Gone with the Rake (Inglorious Scoundrels #1)

Chapter 6

L ydia rode down the quiet park path at dawn, contemplating her predicament. Her failure last night was not only indicative of her inability to think straight when she was faced with her past lover, but it also brought up too many feelings she thought were forgotten.

She’d need to devise another plan to get the jewel because stealing into his bedroom every night—no matter how attractive the prospect seemed to her—was not a wise idea at all. She needed to stay as far away from Art as she could.

If it was just her livelihood at stake, she might have had the luxury of prolonging the inevitable moment of leaving Art forever, but this wasn’t the case.

Honoria depended on her. Either way, she’d seen him yesterday, she’d said her goodbye, and now it was time to get his jewel and leave.

Other than saving her friend, she also risked angering the notorious hell owner, Miss Melissande Monroe.

Everyone knew Miss Monroe. She was well known for her scandalous behavior—after all, what proper lady would ever run a hell? But she was also known for her iron fist, with which she ruled her little empire. Everyone knew that it was better not to cross her, or the circumstances would be dire.

Lydia stopped as she noticed a solitary figure feeding ducks by the Serpentine. Lydia smiled, dismounted, and tied her horse to the tree before approaching the woman.

Honoria turned around, her dark cloak swishing around her ankles. Her face lit up, her lips spreading into a smile. “Lydia!”

Dressed in all black clothing as if in mourning, a piece of bread still cradled in the palm of her hand, Honoria moved to embrace Lydia.

She always dressed in dark shades to avoid notice, and her hair was always gathered in a tight chignon. Usually, it was a dirty brown color, but now blond streaks glinted through her darker locks. She must not have had time to reapply the dye before leaving for London—the situation must have been truly urgent.

Lydia embraced Honoria, feeling warmth and peace for the first time in weeks. Honoria always had that effect on her. She was the light in her shadowy existence. “Good morning, dear. I am so happy to see you again. I’ve missed you.”

Honoria pulled away and held Lydia at arm’s length as she studied her features. “I’ve missed you, too. You… you haven’t changed at all. You look lovely.”

Lydia’s smile grew. “Thank you. You, too.” She studied her friend’s face. Honoria hadn’t changed much either. But something about her was different—her cheeks were rosier, although it could have been the fresh air, and her eyes were almost glowing. “Except you did change. You look… dare I say happier?”

Honoria’s smile dimmed at those words. “I am happy. I like the family I live with. The children are all so bright and intelligent. I shall truly miss not seeing Robbie grow up into a fine gentleman and not guiding Elise during her courtship. And Rosie…” Honoria swallowed, unable to finish her sentence.

Lydia bit on her lip and looked away. There was a brief pause.

Finally, Honoria cleared her throat. “Can I assume your reserved demeanor to mean that the Hades’ night wasn’t successful?”

Hugging her arms around her middle, Lydia stepped away and let out a deep sigh. “Actually it was a success.”

“It was?” Honoria’s eyes lit in excitement, and Lydia felt guilty for giving her false hope.

“Yes. But it turns out that particular job was just a test.”

Honoria’s brows drew low over her eyes. “What does that mean?”

Lydia took a piece of bread from Honoria’s slack fingers, ripped a tiny piece, and threw it as far as she could into the lake. “Miss Melissande Monroe. Does that name sound familiar to you?”

A hoarse chuckle left Honoria’s lips. “To me and everyone who can read or has ears. Yes.”

“Well, turns out she was the one who concocted the entire thing.”

“Pardon me, I do not think I understand. She wanted you to steal from her?”

Lydia threw another piece of bread into the lake for the hungry ducks. “Yes. She wanted to see if I was as good as she’d heard I was.”

“Does that mean you passed the test?” Honoria’s voice was higher pitched than usual.

Lydia nodded. “Yes. And she gave me another task to complete. I manage the job and get paid thrice as much as she promised me. I fail, and I get nothing. And as a boon, a ruined reputation as a failed thief.”

“Well, we can’t let that happen,” Honoria answered immediately.

“I am glad you agree.” Lydia grinned, still looking out at the lake. She picked another piece of bread and threw it to the hungry ducks.

“Something else is troubling you,” Honoria noted. She and Lydia had known each other for years, it wasn’t difficult for Honoria to discern when something was wrong.

