Excerpt from the Quizzing Glass Gazette, September 9, 1821, the Lady Society column:

Lady Society is quite frustrated with gentlemen as of late, especially those of a roguish nature. In particular, she is casting her disapproving eye on Mr. St. Laurent, the younger brother to the Duke of Essex. This gentleman has attempted a callous seduction of a young lady of the ton and then rebuffed her when she conveyed her interest. Mr. St. Laurent, you cannot play the cat to a mouse with a woman who is no longer in the game. It is over. Leave the lady be since you have no desire to marry her. Consider yourself warned.

“Consider myself warned?” Jonathan St. Laurent stared at the paper he had stolen from Lucien, the Marquess of Rochester. The two were settled comfortably in a room at Berkley’s club, awaiting the arrival of their friends for their weekly drinks and cigars.

The red-haired marquess chuckled. “You have brought the wrath of Lady Society herself down upon you. May God pity your soul.”

“Indeed.” Jonathan read over the society column again, choking on every word. He hadn’t been playing any games. There was only one lady in all of London he could have claimed to have seduced, or made an attempt to: Miss Audrey Sheridan, the youngest sister of his friend Cedric, Viscount Sheridan.

Jonathan had spent his entire life believing he was a servant, not knowing until last year that he was, in fact, the Duke of Essex’s half brother. He was learning his place in the beau monde, learning the ways of a gentleman, and doing his best to leave his life as a servant behind him. But trouble had found him. Trouble bearing the name of Audrey.

She was a true hellion. A dark-haired beauty with a sharp tongue and a penchant for trouble. The last thing he needed was trouble. Nevertheless, from the moment he’d met her she’d been a constant presence in his mind.

“Well, what do you plan to do?” Lucien inquired. His lips twisted up in an amused, sardonic smile as he sipped his brandy.

“What can I do?” Jonathan crushed the paper in his hands. “I didn’t seduce her, not in any way that truly counts.”

“By whose standards? Those of a gentleman, or those of the life you led before?”

The words wounded Jonathan. “I have been nothing but a gentleman to her.”

Lucien seemed to realize his words had hurt Jonathan and corrected himself. “I simply mean that a misunderstanding may have taken place. Ladies often have a very different view of seduction than we do, you know.”

“There was not. At least none that I can see. And besides, I was ready to marry her. I was about to ask her this afternoon when I last saw her.”

Earlier that afternoon he’d sought to propose to her, but she’d run from him before he could even ask his question. He’d been worried she was going to get into trouble, so he had followed her to a brothel, the Midnight Garden, which catered to high-society clientele. He’d found Audrey alone in a room with a handsome young man, and he’d lost control, tossing the man out of the room. He and Audrey had argued, and whenever they argued it always led to brief yet intense moments of passion.

He’d never met a woman who set his blood on fire with just a smile or a laugh. Everything about her made the world glow in a way he’d never thought possible.

But he hadn’t seduced her, not in the way the society column suggested. He’d given her a taste of what pleasure could be between a man and a woman who cared for each other, and when he held her in his arms, her body trembling with the aftershocks of release, he’d gotten lost in her soft brown eyes. The words of his proposal had lingered upon his lips, and just when he had summoned the courage to speak, she rallied her defiant spirit and pulled away from him. She’d abandoned him, and his heart had constricted with unimaginable pain, hurt and confused by her opposing reactions to him. One minute she was purring in his arms like a kitten, and the next she was spitting mad and leaving him feeling the deep gashes of her verbal claws.

“Why didn’t you ask her?” Lucien asked. “You shouldn’t be afraid. I was nervous when I proposed to Horatia, and I ought not to have been.”

Jonathan sighed. “But Horatia is so much more reasonable than her sister. Audrey is…” Words escaped him.

“Wild? Untamable? A scamp of the highest order?” Lucien supplied with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Exactly,” Jonathan agreed. She was all those things and more. So much more.

“Cedric will approve, you know. You need not worry about that. He trusts you more than he ever did me.” There was a soft, melancholy tone to his voice that caught Jonathan’s attention. The two men had come to blows over Horatia and eventually had ended up dueling on Christmas day. It was a miracle no one had died that day.

While it comforted Jonathan to think Cedric wouldn’t object to his marrying Audrey, it was the lady herself who was causing him concern. He’d been warned by a footman in the Sheridan house that Audrey had her heart set on learning the art of espionage so that she might become a spy. Ridiculous. Could it be that which had driven a wedge between them? She had once shown interest in him, but now she seemed determined not to marry any man, and she was getting herself involved in more and more dangerous situations.

