Lady Be Good: Lord Love a Lady Series, Book 5

  Lady Be Good

  Lord Love a Lady Series, Book 5

  Annabelle Anders

  Lady Be Good

  Annabelle Anders

  * * *

  Copyright © 2019 Annabelle Anders

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  The Lord Love a Lady Series

  About the Author

  Lady At Last

  Acknowledgements

  This book, like every book that I write, was a labor of love. Special thanks to my writing partner, Rebecca Jenshak, for, as always, helping me see the forest amongst all of my trees. To my incredible editor, Tracy Mooring Liebchen, for keeping me honest. To Jena Brignola, for not only making my amazing covers, but for dealing with all of my insane timelines. Also thanks to Mary Ellen Blackwood, for your invaluable feedback, to Laura Dickey for managing almost everything else. And to Tina Marie Harden-Young for encouraging me from the very beginning.

  * * *

  And as always, to all of my readers! I love you all!

  YOU COMPLETE ME!

  Chapter 1

  Unexpected Visitor

  “Lord Darlington?” Rose blinked in surprise as she opened the door, wondering if her eyes deceived her.

  The gentleman standing in the darkened corridor outside her bedchamber was the last person in the world she’d expected. Not that she expected anyone to come knocking at her door in the middle of the night.

  Only, in truth, this was her mistress Penelope’s chamber, not Rose’s.

  Holding her candle higher, she confirmed that it was, indeed, Viscount Darlington, one of England’s most proper gentlemen, dressed in formal eveningwear, but quite bedraggled and swaying slightly. His disheveled state was nearly as extraordinary as his visit.

  “Wake Danbury for me? Or Pen? You’re Pen’s maid, aren’t you? Rosie something or other? Rosebud? Rosalie?” Doubt settled in his gaze when she didn’t answer. “Damn my eyes, is this the wrong chamber?”

  What on earth was Viscount Darlington doing at her mistress’ door looking like this? Not that Penelope could be found inside. She and her husband rarely slept separately.

  “They’re abed––In Lord Danbury’s chamber.” She wiped the sleep from her eyes and went to close the door. “I’ll tell them you stopped by—”

  But he’d moved his rather solid figure against the doorframe, leaning on it heavily, in fact. “Ah, don’t leave me out here. I’m afraid I have a little problem…” He frowned, his eyes lazy and unfocused, his tousled hair begging for a gentle hand to run through it.

  “Have you been drinking, My Lord?” A ridiculous question. Fumes of alcohol rolled off him in waves. Again, she attempted to close the door, but he was either too drunk, too stubborn, or both to be moved.

  “Can’t find my chamber.” Viscount Darlington rubbed his chin and then fumbled at his cravat as though it were strangling him.

  Her fingers itched to reach out and untie it for the poor dear. In all the years her mistress and the viscount had been acquainted, Rose had not once known the viscount to overindulge.

  “Where’d you say Danbury went off to?” His thick ebony hair stood on end, and red rimmed his normally lovely cobalt eyes. “He’ll know where my chamber is. Don’t want to enter the wrong one.” He waggled his eyebrows uncharacteristically. “Could find myself in a heap of trouble.”

  She knew all too well what sort of trouble he referred to. As one of London’s most eligible bachelors, any number of the ladies attending this Christmas house party would happily claim that the handsome heir had compromised them.

  And Darlington, being Darlington, would do the honorable thing.

  She sighed inwardly as her gaze perused his sturdy, broad shoulders, slim waist, powerful-looking thighs, and… bare feet? “What happened to your shoes?”

  Viscounts did not meander around their hosts’ estate without any footwear. But apparently, on this night anyhow, this viscount did.

  Darlington dropped his chin abruptly to peer down and verify that the toes peeking out from beneath his breeches were his own. “How did that happen?” he slurred, his eyes trying to focus on his missing shoes.

  Pity for the pathetic creature tickled her conscience.

  “You’ll take pity on me, Rosie. Won’t you? It is Rosie, isn’t it? Rose petal. Rose blossom. Some sort of flower, right? You are Pen’s maid, aren’t you?” He shook his head as though doing so might clear it for him. “What is your name, miss?”

  “Ursula Rosamond Waring,” she mumbled. “But I prefer Rose.” Not that it would matter what she preferred, nor would he remember. She was only a maid.

  And yet, at that moment, her assistance was quite possibly all that stood between the viscount and an unwanted betrothal to any lady who might be willing to take advantage of his inebriated state.

  Rose was no longer shocked by what she’d seen ladies of the ton do in order to capture themselves a titled husband.

  Her own mistress, included.

