Page 1 of Until the Rake Surrenders (Rogue Rules #5)

Wiltshire, September 1816

Lady Minerva Halifax stepped into the massive, wood-paneled great hall at Longleat and made a silent vow that she would not find a husband at this house party. Her mother, the Duchess of Henlow, sincerely hoped she would, but since she was not here, Min would not be pressured at every turn. Instead, that would happen when she rejoined her mother in Bath following the party.

Ellis Dangerfield, Min’s companion for seventeen years—since Min was five and Ellis nine—entered alongside her. Min glanced around the cavernous great hall with its splendid wood beams decorating the high ceiling, her blue eyes shrewdly assessing, but did not seem overly impressed. Though, Ellis had mastered the art of being enigmatic.

“I’m still shocked my mother chose not to come,” Min said softly as they moved into the hall. Her chaperone, Jane Ogilvie, her mother’s great-aunt’s cousin, followed them and immediately found a chair on which to perch.

“Apparently, setting up the house in Bath was more important,” Ellis replied. “Particularly since she plans to live there permanently.”

That had been a surprising development. The duchess loved nothing more than presiding at Henlow House in London. So when she’d informed Min that she’d decided to set up a permanent residence in Bath, to say Min was shocked was an understatement. And she still didn’t fully understand why.

It was no secret that her parents’ marriage was fraught, but they’d tolerated each other for years. What had happened to force her mother to decide she no longer wanted to reign as one of Society’s premier hostesses?

Min pushed the thought aside, for she would not find the answer here at Longleat. Instead, she would enjoy the house party and gird herself for the upcoming Marriage Mart in Bath. Her mother had indicated that Min’s time was running out. If she did not wed this autumn, her chance to do so might well be gone. While Min didn’t entirely agree with that dire assessment, she knew she was nearing the shelf. But the shelf was preferable to a loveless marriage and the risk of ending up in a perennial battleground like her parents.

For now, Min would enjoy the party at this gorgeous estate with Ellis. They would, no doubt, have little trouble evading the not-so-watchful eye of Min’s chaperone. Mrs. Ogilvie was a pleasant woman of eighty years with warm hazel eyes and an upturned nose. She had a head of thick white hair due to the wigs she wore. They were neither embarrassingly antiquated nor were they fashionable. Widowed for nearly sixty years and without children of her own, Mrs. Ogilvie had been pressed into service—sometimes Min wondered if it had been willingly—as the family’s eternal chaperone. Her only demand in return was that she not ever return to London. She’d left when her husband died and had never gone back.

Their hostess, the Marchioness of Bath, mingled about the great hall, greeting all the guests who were being held there. Min glanced at Ellis. “Do you suppose there is going to be an announcement?”

Mrs. Ogilvie answered before Ellis could. “That is what I expect. It is a trifle odd.”

The marchioness came toward them with a bright smile. “Welcome, Lady Minerva, Mrs. Ogilvie, Miss Dangerfield.” She focused on Min. “I’m so pleased you could attend our party, though I am sorry Her Grace was not able to accompany you.”

Rather than address her mother’s absence, Min returned the marchioness’s smile. “May I offer my family’s congratulations on the recent marriage of your daughter?”

“Thank you,” the marchioness replied. “It has been busy dealing with that in London and then returning here for the party. But it is good to have one daughter wed,” she added with a laugh. Her gaze lingered on Min somewhat expectantly. “I imagine you’ll be hoping to make a match soon, and you are not the only one. Lord Ecclestone’s daughter is also here.”

Their hostess glanced toward the opposite side of the room where the young woman she’d mentioned stood with another young lady and their mothers. Min recognized them all from last spring in London. It had been Miss Ecclestone’s first Season, and there had been many wagers on her betrothal. Only the ones who’d bet against her marrying had won.

The marchioness continued. “There will be several eligible men here, including the Viscount Claxton.” He was heir to an earldom near York—Min’s mother ensured Min knew who all the eligible bachelors were. “They are all young and robust with good fortunes,” Lady Bath noted. “Indeed, you cannot make a poor choice.”