The strong sting of Audrey’s rejection brought him back to Lucien’s words.

“It isn’t Cedric I’m concerned about. I was so convinced last year that Audrey wished for me to court her, but now…something has changed.” He cast his eyes about the room, seeking answers and knowing he would find none.

Lucien lit a cigar and puffed on it slowly, thinking. “Sometimes women are convinced they want something, but once it’s within reach they grow frightened of actually obtaining it.”

“But why?”

“Lord, man, if I knew I would be sure to tell you.”

Jonathan exhaled and leaned back in his chair. “If Lady Society is telling the truth, that Audrey doesn’t want me, then wouldn’t it be the gentlemanly thing to do to let her go?”

Lucien’s set his cigar into a nearby tray and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he pressed his fingers together in contemplation. Then he gazed intently at Jonathan. Lucien was in his early thirties and had seen and done much in the world. Jonathan was a lad by comparison at only five and twenty years of age. He trusted whatever advice his friend could offer.

“I think you shouldn’t let her go. She’s hurting. Something happened and she’s giving up. But you shouldn’t. Horatia was much the same with me. I said some foolish things, did even more foolish things, and rather than lash out, she retreated from me. There’s a chance Audrey is acting like her sister. I’ve seen how Audrey looks at you when she thinks no one is watching. There are stars in her eyes, my boy. And if you want her, then take her.”

Jonathan’s smile was sad. He was too full of foolish hope, and he knew it. “Stars in her eyes?”

“She acts frivolous when it comes to love, but she’s a true romantic. She’s the kind of woman who rescues kittens from the rain, who seeks to clothe and feed the helpless, and who crusades for what she believes in. She’s not unlike our Lady Society, I suppose.” He waved a hand toward the paper that Jonathan still held, and his lips twitched. “A woman like that deserves a champion who will fight at her side and who won’t betray her noble causes. If you are that man, then I say go after her at any cost.”

Jonathan set the crumpled paper down on the table, smoothing out the pages as he thought back over every encounter he’d ever had with Audrey. From that first kiss in her bedchamber last Christmas to this afternoon in the brothel when she’d come apart in his arms as he touched her intimately for the first time. She had been angry, hurt, and cold afterward, but in those first moments as he’d taught her pleasure, he’d seen the girl who had looked at him with stars in her eyes.

“I want to be her man. Her hero, her rogue, whatever she wants me to be.”

Lucien smiled and retrieved his brandy. “There’s a good lad.” When Jonathan didn’t move, Lucien kicked him with one of his Hessian boots. “Well don’t just sit there—go after her before she gets into any more trouble.”

Jonathan leapt out of his chair and waved a lad over who was waiting to serve.

“Fetch my coat and have my horse brought around.”

“Of course.” The boy darted off. Jonathan began to leave but stopped at the doorway.

“You will tell the others I have an urgent matter to attend to?” he asked Lucien.

“I will. No sense in telling them what you’re up to, not until the little scamp is properly leg-shackled, or willing to be at least. Cedric will insist on giving her away, so don’t do something foolish like run off to Gretna Green.”

“Of course not. She’ll want a proper wedding, to have an excuse to buy a new dress if nothing else.” Jonathan tapped his fingers on the doorjamb, hesitating a moment longer, and then left the room. Yes, Audrey and her dresses—the woman was obsessed with fashion. A smile twisted up the corners of his lips as he decided that when they married, he would fill an entire room with just bonnets if she wished.

Whatever you want, my heart, you shall have, if I can only convince you to say yes.

He walked through the gallery of the club. Most of the chairs were filled with men reading, though a few of the older gentlemen were asleep. A good club provided refuge for men from the world, their wives, or anything else they might be avoiding. Jonathan wasn’t avoiding anything, but he was still new to society, and here at least he never felt like he was being judged. He liked the quiet companionship of Berkley’s, especially when his half brother and friends were there.

He took the stairs down through the card room. It was a rather quiet night here. Only a few tables were busy with faro and whist, but Jonathan knew the stakes would be high. Cedric, Audrey’s older brother, had won a pair of Arabian horses earlier that year in this very room from a fellow who’d nearly killed Cedric and his wife in an act of vengeance.

