Page 1 of One Night in Vauxhall Gardens (Singular Sensation #11)
April 27, 1819
Rogue’s Arcade
Mayfair, London
By the time Harold—Harry—Briggs, the Earl of Hedgecomb, entered the Rogue’s Arcade club and ferreted out the private room that he and a few cronies liked to utilize, chaos was the order of the night.
What the devil is going on?
The private room brimmed with members of the club who were his closest friends, his favorite brothers-in-arms, the men he considered closer than blood. All wore grim expressions tinged with concern and even fear. And the candlelight made everything that much more macabre, especially since the night was rainy.
His gaze fell to the Earl of St. Vincent first, and since the man alternated between shock and anger, the news must not be good. Blood stained his dark tailcoat and appeared as brilliant scarlet streaks on the fine lawn of his shirt. “What has occurred?” Over the past months, the men of the club had been under clandestine attack from Lady Stover and her minions. Was this more of the same?
“I’m afraid the news is dire,” the earl said as he raised his gaze to Harry’s. “I’ve just come from Edenthorpe’s house. As you know, we have a regular Monday evening dinner between our families.”
“Yes, and?” For whatever reason, he could hardly breathe as foreboding made cold knots in his gut.
“A masked person broke into the house through a library window. Before we knew what was happening, the man entered the dining room.” Shock reflected in the earl’s eyes. “He shot Edenthorpe before I was able to tackle him to the floor, but the damage had already been done.”
Harry gasped. The duke had been the reason he was a part of the Rogue’s Arcade to begin with, and he was hand-picked to join while they were out on a God-forsaken battlefield in Portugal during a lull. “How bad is it?”
“The ball went into Edenthorpe’s chest. Not a clean shot. His surgeon was immediately summoned.” As he spoke, St. Vincent’s face paled. “By the time I reached his side, he’d slipped into unconsciousness, but God, there was so much blood.”
“Damn.” Fear played icy fingers down his spine. As he glanced about the room where even more of the rogues gathered, everyone focused on St. Vincent. “Is there an update?” he asked in a low voice, but all he wished to do was cast up his accounts. Edenthorpe was one of the founding members of the club, along with St. Vincent. If he should perish, nothing would ever be the same.
“Not much. Between the butler and me, we carried the duke upstairs to his bedchamber. My wife sat with the duchess, who was in hysterics, and that can’t be good for her delicate health.” He sent a speaking look about the rogues, for Edenthorpe’s wife was expecting for the second time. “We managed to quell the flow of blood by the time the surgeon arrived, but Edenthorpe never regained consciousness.”
One of the other men stood. His countenance was far too pale, for he was Edenthorpe’s brother—Viscount Rockwell—in town from the Lake District to discuss matters concerning the club. “I just arrived from my brother’s home with an update. The surgeon is preparing to remove the ball and then hopefully tell us if it did any damage to organs or arteries.”
The silence that filled the room was heavy and complete as everyone looked at each other with the same worry.
St. Vincent nodded. “Thank you, Cecil. Please keep us informed. We will all be sitting vigil for your brother, and we will take shifts in guarding his home until the threat is neutralized.”
Rockwell dipped his head. His Adam’s apple bobbed with a hard swallow. “My wife and I are delaying our return to the Lake District until Edenthorpe is out of danger.”
The Duke of Lockwood came into the room looking haggard with anxiety. “I just heard the news.” He peered at each man in the crowded room. “Is it true?” If the talk through the club was to be believed, Lockwood was in the process of moving his growing family to his country estate with his mother and unwed sister, who was in the middle of finishing school. His other sister wed one of the other rogues—Viscount Aldren—and her husband was fiercely protective of her. Given the current circumstances, that was all to the good.
“It is.” Rockwell nodded. “Shot in the chest while we were at dinner from an unknown assailant. St. Vincent took the man down.”
“Where is the shooter?”
The earl cleared his throat. “Bound and gagged in Edenthorpe’s wine cellar. Where he’ll remain until we can question him.”
