Good Earl Gone Bad

 

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For Sue—who taught me to use my imagination

 

Acknowledgments

So many people are there for me along the road from idea to finished book. Thanks first and foremost to my lovely and wonderful editor Holly Ingraham, who went above and beyond the call of duty for this one. Congratulations, lady! To Lizzie Poteet, Amy Goppert, and all the team at St. Martin's Press who work tirelessly behind the scenes. To my awesomesauce agent Holly Root for always knowing just the right thing to say. To my friends and family—especially my sister Jessie—without whom I would not be able to do this job I love so much. And to Stephen, Tiny, Toast and Charlie, for keeping me company during the long hours at the computer and for not getting too annoyed when I push them off the keyboard.

 

Prologue

“For a club called the Lords of Anarchy,” said Miss Ophelia Dauntry wryly as she scanned the Paynes' crowded ballroom, “they seem remarkably well behaved.”

As the current president of the once notorious driving club, Lord Payne had done much to repair the club's image in the eyes of the
haute ton.
And part of that campaign had been the invitation the club had extended to Lady Hermione Upperton, whose new membership was the reason for tonight's celebration. They had even gone so far as to fête her induction with a rout instead of what they might otherwise have done—taken the excuse to drink to excess in their favorite tavern on the Brighton Road.

“I think we all know why they are behaving so prettily,” Lady Hermione said with a speaking look. She was under no illusions about the reasons for her warm welcome into the brotherhood. But as a driving enthusiast with a desire to take her place among the sporting elite, she was happy to seize whatever chance she could get.

Especially since her father had done his level best to keep her from fulfilling her dream by threatening every other club with a lawsuit if they allowed his daughter to become a member. Only the Lords of Anarchy had ignored the Earl of Upperton's threats and extended the invitation.

“I believe you should be chatting with your new compatriots,” said Mrs. Frederick Lisle—more commonly known as the celebrated poet Leonora Craven. “Especially since you are looking so lovely.”

Hermione smiled at her friend's compliment. It was true that she felt far more fashionable than usual in her deep blue silk gown. The color contrasted with her creamy complexion as well as bringing out the blue in her eyes. And she'd chosen to have her maid dress her dark hair in a newer, softer style which was more becoming than her everyday utilitarian chignon. Though she was now a member of a club that was known for its masculine pursuits, she didn't wish them to forget that she was a lady. And as such she hoped to bring a more equitable sensibility to the membership.

“Thank you, Leonora,” she said, suppressing the urge to twirl. “I was sure Ophelia would faint dead away on seeing me rigged out in such finery.”

“I always knew you had it in you,” Ophelia said primly. Then in a lower voice said, “I'm just happy you chose to put away your dowdy gowns on an evening when there are so many handsome, eligible gentlemen around.”

“Are we interrupting?”

Ophelia colored as she realized Leonora's husband, Freddy, was behind her.

“Of course not, darling,” said Leonora with a twinkle in her eye as she made room in their little circle for both Freddy and the two men flanking him: the Earl of Mainwaring and the Duke of Trent. Friends from school, the three had once been four—with Leonora's late brother Jonathan having rounded out the group before his death.

“I am surprised to see you here, Mainwaring,” Hermione said with a raised brow. “I thought you were firmly against the notion of ladies participating in such rough pursuits.”

As if he knew how much it would irritate her, Mainwaring raised his quizzing glass and surveyed her with it.

“I do not believe you are showing any signs of masculinity, Lady Hermione,” he drawled. “So I suppose I must withdraw my objections.”

That he was as handsome as he was provoking vexed Hermione even more than his grudging approval. With dark unruly curls that cried out to be tousled and the fine-boned features of a Renaissance angel, he would have been called pretty if he were a woman. But he was most certainly a man—as his wide shoulders and trim waist attested. Yet, Hermione could focus only on his maddening personality.

“You are the most infuriating man,” she said with a scowl. “Do you really have to enjoy setting my back up so much? It's most unbecoming.”

Mainwaring gave a shrug. “Perhaps not, but it's far too amusing for me to give up.”

She wondered if it would spoil the party in her honor if she were to start a brawl. Likely not, but knowing that the Lords of Anarchy wanted to rejuvenate their image, she could jeopardize her membership. And though it would feel wonderful to snatch away Mainwaring's quizzing glass and smash it into tiny pieces, she would not risk her new place, even for the satisfaction of erasing Mainwaring's smug grin.