Jonathan wisely avoided those tables. He’d never been one to gamble, at least not with money. The flick of cards and the games of chance held no appeal to him. Though he now owned a small country estate and a townhouse in London as well as a decent fortune and a steady income given to him by his half brother, he couldn’t find it in himself to risk even small sums at the gaming tables. He had spent his entire life earning his way. The thought of tossing it all away by chance was utter madness.

A voice brought him up short as he reached the hall. “Mr. St. Laurent!” A young man dressed in the livery of the Lonsdale estate was just entering the club’s front door. He recognized the lad as Tom Linley, valet to Charles Humphrey, the Earl of Lonsdale, another one of his friends. While most valets remained at their master’s house, Linley had become a companion to Charles as well, followed him about, running all sorts of errands and delivering messages when needed.

“Tom?” Jonathan accepted his coat from the servant and walked over to Linley. The lad’s blue eyes were wide, and his brows were knit together with concern.

“It’s fortunate I found you, sir. His lordship sent me to the club early to see you all. He’s at Tattersall’s, but he received a message from Miss Audrey Sheridan. I wouldn’t normally divulge the contents of a private letter—”

“But you felt you had to tell someone?”

“Not someone—you,” Linley insisted. “She—Miss Sheridan, that is—was supposed to ask his lordship to escort her to a disreputable club tonight, but in the letter she said she no longer needed him.” Linley shifted restlessly.

“And you’re worried?” Jonathan slipped on his coat and riding gloves.

“I’m worried she’ll go anyway. Pardon me for saying so, but you know what she’s like, Mr. St. Laurent. High-spirited and willful.”

“All too well,” he said with a sigh. “You know where she was planning to go?”

“I do.” Linley handed him a scrap paper with an address. “Be careful, my lord. It is a hellfire club, full of bad men they say. She can’t go in there alone.”

A hellfire club? Was the woman mad? A knot of fear formed in his stomach. That was far more reckless than anything she had done so far. What on earth would she do that for?

“You are quite right. Thank you, Tom.” Jonathan tried to remain outwardly calm despite his pounding heart as he patted the lad on the shoulder and left.

It was very early in the evening, and any minute now the rest of his friends would be having drinks in the Bombay Room. The wives of all the married men were having a dinner, but Audrey was using tonight as an opportunity to escape.

No doubt she thinks I won’t be around to discover she’s run off again. I shouldn’t be surprised, I really shouldn’t.

But he had hoped that her encounter with him this afternoon would keep her from any more adventures, at least for a few days. Now he suspected it had only spurred her harder. He found his horse waiting for him, and he rode back to his house on Half Moon Street. His butler greeted him warmly, but when he saw Jonathan scowling, he sobered.

“Anything I can do to help, sir?” Mr. Leigh asked.

“Call a hackney. I need to get to the Temple Bar district at once.”

“I will do that straightaway.” Mr. Leigh exited the house, and Jonathan headed up to his bedchamber. His valet, Louis, was polishing a set of boots. When Jonathan entered, he rose from the chair by the fire and bowed.

“Evening, Louis. I need a shirt, waistcoat, and trousers. All black.”

“All black?” the young man asked, tilting his head in puzzlement.

“Yes.” He could see more questions on the man’s lips, but thankfully the valet didn’t speak further. Jonathan had no desire to tell anyone that he was infiltrating a hellfire club tonight. Though exactly how he’d accomplish that still wasn’t clear. He’d puzzle it out once he got there. He opened his dresser drawer and removed a pistol, a habit he’d taken up after several of his friends had ended up in perilous situations this past year. It would be wise to take that tonight in case he ran into trouble, which, given that Audrey was involved, was almost a certainty.

Once dressed, he rushed downstairs and hopped into the waiting hackney. When the coach reached the Temple Bar district, he paid the driver and hurried past Twinning’s tea shop and the Lower Courts of Justice. He found the townhouse that matched the address Linley had given him and glanced around, waiting for an opportunity to present itself. He wouldn’t be able to gain entrance easily, not through the front door. The members of the club were likely to be prepared with secret passwords or other such nonsense to prevent outsiders from walking in.

He slipped down the mews between the house and the building next door and found the servants’ entrance. That door, he wagered, would be unlocked. He curled his fingers around the handle and gently eased it open to reveal a kitchen. A plump cook with a greasy apron stirred a steaming pot with a large ladle, muttering to herself.

“Damned cat. What do these fancy lords need with it? Not catching any rats, if you ask me.”

Jonathan shook his head and focused on slipping behind the cook unseen. She paused her stirring and wiped at her brow and then straightened to turn. He was almost to the door that led to the rest of the house when she spotted him.