Min doubted that most strenuously. She’d met most of the men who would be in attendance, and none of them met her standards. Every one could be described as a rogue or at least rogue- ish . It wasn’t to say they were universally bad . She simply had no desire to wed someone who would not take the notion of marriage and partnership seriously.

And that was where she knew she was doomed. Very few men saw marriage as a partnership, with each person bringing specific skills and traits to the union that would benefit them both—and create a loving family. For that was what Min wanted more than anything else—a real marriage, not a strategic alliance. Nor would she settle because societal expectations dictated she should.

“Are you to play matchmaker?” Mrs. Ogilvie asked their hostess with a discerning eye, as if she were deciding whether the marchioness was up to the task.

“The Duchess of Henlow asked me to ensure Lady Minerva has ample opportunity to spend time with the bachelors at the party.”

Min snapped her attention to Lady Bath. “She did?”

The marchioness nodded. “She sent me a letter. As a mother, I understand her…concerns. I do wonder why she has not come herself, however.” Overall, her tone held an edge of condescension and disapproval.

Min was tempted to defend her lack of marriage thus far but decided there was no point. She would, however, provide a reason for her mother’s absence. “My mother is busy setting up the household in Bath, where we will be going after the party. I don’t plan to make any decisions regarding marriage until then. Surely you realize that a house party lasting a week is not a sufficient length of time for courtship.” She gave their hostess a bland smile.

The marchioness’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Longleat can be very romantic. The grounds are beautiful. You may find yourself swept away and falling in love.” Her gaze moved past Min. “You must pardon me, as I’ve another guest to greet.”

After the marchioness had moved away, Mrs. Ogilvie said, “She’s going to try to play matchmaker. It would be a coup for her to have your betrothal announced at the end of the party.”

“But as neither of my parents is here, there will be no betrothal,” Min replied. Even if they were here, there would be no betrothal. Min would not settle for anything less than love, and she was not going to find that in a week at Longleat, no matter how bloody “romantic” the gardens were.

“Not unless a betrothal becomes necessary.” Mrs. Ogilvie chuckled. “Which, of course, it won’t. You have been exceedingly careful when it comes to your behavior. Not at all like that friend of yours who was ruined, poor dear.”

She referred to Pandora Barclay, who’d been ruined two years earlier by the Earl of Banemore during their annual holiday in Weston. Each August, Min and her brother, Sheff, the Earl of Shefford, along with Ellis, traveled to their father’s estate, the Grove, near the seaside town of Weston. Several years ago, Min had befriended Persephone Barclay, who was Pandora’s older sister. They had all become friends, along with two other young ladies who also visited Weston in August.

“Pandora fell in love,” Min said quietly. “That clouded her judgment. She did not expect Bane would lie about loving her in return, nor did she have any idea he was already, apparently, betrothed.” He’d left Weston after they’d been caught in a compromising position and married someone else, leaving Pandora’s reputation in tatters. It was a cautionary tale about love and roguery. While love was a requirement for Min, she was exceedingly careful about falling in love with a rogue.

Ellis nodded in agreement. “That was a terrible situation, and one Min would never find herself in.”

“Love is dangerous,” Mrs. Ogilvie said sadly. “It leaves one completely vulnerable. Whilst that can be wonderful, it can also be devastating.” For her, it had been the latter since she’d lost her husband, whom she’d loved, so soon after they’d wed.

The guest the marchioness had greeted strolled farther into the hall. He’d already removed his hat and likely given it to a footman, for his head was bare, inviting one to study the brown waves of his hair, which were particularly lush for a gentleman. It matched the thickness of the coal-black eyelashes framing his deep brown eyes, which were also notably attractive. Evan Price was objectively handsome—almost distractingly so. He was also Min’s dear friend’s brother.

Most important of all, he was a rogue.

Evan was, however, a safe rogue since he and Min were friends and would never be anything more. He turned his head and met her gaze. He appeared surprised, indicating he hadn’t noticed her—or Ellis, whom he also knew well. Pivoting, he walked toward them with an affable grin.

