Reckless in Pink

Like the royals for whom they were named, the Emperors of London family have enemies and rivals of their own…

As a soldier for the Crown, Dominic is charged with locating the Young Pretender to the British throne so he can be tried as a traitor. But his mission is altered when he meets Claudia Shaw, an intriguing young woman who has inherited a house of ill repute. In an effort to protect Claudia from her own recklessness, Dominic finds himself allowing the Pretender to slip away…

Claudia is one of the Emperors of London, but her family despairs of her impetuous behavior. And try as he might, the disciplined Dominic cannot quite curb her excesses. In fact, she soon drags him into her adventures—and toward a passion neither can resist. But when a deadly secret comes to light that puts their lives, and their love, at risk, Claudia won’t allow Dominic to sacrifice himself. She is determined to have him—even if it means getting the Young Pretender out of the way herself.

“Lynne Connolly writes Georgian romances with a deft touch. Her characters amuse, entertain and reach into your heart.”

—
Desiree Holt

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Emperors of London

Temptation Has Green Eyes

Danger Wears White

Reckless In Pink

Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

An Emperors of London Novel

Lynne Connolly

LYRICAL PRESS

Kensington Publishing Corp.

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Copyright © 2015 by Lynne Connolly

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First Electronic Edition: December 2015

eISBN-13: 978-1-61650-572-1

eISBN-10: 1-61650-572-9

First Print Edition: December 2015

ISBN-13: 978-1-61650-596-7

ISBN-10: 1-61650-596-6

Printed in the United States of America

“Are you sure you do not wish to return, Major?” General Court asked. “Now your family business is concluded, I would have welcomed you back. Your conduct was exemplary on the Continent.”

Dominic shook his head. “I would hardly say my family business is concluded. I am the only male left to continue the line.”

The general brightened, his ruddy face glowing. “Then once you beget an heir or two, we may expect you back?”

“Once I marry, perhaps.” Dominic could see that in his future—marrying a suitable woman, begetting an heir, and then leaving her in peace to continue his career.

The general harrumphed. “Then hurry up and do it. We need experienced officers like you.”

Dominic recalled a number of times when his superior officers had intimated otherwise. He glanced around the splendidly appointed room, with its display of silver on the sideboard and fine spirits in the glittering crystal decanters. If he didn’t know better, he’d assume the General lived in this luxury all the time. However, he’d seen the man thigh-deep in mud, bellowing instructions to his men, refusing to leave the field until they were all safe.

He was no longer one of the general’s officers and hadn’t been so for six months. Ever since his parents had begged him to come home and find a wife. He’d done the first part but had yet to achieve the second.

He blamed himself. His two male cousins had been the heirs to the title, after him. Now they had died, and he was the only hope for his house.

Restlessly, he got to his feet. “If that’s all, General…”

“No. Sit down.”

Sometimes the man forgot that Dominic was no longer under his command. He let it pass and sat back down on the hard wooden chair provided for visitors. The full skirts of his woolen coat padded his arse somewhat, but he’d known worse hardships than this. Not recently, though. “May I be of further service, sir?”

The General gave him a hard stare before picking up a piece of paper and tossing across the desk. “Take a look at that. Tell me what you see.”

One side was travel-stained, obviously a letter, with a seal hanging off one side. The address was a house in the City, Spitalfields to be exact. He turned it over and read.

“This is from Charles Stuart? The Pretender?”

“It is. Rallying his supporters in England.”

“Have you visited the address?”

The General grunted his assent. “I sent someone last week pretending to be a seller of pots and pans. All this damned sneaking about makes me itch. Army intelligence is one thing, but this cloak and dagger stuff isn’t what a gentleman should occupy himself with.”

If the world were well organized and everybody told the truth, a military man might prefer to see the enemy and engage with him rather than run around lying. However, the man’s professed bluster hid a devious and intelligent mind, so while the General’s speech amused Dominic, it did not fool him. A gentleman didn’t skulk around and spy, but somebody had to.

“Nobody seemed suspicious,” the general continued. “It was the premises of a silk weaver and his family. The man did business from the house, but he had no reason to side with the Stuarts. His family were Huguenots, and they believe in pursuing the Protestant cause.”

“Stuart converted to the Anglican church a few years ago,” Dominic felt obliged to point out.

The General nodded. “For all the good it did him.” He finished the glass of port he’d poured for himself when Dominic had refused refreshment. “The house is owned by the Duke of Northwich.”