“Yes. It’s the nature of the job.”

Honoria turned toward Lydia, her brows furrowed. Lydia threw the last bit of bread, dusted her hands, and turned to face her friend.

“You have never said that before. Nothing troubles you, not even breaking into the most notorious gaming hell in London.”

Lydia swallowed. “Well… This one is a bit… uh… different.”

“Different how?”

Lydia took a deep breath and expelled it, fortifying herself to tell her friend the truth. “She wants me to steal from Viscount Thornton.”

Honoria blinked. Then her mouth fell open. “Does she know—”

“How could she?”

“If she did—”

“She would not care. And frankly, neither should I.” Lydia started pacing.

“Of course, you should care,” Honoria stated emphatically. “You’ve managed to avoid him for years.”

“Precisely! It’s been years. I ought to have moved on. And avoiding him thus far wasn’t that difficult. I am not exactly a part of the ton .”

“But you’ll have to become one for this.”

Lydia halted and grimaced. “Should I? Perhaps I can just break into his house in the middle of the night and…” Haven’t I just done that and failed? She didn’t want to tell her friend the truth, but she needed help coming up with a different plan.

“No! That is too dangerous. What if you get caught? That man shall ruin you!”

Lydia chewed on her lower lip. She hadn’t even thought about that the night she broke into his house. She wasn’t thinking about anything. Her common sense flew out the window the moment Miss Monroe gave her the task. “I shan’t get caught, I never have.”

“No, but you never had to steal from him . What does she want you to steal, anyway?”

Lydia gritted her teeth. She might as well tell her. She’d have to sooner or later. “A family heirloom.” She took a deep breath. “His mother’s ruby ring.”

Honoria grimaced. “His mother’s ring? The one that—?”

“Yes, that one,” Lydia interrupted, not wanting to hear the words. Every reminder of her past hurt.

“Do you have any idea where he stores it? Because if you have to break into his house, it’s probably better to do so when he isn’t there.”

Lydia wrinkled her nose. “Actually, he carries it on his person.”

Honoria raised her brow. “How do you know that?”

“It’s unimportant.” Lydia waved the question away. “What’s important is that it is hanging off the chain around his neck, so whatever I do, I have to come close to him to do it.”

“How are you going to do that without him seeing you?”

Lydia scrubbed her face. “I do not know. Not yet, at least, but I will figure it out.”

Honoria walked toward her and squeezed her shoulders. “Of course you will. You are a professional, Lydia. And it’s just another job.”

Lydia nodded frantically. “You are right. I am a professional. I can do this.”

“You will steal the jewel of the bastard who caused you so much grief, you will hand it to Miss Monroe, get your money, and we shall both be free. And I will help you do it.”

Lydia smiled. Yes, she could do it. And she would derive great pleasure from fooling the viscount, too. “I can do this,” she repeated more confidently.

“How much time do you have?” Honoria stepped away, her smile melting off her face and turning into a grimace of determination.

“Till the masquerade.”

Honoria’s eyes rounded. “ The masquerade?”

Lydia laughed. “Yes, the masquerade.”

Hades’ masquerade ball was one of London’s most popular and scandalous events. Under the guise of masks, tame lords and ladies of the ton unleashed their inhibitions and took great pleasure in scandalous activities. This time, though, the masquerade promised to be the most scandalous yet.

Two years ago, the owners of the hell handed down the reins to their successor—their oldest granddaughter. This was the first time the hell belonged to a woman. And Miss Melissande Monroe enjoyed every moment she got to scandalize her patrons. This year’s masquerade would also celebrate the opening of the Female Wing of the hell—Persephone’s Heaven. So thing’s promised to be even more exciting.

Honoria didn’t seem to share Lydia’s elation. “It’s in a month’s time…”

“It won’t take me that long, I promise.”

“Lydia… The Caldwells will have to have visitors. They are already planning balls and soirees. You know I can’t risk being seen by people.”

“It won’t take me that long!” Lydia assured her.

Honoria bit her lip. “Nobody pays attention to the servants, but if he ever visits—”

“Are you listening to me?” Lydia was ready to throw up her hands. “This will not take me long.”

Honoria looked at her with disbelief in her eyes. “If it were any other job…”

Lydia let out a huff of frustration, then trained her eyes on her friend again. “It is just any other job. Didn’t you say so yourself?”

