Read What A Rogue Wants Online
Authors: Julie Johnstone
Tags: #romance, #love, #suspense, #england, #historical romance, #regency romance, #ladies, #lords, #alpha male, #julie johnstone
What A Rogue Wants
What a Rogue
Wants
Julie Johnstone
Smashwords Edition
Cover Design by Heather Boyd
Copyright © 2013 Julie
Johnstone
All rights reserved. No part of this
book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical
means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical
articles or reviews—without written permission.
The characters and events portrayed in
this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or
dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the
author.
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For more
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For my father who has been my loyalist
and most supportive fan from the start. I love you.
For my critique partners Samantha
Grace and Aileen Fish. Words cannot express how thankful I am to
have such wonderful critique partners and friends like the two of
you. Thank you for all your many readings and all the support you
both have always shown me.
For my editor Sandra Sookoo who showed
me how to really work a scene and helped me to dig deeper into my
characters to make this a better book.
~Julie
Table of Contents
London, England
1804
Lord Grey Adlard entered White’s
gentlemen’s club, intent on one purpose―to find and wring the neck
of Gravenhurst, his former best friend as of roughly twenty minutes
ago. Before Grey got two steps into the entranceway, Henry, White’s
stuffiest and Grey’s favorite footman, appeared.
“
Milord, may I take your
hat and coat?” As usual, Henry’s droopy eyelids made it hard to
gauge his reaction, but Grey bet his soggy state shocked the proper
footman. Hell, it shocked
him
, and he was far from
proper.
He held out his dripping coat and hat,
trying to ignore the water pattering against the floor from his
garments. He looked like a damn fool. At Henry’s annoyed
inhalation, Grey narrowed his eyes, daring Henry to say a word.
After being forced to traverse down a thorny rose trellis and take
an unplanned midnight swim in a freezing lake to escape the sudden
appearance of Lady Julia’s irate father, Grey was in no mood for
Henry’s reproach. “Is Gravenhurst here?”
“
Of course.” Henry took
Grey’s coat with the tips of his fingers and eyed it distastefully.
“Lord Grey, you are dripping on my floor.”
Grey glanced at the puddle
at his feet, his neck warming in irritation. His favorite shoes
were ruined, not to mention his trousers. Tiny rips covered the
front of the fine, black material. Gravenhurst would pay to replace
these,
if
he
decided to let the man live. “Sorry, Henry. Might I have a
towel?”
“
You might. But first, you
must promise no fisticuffs. I’d hate to have you and Lord
Gravenhurst thrown out again.”
Grey scanned White’s for Gravenhurst.
He found the man positioned diagonally from the entranceway, one
blond eyebrow raised, left foot propped leisurely on his right
knee, coat off, cravat loose, drink in hand, and perfectly dry. The
man deserved to be dumped in the lake. “Might I have that towel
before I catch my death?”
“
Milord, your
promise?”
Henry’s brazenness made Grey smile. He
preferred audacity over timidity any day. “You’re impertinent.” He
said it to goad Henry. The man’s sharp-witted responses never
disappointed.
“
Yes, milord.”
“
That’s it?”
Henry’s mouth twitched upward in a
faint smile. “I’m afraid so, milord. We’re very busy, and
short-staffed.”
Bollocks. There was no fun to be found
anywhere tonight. “Fine. I promise no fisticuffs.” He dried himself
with the towel Henry handed him. When he was as dry as he could
manage, he handed the towel to Henry. “I’d like to remind you that
my fight with Gravenhurst was years ago.”
“
All I remember are the
broken chairs and tables, milord.”
Grey eyed Henry.
“Gravenhurst and I are now far too old and wise to engage in
fisticuffs inside White’s.”
Outside
was implied, of course.
“
I agree with too old.”
Henry’s eyebrows rose in challenge.
Entertainment at last. “You know―”
Grey ran a hand through his disheveled, wet, hair. “―I’m not sure
why I put up with your insolence.”
“
I believe, milord, it’s
because you know I’m right, and our verbal sparring amuses
you.”
“
I’ll never admit such a
thing,” Grey tossed over his shoulder as he strode away. He nodded
to Lords Peter and Perkins, who gaped in return. He could count on
those two dimwits to gossip all over Town about his appearance,
which if nothing else, would cause his father a moment of
discomfort. Grey smiled. The night wasn’t a total loss after
all.
He pulled out a chair and sat, his
trousers smacking wetly against the wood. The candlelight from the
center of the table glowed on Gravenhurst’s tan skin and light hair
and made him look wicked. Fitting. No telling what the man was up
to now. “Do not,” he said as Gravenhurst started to snicker, “laugh
or say a word to me until I’ve had a drink or I’ll rearrange your
nose for you, which might be an improvement to the crooked
thing.”
Grey grabbed the full glass
Gravenhurst put in front of him and downed the liquor. A slow
warmth started in his mouth and spread to his chest, pushing away a
little of the iciness clinging to his damp skin. He would need a
least two more drinks to warm himself and cool his irritation, but
now he could talk civilly. Setting his glass down, he leaned back
and allowed himself to relax for the first time in over an hour.
“Your information was incorrect.”
“
You don’t say?”
Gravenhurst replied, a smile pulling at his lips. “I thought as
much when I saw you enter. So her father’s back in
Town?”
“
He is indeed.”
“
Bollocks. I’m sorry,
Grey.”
“
Think nothing of it. I
almost broke my neck climbing down a rickety trellis and nearly
froze to death swimming in their lake escaping, but don’t hold
yourself accountable for giving me incorrect
information.”
“
Seems to me being caught
by Lord Blackborn in his daughter’s bedroom would’ve been the
perfect opportunity to finally get your father’s
notice.”
“
I stopped wanting my
father’s notice ten years ago. I’m perfectly happy being the
invisible second son of the mighty Duke of Ashdon.” He ignored the
inner twitch that always occurred when he lied. Someday, he’d
master that reaction.