Page 1 of Outrageous

Chapter 1

London, 1816

Godric Fleming, Earl of Visel, vowed to kill his cousin Rowland when he got his hands on him.

He strode down the alley, feeling like a fool as his ridiculous cape billowed out behind him as if he were some corsair. Which was, of course, exactly how he was dressed—or at least the English public’s perception of a corsair.

When he reached the alley entrance he gaped. “Good God.”

The street in front of the Duke of Richland’s house was crammed with dozens, maybe even hundreds, of carriages. No wonder Rowland hadn’t been waiting for Godric near the duke’s garden gate as they’d planned.

Godric considered the mob of unmoving carriages, his mind as chaotic as the scene before him. Perhaps this mess was a sign he should call off his ill-advised plan? Perhaps there was still time to—

“Lord Visel?”

Godric spun around to find a huge boy dressed like a stable lad.

“Who the devil are you?”

“Mr. Rowland sent me to tell you the carriage is waitin’ at the back entrance, my lord.” The young giant hesitated. “Mr. Rowland said he needed to talk to you before taking the woman.”

Godric clenched his jaws so tightly his head throbbed; trust that idiot Rowland to bring in even more conspirators. It was bad enough the two of them were planning to kidnap the woman—now this boy was part of the plan? Who else had the fool told? The bloody Times?

“No.” He shook his head. No, he would not do it. He could not do it.

“My lord?” the boy asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Come along,” Godric said, ignoring the lad’s question and marching toward the other end of the alley.

The oddest sensation filled his body as he walked, as if he were emerging from a dense fog, his head clearing with each step and his vision shifting slowly into focus. For the first time in months—hell, over a year—he could see. And what he saw was bloody terrifying.

Godric stumbled and the air whooshed out of his lungs at the enormity of what he had almost done.

Good God! What the devil have I been thinking?

You haven’t been thinking, Godric old boy, his long-absent conscience pointed out.

No, he hadn’t. Why the hell had it taken him so long to realize he was behaving like a bloody lunatic? And why had he only come to his senses now—after scheming and planning and preparing for weeks?

Does it matter why you’ve seen the disaster you’ve been courting, Godric? Just be grateful that you have—before it was too late.

Perhaps speaking to his prospective kidnap victim—Drusilla Marlington—earlier in the evening had begun to clear the madness from his mind? The young woman had done nothing to him—they hardly even knew each other—and yet he’d humiliated her and forced her into a marriage with a man who’d been courting another woman.

And when her unwanted marriage had—against all odds—showed signs of becoming a love match? Well, then Godric had decided to use her again to get to the man she’d married: Gabriel Marlington.

To be perfectly honest, her husband had done nothing to him, either. Yet all Godric had done since returning home to Britain was harass the man.

I’ve been telling you this for months, the dry voice in his head observed.

“Blast and damn,” Godric cursed under his breath. Sod it all to hell; this was bloody lunacy.

He would get in the carriage, go home, and try to forget these past few months of insanity.

The relief that assailed him at the thought almost drove him to his knees.

No doubt he’d have a devil of a time with his cousin Rowland—a man so desperate for funds he’d ransom his own grandmother—but Godric did not doubt he could handle the little worm.

The hired carriage waited at the end of the alley, the interior darker than the night. Godric yanked open the door.