  If she allowed him to go wandering in this condition, he’d be hastily betrothed to some chit, at the wrong end of a pistol before morning. Which ought not to be any of her business but…

  Roman Spencer, the most esteemed Earl of Ravensdale’s heir, was… different from other entitled gentlemen of the ton. Despite his position and age, he was not reputed to frequent brothels or keep a mistress. He was not known as a rogue, rake, or even a flirt but only as a perfectly behaved gentleman.

  Her virtue was quite safe with a man such as he.

  With a quick look up and down the corridor, she stepped backward, opened the door, and gestured for him to enter. When he failed to move quickly enough, she grasped hold of his wrist and tugged him inside.

  He stumbled as she led him to an elegant lady’s fainting couch and pushed him down to sit, none too gently.

  “Miss Ursula Rosamond Waring. Rosamond.” Head tipped back, he stared at her from beneath half-closed lids. “A rose by any other name…” And then he closed his eyes.

  She would not dignify such ridiculousness with a response.

  She hated to wake Penelope and her husband, Danbury. Since the babies had been born, neither was afforded much sleep. Rose glanced at the tall comfortable bed she’d just climbed out of, the one Penelope abandoned in favor of her husband’s, and then squinted at the clo
ck ticking on the mantle.

  “Do you realize what time it is?” Of course, he did not. He couldn’t even locate his own chamber. “It’s past three in the morning.”

  “My damned brothers.” He turned on his side, making himself more comfortable. “Said I needed to have a lil’… hic… lil’ fun.” He tucked his hands beneath his chin and drew up his knees, like a child almost.

  Rose dropped her head back and stared at the ceiling in exasperation. His brothers were idiots to have left him to fend for himself. Unconscionable, really. Large quantities of spirits, consumed by a person who rarely imbibed, could wreak all sorts of unmentionable havoc.

  Lord Darlington did not deserve, nor could he benefit from, any additional grief in his life. In fact, over the last year, he’d become something of a tragic fellow in her mind.

  Albeit, a tragic handsome and titled fellow, who was said to be worth nearly thirty thousand a year—if not more.

  He was as safe from her as she was from him.

  “Did you?” She covered a yawn. “Have fun, that is?”

  “I don’t know how to have fun. Don’t you know that, Miss Waring? I’m the boring heir. It is well known amongst the kingdom that if you want a good time, avoid Darlington at all costs. Dare I say if my grandfather was still alive, he’d provide more entertainment than me. Good old Darlington. Sobersides himself.”

  “Don’t be absurd.” And yet, his decision to maintain a low profile was wise. A gentleman such as himself, seeking his preferred amusement, would have to do so beneath a protective cloak of privacy. She frowned. “I don’t suppose it seems very fair.”

  But then she clamped her lips tightly together. If she wasn’t still half asleep, she’d never have dared make such a statement.

  Lord Darlington peeked through one eye at her. “Not that I don’t appreciate your sympathy, but what, pray tell, isn’t fair?”

  She chose that moment to move around the room, lighting every candle she could find. “I suppose I ought to wake them. They’ll be none too pleased but—”

  “You needn’t be concerned about your safety, Miss Waring.”

  “I would not have allowed you to enter my chamber if I’d thought you were a threat to my virtue.” She’d have been foolish if she had. As a maid, a servant, she would not be afforded the protection that would benefit an actual lady.

  At these words, his brows furrowed. “Why would you think I am not a threat? Am I truly as dull as all that?”

  She’d heard rumors for some time now but only shrugged. Nervous to discuss his proclivities, she moved about the room, lighting the wicks of at least three more candles. “A handsome bachelor such as yourself. It’s not as though you have much of a reputation with the ladies. And after Lady Eliza jilted you last year…” She met his gaze. “Well, you know.”

  His back straightened abruptly, and he planted his feet firmly upon the floor at this point. “I do not, as you say, know, thank you very much. What exactly are you getting at, Miss Waring?”

  Oh, good heavens. She stared down at his deliciously handsome feet. Such a shame, really. Not only the feet but the man as a whole…

  “That your preferences… perhaps… are not exactly directed toward the feminine members of our species.”

  There. She’d said it.

  Her gaze drifted up his calves, knees, stalling for a moment upon his inordinately muscular thighs, and then she finally forced herself to meet his eyes.

  At his expression, she could only guess that she’d stunned him into horrified silence.

  “It’s not unheard of, you know.” Some people might be disgusted by such inclinations, but she rather sympathized. A person couldn’t help who they fell in love with.

  “I’m…” he sputtered. “Not,” he finally managed to say. “Miss—“

  “Waring,” she inserted for him.

  “Miss Waring.” He glared at her. “My interests are most definitely engaged by the feminine creatures amongst our species.”

  Of course, he would not admit it to her. It would be his most closely guarded secret. She’d heard of men hanging on the gallows for the offense. “Of course! My mistake. Forget I mentioned it,” she readily agreed.

