To Rescue a Rogue Read Free

confession. What bull did you wave a red cloth at this time?”
    â€œIt wasn’t my fault,” she protested, but then grimaced. “I suppose it was. I sneaked out of Ella’s to go with Major Berkstead to a gaming hell.”
    He paused to stare. “In God’s name, why?”
    She looked down and saw how grubby her hands were. One fingernail was broken. Not a lady’s hands at all. “I’ve been asking myself that. I suppose I was bored.”
    Surprisingly, he laughed. There wasn’t a lot of humor in it, but it was a better reaction than she’d expected. “Your family should know better than to let a devil-hair have time on her hands.”
    â€œThey probably never will again.”
    Devil-hair. That’s what her family called the dark hair with red lights, and it wasn’t a welcome sight on a St. Bride baby. It predicted a taste for adventure at best, disaster at worst. It was said to be an inheritance from a medieval ancestor known as Black Ademar.
    Devil-hair was rare, but her parents had two afflicted offspring. The first was Simon. When a second had appeared, they’d stared down the devil and called her Ademara. She’d much rather have been Lucy, or Sarah, or Mary, and have the typical St. Bride brown hair and comfortable nature. Look where the hair had brought her now.
    Dare rinsed the dirty cloth and resumed bathing her foot. “So who is this Berkstead? Not, I assume, an approved suitor.”
    â€œBut he is! I mean, not precisely a suitor, but I’ve met him at Ella’s house on a number of occasions. He’s an MP. From Northumberland.”
    â€œNever trust a politician,” he remarked, shifting his attention to her other foot. “You escaped from the gaming hell?”
    She didn’t want to answer, but must. “No. From his rooms.”
    His look was brief, cool and scathing.
    â€œI know, I know! I can’t imagine now why I went there except that I hadn’t been playing in the hell, only watching. I wanted to try some of the games.”
    â€œWho saw you there?”
    â€œAt the hell? Many, but I was masked and Berkstead didn’t use my name. He called me ‘my queen of hearts,’ which should have been enough to turn me off card games for life.”
    She’d tried for a lighter tone, but Dare didn’t smile.
    â€œWhat about the hair?” he asked.
    â€œTurban.”
    He nodded and returned his attention to her foot, for which she was grateful. She’d never have thought Dare could be so profoundly disapproving. She wanted to protest that once he’d have thought this a jape, but perhaps that wasn’t true, and in any case that merry madcap clearly no longer existed.
    â€œContinue,” he said. “Tell me everything.”
    â€œBerkstead had been a perfect gentleman all night. I liked him. He’s a military hero and a great deal more amusing than the rest of George’s associates. I usually have a good instinct for people—you know I do.”
    â€œAnd?” He was relentless.
    She scowled at him even though he couldn’t see it. In fact, she probably wouldn’t have done it if he could see. She was, she realized, nervous of him. Not for her safety, exactly, but just nervous.
    â€œWe played for a while,” she said. “He was drinking and encouraged me to drink, but when I wouldn’t, he didn’t press me. I know all about sharps getting flats drunk in order to fleece them.”
    He glanced up, brow raised. “Do you? But no suspicion of your greater danger?”
    â€œNo. He must be nearly forty!”
    Perhaps at last he showed a glimmer of humor. “I assume he acted as if unaware of his advanced years.”
    â€œMen do, don’t they? He proposed to me.”
    Now she had his full, astonished attention. “What?”
    â€œHe did. He asked me to marry him. No—he said we’d be married. That my being in his rooms