“Oi! What are you doing in ’ere?”

He froze and turned to look at the squashed face of the grumpy cook. “I’m late, and I’m worried they won’t let me in. I thought if I snuck through the kitchens…” Please, Lord, let this work.

The cook flashed a toothy smile. “New, are you? You’re prettier than the rest. That pale hair, those green eyes—I bet the lassies love you, don’ they?”

“Yes, sometimes.” He swallowed, praying she wouldn’t see through his deception. But she seemed to like him. His looks had always been an asset. Even his older brother’s former mistresses had wanted to bed him, not that Jonathan ever dared to tell his brother that. The Duke of Essex had a powerful right hook.

“Well, go on then. You don’t want to be late for supper. You’ll be needing one of these.” The cook bent and opened a cupboard next to the stove and pulled out a domino mask with the devil’s face painted on it. It left only his nose, mouth, and chin exposed to view. It was a perfect disguise.

“Thank you.”

“You can thank me with a kiss,” the cook suggested, fluttering her short lashes at him.

“Later, I promise,” he offered a way she rakish grin instead.

“Not so fast. I’ll be takin’ me payment now.” She waved the mask out of reach.

“Very well, you tempting lady.” He bent to give her cheek a quick peck, but she moved and gripped his cravat, yanking his face into hers and smashing their lips together.

Startled, he jerked back and hastily grabbed the mask from her hand before she could demand more kisses. She winked at him before he turned away and discreetly wiped his mouth on his coat sleeve.

Good Lord, Audrey, you’d bloody well better be worth all this.

But he knew she was. She was worth paying any price.

He slipped the mask on and stepped into the corridor. A group of men stood in the entryway, drinking heavily. All of them wore black clothing and domino masks like his. He glanced around, his heart pounding as he searched for Audrey, but the room held only men. Where was she? Maybe he could slip away and search the rest of the house?

A booming voice came from the grand stairs above. “Welcome, gentlemen.” Jonathan took shelter behind the men drinking as he studied the man coming down the steps to greet them.

“As the Lord of Lust, I welcome you tonight to our satanic feast.” The man held a black cat in his arms. The cat’s ears were flattened back on its head in fear and fury, but it didn’t claw or spit like Jonathan expected it to. The man who held it, the so-called Lord of Lust, had a familiar voice, but one he couldn’t place.

“Langley, I say…” a drunken man drawled. “Did you finally find that Lady Society? You promised you would—” The man hiccupped. “I’d like to toss her skirts up and—”

The Lord of Lust hissed. “I need not remind you, Lord of Wine, that we must address each other by our sin names, not our true names. Anonymity must be preserved.”

The Lord of Wine chuckled. “Oh…right. Well, did you find her, Lusty?”

The man sighed, clearly feeling his theatrics were going to waste. “I did.”

Langley… Jonathan knew that name. Gerald Langley was a ridiculous but dangerous fool who had recently been publicly exposed for his cruelty and villainy.

And the woman who had dragged his name through the mud was Lady Society.

“So where is she?” another man demanded.

“Coming. I sent her an invitation she couldn’t resist. She foolishly believes she will be getting the better of us. For now, I suggest we all settle into the dining room to drink while we await her arrival.”

The group of men moved into a macabre decorated dining room and took seats at the table. Dozens of candles were lit with wax dripping down, lending a Gothic atmosphere to the entire affair. The “Lord of Lust” sat down, and the black cat hissed and leapt off the table, darting into the hallway.

“Bloody cat.” Langley cursed and poured himself a goblet of wine. He leaned back, a small smile on his lips as he surveyed the rest of his worshipers. When the others joined him, Jonathan snatched up a goblet and took a single sip, attempting to blend in. Why was Audrey coming here, of all places? Surely she didn’t have some mission to spy on these men? They weren’t dangerous, at least not to the Crown. Some hellfire clubs had been known to cause trouble and incite violence in the streets, even riots, but from the looks of it, Langley’s club was merely a chance for men to wallow in debauchery.

So why would Audrey choose this place? Then it hit him. Langley had lured Lady Society here tonight. The infamous columnist who had wrought devastation with her pen against those she felt deserved it.

If Audrey was friends with Lady Society, that would explain everything about today’s article. He wanted to growl. Once he found her, he was going to get her safely away from these men and give her bottom a good whack; then he could hold her close and finally breathe a sigh of relief.

