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  With his hat in his hand, Marco bowed low. “Lord Follett. Forgive me if I am disturbing you.”

  Lavinia went to leave, but Marco held out his hand to her.

  “Please stay, Lady Follett. This involves you as well.”

  Reid and Lavinia exchanged a look, but Lavinia shook her head. She was as much at a loss as to Marco’s unexpected visit as he was.

  “Firstly, I must offer you my humble and unreserved apologies. I behaved well beneath my upbringing as a gentleman by casting aspersions on Lady Follett’s character. What I said about her and myself was a complete lie. I was attempting to find ways to undermine your efforts with the Noble Lords, but nothing excuses what I did,” said Marco.

  Reid waited, content to take his cue from Lavinia. It was her reputation which had been called into question by Marco, and she had not been Lady Follett at the time. He therefore had no right accepting Marco’s apology on her behalf. Lavinia would be the one to decide whether Marco was forgiven or not.

  “Why did you try and undermine Reid? I have never fully understood your motives. I am not being unkind to my husband when I say that you were and still are the better singer,” Lavinia replied.

  Reid nodded his agreement at her words. Thanks to her, he was more than a passable tenor, but Marco had a God-given talent which no amount of singing lessons would ever bring to Reid

  “Because the Noble Lords were taking our paid bookings. The four of us were at risk of starving. We needed the money to survive. I got desperate, but that still does not excuse my behavior,” he replied.

  Reid remembered Owen’s remark about Marco and his friends having to vacate their rooms at the Stevens Hotel for cheaper accommodations. He hadn’t thought too much of it at the time, being more concerned with making preparations for the concert. It was surprising to know that the efforts of the Noble Lords had been having such a detrimental impact on the Italians.

  When they had first formed the Noble Lords, one of Reid’s stated intentions had been to make sure London was no longer a financially viable proposition for the Italians. It had never occurred to him that Marco and the others actually needed the money to live.

  Coming to Follett House and admitting that fact must have taken a great deal of effort on Marco’s behalf.

  “Signore Calvino let us put this all behind us. You accept that what you did was wrong, and fortunately it only took a small effort on my part for Reid to overcome any misunderstanding of the situation,” said Lavinia.

  She gave Reid a small sideways glance but said nothing further, for which he was grateful. No one needed to know that the small effort had included her slapping him hard on the face.

  “Friends?” said Lavinia with a smile as she held out a hand.

  Marco bowed to her before taking it. “Friends and thank you, Lady Follett. May I offer you both my congratulations on your recent marriage. I hope you are blessed with many children.”

  “Thank you, and on that note, I shall leave the two of you to talk,” she said.

  With Lavinia’s departure, Reid motioned for Marco to take a seat on one of the leather couches in front of the nearby fireplace.

  He poured them both a brandy, then sat on the couch opposite. “My wife is a pragmatic woman. She is not one for continuing an argument if a simple apology will meet her needs. And while I still owe you a damn good thrashing, I find myself having to also accept your hand of friendship. It was good to see you at the concert the other night, though I was surprised that you were the only one of your group in attendance.”

  Marco placed his hat on the couch and sat forward, hands tightly clasped. “The others have sailed for Venice. We managed to find enough money to send them home. Unfortunately, this adventure to England started out with such great promise, but now we are just filled with bitter regret. Our English manager stole all our money, and we have been living in a one-roomed apartment for the better part of the last month. Those sorts of living conditions are not what we are used to.”

  Reid took no joy in hearing Marco’s words. Being this far from home without the means to support themselves would have been a trial. “So why are you still in England?”

  Marco sipped his brandy. “Pride. I brought my friends and my cousin Antonio over from Venice on the promise of a grand adventure. I defied my beloved padre in order to travel here, so I am not leaving until I have found the man who stole our money and got every single penny of it back. Only then will I return home.”

  “And how exactly do I fit into your plans? I know enough of you to suspect that you did not just come here to make amends or offer Lavinia and myself congratulations,” said Reid.

  A sly smile crept to Marco’s lips. “Our manager has gone to ground in Manchester. I am led to believe that you are organizing a royal variety performance in that northern city. I want you to add me to the list of performers.”

  Reid considered Marco’s request. A countertenor such as Marco would be perfect for the concerts, having the added benefit of fulfilling the prince regent’s request for some foreign acts to round out the bill.

  The two of them had been at war with one another, but now there was no reason for them to continue the fight. And while he felt comfortable singing as a tenor, Reid knew he would be a fool to pass up the opportunity to spend time with Marco and learn more from him.

  With the rest of Marco’s friends having gone home, the Italian was alone in England. It was time for them to put their former enmity aside and work together.

  “On one condition. You have to perform in all the shows. London and Liverpool, as well as Manchester. If you do that, then you will get paid. Revenge is hard to mete out if you are starving,” replied Reid.

  “That sounds a sensible offer, thank you. I could help you to select other acts for the shows if you like. My family have been involved as patrons of many festivals in Venice, so I have a good idea of the kind of acts crowds tend to enjoy,” said Marco.

