Page 2 of When the Marquess Needed Me (The Rake Chronicles #4)

Prologue the Second

London, England

July 1807

Four Years Later

H is best friend, Lord Augustus Carrington, the Earl of Montaigne, had gone mad.

Over a woman.

When Monty had first begun his little affair with the maid in his house, Leith had hardly noticed. Like John and Trem, Monty bedded many women and, therefore, while it was somewhat novel that the woman worked in his own home, Leith had thought little of it.

But, for some weeks now, Leith had been growing concerned.

Every time he saw Monty— when he saw Monty—he was full of her . This maid named Olivia. A girl who was, as far as Leith was concerned, quite comely, but far from the most attractive woman his friend had ever bedded. And certainly, one of the most inappropriate when it came to her station in life.

Yet Monty could not stop talking about her.

Or tupping her, apparently.

All over Carrington Place, to hear him tell it.

Leith cringed to imagine that he had ever sat in the green parlor there, now that he knew what had happened between Monty and this servant girl in one of its armchairs.

Under the circumstances, Leith felt duty-bound to take matters into his own hands.

Now, he was outside Carrington House, from which Monty had just departed for his yearly trip to visit one of his many cousins in the country. He had not wanted to leave, he had told Leith, because he hated to be parted from Olivia .

Olivia!

And that was not all.

Yesterday afternoon, when they had gone for a ride in the park, Monty had alluded to a future with this woman.

He hadn’t said he would marry her.

Not directly.

But it was clear that, even if he had not thought of the idea himself, he soon would. He had spoken of never wanting to leave her side!

With many of his friends, Leith wouldn’t worry. Most of the young men he knew were sensible enough to set up a favored woman as a mistress in a town house somewhere.

Leith, however, knew Monty. He was too kind, too generous, for his own good. And he didn’t care a whit for the rules of society. If he wanted to marry a maid, he would marry her—and surely regret it for the rest of his life.

Leith wished more than anything that John and Trem were still in London. But they were on their Grand Tour of Europe, overdrinking themselves on wine and tupping God knows how many French and Spanish and Dutch maidens.

In short, they were useless to him, and Leith had to act without their counsel.

At his desk at home, Leith had penned the note. The note that now was folded in his pocket. He had long ago learned to mimic Monty’s hand.

Once the maid named Olivia received this note, this note that looked in all respects like it had been written by Monty himself, she would be out of their lives for good.

Monty would thank him one day.

Leith went around the back of Carrington Place and found the door that he knew was used by servants. God knows he and Monty had snuck out of it enough times over the years.

It was the morning, so the numerous Carrington siblings and the dowager countess were still abed, thank God. Only the servants were moving about, seeing to their duties. Leith moved quietly, careful to encounter no one.

Soon, he had done it. He had found the tinderbox where Monty had told him he left notes for Olivia. He placed his note there and closed the cabinet.

He turned and nearly collided with a maid.

For a moment, his heart stopped. Was it Olivia herself? he thought, frantically.

But it wasn’t.

“My apologies,” he said, and swiftly headed down the stairs.

Hopefully, he thought, the maid hadn’t recognized him.

Out on the street, Leith felt queasy about what he had done. He didn’t like subterfuge or dramatics of any kind.

But Monty was threatening to ruin his life. And if Monty ruined his life, he would ruin Leith’s life, because they were best friends.

No, Leith needed to maintain order.

He needed to keep everything under control.