The door to the dining room opened, and the butler showed in a new man. There was something familiar about him. He walked with a tall, upright stance that spoke of nobility handed down through ancient bloodlines. He was nothing like the men at this table, the rude and callous ruffians in fancy clothes but with not one ounce of nobility between them. He kept a close eye on the man, trying to puzzle out the sense of familiarity.

The man smiled at some of the members who were busy telling bawdy jokes, and even though the smile seemed forced, Jonathan finally recognized him—at least he thought he did. Was that James Fordyce, the Earl of Pembroke? Surely he wasn’t a member? He had better sense than this, and he was a good man, too good. He was a friend to the League of Rogues but deemed by the League much too nice and good of heart to be a member himself. Surely the League had not misjudged him? Jonathan liked him immensely, and his instincts weren’t usually wrong.

So why then was James here? The man, if it was James, walked over and sat opposite him. Their eyes locked briefly, but neither spoke.

“Gentlemen!” Langley’s shout silenced the stories and laughter. Jonathan turned to Langley like the rest of the men. With the blazing fire behind him, the man was playing perfectly into his role as a satanic worshiper, and it seemed even the Lord of Wine was getting into the spirit of things. He rose from his chair, the lights from the candles playing with the eerie painted face of the mask he wore. Jonathan shuddered in revulsion.

“Tonight, we have a feast prepared. As I mentioned at our previous meeting, we have several special guests, some ladies with whom you are well acquainted.” Langley paused to allow the men to chuckle at some private club joke. The cruelty in Langley’s voice made Jonathan tense. Please let Audrey be safe at home…or anywhere but here.

Langley continued. “They wish to participate in the dark arts, and we have two delicious young virgin beauties who graciously volunteered to sate our need for the blood of the innocent.”

Jonathan shifted forward in his seat, trying to fight the urge to leap from his chair and rush from the room. All he wanted was to find Audrey and see her safely away from these bastards.

The man beside Jonathan nudged him in the ribs. “I’d like to pluck that ripe fruit. What about you?”

Jonathan made a gruff noise and hoped the men would assume he agreed, but the whole event made him sick. Volunteered. He found that highly unlikely. If there was one thing that mattered to him, it was a woman’s right to choose her lovers. This night would likely be a series of rapes. Whoever these ladies were, they weren’t safe.

Please don’t let Audrey be one of them. Please let her have stayed home.

“Are you prepared?” Langley demanded, with a dark grin just visible below the edges of his mask.

The men in the room whooped and whistled as the dining room doors opened and six ladies came in. They took seats at the empty chairs in between the men at the table.

Langley cleared his throat. “My lords, as the Lord of Lust, let me present our guests to you. The Lady of Sin, the Lady of the Night, the Lady of the Dark Desire, and the Lady of the Bedchamber.”

Jonathan studied the women closely as they were named. But when he reached the last two women, his breath caught. A woman in a red dress and a woman in purple sat beside each other. Each wore half-masks, revealing their faces enough to be familiar to him. The lady in purple was Gillian Beaumont, Audrey’s loyal lady’s maid and friend. And the hellion in the red dress was…

“Audrey.” He said the word aloud, but so softly that no one heard him.

Damnation. She’d come after all. She and Gillian. He would have to somehow rescue them both, and the odds weren’t in his favor tonight.

He shot a glance at James Fordyce. He had a hunch about the man’s presence, and prayed he was right. But even if James could aid him in the rescue, they were still woefully outnumbered.

“Now, last but not least, we have a most esteemed guest amongst us. You recall the scathing, poisonous pen of that bitch who calls herself Lady Society?” Langley spat. Jonathan tensed as the men around him pounded on the table. Audrey jumped, and Jonathan saw the muscles in her throat strain as she tried to remain calm.

“Well, tonight I set the perfect trap and lured Lady Society herself to my door. I let it slip at a ball the other evening that we would be meeting tonight and that she wouldn’t want to miss our entertainment.”

Audrey’s face drained of all color, and her lips parted. Jonathan stared in horror and understanding. Audrey wasn’t here to help her friend Lady Society.

She is Lady Society.

And that meant everything she’d said to him in that column had to be the truth, hadn’t it? To leave her alone, that she didn’t want him.

A deep sense of shame threatened to rob his body of breath, but he clung to his resolve. He had to focus on saving her now. It didn’t matter how she felt about him; that wouldn’t stop him from doing what was right.

The consequences of Lady Society’s crusades were finally catching up to her. And now she was going to get them killed.