Jo Beverley - [Rogue ] Read Online Free PDF

over to Lucien one day.
    If only, he thought—and not for the first time—he had never known. How happy they could all have been.
    The dull ache of the long separation from Yolande was a chronic pain, but what else could he have done? He could not risk getting another son, for then the temptation to do just as Lucien had suggested—get rid of him in some way—would have been overwhelming. Yolande would never have stood for that, but he could never have let his rightful heir take second place to a usurper.
    He sighed and hoped for the first time that Elizabeth Armitage turned out to be of a quality to compensate Arden in some way for all of this.
    * * *
    The marquess walked down the wide, curving staircase of his house—to which he apparently had no right—took his cane, his beaver, and his gloves from a footman, and passed through the doors into the spring sunshine. His long-limbed strides took him along the streets, but he really had no idea where to go.
    To stay in the house would be unbearable. To go to a club insupportable—he did not wish to meet any of his friends.
    No, that wasn't quite true. He wished Nicholas Delaney and his wife Eleanor were here in Town. He could talk to them. But they were in Somerset enjoying each other and their new baby. He was tempted to flee to their house as he had fled once before... but that had merely been in flight from Phoebe Swinnamer's matchmaking mama, not from the total destruction of his life, of his very self.
    Poor Phoebe. She believed her beauty entitled her to the prize of the Marriage Mart. Would she ever realize how close she had come to achieving her ambition?
    He had dodged Phoebe, but he couldn't dodge this new trap. As he apparently had no right at all to his rank and privilege, the least he could do was pay for it through sacrifice.
    Eventually he found his aimless strides had brought him to a quiet street of small houses. He sighed with relief.
    Blanche.
    She wouldn't expect him at this hour and so he used the knocker. He didn't believe Blanche would play him false by taking another lover, but if she had, he didn't want to know—he didn't need any more shocks today. He was admitted by her startled maid and in a moment the White Dove was with him.
    "Lucien, love," she said, her carefully trained voice still having a slight northern burr. "What brings you here so early?" Despite the question she was already in his arms and studying him. "Are you in trouble, my dear?"
    The marquess looked down at her perfect heart-shaped face and her amazing silvery hair, for she was prematurely gray and had turned it to her trademark, and sighed. "I just need a friend, Blanche."
    Smiling, she led him to a sofa. "You have one. How can I help?" She brushed golden curls off his forehead with gentle fingers. "Is it your father? Is he very cross? I told you you shouldn't have taken me there."
    "You were right." He captured her hand and kissed it. "Will you mind?"
    "Don't be daft," she said with a cheeky smile and the accent of her native Manchester. "I've no silly expectations, Lucien. You treat me with respect and that's all I ask. Is that the problem then?"
    He lay back and sighed. "No. No, it isn't, sweetheart. But I can't tell you what is. I just need peace and quiet to think something through."
    "And you're a bit tight for empty rooms at home," she said understanding, gaining the laugh she sought, even if it was strained.
    He drew her into a friendly hug. "I should have married you," he said, and she chuckled at the joke.
    "Lummox. Is that it?" she asked. "Has the Swinnamer girl turned you down?"
    "No. Stop asking questions."
    She obediently lapsed into silence and rested in his comfortable embrace. She knew there were times when just to have someone nearby was a comfort, and she would give him any comfort she could. In a very real way she loved Lucien de Vaux, but she was three years older than him in age and a century older in experience. She knew better than to let her heart