Chapter One
May 20, 1815
Club Damnation
43 St. James Place
Mayfair, London
“When is the fucking war going to end? Surely, they can finally put a damned stop to Napoleon before he destroys what is left of Europe.” Beyond annoyed that things hadn’t seen much movement since he’d left the Navy, Alexander Sutcliffe—the 8th Duke of Ravenhurst—swiftly folded his copy of The Times then tossed it onto a nearby table.
One of his clubmates, the Duke of St. Eggleton, snorted. The copious silver threads in his brown hair glimmered in the candlelight. Though he’d been the founder of the club over twenty-five years ago and was on the downslope to fifty years of age, his spirit was young, and he made certain to keep himself vital. “I’m quite sure Wellington is giving it his all out there. No doubt he’s nearly got the French despot routed.”
“I wonder.” An annoyed sound left his throat. “For the past seventeen years, I couldn’t wait to end my obligations and leave the Navy. Then, after that, I worked as a mercenary on the sea until two months ago. However, at times, I do wish I was back there to take part in the celebrations once the madman is truly spanked.”
“No one blames you for leaving when you did.” Eggleton shook his head. “Leaving either organization, I should clarify.” He took a hearty swig of his brandy. “On that note, you’ve been in London for nearly three weeks, yet I’ve not heard tell of you rabble-rousing or ridding the streets of human vermin, especially those who’ve wronged you. It also seems you’ve given up shaving or even trying to groom yourself.”
“How droll you can be.” One corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn’t laugh. While it was true, his black hair hadn’t seen scissors for more than six months or so, and neither had his face met a razor for just as long, it didn’t matter. In this guise, he was more formidable and more overlooked, which meant he could move through society with ease. “I have been otherwise occupied.”
“Brooding? Stewing? Pouting? Wishing all of us to the devil?”
“Not helpful.” Alexander downed the remainder of his brandy then savored the burn of the alcohol in his throat. The liquid was always top-notch where Eggleton was concerned, and a good sight better than the swill he oftentimes had aboard his ship or in the ports. “However, yes, there are people I do wish to the devil, and if Old Scratch doesn’t get them, I might just do it myself.”
Unfortunately, ever since he’d returned, he’d found everything had changed but nothing truly had. The same men were in charge of the government; the same matrons controlled the manners and development of society. Horrid people did more horrible things against people who largely probably deserved it, and even some who didn’t. Vices reigned and immorality was everywhere, while matchmaking mamas were still eager to shove their virgin daughters at any peer with a title, regardless of the character of said man.
It is exhausting.
“Ah.” Eggleton poured another measure of the amber liquid into both of their snifters. “You are in London for a specific purpose.”
“Indeed.” Alexander frowned at his friend. “In truth, I’m after revenge, on the man who ruined my life. If only I could discern who’d orchestrated me being shanghaied or had my parents killed.”
For long moments, silence brewed between them. Sounds of men laughing and talking filled the air, for Club Damnation was quite popular with men whose characters were morally gray or their reputations far more sullied and damaged than the prigs who belonged to White’s, located just down the street. Courtesans took clients upstairs to their rooms, or if a man was of a mind, he could visit the two gambling rooms on the second level. To say nothing of other sins a man could stumble onto while at the club.
And it must be quite lucrative for Eggleton; otherwise, the man would have closed the place years ago.
“As is always the case, secrets don’t stay buried. Eventually, everything has a habit of coming to light, even the most egregious of stories.” With a sigh, the older man set his snifter on a nearby ivory-inlaid table then he rested the full force of his gaze on Alexander. “And, since you have been absent from Town for twenty years leaving nary a clue as to your whereabouts, some of those secrets have slipped out, for perhaps the perpetrator thought you dead, thought it was safe to brag.”
His chest tightened, as did his fingers that were wrapped around his own glass. “Meaning?”
Eggleton shrugged. A trace of pity went through his expression. “Would you like to know the identity of the man who ruined your life?”
“What?” Shock plowed into him. “You know?”
“Yes, and only recently too. To be honest, I hadn’t given it much thought these past ten years or so, for everyone thought you dead or perhaps living out your life as a pirate.” There was no levity in his demeanor. “But when I heard rumors that you had returned to England, I thought it prudent to do a little digging. A few rigged games of faro, a little too much free-flowing wine, and a couple of very skilled courtesans later, and I had the information that I sought.”