  Having another person who could help with auditions would be a blessing. The rest of the Noble Lords were not exactly clambering over one another to take up the task. Kendal, for one, had already run off several accomplished pianists with his anti-Mozart tirades.

  Reid leaned over and offered Marco his hand. “Well, then, we have a deal. Welcome onboard, Marco.”

  Epilogue

  Owen listened as the final notes of the song faded away. Applause came from within the ballroom, and the door opened.

  Reid stepped through and closed it behind him. “At least that one can hold a note; some of the others cannot.”

  Owen nodded. One or two of the other singers vying for a spot on the royal variety bill were, in his opinion, deluded in thinking they had any talent. “Marco and Lavinia make a good team when it comes to picking the right ones.”

  The pair had been conducting auditions for the upcoming royal command tour in the ballroom of Follett House. There had been an almost never-ending stream of singers, musicians, and illusionists coming and going through the front door over the past week.

  In a gesture that mostly had the support of the other Noble Lords, Reid offered Marco a room in his house. A grateful and lonely Marco had accepted. He was bonding well with Kendal, and Owen, but not so much with Callum. Callum was still standoffish when it came to Marco.

  Reid smiled. “Lavinia has excellent taste when it comes to singers. She married me.”

  Owen rolled his eyes. The newlywed look, of bliss which Reid wore almost constantly was pathetic. His wished his friend every happiness with his new bride, but it also made him envious. Reid had been able to make his own choice when it came to the task of finding himself a wife. He clearly loved Lavinia, and from the way she looked at him, the feeling was mutual.

  Love, and all that, was wonderful.

  Pity it wasn’t for him. Somewhere, thanks to his parents, he already had himself a fiancée: Lady Amelia Perry. A gently bred young lady whose substantial dowry would help save the Morrison family estate.

  He had n
ever met her, but he knew her type only too well. She was likely plain as a country mouse, and as dull as one. But he would do his marital duty, as would she. Through their children, the Morrison line would be continued. And once she had provided him with an heir and a spare, his wife would be permitted to take a discreet lover.

  Owen, of course, had no plans of ever being faithful. God forbid he would think of restricting himself to one woman. Reid could keep his soppy looks and lovestruck sighs; Owen Morrison was all about variety.

  “So, what is on your plate for the day? Still hiding away from your father, or are you going to venture out and see if you can accidently bump into that young filly you have been trying to lure into your bed?” asked Reid.

  Owen was not having a lot of luck on the wooing front. The woman in question had not been happy when Owen took to Antonio with his fists and he hadn’t heard from her since that night. All notes sent to his secret lover begging for them to meet had gone unanswered. It was as if she had disappeared from the face of the earth.

  And yes, he was also hiding from his father. With the Marquess of Lowe being back in town, it was only a matter of time before he was on the hunt for Owen.

  Owen wasn’t going to seek him out. The memory of his father berating him while Owen sat inside a prison cell was not going to fade anytime soon.

  “Considering that my sire left me to languish in Newgate Prison the last time he was in London; I see no reason to be rushing over to Lowe House. If he wishes to speak to me, he knows where I am.”

  What he really wished for was his father to return to the family estate and leave him in peace. But with the summer rapidly coming to an end, and his father’s need to access funds from Lady Amelia’s dowry, the pressure on Owen to set a wedding date was only going to increase.

  “You never did tell us why he wouldn’t spring you from jail,” said Reid.

  Owen shrugged. His having to marry Lady Amelia Perry in order to gain access to her dowry was a shameful thing for his pride to accept. He wasn’t about to reveal the truth of it to Reid or anyone else. He and his father might not see eye to eye on many things, but he was determined to keep his family’s financial woes a private matter.

  And if somewhere deep inside his mind he was honest about it, his father had been right to tear strips off him. He had made a fool of himself over a married woman and brought disgrace to the Morrison family name.

  Reid had paid the fine to get him released from prison, and while his friend had not asked him to repay the money, Owen felt an obligation to do so. Lady Amelia’s dowry would solve a lot of his financial problems.

  The last thing he needed was for his lines of credit to suddenly dry up on the fear of them not being repaid. A nobleman without funds was a nobleman with few friends. The wicked women of the ton would not play fair with a man in need of blunt.

  But before he could even consider putting his name to a marriage license, he had to get his hands on the naked form of his current sexual desire. She had promised to eventually let him go further than the current level of heavy petting, as long as he remained exclusive to her for the rest of the summer. He was keeping to that promise, but it was not easy for a man of Owen’s lustful appetite. “I just want to get her naked and under me,” he muttered.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Just woolgathering.”

  A knock at the front door interrupted the conversation. He glanced briefly at it as a footman passed him. Another of Lavinia and Marco’s potential singers, more than likely.

  “His lordship, the Marquess of Lowe,” announced the footman.

  “Oh, no,” muttered Owen.

  Standing in the middle of the foyer, Owen had nowhere to hide. Reid immediately crossed the floor and went to greet his guest. “Your lordship, welcome. May I have the servants take your hat and coat?”

  Lord Lowe shook his head. “No thank you, Follett. I won’t be staying long. My congratulations on your recent nuptials. Nice to see someone is taking the business of securing his line seriously, unlike my son.”

