Mischief in Regency Society: To Catch a Rogue
To Catch a Rogue When antiquities begin to go missing from London drawing rooms Miss Calliope Chase doesn’t have to look much further than Cameron de Vere, Earl of Westwood, for a suspect.What she doesn't realise is that her determined pursuit of a criminal looks like a budding romance. Until Cameron kisses her, and her ordered life is thrown into appalling confusion! To Deceive a Duke Clio Chase is hoping for a quiet season in Sicily with her family to forget about enigmatic Duke of Averton and the strange effect he has on her. That is until he unexpectedly arrives, shattering her peace and warning her of trouble… and Clio knows there is only so long she can resist her mysterious duke!
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SEDUCTION in Regency Society August 2014
DECEPTION in Regency Society September 2014
PROPOSALS in Regency Society October 2014
PRIDE in Regency Society November 2014
MISCHIEF in Regency Society December 2014
INNOCENCE in Regency Society January 2015
ENCHANTED in Regency Society February 2015
HEIRESS in Regency Society March 2015
PREJUDICE in Regency Society April 2015
FORBIDDEN in Regency Society May 2015
TEMPTATION in Regency Society June 2015
REVENGE in Regency Society July 2015
AMANDA McCABE wrote her first romance at the age of sixteenâa vast epic, starring all her friends as the characters, written secretly during algebra class. Sheâs never since used algebra, but her books have been nominated for many awards, including the RITA® Award, the RT Book Reviews Reviewersâ Choice Award, the Booksellers Best, the National Readersâ Choice Award and the Holt Medallion. She lives in Oklahoma, with a menagerie of two cats, a pug and a bossy miniature poodle, and loves dance classes, collecting cheesy travel souvenirs and watching the Food Networkâeven though she doesnât cook. Visit her at http://ammandamccabe.tripod.com and http://www.riskyregencies.blogspot.com.
Table of Contents
Prologue
To Catch a Rogue
Amanda McCabe
To Laura Kay Gauldin,
who has been brave enough to be my friend since we were teenagers! If not for the three Gauldin sisters there never could have been three Chase sisters.
âWhereâer we tread âtis haunted, holy ground;
No earth of thine is lost in vulgar mould
But one vast plain of wonder spreads around,
And all the Musesâ tales seem truly told
Till the sense aches with gazing to behold
The scenes our earliest dreams have dwelt uponâ¦
Lord Byron
Never had a night been as dark as this one.
The moon was a mere sliver high over the crooked rooftops of London, nearly obscured by scudding clouds. There were no stars at all, not even a tiny, bead-like sparkle, and an infamous London fog was creeping inward over the sluggish Thames. Heavy and greasy, a noxious grey-green, it would soon blanket the city, cutting off even the dull shimmer of that tiny moon.
But all the guests at the Marchioness of Tenbrayâs ballâand that was nearly everyone in the ton who mattered at allâcared not a whit for the ominous night outside the brilliantly lit mansion. They were far too busy moving through the crush of the ballroom, laughing, dancing, trading the latest on dits behind silken fans, drinking champagne, stealing kisses under concealment of the terraceâs potted palms. All the world seemed compressed into this one marble-and-gilt room, a swirl of music and chatter and clinking crystal rising up and up with no care for the dark chill outside.
Not one of themânot even the marchioness herself, deeply preoccupied by a sudden shortage of lobster tartsânoticed a window in the library sliding silently open.
Someone else was taking full advantage of the darkness, and not for surreptitious caresses on the terrace. No, this person had something far more important, far more devious, in mind.
As the window swung all the way open, this person, tall and slim, muffled and masked all in black, climbed inside and hopped lightly to the Aubusson carpet laid over polished parquet. The figure made no sound, as soft as catâs paws on the silken weave. It went automatically down into a low crouch, breath held as bright eyes, revealed through the slits of the satin mask, darted from left to right. The library, as expected, was deserted, lit by only one small Colza lamp on the polished desk. It cast a circle of golden glow, flickering, sweetly scented, and all the far corners were deep in gloom. Bookshelves rose to the ceiling, crowded with leather-bound volumes that looked scarcely touched, let alone read and loved.
Well, thought the intruder. Old Lady Tenbray is scarcely renowned for her brains, is she?
Yet the late Lord Tenbray had been renowned for his passion for Italian antiquities, and this was what drew the black-clad figureâs interest. Once assured of being alone, the intruder rose from that crouch and moved stealthily across the room. The shadows were no deterrentâthe libraryâs layout had been carefully studied, every chair and table mapped. This person knew what they sought.