Dear God, after all this time he would have a name. He would finally know the identity of the man to drop all his hate and fury upon, which had been building for the past twenty years. “Tell me.”
“Why?” Eggleton frowned. Apprehension glimmered in his blue eyes. “What will you do with the information?”
What else could he do? He’d thought of nothing else. “Kill him, of course, and then drink myself into oblivion, for the task I’d set for myself since I was forced out of London will finally have been accomplished.”
One of Eggleton’s eyebrows cocked. “Drink yourself unconscious in your shadowy townhouse with mourning crepe still covering the portraits and furniture, or will you run to your country estate in Essex, which is even more neglected than the townhouse? I can’t imagine the state of either.”
There was that. Since he’d come back, he’d only made use of two rooms in the townhouse—his bedchamber and his study. The rest of the rooms he kept the doors closed so he wouldn’t need to peer inside. He didn’t care, honestly, for he wasn’t there to entertain, and as long as he could ignore the looks of pity or curiosity from the servants, he could get on with his mission.
“Does it matter what I do after that? I have no future. The man I am was decided long ago by my past. It was forced upon me, and now I am a monster. Might as well embrace that mantle.” In two gulps, he finished his brandy then rested the snifter on the table. “Until the end.”
“Surely you don’t truly believe you are that sort of man.” Doubt hung on Eggleton’s words and reflected in his eyes.
“Why not?” Alexander shrugged. “Now, tell me the man who killed my parents.” He’d been alone since that time, for he had no siblings. At the time of his birth, he’d been a twin, but his brother—younger than him by two minutes—had apparently failed to thrive and had died a month later. No one knew why, for they had the same care.
“Oh, this man did more than merely kill your parents, and what was more, he didn’t work alone, as the story goes.”
Alexander drummed the fingers of one hand on his thigh after he rested an ankle on a knee. “Tell me his name, Wallace. I am not a patient man.”
“Fair enough.” The other man frowned. “Marquess of Inglehart, but he was only the Earl of Denton at the time.”
Another round of shock smacked into his chest, for he’d been at university with the man, though the marquess was two years older. “And the other man?”
“Viscount Finely, but to be honest, he died last year of the pox.”
“Good riddance.” The viscount had been a bounder in every way. Clearly, he hadn’t changed in the years since Alexander was away. He narrowed his eyes. “Why did the marquess want my parents dead?” They hadn’t been friends, and as far as he knew, his parents weren’t close friends of the marquess.
“From what I understood—and mind, the incident happened twenty years ago so various memories might be skewed—the whole thing was a drunken dare, put on by the marquess because he was bored. The challenge was to sneak into a St. James home and steal something personal.”
“Except my father fought back. Especially after what one of them did to my mother.”
“Yes, sounds that way. I’m so very sorry about what happened.”
Despite his vow to not remember the horror of that night, images flooded into his mind regardless. It had been difficult to discern what had gone on since both men had been dressed in black with domino masks hiding the upper halves of their faces, but Alexander had burst into his parents’ suite that night after hearing his mother scream. Just in time to see his mother being raped as his father fought with the other man. As Alexander had wrenched the man off his mother, the other man had panicked, said they’d needed to get on with it before a constable came.
Alexander had landed that fellow a right hook to his chin, which had rendered him temporarily disoriented. When he then went after the other man—who he now realized was the marquess—he’d shaken his head. Alex’s father had reached for the pistol, but unfortunately, he was shot in the chest; he’d died instantly, no doubt with a ball in his heart.
After that, chaos erupted in the townhouse as the noise and commotion had roused the servants. The pair panicked, and in the melee that followed, his mother was shot in the gut. That had incensed Alexander, and there’d been no time to process what had happened. When he’d attacked the bigger man—the marquess—the other man had slammed a vase onto the back of his head.
He’d been rendered unconscious immediately, and apparently hadn’t woken until the next day when he’d been in the hold of a navy ship.
Eventually, Alexander cleared his throat and shoved those memories away. “What did they manage to steal? I realize I’ve been gone for twenty years and there was no way to take an inventory, but…” His words trailed off, for there was nothing more to say.
“You.”
“What?” For the third time that evening, shock plowed through his form. “How do you figure?”
