Rogue Countess Read online

  Dedication

  To my Gran, a poet who always encouraged me to write.

  To my mother, who introduced me to romance novels one summer day when I was a bored teenager.

  And to my sister, Angelique, who has read more of my false starts, first drafts and follow-up revisions than anyone else on the planet and yet continues to believe that I can do this.

  Chapter One

  England, 1818

  Anna took another generous sip of champagne as she perused the crowded ballroom. It was her second glass, yet it hadn’t succeeded in calming her nerves or slowing the gallop of her heart. She abhorred these grand social functions and only suffered them when business demanded it. Tonight, however, the reason for her attendance was entirely personal.

  She shifted her gaze quickly from one group of costumed guests to the next and silently cursed Lady Marquart for throwing a masquerade.

  If he wore a mask or domino, would she know the man she sought? Eight years could change a person by drastic degrees. Was she not proof of that herself?

  Anna had to consider the very real possibility that even if he was standing right in front of her, she might not recognize her husband.

  She lifted her glass to take another sip of the champagne and found it empty yet again. She didn’t recall drinking the whole thing and it added to her growing disquiet. She was not typically so distracted. It had been many years since she had been shaken by the type of uncertain anxiety claiming her tonight, years since she had imagined what she would do should she ever again come face-to-face with the man she had married.

  She glanced about for a footman, intent on replacing her glass, but when her gaze swept past the wide-arched entry, it went no farther.

  Because Anna suddenly found herself staring at a man she hadn’t seen since her wedding day.

  A silent gasp closed off the passage of air into her lungs, her fingers tightened on the stem of her glass and her chest burned as she was instantly overcome by feelings she’d believed she had purged herself of long ago. The dark hollow ache of uncertainty, the disturbing sensation that she didn’t belong in her own skin. And worst of all, with perfect and beautiful clarity, she immediately relived the crushing weight of betrayal she had felt when she discovered that the prince of her dreams could treat her with the same shabby regard as everyone else.

  It wasn’t until she started to feel dizzy that she realized she had stopped breathing. She gulped a deep breath and then forced a few more slow inhalations to dispel the fear that she may lose consciousness. Carefully and deliberately, she forced aside the dark emotions crawling up from her past.

  The time for self-pity was long over. She had learned an invaluable lesson when her husband of less than an hour left her to face an unknown future alone. There would be no one to fight her battles for her. She must be her own champion.

  The fortuitous passing of the evasive footman allowed her to distract herself with the task of switching out her empty glass for a full one. When she was certain her nerves were once again under some semblance of control, Anna lifted her gaze to find him again.

  He hadn’t worn a mask. She wasn’t surprised. And she needn’t have worried about not recognizing him. She had never known another man to enter a room in a manner equal to Jude Montgomery Sinclair, now the Earl of Blackbourne. He had a natural self-possession and a distinct lack of concern for the inevitable attention he drew.

  She had once thought him to be more beautiful than most, a young man full of life and charm. A golden prince. He wore his pale, curling hair a bit longer now. The ends looped over the tips of his ears, along the back of his neck and over his brow. His lightly bronzed skin stood out in opposition to his classic aristocratic features. And though he was turned away from her, she didn’t need to see his face to recall his wide forehead, straight nose and strong jaw, or his striking sapphire-blue eyes.

  Her heart thumped against her ribs. Just imagining those eyes created a rush through her blood and weakened her knees.

  She had been so enamored of him once. The blue of his gaze and the hint of his smile used to send her young heart into quiet, but deep, little raptures. That she seemed to be having a similar reaction now was surely a habitual response. Ancient residue left over in her psyche from when she had so zealously protected her childish infatuation. But that had been before their marriage, before he had proven himself to be unworthy of her tender regard.

  Now she knew better.

  Eight years had lent her husband a certain refined maturity. At thirty years old, he was as fit as he had ever been. Actually, he looked even stronger and more imposing. No longer a carefree youth, the layers of Jude’s experiences had made him appear harder somehow, and darker.

  Anna’s stomach clenched with trepidation and a delicate shiver chased across her skin. She ignored it and studied him more intently through the slits in her mask. It was more than maturity, she acknowledged. It was something intrinsic in his person, in his entire way of being. His demeanor was stiff, as if he were discomfited by his surroundings.

  As if he didn’t want to be here.

  The iron bands of foreboding that had cinched around her chest when she had heard news of his return tightened mercilessly. It had taken her years to squirm out from beneath the oppressive and humiliating yoke of her disastrous marriage. But she had done it with a stubborn determination she hadn’t known she possessed before she had been challenged to find her own bliss. And now, she looked upon the one person in the world who had the full power to take away everything she had strived to attain.

  Her hands curled into tight fists and she swallowed past the hard lump in her throat.

  Why had he decided to come back now? An honorable son would have returned more than a year ago upon the death of his father. Did he ever consider the young bride he had left behind? The scandalous details of his travels that had filtered back to England over the years suggested otherwise.

