Lynne Connolly

Life is cheap. So is death. "Richard and Rose, Book 7"With Rose expecting again, it should be a joyous time for her and Richard. Yet old enemies and new come out of the woodwork, seemingly intent on using whatever means possible to destroy their happiness. Not only is the legitimacy of their marriage called into question, a young man steps forward claiming to be a by-blow of Richard's dark, wild past. Closer to defeat than he has ever been, Richard musters all his friends and allies to defend against this attack on his own ground. However, no amount of incandescent lovemaking and tender care seems to keep Rose out of harm's way. Then a mutilated body turns up on their doorstep-and all fingers point at Richard. Rose has no choice but to emerge from his near-smothering concern to do what she must to save the love of her life. Even if she must appear to work against him. As she lays her heart on the line, Richard fights to keep the violence that marks his past from claiming her life. For if he loses Rose, with her will go his humanity. Warning: Rose gets her mad on, and Richard gets turned on. Contains married love, married sex and married fooling about. And pink coats with lace ruffles. And swords. And wicked goings-on.

Table of Contents

• Dedication
  
• Chapter One
  
• Chapter Two
  
• Chapter Three
  
• Chapter Four
  
• Chapter Five
  
• Chapter Six
  
• Chapter Seven
  
• Chapter Eight
  
• Chapter Nine
  
• Chapter Ten
  
• Chapter Eleven
  
• Chapter Twelve
  
• Chapter Thirteen
  
• Chapter Fourteen
  
• Chapter Fifteen
  
• Chapter Sixteen
  
• Chapter Seventeen
  
• Chapter Eighteen
  
• Chapter Nineteen
  
• Chapter Twenty
  
• About the Author
  
• Look for these titles by Lynne Connolly
  

Life is cheap. So is death.

Richard and Rose, Book 7

With Rose expecting again, it should be a joyous time for her and Richard. Yet old enemies and new come out of the woodwork, seemingly intent on using whatever means possible to destroy their happiness. Not only is the legitimacy of their marriage called into question, a young man steps forward claiming to be a by-blow of Richard’s dark, wild past.

Closer to defeat than he has ever been, Richard musters all his friends and allies to defend against this attack on his own ground. However, no amount of incandescent lovemaking and tender care seems to keep Rose out of harm’s way.

Then a mutilated body turns up on their doorstep—and all fingers point at Richard. Rose has no choice but to emerge from his near-smothering concern to do what she must to save the love of her life. Even if she must appear to work against him.

As she lays her heart on the line, Richard fights to keep the violence that marks his past from claiming her life. For if he loses Rose, with her will go his humanity.

Warning: Rose gets her mad on, and Richard gets turned on. Contains married love, married sex and married fooling about. And pink coats with lace ruffles. And swords. And wicked goings-on.

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Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520

Macon GA 31201

Maiden Lane

Copyright © 2011 by Lynne Connolly

ISBN: 978-1-60928-384-1

Edited by Sasha Knight

Cover by Scott Carpenter

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

First
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
electronic publication: March 2011

www.samhainpublishing.com

Maiden Lane

Lynne Connolly

Dedication

To the people of the past, whose lives I borrow. Thank you.

Chapter One

If a student of anthropology decided to investigate the habits and principal haunts of the London aristocrat, he would probably start with the social gathering. Balls, routs, Venetian breakfasts and other amusements formed an important part of life with the species. It was where politicians made compacts, eligible bachelors met shy debutantes and married couples instigated affairs, but not with each other. The English aristocrat in his customary surroundings. At the top of the pyramid were private balls at the great houses that remained in London after the speculators finished knocking down mansions and replacing them with terraces and squares—Southwood House, Burlington House and Devonshire House among the privileged few.

“What are you thinking?”

I turned my head to smile at my husband, breathing in his distinctive citrus cologne. Even here, with society looking on, that perfume aroused me. “Just comparing the gathering here to a collection of creatures in their natural habitation.”

I surprised a laugh out of him, which I considered a considerable achievement. Richard didn’t make a habit of laughing at these grand occasions. “Very appropriate, my love. So have you learned anything from your studies?”

I watched groups form, separate, form into other groups in a pattern of colours that pleased the eye. “Quite a few things, actually. And that I’m becoming absorbed into the group. They don’t stare quite so much anymore or watch what I do so closely.”