Honoria watched Lydia with narrowed eyes before relaxing. “Fine. But it means I need to tell the Caldwells that I am leaving soon. Because whether you succeed or fail, I need to be out of London sooner than later.”

“Do you have no trust in me whatsoever?” Not that Honoria didn’t have her reasons for doubt.

“Of course, I trust you. But I need to be practical.” Honoria frowned. “I cannot live on faith alone, Lydia. I cannot risk it. I-I can tell the Caldwells that I am leaving in one month’s time, I suppose…”

“We’ll be gone sooner, dear.” Lydia took Honoria’s hand. “I promise you.”

Honoria nodded. “I am afraid even one month is too long.”

Lydia squeezed Honoria’s hand. “Look at me, dear. You’ve changed. You are not that golden-haired young girl anymore. Who is to say anybody will even recognize you? Nobody even looks at servants. Your disguise is perfect.”

Honoria bit her lip. “It is not just that, Lydia. The balls, the soirees… I-I miss them. This is the life I was supposed to lead.”

Lydia grimaced. “And you shall. We both shall once we traverse the continent.”

Honoria took a deep breath and looked away. “You are right. We shall be happily enjoying our lives quite soon.”

That wasn’t exactly the excited response Lydia was hoping for, but for now, that would do. She wound her arm with Honoria’s and led her along the Serpentine. “Now… help me devise a better plan to steal the jewel from the viscount.”

Honoria frowned in thought. “Well, I do not know how, that is more your area of expertise, but I do have an idea about where you can execute your plan.”

“Yes?” Lydia raised her brow.

“The Caldwells are holding a ball in a week’s time. And I can make certain that you’re both invited.”

* * *

Thorn fondled the ring between his fingers as he watched the two men in the ring trade blows.

“You know you need to take it off.” Mr. Johnson, the proprietor of the boxing academy and the finest boxing instructor London had ever known, approached Thorn.

“I know.” Thorn swiftly removed the chain from his neck. He caressed the ruby with his thumb before wrapping the chain around the ring.

“Good to see you back,” Mr. Johnson said, clapping Thorn on the shoulder as he passed him. “By the way, you’re next,” he added over his shoulder.

Thorn grunted in response. The men around him shifted uncomfortably, stepping back and clearing a path as Mr. Johnson stalked through the crowd in search of Thorn’s opponent.

Turning away, Thorn stepped to where his waistcoat lay discarded. He slipped his hand into the inner lining and tucked the chain-wrapped ring into the hidden pocket. He smoothed the material, ensuring it would not slip free, then folded the garment and placed it beneath his pile of discarded clothing.

Safe. Hidden.

The club was filled with gentlemen, true, but last night’s events had left him more paranoid than usual.

How had the ring managed to slip free from his chain and bounce off the bed all by itself?

When he’d found it under the bed, nothing else in the room had been disturbed. He’d thought he was going mad.

For a moment, upon waking up, he’d imagined that someone was in his room. But if they were, how would they escape unnoticed? More importantly, if someone was indeed inside his room, why would they attempt to steal this ring?

True, it was valuable, but most of its worth was sentimental to Thorn. He had far more expensive pieces in his jewelry box. More than likely, he had simply stretched in his sleep and dislodged the chain, sending the ring flying through the air.

“Well, well, well,” a familiar voice interrupted his thoughts. “If it isn’t the prodigal champion of Johnson’s boxing academy.”

Thorn straightened and squeezed his friend’s proffered hand. “Glad to see you, Luke.”

Lucien Drake, tall and lean with the graceful build of a fencer rather than a boxer, flexed his shoulders. His dark hair was already damp with sweat from earlier matches, but his hazel eyes sparkled with their usual mischief. “Haven’t seen you for a while. Where have you been?”

“Busy. I am assuming you’re my sparring partner?”

Luke let out a snort. “Everyone else is too afraid to step forward.”

“Drake, Thornton, step into the ring,” Mr. Johnson’s voice rang out across the training hall, cutting through the murmur of conversation and the rhythmic thud of punches against leather.

They climbed through the ropes and faced each other, raising their arms.

“So, what’s the news?” Luke asked as they both circled each other.

Thorn threw easy practice jabs, and Luke easily deflected them. “My father is finally on his deathbed.”

