1899

Ophelia Fullerton, Viscountess Havenstock, studied the tall man on the opposite side of the Melton House ballroom and wrinkled her brow in puzzlement. He was much younger than she expected, and he looked nothing like the debauched brute she’d imagined. Where was the monster her father had described? The reply in the back of her head wasn’t one she wanted to hear. Attempting to cool her skin in the stifling heat of the room, she waved the peacock-feathered fan she’d bought less than a week ago. It was the type of luxury that would no longer be affordable unless she was able to secure the return of Marymont. Ophelia tipped her head in her sister’s direction.

“Lizzie, are you certain this is the man? He looks nothing like the disreputable scoundrel Father described.” The dubious note in her voice prompted Ophelia’s sister to bristle like a hen ruffling her feathers.

“Of course, I’m certain. Everyone knows who the Earl of Thornbury is.”

“And exactly when were you introduced to the earl?”

Ophelia arched an eyebrow at her much younger sister, Lizzie, who had made her debut last year under Ophelia’s watchful eye. The one thing Ophelia was meticulous about when it came to her sister was ensuring Lizzie never received an introduction to men of the earl’s ilk.

Lizzie was good-hearted, but far too trusting when it came to people. She always thought the best of everyone with the exception of individuals Lizzie thought had harmed her family. Then Lizzie became a tigress intent on protecting her cubs.

Ever since Lizzie’s debut, Ophelia had hoped her sister would find a nice young man to marry and enjoy the happiness denied Ophelia. That hope had become even more fervent than ever before given their current change in finances.

“Well…we’ve not actually been introduced.” Elizabeth Sheffield tilted her head haughtily clearly affronted that her identification of the earl had been called into question. “Lady Alice pointed him out to me the other day during our walk near the Serpentine. But he’s definitely the man who stole Marymont from Papa, and if we don’t do something soon, we’ll have nowhere to go.”

There was the touch of the dramatic in her sister’s words. It was a trait she’d inherited from their father who had a flair for exaggeration. Unfortunately, this was one instance where her sister’s woeful tone was more than appropriate. They were most certainly in dire straits thanks to their father’s love of wine and cards. A familiar bitterness rolled through her.

“Naturally, Father is completely blameless in this entire debacle,” Ophelia bit out as she sent her sister a scathing look. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten he’s the one who wagered our home and lost.”

“No, I’ve not forgotten, but you know Papa is far too polite to refuse someone’s offer of hospitality. Papa said the earl kept plying him with wine. It’s obvious the man took advantage of him.”

“Oh, of course, Father would never turn down a drink.” Her caustic remark emphasized her belief that the baron’s lack of judgement carried the largest burden of guilt. Even if she were wrong in her assumption as to their father’s behavior, the baron still held some responsibility for their current situation.

“You are too hard on him, Ophelia. He’s been desolate since Mama’s death.” The note of sorrow in her sister’s voice tugged at her heart. Almost eight years younger than her, Lizzie had been happily planning her debut with their mother when the baroness had become ill, never to recover.

“It has been three years since her death, Lizzie. We miss her as much as Father does, but look where his folly has taken us,” Ophelia said quietly. “Where Mama always found a way to keep him from indulging in his vices, I have failed.”

“You’ve done your best, Ophelia. We both have.” Lizzie’s voice held a forlorn note, and Ophelia quickly squeezed her sister’s hand.

“We shall find a way out of this quandary, dearest. I promise you that. At least we have the annual stipend George left me. It might not be much, but we will not starve.”

Despite Ophelia’s lack of confidence in her statement, Lizzie’s expression brightened as she nodded her belief in her older sister’s ability to save them from destitution. A polite cough made her turn around to see Paul Nickens standing behind them. Tall and dark-haired, the young man was of modest means, but was good-natured and had a promising future as a solicitor.

Ophelia had liked him from the moment she and Lizzie had been introduced to him. Deep inside she’d found herself hoping the young man would offer for her sister and that Lizzie would accept. Under the current circumstances, she was all the more eager to encourage the man’s attentions to Lizzie.

“Good evening, Mr. Nickens,” she said with a welcoming smile.

“Lady Havenstock. Miss Sheffield.” Paul Nickens bowed his greeting with a smile at both of them before his gaze quickly fixated on Lizzie. “I was hoping I might persuade you to let me claim several dances on your card, Miss Sheffield.”

“I would be honored for you to do so, sir,” her sister said in a breathless voice as her cheek grew pink with pleasure. She handed the young man a stiff rectangular dance card, and he proceeded to draw a line down more than half of Lizzie’s card and dashed off his name in bold fashion.

“There, now. I believe this will ensure that several of my rivals will find themselves suitably disappointed this evening,” Mr. Nickens said with a grin. “Perhaps you will allow me to claim my first dance now.”

“I would find that most enjoyable.” Lizzie accepted his outstretched hand and allowed the young man to lead her out onto the dance floor.

Satisfied her sister was in good company, Ophelia resumed her assessment of the earl. Despite the loathing she felt for him, the man’s appearance underscored one of the reasons he’d earned his reputation as a master of seduction. He was a picture of masculine strength and beauty. It was impossible not to think of the powerful tigers she’d seen pacing in their cages at the Regents Zoo. The earl displayed the same relaxed, yet powerful, sinewy strength in his movements. It epitomized an image of raw power.

The dark hair falling casually over his brow gave him a sinfully wicked look. Everything about the man’s appearance was a far cry from the decadent libertine her father had labeled him. Clean-shaven, the earl had chosen to eschew the large mutton chops she’d found so distasteful on her husband. his profile was sharply defined, and his jaw was square and strong-looking. It surprised her that she found him so fascinating when she was incapable of passion. A fact, her husband had repeated every time he’d left her bed chamber in the short time they’d been married.

George’s death less than two years after their wedding had been a relief from the constant bombardment of his criticism. But their brief marriage had convinced her of one thing. She’d failed in her duties as a wife, and she would never possess the ability to seduce a man or find pleasure in the bedroom. It was a conviction that was at distinct odds with her reaction to the earl, and it confused her.

Despite his reputation, there was an almost angelic look about him, which masked the dangerous predator she knew lay beneath the surface. The woman at his side said something that made him laugh, and he bowed slightly as she departed. Enthralled, Ophelia watched the earl take a glass of champagne off the tray one of the footmen carried. Before she could turn her head away, the man looked directly at her and lifted the flute of sparkling liquid in her direction. She couldn’t discern the color of his eyes, but the sensual curve of his lips made her mouth go dry.

Dear God, how long had he been aware she was watching him. The air in Ophelia’s lungs disappeared, and her chest tightened until she could barely breathe. Frozen in place, she remained pinned beneath his gaze as a small frisson skimmed its way across her skin. Mesmerized, she watched him drink from the crystal glass his gaze still locked with hers.