  Anger burned hot in her blood as Anna recalled all the reasons she had to hate him. But stronger than the anger was the compulsion to prove she was not the woeful woman-child he’d left behind. Eight years ago, she had been a shadow of the woman she was now, a wraith trapped by her own insecurities. She had been so easy to bully, to toss aside, to forget.

  But no longer. She would not stand idle in the face of Jude’s mysterious return. Before he left England again, and of course he would, he would know the manner of the woman he had abandoned.

  The distress and awe that had claimed her upon seeing her husband again was slowly replaced by stern resolve. She had come to the masquerade with a purpose. She would see it through.

  Even standing partially in the shadow as she was, it was not long before Jude’s jewel-colored gaze found her. His casual survey of the ballroom came to an abrupt and noticeable halt when his sweeping glance passed over her small corner of the ballroom.

  She didn’t worry that he would recognize her. She had changed a great deal in the last eight years even if he had not, and the feathered creation over her face gave her the added confidence of assured anonymity.

  She would reveal herself as his wife when she chose.

  The air of distraction dropped away from his manner and he focused intently in her direction. He was too far away for her to see the deep blue of his eyes, but she felt it. His gaze was sharp and studied, cutting through the interference of the crowd flowing endlessly between them. In an instant, Anna felt like the most fascinating creature in the room. She had never seen such an intensity in his manner, even years ago, and certainly never directed at her.

  A spark of breathless exhilaration mingled with the anxiety in her swiftly pulsing blood. Her stomach fluttered and she had to remind herself of all she had at stake. She hadn’t anticipated that the he
avy weight of past emotions would tug so acutely at her awareness and she couldn’t allow them to alter her course.

  She had intended for him to see her, had carefully chosen a costume with an uplifting corset that deepened the shadows of her cleavage and accented every curve of her figure. The vivid blue shade of the gown contrasted sharply with her golden skin tone and the bright colors of her feathered mask emphasized the inky black depth of her hair. Anna had never before felt any desire to use her womanly assets to her advantage, but that didn’t mean she didn’t know how. And if ever there was a time to display her more feminine attributes, tonight was it.

  Steeling herself against the feelings of anger and betrayal swirling within her, she pulled herself solidly into the role of temptress. She tilted her head to the side, boldly returning his stare, and smiled, knowing that her reddened lips were brightly visible beneath the bottom edge of her turquoise and magenta mask.

  He lowered his chin and gave a short nod a brief and subtle acknowledgment. So minimal, yet viscerally effective. Delicate chills chased down the back of her neck and Anna was at a loss as to what she should do next.

  He continued to watch her.

  The intense focus of his regard made her jittery and warm. She returned his stare, trying to mimic his self-possessed calm though her breath was shallow and quick as she fought to retain her composure. And still he watched her, making no move to approach, appearing fully content to study her from a distance.

  Then the man at his side, Lord Rutherford, called his attention to a pair of gentlemen approaching them. Jude looked away from her, effectively breaking the binds that had been constricting her chest.

  She drew in a sharp and audible breath.

  With his focus elsewhere, Anna turned and set her glass on the marble table at her side. Her hand lifted to cover the fierce thumping of her heart against her ribs. Such a small thing, a tiny flirting gesture, a too long glance, yet those seconds of silent communication had been the first with her husband in nearly a decade. He didn’t know who she was. She was certain of it. But she knew him, and that moment of connection nearly undid her.

  She was considering the idea of slipping out onto the balcony and from there making a complete escape back to Suffolk when she felt a familiar presence at her side.

  “Do not say it,” she whispered under her breath without turning her head.

  “Dammit.” The fiercely muttered curse came from Leif Riley, sole heir of the impoverished Viscount Neville, devoted lover to numerous wealthy women and Anna’s dear friend since childhood. “I am seriously concerned about the state of your sanity.”

  “I am fine. Perfectly sane.” Anna lifted her chin and met Leif’s anxious gaze with a rueful smile. “Though I will admit it is a bit more difficult than I expected.” She took a deep and steadying breath. “He hasn’t changed much, has he? In appearance, I mean.” Her friend shrugged and she continued, “Although, something about him is very different. I just cannot quite define it…”

  “Anna, this is ludicrous,” Leif interrupted as he shoved his mask up off his face. A scowl of displeasure clouded the handsome visage that was typically schooled into an expression of practiced flirtation. “You need to drop this deception and go about dissolving the marriage, something you should have done ages ago.”

  Anna lifted her black brows incredulously and curled her lips in amusement. “Don’t tell me you are taking the moral stand on this issue.”

  Leif rolled his eyes. “Hardly. I just don’t want to see this ruse you have planned tonight ending in theatric tragedy.”

  Anna smiled and lifted her gloved hand to rest it briefly against the side of his face.

  “Trust me. You have nothing to worry about. I have had eight long years to get over those tender girlish feelings. All I want now is to bring that whole disastrous part of my life to a satisfying end.”

  Leif sighed, giving up for the moment, though his handsome features wrinkled into a foreboding grimace. “I hope there is such a thing.”

  Anna shrugged in an attempt at appearing unconcerned. It would not do for Leif to see that she had misgivings of her own. “One way or another, this is something I have to do.”