One of the other rogues—Baron Twinsfield—stood. “Why not bring him here so we can all have a crack at him? This bold attack is outside of enough.”
Finally, Harry spoke, albeit in a whisper. “Edenthorpe and some of the others believe there is a spy within the club’s ranks.”
Lockwood frowned. In a low voice, he asked, “Do we truly think there is a spy here? All of us trust every last man in this club.”
Harry huffed out a breath of frustration. “While I feel as betrayed as you, Edenthorpe is convinced there is. And none of us have ever had him lie.” In the silence that followed, he nodded. “If we will be the ones to question the shooter, it can’t be here.”
“Right.” St. Vincent stood. “We should relocate to Hedgecomb’s home. His is the closest to the club, and since most of us are here, it is the next logical step. And since Alexander Burgess is still in Town as well, we shall have him interrogate the suspect as he did the last one we took into custody.”
Burgess happened to be an honorary member of the Rogue’s Arcade. The man was a former Bow Street principal agent who’d first investigated a case whose tendrils led back to Lady Stover’s current reign of terror. Though the man St. Vincent referred to had been captured in December, Burgess had brought his family to London at the end of February once it was safe to travel after the winter weather died down. He and his wife had yet to take their small daughter back to the Lake District, for they were no doubt enjoying the trip away.
“Excellent idea,” Harry said. “Now that said man has been consigned to Newgate, perhaps the same fate will await the new one.
As one, the company of rogues, Harry’s best friends in the world, the men who were far closer to him than any blood brother could be, stood.
“Let us remove to Hedgecomb’s residence then.” St. Vincent’s expression remained grim. “There is much to discuss, and should Edenthorpe perish…”
Harry shook his head. “Don’t even speak those words into being,” he cautioned. “We all need to think the best and hope for a positive outcome.” He paused in order to formulate his next statement. “Edenthorpe is the best of us, but I can say this. If something does happen, the retribution will be fierce and immediate.”
For they would, as a company, seek out Lady Stover, drive her from hiding, and then exact vengeance.
May 1801
London, England
Harry—Viscount Fulton—glanced about the drawing room and the crush of people therein. Since he was in Town on leave, he’d been invited by a handful of hostesses eager to make up numbers at their social events, and he wasn’t about to pass over free meals or drink.
Unfortunately, life had begun to pale, for his mother had died from an ailment of the lungs that past winter, and his father had become a bit listless since then. Recently having turned one and twenty, Harry had finally convinced his father to buy him a commission in the military—infantry specifically—which had allowed him to enter with the rank of captain. Yes, he was excited to be a part of quelling the horror that Napoleon was trying to force upon the world, there was also quite a bit of nerves on his part.
“Ah, Viscount Fulton, just the man I’ve been looking for.”
When he turned around to greet the man approaching him, he grinned, for it was always a joy to talk with Carew Fitzwilliam, heir apparent to the Duke of Edenthorpe. Though he held a courtesy title of earl from his father, he encouraged his friends to refer to him by his military designation of captain, or rather his middle name of Harcourt. No doubt he would find field promotions rather sooner than later.
“Hullo, Harcourt. Fancy seeing you here tonight.” Though it wasn’t difficult to believe. Any man in Town who looked dashing in a uniform was usually always invited to society functions. “Good to see a familiar face.”
“Agreed.” Once they’d shook hands, the other man encouraged him over to the side of the room so they could talk semi-privately. “A rumor filtered to my ears the other day concerning you, and since I was impressed with it, I wanted the opportunity to ask you about it.”
“Oh?” Knots of worry twisted in Harry’s gut, for the rumor could hearken back to any number of misdeeds that had happened while he’d been in Town.
The other man nodded, but a faint grin flirted with his lips. “It seems that one of Prinny’s very close friends is beyond annoyed due to misplacing a signet ring. Not only that, but said piece is apparently quite valuable due to its being encrusted with tiny diamonds and featuring a one-carat emerald that came from a certain mine deep in darkest Africa. That stone alone is worth a king’s ransom.”
