Page 1 of Her Sweetest Rogue (The Worthington Legacy #6)

England, 1822

S ilence was most important. It could mean the difference between freedom and imprisonment.

Judith Faraday lifted on the tiptoes of her riding boots, the worn leather whispering against the polished wood floor, and crept out of her second-story bedroom. Her breath hitched, her ears attuned to the faintest sound as she inched down the corridor. The grand manor was shrouded in predawn stillness, and she strained to catch any rustling from the servants. But this early in the morning, the house was cloaked in silence. Each step was deliberate and cautious, her heart thudding in her chest like a frantic drum. She reached the top of the stairs, where the shadows pooled in the corners, deep and forbidding.

As she descended, her weight pressed onto a loose tread board, the creak slicing through the silence and reverberating off the high walls. With taut muscles, she froze as her breath caught in her throat. The echo seemed to linger, magnifying her presence in the sleeping house. Her pulse pounded louder, drowning out her thoughts.

She held her breath, ears straining to catch any sign of stirring, her senses heightened to the brink of pain. The wild beating of her heart was the only response, a stark reminder of the risk she was taking. She remained still, counting the seconds, until she was certain the silence was unbroken, and then she moved again, stealthy and determined.

Some might think Judith was rebellious, but it wasn’t in her nature to stand back and allow everyone to make decisions for her, especially now that she was almost in her twenty-third year. The large inheritance would take care of her for a while, along with her servants. She didn’t need anyone to be her guardian, especially someone she hadn’t seen since she was a child. Yet if she didn’t leave now, she’d become the ward to the Dowager Duchess of Kenbridge. Judith was certain the older woman didn’t remember the spitfire Judith had been as a youngster, or the poor woman wouldn’t be planning to bring her to Mayfair.

Rubbing her forehead to relieve the pressure of a headache, she tiptoed across the floor toward the back door, each step a careful, measured effort to remain silent. Frustration bubbled up inside her. What had Ma and Pa been thinking, entrusting her to the dowager? They had raised her to be self-reliant, instilling in her the values of independence and strength from a young age. She should be anticipating marriage, not becoming the ward of an elderly woman. The thought gnawed at her, adding to the tension already gripping her mind.

Judith remembered a few things about the Worthington family, but what stood out most was their ill-mannered son. Trey, the youngest, had tormented her endlessly with his cruel pranks. Though years had passed and he was surely a man by now—possibly even married with children—the mere thought of seeing him again sent a shiver down her spine. His mocking laughter and the sting of his tricks were etched in her memory, shadows of a past she wished she could erase.

Unfortunately, she was destined to see him sooner than she had hoped. As she recalled the dowager’s condolence letter, her heart sank. The woman had mentioned her own illness and informed Judith that her youngest son, Lord Trey, would be the one to escort her to the Worthington estate. The words had practically leapt off the page, tightening the knot of anxiety in her chest. She could almost hear the disdain dripping in his voice and see the smug look in his eyes. The thought of facing him again, especially under such circumstances, made her stomach churn.

It would happen tomorrow. But she mustn’t allow her life to change in such a terrible way.

Finally reaching the stable, she took a glance back at the house. Curtains covered every window. The servants and, more importantly, her unwanted companion—assigned to stay beside her until the dowager took over—were still asleep and wouldn’t miss her for another hour. At least, that was her hope.

On the horizon, the waking sun peeked between the trees, casting rainbows of light through the morning mist. Judith saddled her mare with practiced ease, then vaulted onto the horse’s back. She urged the animal onto the road, the cool morning air stinging her cheeks as they picked up speed. The ribbons on her bonnet fluttered wildly in the breeze, and her cape flapped against her back, not as warm as she would have liked. But eventually, the sun would climb higher, warming the day and matching the heat inside her blooming in her chest at the thought of her new life with Alex, her soldier—and secret fiancé.

“Come, my sweet Pegasus,” she cooed to the mare. “Take me swiftly, but quietly, to my new life.”

With each powerful stride of the mare, she felt the distance between her and her old life stretching, the weight of her past lifting with every gallop. The countryside blurred around her, the wind carrying away her doubts and fears. Freedom and the promise of a future filled with love awaited her, just over the horizon, where Alex would be waiting with open arms.