  “Why?” Leif pressed.

  Anna didn’t answer at first. She had to think carefully about how much she really wanted to disclose to her dearest friend. They knew almost everything about each other, but some things were simply never discussed.

  “Since the day he left, gossip and rumor have swirled about his many and varied exploits. Did you know, for a time I could not go to a dinner party without his name coming up at the top of a list of the latest scandals heard from abroad? I cannot go back to feeling like a pitiable victim of my circumstances. I have become a different person, and I will not allow that man to go about his charmed life as if I don’t even exist. I cannot imagine his reasons for returning, and I have no idea what his intention may be toward me.” She swallowed hard. “But before the end of this night, he will know that I am not going to fade into the shadows while he reclaims his position as golden lord of the ton.” Anna cast a sly sidelong glance toward the gentleman under discussion. He was watching her again. “I believe it is time Jude paid his respects to his wife.”

  Leif’s scowl was darkly serious. “Be careful, Anna. He is not a green lad.”

  “And I am no longer a sad little girl of sixteen,” she countered as she turned and cast a confident wink over her shoulder, then swept away in a dramatic rustle of satin and silk.

  “You may as well be,” Leif muttered vehemently behind her.

  Chapter Two

  Jude wasn’t sure how his old friend had managed to drag him along to the masquerade tonight. But here he was, in the middle of a sparkling ballroom filled with the elite members of England’s aristocracy, and all he could think was that some things simply never changed.

  He had arrived in London only a few days ago and had intended to stay in town only long enough to conduct some personal business before departing for the Blackbourne family seat in the country. Although he had sent advance word to his mother of his impending return to England, it had been impossible to be exact on his arrival date, so he was not surprised to find that she was not in London awaiting his return. He’d immediately sent his regards to Silverly, advising he would be in Essex soon.

  His mother’s reply arrived the next day and assured him that time had done nothing to soften her firm resolve to always put the needs of the earldom before personal wishes. She did not express delight in his return nor bitterness over his long absence. Instead she sent a list of invitations she had accepted on his behalf and insisted he “pay honor to the proper hostesses before even considering leaving town for the country.” She urged him to remember his duty to the Blackbourne name and claim his rightful place among society first and foremost.

  Jude had promptly tossed the list into the wastebasket. He had been doing things his own way for far too long and had no intention of spending his first weeks back in England going to balls and soirées.

  Yet here he was.

  He swept a glance over the breadth of the ballroom and felt like an observer of a theater performance. Set out under the glittering lights and elaborate decorations, a dramatic production was in play. Flirtatious costumed ladies giggled breathlessly, liberated by the assumed anonymity of their elaborate masks. Gentlemen, young and old alike, prowled the edges of the ballroom, looking for an easy conquest to enliven their evening. The expansive cast of characters sashayed about in their brightly colored costumes, dressed as gypsies, revolutionaries, Roman gods and goddesses, birds of paradise and topiary. They spouted the appropriate lines, laughed on cue and seemed perfectly willing to play the parts they had been given.

  When it came down to it, the setting didn’t much matter. A London ballroom, a Florence courtyard or a Constantinople palace, the drama remained the same. The roles never changed, only the people who played the parts.

  How many of the fortunate souls before him felt
trapped by the strict dictates of their wealth, position and family lineage? How many yearned for a treasure they believed to be out of their reach because the structure of society deemed it so? To put British society on a scale with the caste system in India was a terribly unfair comparison, but Jude couldn’t ignore the marked similarities. Hadn’t his own life taken a drastic turn when the duty and honor that had been passed down through generations of English nobility betrayed him?

  At least his belief in such a betrayal had allowed him to justify the decisions that led him away from the life to which he had been born.

  As he had numerous times in the last couple years, Jude felt an immense welling of gratitude for finally seeing the truth and power of his own choices. Choices that had ultimately led him back to England. Very soon he would retire to the Blackbourne ancestral estate, and he would take up the reins of responsibility he never should have tossed aside.

  In the meantime, surely he could endure one night amongst the ton. At the very least it was a game to which he knew all the rules.

  And just how to break them.

  His gaze traveled swiftly over the bright and colorful chaos of the crowd around him. So familiar and strange, yet he did not anticipate any surprises.

  Perhaps that is why the woman affected him with such jolting intensity.

  She was standing alone, a striking vision, and when Jude saw her, he felt as if the floor had dropped out from under his feet. It was her stillness that first claimed his notice. In the mingling, dancing, laughing crowd around her, her complete and focused stillness stood out. That and the vivid azure dress. The elaborate corseted gown shaped her lovely curves in a way that made his mouth go suddenly dry. Her inky black hair was twisted high on her head with a few teasing curls falling gently against the upper curve of her creamy breast.

  Jude could not look away. After that initial moment of visceral shock, a tight breath of expectation formed and slowly, deliberately expanded into a fully perceived understanding that tonight had been fated to reveal something unusual. The way she stared back at him, even with the bright mask covering most of her face, was fiercely alluring. He could feel her gaze in the warming of his skin and the sudden humming of his blood.