Oh, indeed it was. “Ah.” Heat rose up the back of his neck. “That confounded signet ring.” Yet he couldn’t help but grin, for that had been one of his more unique and exciting jewel thefts. “Yes, the rumors are correct. The man did indeed misplace the signet ring… because I stole it.”
A chuckle issued from Harcourt. “Is that right? Do tell.”
It was one of his favorite stories, in fact. “The man in question is reckless when he drinks to excess, and he has a few quirks about him that leave him open to vulnerabilities.” Harry crossed his arms at his chest while people laughed and talked throughout the room. No one in particular paid him any mind, which was one of the great things about not having to assume his father’s title of earl just yet. “Needless to say, when the man takes a break from food or cards, he has the tendency to remove his rings. One of those was the signet.”
“How did you manage to pinch it?”
“It was embarrassingly simple. I simply walked past where the man was using the chamber pot, collected the signet ring from the cabinet top and kept going. The rest of the men in the room were enthralled with the card game and arguing politics. No one paid much attention nor looked my way. Pocketed the ring, finished out my evening at the card table, then went home with a treasure.”
For long moments, Harcourt remained silent, but amusement danced in his eyes. Then he asked, “What happened to the ring?”
Harry leaned a bit closer to the other man. “At home tucked away in a safe. It is much a trophy, I suppose. I might sell it eventually or I might just keep it for my own enjoyment, but since it was one of my first thefts, it’s a good reminder to me.”
“I understand that, especially when men like the ones who gravitate around the Regent are extravagant beyond what is necessary as well as greedy.” He offered a smile. “Did the man ever come after you with questions regarding the missing ring?”
“He did not. Because he was so drunk, everyone there assumed he’d lost the ring somewhere that night, gambled it away to someone who’d already left, or he’d not worn the jewelry out at all.”
“Fantastic, and well done.” Harcourt grinned once more. “Thank you for sharing the story, and since you have that certain skill, I’m delighted to invite you to join my private club called the Rogue’s Arcade. We’re not far from White’s, and one of the only rules for membership is each candidate must have been, or still is, a jewel thief.”
“What?” Shock moved through his chest. “You want me as a member?”
“Of course.” Harcourt nodded. “I founded the club with Leo Bollinger, the Earl of St. Vincent’s heir, a few years ago to have a place where we could go and talk privately with other men who shared our same values. The men I invite to become members are of a certain ilk, aren’t politically motivated nor are they social climbers.” One of his dark eyebrows rose in question. “And they share an affinity for helping others who generally can’t help themselves. Does that sound like you?”
“I’m honestly flattered.” Pleasure welled in Harry’s chest. “And yes, I would like that above all things. However, with the war heating up, I can’t say when next I’ll be in London. Does that matter?” Of course, he was young enough to think himself invincible and he couldn’t wait to see his first battle, but he was also humble enough to realize that it only took one errant or intentional ball to end his existence.
“It does not. I think many of us have that concern at the back of our minds.” His expression, though grim, lightened the longer he continued to speak. “I’m happy to have you. Already, there are a handful of upstanding men who are members of the club, men who will come into titles eventually. I think we’re a good mix and I also believe we’ll help change the face of London in the coming years. So much that the Rogue’s Arcade will become a club to be envied, not because of vices but because of what we stand for.”
“Then I’m glad to come aboard.” Harry offered a gloved hand, and when Harcourt shook it, he flashed a relieved smile. “In fact, I’ll drop by tomorrow night and have a look ‘round, meet some of the other members.”
“I’m glad. Oh, and you should know that most of the men who make up the club are also in the military. I wouldn’t be surprised if you end up on the battlefields with some or all of us during the course of the war.”
Harry frowned. “Do you expect it to drag on?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. War, though unnecessary most of the time, only benefits rich men and helps them grow richer. Everyone else is caught in the crossfire, and there will be plenty of hard times ahead because of it.” He rubbed a hand along the side of his face. “However, men like Napoleon must not be allowed to conquer the whole of the world. No man should ever hold that much power. Eventually, it will corrupt, even down to men with darkness in their hearts on smaller scales.”