“It’s true.” Eggleton nodded, and his expression was grim. “Apparently, the two needed to get away quite quickly after that, so they stole you after knocking you out. The marquess carried you out over his shoulder, or at least that’s what the rumors say. Then they dumped you on a navy ship, for you were the only witness to what had happened, and they both wanted to avoid the noose.” Silence followed the explanation. “I imagine that copious coin changed hands, and dark promises were made. I’ll wager they didn’t even tell the captain your true identity. That was the end. They left you for dead, and didn’t look back, figured you’d either die overseas or you wouldn’t want to come back after what happened to your only remaining family.”
“Ah, now I know why no one took me seriously when I insisted I was the new Duke of Ravenhurst those first weeks.” Damn, but he’d been treated miserably and just like a new recruit into the navy. Since they’d already gotten underway by the time he’d come to, there was no way out, and life onboard a navy vessel had become his existence for a long while after that before he was in any position to follow his own destiny.
“God, I despise that man.” And he would surely pay for what he’d done. “Tell me of the marquess. When I knew him, he was an earl, and a blackhearted one at that.” Obviously, he hadn’t improved with age.
“Inglehart is one of the most powerful peers in the beau monde and one of the richest.”
“No doubt that is ill-gotten wealth.”
“Oh, indeed.” Eggleton nodded. “He buys up vowels of other men to lord it over them, so they’ll align with him then he bullies their votes in the Lords.”
“Probably cheats at the gaming tables as well.”
“If there is a man worse in London, I’ve yet to see him.” The older man shrugged. “Inglehart is set to marry the daughter of a viscount whose Seasons didn’t take and whose first fiancé died in the war. He is offering to pay off her brother’s gambling debts as well as other debts the man has in exchange.”
That was surprising. Why would he take on that extra debt? “Does he love her?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. The man doesn’t love much more than money and power. Additionally, he’s been through two wives already in the span of the past five years.”
“What happened to them?”
“Who can know for certain? Many speculate he’s killed them after he gets what he wants out of the marriage contracts, but officially, they died of accidents. One of them on stairs while the other died after ingesting something that didn’t agree with her.”
Which meant a push and a poisoning. “What’s in this marriage for him if he will pay off a brother-in-law’s debts? Is the woman beyond attractive?”
“Not as you want to think. She’s average at best. Pleasantly plump. Brunette. Not in the usual style nor popular in looks. Nothing to recommend her. Has a jagged scar on one cheek that looks quite ghastly in some forms of light. Is talented as a singer I believe but hasn’t done anything with it. Brother is a bit of a taskmaster with questionable morals.”
That made absolutely no sense. “Then why the devil does he want her?”
“She’s one of those types who are vulnerable and need a protector. Men fall all over themselves for that sort of thing. Why she never took during her Seasons is no doubt due to her foul brother.”
“Or her looks.”
“There is that.” Eggleton nodded. “Wouldn’t want to bed her and see that scar in the moonlight.” He shuddered. “That wasn’t well done of me. I’m sure she has redeeming qualities. Most people do.”
“I shouldn’t think confidence is one of them if she’s willfully going to marry the marquess. Does she know what kind of man he is?”
“Your guess is as good as mine, but protection and security are powerful motivators.”
“At what cost? Death like the previous two? Perhaps she’s good in bed, but even then, coupling with Inglehart wouldn’t give her enough safety after he grew bored.”
“Could be, though I thought she is an innocent even at eight and twenty. Those rumors could be wrong and have been bandied about by the marquess in an attempt to throw off other men. Carnal play and satiation are also a good motivator.”
“Indeed, yet I can’t figure that someone like Inglehart would choose a virgin. Far too much drama.” God, it had been years since he’d bedded an innocent, and there’d been so much frightened tears and bad acting on her part that he’d vowed to never do it again. Of course, in recent years when he’d had a woman in his bed, she’d been experienced, and he hadn’t spent more than an hour with her before returning to his ship or his mission.
Physical needs were easily assuaged. Emotions didn’t need to be a part of that.
“Of course all of that is true. However, I do remember some random bit of gossip that Inglehart only marries innocents. Something about the fact that he likes being the only man to bed them, wants them pure because it builds up his ego, and it’s easier for him to think he’s a hero, or some shit like that.”