“Good afternoon, Lady Minerva, Miss Dangerfield, and…” He looked at Mrs. Ogilvie with a faint air of panic. “Forgive me, but I don’t recall your chaperone’s name. Indeed, I don’t even recognize her from London.” He gave Min and Ellis an apologetic grimace. “Please tell me it’s not the same person and that I haven’t just made a complete fool of myself.”

Min couldn’t help laughing at Evan’s self-deprecation. “In fact, this is not the same person. I have two chaperones—one in London and one outside town. Surely you recall Mrs. Ogilvie from the Grove? She is always there with us in August.”

His eyes widened briefly, and he quickly bowed. “Of course. My apologies for not remembering you at first, Mrs. Ogilvie. I’m afraid I don’t always recognize people. It’s a rather embarrassing trait.”

“You are Lady Somerton’s brother,” Mrs. Ogilvie said, referring to Gwen, who was Min and Ellis’s friend.

Evan hesitated the barest moment. “Er, yes. Sometimes I forget she is Lady Somerton now.”

“I think we are all surprised that Somerton wed,” Min noted. He’d been a terrible rogue, and Gwen had been incredibly courageous to marry him—or so Min thought. Somerton did seem entirely reformed. They were deliriously happy.

Mrs. Ogilvie fixed Evan with an expectant stare. “Have you come to the party to find a bride?”

Evan quickly shook his head. “I am not ready for that. Yet.”

“Is our esteemed hostess aware?” Mrs. Ogilvie pursed her lips. “She seems to be under the impression that the bachelors attending this party are in search of wives.”

“I didn’t ever say I was on the Marriage Mart,” Evan said. He looked to Min. “Does the marchioness believe you are here to find a husband? I don’t know that there will be anyone attending whom you will find…worthy.”

“Why do you say that?” Mrs. Ogilvie demanded, as if it wasn’t a well-trafficked rumor that Min’s standards for a husband were so high, no man could meet them. She’d had several suitors and multiple proposals of marriage—all of which she’d declined.

There was also the fact that Evan, as a friend of Min’s brother, likely knew the truth, that Min would not be wooed by anyone whose character was not above reproach. To Min, that was not setting her standards too high. It was respecting herself enough to expect what she deserved: a man who would honor her and himself with his behavior and, above all, who would love her beyond reason.

Actually, Evan wouldn’t know that last bit, for Min did not speak about love. To do so would be to explain why the emotion was so important to her, and to do that would mean exposing her parents’ loveless marriage. Though, that was likely no secret either. Especially now that her mother had decided to reside in Bath permanently.

Min answered her chaperone’s question for Evan. “Mr. Price is aware I am not interested in marrying a rogue. I suspect rogues will be the only kind of bachelors in attendance.”

Evan grinned. “Exactly so.”

“Yourself included,” Ellis said with a faint smile.

While Evan hadn’t demonstrated roguish behavior as brow raising as Min’s newly wedded brother or Evan’s new brother-in-law, he did not comport himself as a gentleman in search of a bride. He was unserious and raucous, eager to impress others with his sportsmanship and gambling prowess at the tables.

“Shouldn’t you be working in London?” Min asked. Evan was employed by the Treasury, where his father was one of the Lord Commissioners.

“Not at the moment,” Evan said.

Min found it odd that he did not say more. However, she did not press him because three gentlemen entered the hall, their voices carrying loudly.

“Price!” one of them called. Min recognized him as Phillip Lambton, third son of the Earl of Alnwick. He was definitely not here to find a bride, despite what his parents would insist. According to gossip, he was supposed to be dedicating himself to the church and was only pretending to be interested in taking a wife first.

“Ah, the troops have arrived,” Evan said wolfishly. He inclined his head toward Min, then Mrs. Ogilvie and Ellis. “Please excuse me. I’m sure I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Mmm, yes,” Min murmured as Evan took himself off. The tails of his coat swayed with his brisk movement, allowing a glimpse of his rather attractive backside. The man really was too handsome.

Surely no good will come from that.