“I agree.” Daring much, Harry laid a hand in support on the other man’s shoulder. “That is where the rogues come in, hmm? To dismantle those men and their networks, to keep the balance and assist people in need.”
“Exactly.” Harcourt’s eyes took on a gleaming intensity. “Someone needs to keep men like that in check and try to run interference between the people they try to quell beneath their thumbs. And honestly, I look forward to the challenge.”
“As do I.” That was very much the truth and gave him something to look forward to. “Thank you for the invitation.”
The other man nodded. “You are quite welcome. Now, we should probably mingle else our hostess will have our heads.”
Present day
The memory still made him grin even when presented with the dire news about Edenthorpe’s injury. As he shared his carriage with a few other men from the club to travel the couple of blocks to his townhouse, he couldn’t help remembering that day when he’d been selected by the duke to join the Rogue’s Arcade. And what was more, since that long ago day, the men had become not only his brothers-in-arms whom he’d saved and had rescued him, but they were also his blood brothers. Every member he would lay down his life for, and he was secure in the knowledge they would do the same for him.
Now Edenthorpe needed them the most.
Once at Hedgecomb House, he invited the men up to the drawing room. His butler and footmen were more than willing to bring them whatever they wanted in the way of food and drink, for the staff had seen all of them at various times over the years, and every single member of the Rogue’s Arcade treated the servants with respect and courtesy.
As he looked around the gathering of friends, his chest swelled with pride. “We are here tonight because the one man who pulled us all together is in terrible need.” Though his voice wavered, he went forward; they all could do with encouragement. “One of us must keep vigil inside his house while another of us will guard the outside day and night. Aldren, if you will organize the schedule, I would appreciate it.”
It had been a long time since Harry had been called upon to take charge of anything, but this felt right, as if he was finally needed now that the war had been over for some years.
The viscount nodded. “Of course.”
“Lockwood, if you require assistance in getting your household packed and readied for your removal from London, please let us know.”
The duke offered a slight grin. “I will. Thank you. It feels a bit cowardly of me to leave Town while this crisis is escalating, but I just can’t put what is the most important to me in harm’s way.” His voice broke. “Not that we will be safe in the country from this scourge.”
“That matters not.” Harry sliced the air with a hand. “Baselford, if you don’t mind, please take your wife and relocate to Lockwood’s country estate until we can neutralize Lady Stover and her band of blackhearts.”
The earl nodded. “I would be honored, and my wife will be glad for a chance at new scenery. Since we recommitted to each other and our marriage, there have been a few setbacks regarding rendering her enceinte , so she needs a distraction.”
“I’m sorry to hear of your problems, but perhaps this will be good for the two of you.” He glanced at Lockwood. “You don’t mind the company?”
“Not at all. My wife will be thrilled with someone to talk with who isn’t me.” Despite the gravity of the situation, he chuckled. “This second pregnancy has made her a bit growly toward me, even though I had nothing to do with making her ill.”
A wave of indulgent laughter cycled through the room.
“Good.” Harry nodded. “If anyone else should wish to remove their families to country estates, please say so now and we will figure out arrangements.” As he moved his gaze through the assemblage, the rest of the rogues shook their heads. “Then it is settled. Lockwood and Baselford will leave by week’s end. The rest of us will guard Edenthorpe with our lives, and in the meanwhile, we will meet every attack as it comes. If we can chip away at Lady Stover’s minions, that is all to the good, and with the information regarding her weaknesses gleaned after the contretemps with Timelbury’s wife last December, we have a great advantage on her.”
When a footman brought in two trays of cold, sliced meats and cheeses as well as bread, Harry moved to the head of the room. “Let’s all take up a drink and toast Edenthorpe, and we shall spend the evening sharing stories of him, to help us remind each other of the value of family who isn’t necessarily of blood.”
And God help anyone who came between any of them.