Silence reigned between them for long moments before Alexander spoke again.
Despite the marquess being the worst sort of man, he couldn’t let himself feel sorry for his intended. “Yet Inglehart is dead set on marrying her?”
“Oh, yes. Next month in fact. Almost maniacal about it, which makes sense if he’s desperate for a virgin. Of course, there is also a random rumor out there that she knows the whereabouts of a missing treasure that allegedly belonged to her mother that no one’s been able to find.”
“Treasure? Sounds like a Drury Lane tale instead.”
“I quite agree, but that’s all I’ve been able to discern. Some hideously large ruby from Burma that’s been handed down through generations. How this information has been unearthed is anyone’s guess. However, her brother was livid when that news broke, so there must be a grain of truth there. If I were Miss Madeline Hardesty, I’d use it as my insurance policy. If she were smart, she could set herself up in America to start her singing career if that is her dream.”
There was an answer in all of that, he was sure of it. “Perhaps I’ll gain my revenge upon him by taking her.”
“Ha!” Eggleton laughed outright at that. He stared with incredulity at Alexander. “And doing what? Holding her captive?”
“That, yes, and perhaps bedding her? Getting her pregnant so that he’s cuckolded?” As he began to warm to his subject, he grinned. “After I’m finished, selling her off to a foreign sheik or raj? Those men are mad for Englishwomen. The possibilities are endless, really. Afterward, I’ll kill him.”
That was not negotiable.
“God, you truly aren’t the same man I used to know.”
“No, I am not. Life did that. He did that.” His whole existence had been upended thanks to Inglehart. Now revenge had come home to roost. “I lost twenty years of life thanks to that bastard. He must pay, and I don’t care how that’s accomplished. Just that it will be.”
For the space of a few heartbeats, Eggleton regarded him with a shuttered expression. “And if you’re caught and sent to Newgate?”
“I’ll kill myself there.” Alexander shrugged. “The end result is the same.” On this, he was certain. He’d had twenty years to think about what he’d do to the man who ruined him, and now that was within his grasp. There was nothing else after that.
“You won’t give it all up and just live a normal, quiet life, forget about the past? You’re still quite vital, and there is much living you can still do.”
He felt the hardening of his heart, the tightening of his chest as he shook his head. “How can I forget? While he lives, I cannot. He needs to pay. And after everything, I don’t know if I want to live in this world any longer.” On this he wouldn’t change his mindset. “When no one cares about the truth and looks away when the money is more powerful than a man’s word? Why the hell would I wish to remain?”
“Ah.” The other man peered at him with speculation, as if he were trying to wrap his head around the ideal. “You are not yourself just now. Perhaps you need a good fuck. And if you want a bed partner, there are easier ways than kidnapping a scarred innocent.”
A grin tugged at the corners of Alexander’s mouth, but it wasn’t motivated from joy. “Though it has been a good year or so, I’ll have Miss Hardesty or no one. I want nothing except revenge. If I get my rocks off in the process, all the better, but this is a business transaction. Nothing more.”
“Damn.” Eggleton shook his head. “Settle down with someone. Find peace. Fall in love. Forget the need for revenge. Live the rest of your life you have in happiness. I promise there is more to your existence than killing the marquess and taking what’s his.”
Clearly, he couldn’t explain what it was that he felt, but then, he didn’t need to. It was no one else’s business except his. “I don’t even know what happiness is anymore; it’s been far too long since I last had that. Perhaps I never did.” He pressed his lips together and thoughts ran through his mind like birds. “In the end, everyone I get close to leaves me, and soft emotions make a man weak. That was pounded into me in the Navy and especially when I was a mercenary.”
“We all must find our own paths as we wrestle with our personal demons, so I wish you well in your endeavors. But please, don’t leave me in the dark. If you should want help, reach out.”
“Thank you.” He nodded, but quite frankly, he was done. With everything. There was nothing left of his soul, not after everything he’d endured over the past twenty years. Not one scrap of him could be redeemed. “I must do this, Wallace; it’s something I can’t put into words, but my parents, at least, deserve vengeance.”
“I understand.”
“Good.”
“Just be careful and be smart.”
“I will.” He wanted revenge. Only then could he walk away and end it.
End the pain. End the expectation. End the hope.
So no one else could hurt him, disappoint him, or leave him.
Ever again.