  Perhaps too readily.

  “I do not have such inclinations toward… my own sex!” He was standing now, swaying slightly, but not nearly as languid as he’d been a moment ago. She’d quite stunned the poor man into sobriety. “Where did you hear such a—? Who is saying such—?” He was sputtering again.

  “Oh, people talk, you know. Only a few servants. It’s not as though it’s common knowledge.” And at his growingly thunderous expression, she added, “It’s only a rumor.”

  “A rumor that could ruin a man!” He ran one hand through his hair. “Just because a gentleman doesn’t poke his prick into every lady he meets doesn’t mean…” And then, upon glancing at her widened eyes, he hastened to add, “Pardon my language, Miss Waring. But I’m…”

  “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  He closed his eyes for a moment and then stared at her again. “Where did you hear this?”

  “Around…” One didn’t always remember where one heard such rumors. Had it been Lady Hawthorne’s maid? Or had she simply overheard a conversation? She honestly couldn’t remember.

  Or, perhaps, she’d just assumed. “I’m not certain.”

  “Not from your mistress?” He appeared even more horrified by this notion.

  “Lady Danbury? Oh, heavens no!” In fact, before marrying Viscount Danbury, Penelope herself had entertained romantic inclinations toward this particular viscount. Which had been another poorly kept secret amongst the ton.

  Darlington had moved so that he stood directly in front of Rose, forcing her to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. He did not seem so very harmless at that moment; blue eyes blazing, jaw clenched tightly. She shivered as a wave of attraction crashed over her.

  “Rose, what are you doing up—?” Penelope pushed open the adjoining door before Rose, who jumped guiltily, could do anything to stop her. Holding out a single taper, Penelope blinked her eyes rapidly when her gaze landed on the viscount. “Darlington? What on earth are you doing in here?”

  Of course, her mistress would not knock to enter her own chamber, despite knowing Rose would likely be sleeping.

  “The viscount got himself lost,” Rose began.

  “I’m soused, Pen.” Lord Darlington was back to looking harmless again.

  “Did you need me, Pen? Is something the matter with one of the babies?”

  “The twins are fine.” Penelope waved Rose’s question off. Quite undaunted despite wearing nothing but a long cotton night rail, Penelope studied Darlington curiously. “Do you know where your chamber is located, Rome? If you enter the wrong one by mistake, you’ll be as good as married before the new year.”

  Penelope and Lord Darlington had been well acquainted for years and so her familiarity with the gentleman came as no surprise.

  The befuddled viscount shrugged. “Somewhere in the north tower, but damned if I can remember what the door looked like.”

  “Wait here.” Penelope sighed and then turned back to where she’d come from, her long auburn braid swinging as she did so. “Danbury will get you there.”

  “If he’s asleep, I’ll search for it my…” Darlington’s voice trailed off at the futility of ever trying to tell Penelope what to do.

  Then he turned back to Rose and scowled. “I’m not,” he said stubbornly, crossing his arms in front of him. How was it that men could seem so imposing one moment and adorably boyish the next?

  Rose rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Of course,” she said sweetly. “My Lord.”

  “Damnit, Miss Waring—”

  “What in blazes?” It was Lord Danbury who entered unannounced this time. Wearing a maroon silk banyan embroidered with dragons and various shooting flames, he, too, was barefooted. Rose wondered if her mistress’ husband wore anything beneath the exotic-looking cover-up and
then dismissed the idea. Of course, he didn’t.

  There was not a great deal that Penelope kept from Rose, the relationship between mistress and lady’s maid being more intimate than almost any other.

  “It’s Stone’s fault.” Darlington swayed ever so slightly as he lifted both arms in mock surrender. “Scotch, gin, and then some abs… absint… absinthe.”

  Danbury was shaking his head. “You’ll be more than sorry come morning.” But then he gestured toward the door leading to the corridor. “I know where your chamber is. Let’s get you there before you sully my wife’s good name.”

  Rose clenched her teeth. But the truth of it was, this was Penelope’s chamber. Rose’s reputation only mattered in so much as how it affected Penelope’s. She was, after all, only a maid.

  Chapter 2

  Carry On!

  “You’ve an appointment to ride with the duke and Lord Hawthorne, My Lord.”

  Rome buried his face in his pillow to drown out his valet’s disapproving tone. What in God’s name had he put his body through the night before? His head pounded, his stomach rolled, and his mouth was dry as the Sahara.

  Oh, yes. His brothers had goaded him into drinking God knows what. Vague recollections of Stone’s dares and Peter’s laughter taunted him. Had the concoction really been green? Absinthe. The normal affection he held for his brothers was noticeably absent today.