She’d ridden about two miles when shouts echoed behind her in the distance. Her heart plummeted and she peeked over her shoulder. “No, please. You cannot find me.”

Judith groaned, crouched lower, and kicked her legs against the mare’s flanks. Noticing a different path off to one side, she urged her horse in that direction. Trees became thicker and the overhanging branches whipped at her face and tore off her bonnet, leaving it to fall to the ground. Her cape flew behind her as if she had wings. A few branches caught her riding habit, leaving tears in her sleeves and skirt. She didn’t care. The further she traveled without being spotted, the better.

The woodsman’s cottage came into view. Alex would be there waiting.

As she neared the cottage, Judith slowed the mare, her senses heightened and alert. Where was her beloved?

She patted the mare’s neck, feeling the warmth and sweat beneath her hand, and urged the horse toward the structure. The ramshackle shelter loomed ahead, its worn timbers and sagging roof promising at least some respite.

“Alex, my love?” she called.

Several agonizing seconds passed, her heartbeat still hammering in her chest. Suddenly, distant shouts pierced the morning air, sending a jolt of fear through her. Panic surged like ice through her veins. She had no doubt now—they had discovered her absence.

From behind, a horse neighed and branches snapped. She whipped around, clutching tightly to the reins, preparing to flee. Through the thicket, two horses came her way. As they rode closer, she could see her beloved wasn’t one of them. Both men wore black cloaks and knee boots as dark as midnight. Neither resembled nobility.

Please, Lord… Don’t make them highwaymen!

Holding in her panic, she kicked her heels against the horse’s sides, urging the mare into a run. The men behind her shouted, insisting she stop.

Judith slipped from one side of the saddle to the other, unaccustomed to the fast pace on a sidesaddle. The muscles in her thighs screamed from the strain of holding them against the horn, and her hands throbbed painfully from gripping the reins so tightly.

The thundering hooves grew closer, and she released a whimper. She didn’t dare look behind to see how close they were as the ground nearly shook from their approach.

Strong hands grabbed her around the waist, lifting her off the mare with a force that made her scream. Her fingers slipped from the reins as she was torn away from her horse. Immediately, she was pressed against the man holding her.

She had heard horror stories of what highwaymen did to women they held for ransom—tales that filled her with dread. Her mind raced, desperately searching for a way out as she struggled against their grip, her fear threatening to overwhelm her.

Judith’s heart cried as she watched her horse ride into the wooded area without her. Alex, where are you?

The rider’s horse stopped, which made it easier to struggle against him.

“Woman, cease. Do you wish to lame me?”

Without turning her head to look at the imbecile, she scrunched her forehead. Of course she wanted to lame him. Did he think she’d make this easy?

“Please stop, woman. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Famous last words, she was certain.

Breathing heavily, she took a moment to study his face…and then sucked in a quick breath. Highwaymen weren’t supposed to be this handsome. Windswept black hair waved around his head while brilliant blue eyes stared back at her. Didn’t highwaymen wear masks? This one didn’t.

His gaze skimmed over her in a lazy exploration, yet his mouth stretched in a melting grin before he met her eyes.

“Sir, I demand you unhand me.” Her voice shook despite her efforts to sound commanding.

The second rider galloped up to them and pulled his horse to a stop. No doubt another thief, yet he didn’t wear a mask, either. Perhaps these men were not as she expected. If so, what was their purpose?

The man holding her chuckled. “Hawthorne, the woman demands I unhand her.”

The man called Hawthorne shook his head, his gaze never leaving her. “I think you have found an uncooperative lass. I fear she’ll be a handful for you.”

The one holding her laughed as he pulled her closer. She screeched and slapped his hands, but he remained unaffected.

“Yes, Hawthorne, she’s a handful to be sure, but a wench I can tame, nonetheless.”

“Wench?” she shrieked. “Sir, I’m no wench. I’m a lady.” Judith elbowed him in the chest, which was followed by his soft grunt. “And you had better unhand me this second or I’ll injure you in the worst way.”

Hawthorne threw his head back and howled with laughter.

“What’s this?” The one holding her turned her head with his fingers, gripping her chin so she could look at him. Humor sparked in his dark blue eyes. “You proclaim yourself a lady, yet you are threatening me with bodily harm?”