“Hm…” Luke let out a breath, weaving away from Thorn’s left hook. “I don’t suppose you’re going to be grieving the loss.”

Thorn didn’t answer. Instead, he pressed forward with a flurry of punches, one slipping through Luke’s guard to land just below his ribs. Luke stepped back, both men using the moment to circle and catch their breath, sweat beginning to gleam on their skin.

In truth, Thorn just didn’t know how to answer the question. Sure, he despised him now, but there was a time he idolized the man. For better or worse, he’d shaped Thorn to be who he was today. And the person he was today couldn’t find enough cruelty in his heart not to feel a hollow ache at the thought of him dying. It didn’t mean he had forgiven him, though, or that he ever would.

“Have you heard?” Lucien tried another angle, seeing as he wasn’t getting an answer to his previous question. “Rivendale has arrived in London.”

“Rivendale?” Caught off guard, Thorn dropped his defenses for a crucial moment—just enough for Luke to dart in and land a clean punch to his mouth.

Shaking off a sharp pain in his jaw and the stars from his vision, Thorn spat out a glob of blood, the metallic taste sharp on his tongue. He turned back to find Lucien grinning. “Was that your distraction technique?”

Lucien shrugged, never dropping his guard despite his casual demeanor. “It worked, didn’t it? But it’s also true. Rivendale is in his London residence.”

The Marquess of Rivendale had once been among Thorn’s closest friends, and had later become his in-law when Thorn’s little sister married Rivendale’s youngest brother.

“He hasn’t told you, has he?” Luke circled Thorn, light on his feet.

“No. We haven’t spoken since that night…” That night when, during a house party with only his most intimate friends and family members present, a valuable locket was stolen. He had flown into a rage, suspecting everyone there. None of the relationships had recovered from that. “Do you know why he is in London?”

Lucien shrugged, feinting left. “Probably to find himself a bride. He needs heirs. And who knows how long—”

Thorn’s fist connected with Luke’s solar plexus, driving the breath from his lungs. Luke staggered back, one hand pressed against his middle.

“I see you haven’t lost your touch,” he wheezed out.

Thorn took a step back, allowing his friend to recover. He wiped sweat from his forehead with his forearm and grimaced. “Seems like everyone is looking for a bride these days.”

Luke gave him an odd look. “Don’t tell me you’re looking for a bride, too? First Tyrone, now you?”

Thorn raised his hands and tipped his head to the side, inviting Luke to continue the match. “I have no choice. My bastard of a father will disinherit me if I don’t get married before his demise.”

“He can’t do that.” Luke scowled, then stepped forward, raising his hands in kind. “Can he?”

“He can’t touch the Wakefield estates, but most of the profitable lands the bastard won in cards and horse races. Without them, the upkeep of the entailed estates crumbles. And most of the money he has saved in the account also didn’t come from the marquessate. In short, without the wealth of unentailed assets, I am going to be in queer street.”

“If that is reason enough to marry, then perhaps I should be thinking about marrying as well.” Luke smirked, dodging a jab. “Maurice is threatening to cut off my allowance almost every month. I hate being dependent on him.”

“Then perhaps you should marry,” Thorn said with a sad smile. “Not sure Sabrina would appreciate it though.”

Luke snorted. “Sabrina doesn’t care about other women I engage with now. What makes you think she’s going to care if I marry?”

“Because she is the main woman in your life now. You buy her all the jewels and pay for her expenses, and you take her to all the public events. You come home to her when you have nothing else to do. And if you marry, your wife will get that privilege.”

“You call that privilege?” Luke chuckled, dancing away from a combination. “She would be happy to be rid of me if it meant she got more trinkets—the ones I am not able to afford now.”

Thorn shrugged. “I wish it was just about trinkets for me; then, I wouldn’t even think of getting married. Unfortunately, it’s about an estate full of people who depend on me. Besides, I’ve already given up too much to keep that blasted inheritance, and I will be damned if I let that bastard win in death… In fact—” A bright idea sprouted in his mind.

“Yes?” Luke threw a series of punches, but Thorn blocked each one with ease.

“I know exactly how to make Wakefield regret his blackmail.”

“How is that?” Luke’s guard dropped for just a moment as curiosity got the better of him. Thorn seized the opening, landing a devastating blow that sent his friend sprawling onto the canvas.

“By marrying the least acceptable woman.”