  Owen fixed a smile to his face and turned. “Father. What a pleasant surprise. What brings you to Windmill Street?”

  Lord Lowe snorted. “Nothing pleasant about it. I’ve given up waiting for you to come and see me, so I thought it was time to hunt you down myself.” The disapproval of having to seek out his son was evident in his voice.

  “I’ve been busy. We had a charity concert and now the Prince Regent has asked us to perform in London, Manchester, and Liverpool,” replied Owen.

  His father turned up his nose. “Bollocks. You have been hiding from me, boy. But I’m here to tell you that playing hide and seek is now at an end. My patience is done. You cannot escape your obligations any longer. It’s time for you to get married.”

  “I have the royal variety performances coming up soon. The prince has commanded us. I will be very busy over the next month or so,” he replied.

  “Yes, well, you have had long enough. I’m tired of your excuses. I’m sure you can fit in getting married somewhere in all of that nonsense. I have been reliably informed that Lady Amelia Perry has arrived in London and is waiting on her future husband. So, get busy with wooing the girl or I shall come and drag you home by the ear.” Lord Lowe turned on his heel and marched straight out without bothering to bid anyone a fond, or otherwise, farewell. The front door rattled as he slammed it hard behind him.

  Owen’s gaze now drifted to Reid. The look of pity on his friend’s face was bad enough. The fact that it was on account of himself made it ten times worse.

  “What are you going to do?” asked Reid.

  Owen had few options before him. He could ignore his father’s edict and wait to have his finances cut off. He could re-enlist in the army, but with Europe now at peace there wasn’t anyone worth fighting. There really was only one way forward. “I shall be sending a note to Lady Amelia Perry and asking to see her. I am sure she will inform me of a wedding date. There is not much else I can do. I will have to marry the chit.”

  Lady Amelia Perry received the note from Lord Owen Morrison later that day. He would be arriving to take tea with her, the following afternoon.

  “About time, Lord Morrison. You have toyed with me long enough. Now it’s time for you to get a taste of your own medicine.”

  Her brother looked at the note in her hand and frowned. “Are you sure about this? You could still try and convince Papa that he is not suitable. I have seen enough of his behavior over the past few weeks to know he would not make a good husband for you.”

  Amelia smiled. The wait was nearly over. Her carefully laid plans had been set in place. Nothing and no one could change her mind. Like her brother, she now knew enough about Owen and his wicked ways. Colin’s opinion was based purely on what he had seen in public, but Amelia knew far more about Owen from her private encounters with him. Her fiancé was an unashamed rake of the worst kind.

  But come tomorrow, Owen Morrison was going to get the nastiest shock of his life. And Amelia couldn’t wait to see his face as his world burned to the ground.

  Also by Sasha Cottman

  Regency Rockstars

  Reid

  Owen

  Callum

  Kendal

  The Duke of Strathmore

  Letter from a Rake (ebook and audio)

  An Unsuitable Match (ebook and audio)

  The Duke’s Daughter (ebook and audio)

  My Gentleman Spy (audio)

  Lord of Mischief (audio)

  The Ice Queen (audio)

  Two of a Kind (audio)

  The Ice Queen

  Chapter One

  London 1817

  “Please, Caroline. Just take someone’s name off your dance card and replace it with mine.”

  “No. How many times do I have to say it?” came the sharp reply.

  Julian Palmer, Earl Newhall, stopped in his tracks at the harsh words. He had been hoping to find a quiet spot away from the other guests at the ball in which to
finish his brandy, but from the sound of the argument, he was in no such luck.

  “I am not taking anyone’s name off my dance card. I don’t wish to dance with you this evening, Timothy Walters, and that is that.”

  Julian waited, in two minds as to what he should do. Some men would turn on their heel and head toward the safety of the crowded ballroom, but Julian’s protective instincts could not allow him to ignore the edge of panic in Caroline’s voice. He stepped forward and turned the corner.

  In front of him was a young couple. The man, whom he assumed was Timothy, had his back to Julian and was standing with his head bowed. As Julian approached, he turned. His face was flush with obvious frustration; beads of sweat sat on his temple. In his hand he held a dance card. It was still attached to Caroline’s wrist by means of a pale cream ribbon.

  Caroline met Julian’s gaze. She looked him up and down, showing scant regard for his presence, then looked away.

  Julian knew that look only too well. His mother was the supreme mistress of the disdainful glare. Pity the man who fell on the wrong side of her favor.

  “What is the problem? Perhaps I may be of assistance,” he said.

  “Everything is the problem. She is determined to vex me this evening. What is a chap to do when his lady will not save a place for him on her dance card?”

  Caroline harrumphed. “Timothy, I have told you, I am not your lady and shall dance with whomever I please.

  Julian had dealt with enough negotiations during his time as a diplomat in post-Napoleonic Paris to know when parties were at an impasse.

  “Can I do anything to help resolve the situation? Help the two of you to find a happy medium,” he bravely offered.

  Caroline snatched the dance card from out of Timothy’s grasp and marched toward Julian. She stopped in front of him. Her emerald-green eyes glistened with rage. “What you can do sir, is mind your own bloody business.”