Page 1 of A Remarkable Rogue

One

July 1817

Lady Rowland.

Captain Nate Reed lifted the glass of cognac to his lips as he watched her from across the crowded club.

Her hand played delicately with a gold locket dangling around her neck as she placed her bet at the faro table. Dressed in the shimmering green satin of a low-cut gown and emerald jewels, whose bright color and cost announced to everyone who saw her that she was happily widowed, Sydney Rowland was certainly striking. Undeniably regal. Graceful. Beautiful.

And most likely a traitor.

Nate took a slow sip of brandy and narrowed his eyes on her. After two days of watching every move she made around London and trailing her from one soiree to the next, he was still no closer to solving the mystery of her connection to Scepter’s assassination attempt on the prime minister and prince regent, except that he knew for certain she was involved. What he didn’t know was how deeply. Was the baroness one of the masterminds behind the group, or was she merely another pawn in their game?

Tonight, he planned on finding out.

Slowly, he made his way across the room toward her.

Barton’s was filled with elegantly dressed ladies in furs and jewels, foppish men adorned just as ostentatiously, and the lot of them drinking far more than they could tolerate, smoking cigars, and flirting shamelessly. A few of them surrendered to the lure of the high-priced prostitutes lurking in the club and retired upstairs for an hour’s worth of private amusement. Both gentlemen and ladies enjoyed themselves with all the pleasures offered by the club. It was one of the few places in London that welcomed women through its doors and at its gambling tables, where the uniformed attendants brought glasses of liquor to the ladies as well as the men, and where it was accepted that no one inside need fear for their reputation.

Barton’s belonged to the underbelly of London society. It was an exclusive club whose name everyone in thetonknew but that no one would ever dare admit to having entered.

Nate was only here himself because of Sinclair. Thanks to his half brother, Alexander Sinclair, Earl of St James, all Nate had to do to gain admittance was dress the part of a society dandy. With the help of the earl’s valet, he now wore exquisite evening clothes of black superfine and blue brocade, finished off with a diamond cravat pin that surely cost more than his captain’s commission.

No more soldier. Tonight, he wore the borrowed uniform of a gentleman.

When he’d given St James’s name to the doorman, the guard let him enter the club without a second glance. It had been that easy.

Getting close to Lady Rowland, however, was proving much harder.

Normally, she moved in exclusive social circles he couldn’t infiltrate, so for the past few days he’d been forced to note from a distance every place she went and every person she spoke with. As a cavalry officer, he was used to reconnaissance, but he preferred rushing into the fray for a quick and decisive ending. His patience had worn thin from waiting. It was time to attack the enemy head-on, no matter that the enemy was draped in soft satin.

Nate approached the faro table, sat down on the chair next to the baroness, and tossed a coin to the dealer. He silently played out two hands, lost both, and slowly finished his cognac as he bided his time.

If Sarah could have seen him tonight, oh how she would have laughed! He was doing his best to fit in with a crowd of people who would never have given him the time of day, yet they’d all expected him to kill—and be killed, if necessary—fighting the French. Tonight, he was among them in an attempt to get closer to one of their own beautiful widows.

Well, perhaps his late wife wouldn’t have laughed atthat.

Sarah had always been a jealous woman although she’d never had any worries in that regard. He’d never betrayed her through the long stretches of separation forced upon them by the war. Not once. Not during the two years of their marriage, and not a day since it ended.

He pulled in a deep breath. He could never make right what happened to her and not being there when she needed him. But at last he had the opportunity to provide the best future possible for both their mothers with the reward money he’d earn for stopping Scepter.

The woman sitting next to him held the key.

Nate slid a slow, sideways glance in her direction. “Would you like another drink, my lady?”

Her bright green eyes blinked as she acknowledged him for the first time. “Pardon?”

“I asked if you’d like a drink.” He signaled to the attendant. “I’m ordering one for myself, and in this crush, it might be a while before you can get another.”

She hesitated, then conceded to his generosity. “Yes, thank you.”

He held up a second finger and gestured at the baroness. The attendant nodded, then hurried behind the bar to pour their drinks.

Taking the opportunity to start a conversation, Nate murmured, “So you like to gamble.”

She returned her emerald gaze to the dealer and corrected, “I like to win.”

“So do I.”