Three Nights with a Scoundrel (Stud Club Trilogy)

From Booklist Julian Bellamy knew he was supposed to die that night instead of his friend Leo Chatwick. If Julian had gone with Leo instead of staying home with his latest paramour, it would have been his beaten and bloody body they found. Lily Chatwick knows Julian blames himself for her brother’s death, even if she doesn’t. That is the only reason Julian drives himself to the point of exhaustion in his search of Leo’s killers. Lily has lost her brother, and now she risks losing her best friend, too, if she doesn’t act quickly. To distract Julian from his death-wish plans for revenge, Lily agrees to entertain the idea of marriage, but only if Julian will accompany her to three different society events. With its brilliantly nuanced characters, richly sensual romance, and stylish, witty writing, Three Nights with a Scoundrel follows One Dance with a Duke (2010) and Twice Tempted by a Rogue (2010) to bring Dare’s latest Regency-set trilogy to a splendidly satisfying conclusion. --John Charles Tessa Dare a part-time librarian, full-time mommy, and swing-shift writer. She makes her home in Southern California, where she shares a cozy, cluttered bungalow with her husband, their two children, and a dog. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Chapter One xa0 xa0 London, October 1817 xa0 Lily awoke to a rough shake on her arm. A searing ball of light hovered before her face. xa0 She winced, and the light quickly receded. With caution, she opened her eyes. Blinking furiously, Lily strained to make out the lamp-bearer’s identity. It was Holling, the housekeeper. xa0 Good Lord. She bolted upright in bed. Something dreadful had occurred. The servants would never shake her awake unless it was a matter of extreme urgency. xa0 She pressed a hand to her throat. “What is it?” xa0 Yellow lamplight illuminated an apologetic face. “Downstairs, my lady. You’re needed downstairs at once. Begging your pardon.” xa0 With a nod of assent, Lily rose from bed. She shoved her toes into night-chilled slippers and accepted assistance in donning a violet silk wrap. xa0 Her sense of dread only mounted as she descended the stairs. And the feeling was all too familiar. xa0 Nearly five months had passed since the last time she’d been summoned downstairs in the dark. No one had needed to wake her then; she’d been unable to sleep for an insistent sense of foreboding. Her fears were confirmed when she opened the door to find gentlemen crowding her doorstep—three men with nothing in common save their membership in the Stud Club, an exclusive horse-breeding society her brother Leo had founded. They were the reclusive Duke of Morland, scarred war hero Rhys St. Maur, and Julian Bellamy—the London ton’s favorite hell-raiser and Leo’s closest friend. xa0 One look at their grave faces that night, and there’d been no need for words. Lily had known instantly what they’d come to tell her. xa0 Leo was dead. xa0 At the age of eight-and-twenty, her twin brother was dead. Leo Chatwick, the Marquess of Harcliffe. Young, handsome, wealthy, universally admired—beaten to death in a Whitechapel alleyway, the victim of footpads. xa0 The last time she’d been summoned down these stairs at night, her existence had been torn in half. xa0 Lily’s knees buckled as she reached the foot of the staircase. She clutched the banister for support, then drew a shaky breath as a footman waved her toward the door. xa0 Holling thrust her lamp over the threshold. Gathering all her available bravery, Lily moved toward the door and peeked out. xa0 As there was no one on the doorstep, her view went straight to the square. The first gray insinuation of daylight hovered over the manicured hedges and paths. The streets were still largely empty, but here and there she saw servants on their way to market. xa0 At the housekeeper’s insistent gesturing, she looked down. There, on the pavement at the bottom of the steps, lodged a costermonger’s wheelbarrow. The wooden cart was heaped with carrots, turnips, vegetable marrowsxa0…xa0and the body of an unconscious man. xa0 She clutched the doorjamb. Oh, no. xa0 It was Julian Bellamy. xa0 Lily recognized the red cuff of his coat before she even saw his face. She clapped a palm to her mouth, smothering a cry of alarm. xa0 There’d been one consolation in mourning Leo: the knowledge that she could never endure such a devastating loss again. He was her twin, her best friend from birth and, since their parents’ deaths, her only remaining close kin. She would never love anyone so dearly as she’d loved him. Once Leo had left this worldxa0…xa0pain could not touch her now. xa0 Or so she’d thought. xa0 Staring down at Julian’s senseless form, it was hard to believe she’d ever felt this frantic. She sensed her throat emitting sounds—ugly, croaking sounds, she feared. But she couldn’t make herself stop. Even when Leo had died, Julian had been there to stand by her. Devilish rake he might be, he was her brother’s steadfast friend, and hers as well. Over the years, they’d come to think of him as family. If Julian left herxa0… xa0 She would truly be alone. xa0 For the second time that morning, Holling gave her arm a shake. Lily looked to the housekeeper. xa0 “He’s alive,” the older woman said. “Still breathing.” xa0 Tears of relief rushed past Lily’s defenses. “Bring him in.” xa0 The footmen scrambled to obey, lifting his sprawled body from the wheelbarrow and hefting it up the steps. xa0 “To the kitchen.” xa0 They all filed down the narrow corridor, heading for the rear of the house. Holling first with her lamp, then the footmen bearing Julian. Lily brought up the rear as they descended the short flight of steps to the kitchen. xa0 Even at this early hour, the kitchen staff was hard at work. A toasty fire warmed the room, and a yeasty aroma filled the air. A scullery maid lifted floury hands from the breadboard and stepped back in alarm, making room for the footmen to pass. xa0 They placed Julian by the hearth, propping his head on a sack of meal. xa0 “Send for the doctor,” she said. When no one sprang into action, she repeated herself at the top of her lungs. “Doctor. Now.” xa0 With a hasty bow, one of the footmen hurried from the room. xa0 Lily knelt at Julian’s side. Heavens, he was filthy. Dirt streaked his face, and the smell of the gutter clung to his clothes. She put a hand to his forehead, finding it clammy and cool to the touch. Perhaps he needed air. Her fingers flew to his cravat, and she tugged at it, unwinding the starched linen from his throat. A day’s growth of whiskers scraped her fingertips. She turned her cheek to his face, rejoicing at the warm puff of breath against her skin. xa0 He suddenly convulsed, as if coughing. xa0 She ceased her tussle with his cravat and pulled back to stare at him, not wanting to miss any word he might speak. xa0 His eyes went in and out of focus as his gaze meandered over her form. “Hullo, Lily.” xa0 Relief washed through her. “Julian. Are you well?” xa0 He blinked several times, in rapid succession. Then again, slowly. Finally he said, “Violet always was your color.” xa0 He slumped back, eyes closed. xa0 Was he drunk? She leaned forward, sniffing cautiously at his exposed throat. No liquor. No gutter smells here, either. Just hints of starch and soap, mingled with the metallic, pungent odor ofxa0… xa0 Oh, God. xa0 She grabbed his arm, shook it hard. “Julian. Julian, wake up.” xa0 When he failed to respond, she withdrew her trembling hand and looked down at it. xa0 Just as she’d feared. Her fingers came away wet with blood. Read more