“Getting your disguise in order. Getting assimilated into the group.” He spoke softly, close to my ear, so no one else could hear. The quartet playing tonight hardly drowned out the murmur of civilised conversation. A stranger might even call it boring, were he to glance at the scene, not knowing the significance of the groupings and the way they shifted and changed. But for those who knew, it provided a fascinating insight.

“You promised me it would happen.” I leaned back slightly, into the warmth of his body. Not too much because my panniers wouldn’t allow it, and in any case, most people considered gestures of affection vulgar and gauche. Including my mother-in-law, who currently stood on the other side of the room, ostensibly conversing with her friends, but also keeping a beady eye on us and on Richard’s twin, Gervase. “Considering the season hasn’t officially started yet, I see a number of the great and good here tonight.”

My sister-in-law, Martha, came to greet us, with my sister Ruth in tow. After welcoming her with a formal flourish, Richard excused himself to have a word with his brother. Martha looked remarkably fine in rich blue velvet with a printed silk petticoat. Ruth would have looked better without the scowl that had returned to her features recently, although she shared the blonde good looks that my absent sister Lizzie was also fortunate to possess. I had thwarted Ruth’s wishes the previous year by helping to rid my childhood home of her suitor, and although it couldn’t be helped, she held me in dislike these days.

“So Devonshire is managing without Sir John?” I asked Martha. If Ruth intended to sulk about him, we might as well get the subject over with.

Martha sighed, her pleasant face lined with annoyance. “Yes, Fourways is empty again. I hope that, now we’re back in London, Ruth will forget she met him and look about her. Such a discourteous thing Sir John did, to take off like that without a word of warning. She’s probably better off this way, and so I keep telling her.”

So it wasn’t just my presence making Ruth mulish. She’d had to cope with Martha’s displeasure as well.

Martha regarded my figure with undisguised delight, as she had every time I’d met her since I told her our news. “June?”

“July, we think. Shall you stay?”

“If you want me to,” she answered straight away. “Perhaps, this time—”

“Yes,” I answered, before she could say the dreaded word “heir”. “Perhaps.”

She smiled and didn’t say it. “You seem to be coping better this time.”

“So is Richard,” I added dryly, keeping my voice down so no one would overhear us and lifting my unfurled fan to cover my mouth. I’d heard that Horace Walpole, that inveterate gossip, could read lips, and he stood with a good view of me. “He was out of his mind last time, but now he’s coping a lot better. It’s his mother. I don’t scruple to tell you, Martha, that she never ceases to remind him of the duty he owes her, and how much she suffered in birthing him and Gervase. Gervase takes it a lot more lightly, but he’s had twelve years less of it than Richard. He won’t admit how much she affected him.”

Martha sighed. “How much he must have loved her when he was a little boy.” The comment surprised me, but on reflection I realized that Martha had no idea how cold Richard’s mother was and the terrible things she’d done in the name of the title and the estate. Nobody outside the immediate family knew. So her betrayal of him as a person in favour of him as the future Earl of Southwood must have hurt him deeply. Now he had me, and I’d do my best not to let him down.

I wouldn’t discuss that aspect of Lady Southwood with Martha or anyone else.

As Martha and a sulkily silent Ruth moved on, Richard returned, smiling as a lady bowed to him but speaking low to me. “I have the feeling that something is brewing abroad. We may have to look to Gervase’s safety before too long.”

“And Ian’s,” I reminded him. Richard’s brother, Gervase, and my brother Ian made a handsome and striking couple. Not that they could ever announce that fact, but Ian, as Gervase’s parliamentary secretary, had an ostensible reason for living under his roof. Ian had thrived under Gervase’s care, losing much of the retiring nature that had encouraged him to miss many family events. He couldn’t do that now.

“Indeed. You know the political situation is turning?”

“I know.” Parliamentary affairs had taken on new significance now I knew many of the people involved. When I’d lived in Devonshire, the focus of my social life had centred on Exeter, and the political affairs of nations seemed so much further away.

Disturbances abroad had led to disturbances at home. Since the death of Henry Pelham-Holles, the Duke of Newcastle’s brother, political alliances were shifting, and now discussions and counter-discussions were feverishly taking place, setting allegiances anew. My money was on Henry Fox, but the wily Pitt was coming up fast, and it would take just a few votes for him to gain the power he needed. And if he won, he would take Britain into war.

Gervase was in the middle of all this, mediating. He’d put himself in an invidious and difficult position.

“Most people know the truth.” I meant about Gervase and Ian, although I wouldn’t say that in public, even out of earshot of people other than Richard. “It could be dangerous. They’ll use it to ruin him.”