The observation was something her mother said about attractive gentlemen. Min was certain she referred to her own husband—Min’s father—who’d been very handsome in his youth and still was, despite the paunch he’d developed through years of overindulgence.

“You are quite familiar with Mr. Price,” Mrs. Ogilvie said with more than a hint of curiosity.

“He’s a friend. Almost like family, really,” Min replied. “His sister Gwen is one of my closest friends.”

“Well, that is too bad. He’s rather handsome,” Mrs. Ogilvie said pertly before directing her attention to the gentlemen, now led by Evan, who’d moved to gawk at the huge paintings depicting the story of an orphan who’d been found on the estate. Evan pointed out the antlers, and their loud conversation turned to hunting. “They are going to be tiresome, aren’t they?” Mrs. Ogilvie asked with a sigh.

Ellis laughed softly, and Min joined her.

The Marquess of Bath entered then, and the room gradually fell silent. The marchioness joined him near an incredibly long shuffleboard table. Indeed, it was so large that Min couldn’t imagine how it had been moved into this room. Perhaps it had been built there.

“Welcome to Longleat,” the marquess said loudly. “We have many entertainments planned for the next week, beginning with dinner tonight, followed by dancing and card games. There is also something very special for this party that Lady Bath will explain.” He pivoted toward the marchioness.

She smiled at the assembly of guests, her dark eyes sparking with excitement. “There is great potential for a match to be made. If there is a betrothal, we will gift the couple with a golden rose.” The marchioness smiled broadly.

Ellis leaned toward Min and whispered, “Does she really think that’s going to entice any of these knobheads to wed?”

Min bit back a laugh. “‘Knobhead’?”

“It fits,” Ellis said with a shrug.

It did, indeed. But then another young gentleman stepped away from a group, his movement drawing Min’s attention. She didn’t recognize him and wondered if he was the Viscount Claxton. He was attractive, with auburn hair and strong features from his thick brows to his square chin. His gaze swept the room until it settled on Min. He smiled, slowly, deliberately, it seemed. Min’s spine tingled as heat sparked in her chest.

“Do you suppose that’s Claxton?” Ellis asked softly.

Min pivoted toward Ellis. “I was wondering the same thing.”

“He’s attractive,” Ellis said with the hint of a smile.

A man’s appearance held no bearing as to his character, and that was what Min cared about. “We shall see if he is one of Evan’s ‘troops.’”

Ellis glanced toward the man. “Does that mean you are going to give him a chance?”

“I suppose I must. If I’m to have any hope of marrying before I’m forced to accept someone my parents choose.” Min didn’t doubt that her mother would try to push her into a marriage. She’d agreed to allow Min to marry for love, but that hadn’t come close to happening yet, and her mother was out of patience.

Min was less concerned about her mother’s frustration than she was about her own. Perhaps she wasn’t meant to fall in love. While she was encouraged by the recent love matches her friends had made, she couldn’t help fearing it wouldn’t happen for her. She’d never felt a special inclination for or a…pull toward someone.

She was beginning to wonder if she was incapable of experiencing that. Perhaps, after a lifetime of witnessing her parents’ mutual animosity and resentment, she was simply broken.

A fter the ladies left the dining room that evening, Evan remained with the rest of the gentlemen, sipping their port. The Viscount Claxton, whom Evan hadn’t met before, sat to his right. He seemed to be near the same age as Evan’s twenty-seven years, with auburn hair and a handsome visage that, to Evan’s eye, appeared tinged with arrogance, as if he knew he was attractive and wielded that to his advantage. The viscount was quick to make a jest, often at someone else’s expense. At least that was what he’d done as soon as the ladies had gone to the drawing room.

Claxton had made a few crude remarks about a couple of the older gentlemen, including their host’s godfather, who was perhaps the most senior guest. The man had a regrettable flatulence problem, and Claxton had made sure everyone in the room was aware.

“So which one of you gents is going to fall into the parson’s trap?” Evan asked.

Lambton shook his head vigorously. “Not me. My money is on Barswell.”