“There is more to life than amusement,” Hermione retorted. “In fact, I would find it most amusing to—”

“Children,” interrupted the Duke of Trent. “I believe our host is approaching his guest of honor.”

Hermione, without the height of the duke to let her see above the crush, stared in the direction Trent had indicated, and soon saw that he was correct. Lord Payne, accompanied by his lady wife, was headed their way.

“My dear Lady Hermione,” said the viscount, “I hope you are enjoying yourself.”

He smiled politely at the circle around her, but without warmth. He and Freddy had crossed paths during the tenure of the previous club president, who was also Freddy's cousin. And it was obvious there was no love lost between the men.

“I am pleased to see so many of the membership come out to support you, Lady Hermione,” said Lady Payne, her hand possessively on her husband's arm. Hermione wondered if her hostess was warning the club's sole female member away from her husband. It could not have been easy for her to stand by his side through the wilder exploits of the club. “I do wish you will consider me a friend during your membership. As the only lady, I know it will be difficult for you to find your footing.”

She need not worry though Hermione could hardly say so aloud. She had no designs on any man, much less the boorish Lord Payne.

Aloud, she said, “Thank you, Lady Payne. It is most kind of you to think of me.”

“Nonsense,” her host contradicted his wife. “I foresee no issues for Lady Hermione with the other chaps. We are not the first driving club to admit ladies, after all. So long as she knows her way around a coaching pair, she'll be fine.”

Lady Payne flushed in embarrassment at his contradiction. Hermione exchanged a speaking glance with Leonora—not a happy match, that.

Before Hermione could break the awkward silence, Payne gave a brisk nod. “We'll leave you to it, then. I shall see you later this week at the first club muster of the season in Hyde Park. We meet by the Queen's Gate.”

And just as quickly as the couple had appeared, they disappeared back into the crush of guests.

“Well, that was awkward,” Mainwaring said once their hosts were out of earshot. “I wonder if he is that charming with all ladies or reserves such bombast for his wife.”

For once, Hermione couldn't argue with him. But if she were going to succeed in the club, she'd need to accept the bad with the good. Even if it meant suppressing her dislike for the way the club's president treated his wife.

“Once a bully, always a bully,” said Freddy grimly. “I had hoped he'd become a bit less difficult with my cousin Gerard gone, but it would seem that the leopard does not change his spots.”

“Don't let's spoil Hermione's night with all this dark talk,” Leonora said, linking her arm through Hermione's. “I see champagne over there. Why don't you gentlemen go fetch some for us?”

“Ahh, I see how it is,” Freddy said with a much-put-upon sigh. “Now that we're wed, you think you can just order me about.”

“Trent and I aren't wed to her, but she's ordering us about as well,” Mainwaring pointed out with a shrug. “I think she just wants us gone so that they can talk about lady things.”

And since none of the three ladies denied the accusation, the three men soon took themselves off to find the champagne tray.

“Are you sure you wish to be part of this club, dearest?” Leonora asked Hermione once the men had gone. “I know you are desperate for some place to show your skill with the reins. And I do most certainly think that you are any of these men's equal, if not superior. But I cannot like it that you will be associating with Lord Payne. He was not blameless in all that went on with the club when Jonathan was murdered. Though it's true he was not responsible for the worst of it.”

But Hermione had already made up her mind. And though she, too, found Lord Payne troublesome, she had decided that until she saw evidence that the club was sliding back into its former bad habits, she would give them the benefit of the doubt.

“I know it's difficult for you to understand,” she said aloud. “But I am doing this with my eyes open. At the first sign of trouble, I will sever my ties, I promise. But until then, I would like the chance to determine whether a club like the Lords of Anarchy can give me what it is I'm looking for.”

“But what is it that you're looking for?” Ophelia, who had remained silent until now, asked. “What do you want from them?”

“What every woman wants.” Hermione smiled sweetly. “To win.”

 

One

“Damn me, Mainwaring,” an aggrieved Mr. Percy Edgerton groused, throwing his cards to the table. “I should have known better than to bring my winning streak to any table that included you as a player.”

But Jasper Fawley, the Earl of Mainwaring, had heard it all before. With a shrug, he scooped up his winnings and began methodically counting them into his purse. “You cannot say you weren't warned, Edgerton,” he said when he was finished. “By me and others. And it's not as if you cannot afford to lose it.”