Dominic sucked in a breath. The Duke, the head of the Dankworth family, had long been a thorn in the side of the Crown. Long-time supporters of the Stuarts, the Dankworths had nevertheless evaded serious charges. Dominic reminded himself frequently that intrigue was none of his business, anymore. However, he did find himself wondering what the devious family was up to now.

“Why should that be a surprise?” He took another look at the letter. It referred to mysterious events, full of phrases like “our business” and “the parcel.” Nothing new.

“The parcel referred to in that letter is a person. The Young Pretender, no less. Are you interested now?”

Sunlight streamed in through the dusty windows across the desk. The air was redolent with lavender and spices used by the housekeeping staff no doubt to clean and add fragrance to the air.

The world was normal and continued the same way, except that it had shifted a little to one side. Dominic began to understand the general’s intent, and he didn’t like it. “Why would I be interested?” he said smoothly. He put the letter down gently. He had affairs of his own to deal with, much less government concerns.

“We would like you to look into the matter. The government would be extremely grateful to you.”

“I’m sure they would.” Because he had seen the Stuart pretender when he was still a serving officer, so he would know him again. Dominic hadn’t been wearing his uniform at the time and had choked down his distaste of subterfuge long enough to discover what his superior had wanted to know. He obeyed orders, but he hated the work. Lying stuck in his throat. He had particular reason to dislike it.

The General indicated a neat pile of papers stacked on the desk. “You are in a position to help us now.”

Dominic had had enough. He had better things to do than listen to the general sidle around the subject. “What do you want?”

None of his London acquaintances would have recognized the sharp tones, the decisiveness, but they hadn’t known him in the army. He hadn’t served in a fashionable regiment, nor had the public honors he’d received been any more remarkable than many others. When he returned to London, he became someone else. Not the officer, but the aristocrat and the man of fashion.

The General didn’t appear surprised at Dominic’s incisive tones, but then he was better acquainted with Dominic the officer. “I want you to locate him. It shouldn’t be beyond your capabilities. This time we have had enough of his dancing around London. We want Stuart in custody, and if necessary we will bring him to trial.”

Dominic sucked in a harsh breath. “If you will forgive me for saying so General, that is a mistake. He is flaunting himself in order to get arrested. It’s just what he wants.”

“If he had heirs, if his brother weren’t a Cardinal in the Catholic Church, we might agree with you.” The back of the General’s comfortable leather padded chair creaked alarmingly when he leaned back. Since he’d returned to London, he’d gained quite a lot of weight. The sedentary life obviously didn’t suit him. “However, the hope of the Stuart Cause rests on him. We would prefer to put an end to that. It works both ways, St. Just. The line effectively ends with him, so if we take him, we have the family.”

That made alarming sense. But a trial would encourage the kind of support the country could well do without at a time like this. With an aging king and a young and inexperienced heir in thrall to an unpopular advisor, the time was ripe to tip the scales back in the Stuart family’s favor, if a person had a mind to do it. “If I see him, I’ll inform you. Will that do?”

The General regarded him in silence for a full minute. Dominic knew better than to interrupt him, and he hoped General Court knew better than to press him further. Both men understood what that meant. Dominic would go hunting, and he’d find his prey, but if anyone asked, he’d never met Stuart, not even heard of him.

Eventually, the man nodded. “Very well. I appreciate your help.”

“I hope you do.” He would not forget the favor. Dominic would make sure of it.

Dominic left the room. He hurried down the stairs, more than glad to put the dust of this building behind him.

Someone calling his name interrupted him. “St. Just!”

Damnation. Pinning an affable smile to his face, he turned, letting the skirts of his coat swing gently around him. “Why, Malton, what a pleasant surprise! Do you come here on a visit, or business?”

Lord Malton grimaced. “Business, but nothing vital, as it transpires. I was merely surprised to see you.”

He waved carelessly in the direction of the stairs, taking care to keep the movement elegant. “A social call. A man I used to serve under has returned to London. Paying my respects, don’t you know.”

“Ah.” To Dominic’s relief, Malton appeared to accept his explanation. His visit here had become annoyingly clandestine. “Is your business concluded?”

Not at all
. “Completely.” Dominic offered a smile and paused at the stand by the door to collect his sword. This set of government offices didn’t even allow gentlemen to carry the mostly decorative swords. Dominic’s was more than decorative, made of fine flexible Spanish steel. “Are you heading into town?”