She scowled. “Are you not still holding me prisoner? Therefore, you are no gentleman. Now let me go before I follow through with harming your person.”

He grinned, and her heart did a foolish flip-flop. Those blasted dimples on his cheeks and his hypnotic eyes made her catch a breath. Though she still wondered about their purpose here, the initial fear began to fade, replaced by irritation.

“Pardon me,” the man said, dripping with sarcasm. “I didn’t know we were in the presence of such nobility.” His gaze slid over her riding habit. “I wasn’t aware that gentle-bred ladies adorned themselves in such a wicked fashion.” He fingered the tears in her sleeves.

Once again, she slapped his hand. “You imbecile. My riding habit is ripped due to the ghastly trees and their branches.”

“What are you doing traipsing through the forest by yourself? From what I understand, gentle-bred ladies are supposed to have an escort.”

“That, sir, is none of your concern.”

Hawthorne chuckled. “I think we have a runaway.”

Her heart sank. They had deduced her purpose.

The handsome man holding Judith waggled his brows. “Will your father pay handsomely for your safe return?”

Her heart clenched at the mention of Pa. If he were alive at this moment, he would kill both rogues.

The thieves’ purpose was now revealed: they wanted money. However, they dressed in finer clothes, not the rags a highwayman would wear. Even their boots were of the finest quality.

She forced down a hard swallow and lifted her chin. “No, my father will not. It would be utterly impossible to get one shilling from him, since he’s buried six feet under.”

The man holding her blinked. “He’s dead?”

“I would hope so. I imagine a living person would find it difficult to breathe buried under the ground like that.”

Silence, except for her quick breaths and horses’ snorting, filled the air. The thief lost his smile yet kept his warm gaze on her.

“Please forgive me, my lady. I shall not amuse myself at your expense any further.”

She nodded and adjusted herself on his lap. “Will you please let me down?”

“Not until you tell us what you’re doing here. This is private land. You’re trespassing.”

Realizing now what their purpose was, she nearly sighed with relief. “Oh dear, forgive me. I did not know.”

“Obviously, but you have not yet explained why you are here.”

Shouts from down the road rang out, along with the crunching of leaves under horses’ hooves. Squeezing her eyes closed, she gritted her teeth. My servants found me.

She met the thief’s gaze again. “I beg you, sir, let me down. I cannot allow those people to locate me.”

“Why?”

“Because they want to take me somewhere I do not wish to go.”

“And where might that be?” asked the other man.

Judith glanced at Hawthorne before looking back at the man holding her. Her vision grew blurred for a moment as dizziness assailed her. Why did she feel as if she would pass out? Perhaps she should have eaten this morning to give her body more strength.

She blinked to refocus. “I cannot explain now. They are coming upon us quickly.”

“Then I suggest you give me some hint to your situation, my lady, because I’m the only one who can protect you.”

Voices from the searchers grew nearer. She didn’t have any other choice. “Sir, I’m the newly appointed ward of the Dowager Duchess of Kenbridge. There has been a terrible mistake, and I cannot be the dowager’s ward. I’m here to meet my fiancé, a lieutenant in the King’s Navy, so we can be married.”

The handsome thief holding her hitched a breath, his arms loosening as if she’d suddenly burst into flames. Seizing the moment, Judith slid from his horse and quickly stepped away, putting some distance between them. Her heart raced with a mix of lingering fear and newfound determination as she prepared to face whatever came next.

“Thank you, sir. You don’t know how much this means to me.” Glancing around the glade, she searched for her horse.

The man jumped from his mount and took her by the elbow. “You are Miss Faraday? Lord and Lady Manderville’s daughter?”

Her heart bounced to her throat as panic consumed her. “How—how do you know?”

He shook his head as he ran his fingers through his wavy black hair. “Oh, my dear Miss Faraday, this is certainly not your lucky day. Nor mine.”

“Explain yourself, sir.”

He released her arm and gave her a mock bow. “Lord Trey Worthington, at your service. We knew each other as children. The dowager duchess is my mother.”

Oh, no! The fog thickened in her head as dizziness completely consumed her. Her chest tightened, making it impossible to breathe. Voices and sounds from all around grew dim as the ground rose up to meet her. Everything around her dissolved into darkness.