A Risk Worth Taking
Read A Risk Worth Taking Online
Authors: Laura Landon
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #General
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Text copyright © 2013 Laura Landon
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Montlake Romance
PO Box 400818
Las Vegas, NV 89140
ISBN-13: 9781477807408
ISBN-10: 1477807403
Library of Congress Control Number: 2013933192
To all my readers…you are the best!
Thank you!
Chapter 1
November 20, 1857
G
riffin Blackmoor glanced up from where he sat in a secluded corner of the Rooster’s Inn and watched with cautionary curiosity when the door opened. Out of habit long perfected, his nerves snapped to attention at the commotion at the front of the room. He relaxed when his longtime friend, Freddie Carmichael, Marquess of Brentwood, entered.
Griff leaned back in his chair and waited while Brentwood’s gaze searched through the hazy smoke. A smile lit his friend’s face the second he found Griff. With determined steps, Brentwood made his way across the crowded room.
“Another chance meeting, Freddie?” Griff said, unable to keep the grin from his face. “This is your third visit in the last two weeks. My company must be more enjoyable than I realized.”
Freddie sat down in the chair adjacent to Griff and, with a hearty gulp, finished the last of the whiskey in Griff’s glass. Griff laughed, then motioned for the barmaid to bring another glass.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Griff. I didn’t come here for your pleasant companionship.” Freddie reached for the glass the barmaid set before him and took a swallow. He swiped the back of his hand across his mouth, then set the glass down on the table with a dull thud. “I came here because of the fine ale they serve.”
Griff halted the glass halfway to his mouth and gave a snort that nearly resembled a chuckle.
“Bloody hell,” Freddie said. “Was that a smile I saw cross your face? Drinks for the house,” he added, almost loud enough to be taken seriously. “We are indeed in peril of seeing the world’s last days.”
“Save your money, Brentwood.”
Griff finished his drink and gave Freddie’s expensively cut black tails a cursory glance. “So, what brings you here? From your attire, I’d say you didn’t exactly dress for an evening at the Rooster’s Inn.”
Freddie rolled his eyes. “Lady Ashworth’s ball. Quite a bore.”
“My sympathies. You must have left quite early to make it here before dawn.”
“Actually”—Freddie motioned for the barmaid to refill their glasses—“I was glad to get away. The atmosphere was extremely stuffy and the company overly confining.”
“So you traveled to the country in hopes I’d provide better entertainment?”
“Actually, yes. And…”
Griff raised his brows and waited.
“I ran into your brother at the ball.”
Griff ran his fingers over the mars and cuts in the wooden tabletop. He tried to think of another topic to
introduce but couldn’t. He finally gave in. “And how is the earl?”
“He’s fine. He’s anxious to see you.”
“I made an appearance at Christmas.”
Freddie laughed. “That was nearly a year ago.”
“I thought my visit was memorable enough to last the year.”
“Obviously it wasn’t. I think he’s of the opinion that you’ve been the recluse long enough and it’s time you returned to civilization.”
“I hardly call living at Covington Manor an existence in the wilds. It may not be London at the height of the Season, but we’re quite civilized in the country.”
“And lonely.”
“Don’t, Freddie.” Griff lifted his palm to stop his friend from continuing.
“Adam is concerned for you, Griff. He only wants—”
“I know what he wants, but I’m perfectly content with life as it is.”
Griff sucked in a harsh breath, then released it in a rush. “You surely didn’t come all this way just to give me Adam’s message? What other reason brought you here?”
Freddie leaned back in his chair and groaned. “You’re right, of course. There is another reason.” He paused. When he spoke, his voice was filled with frustration. “I have decided to marry.”
Griff tried to hide his surprise but failed. “And who is the lucky lady you wish to make your marchioness?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t picked her out yet.”
Griff did laugh this time. “I don’t believe it. What brought this about?”
“I turned twenty-six last week.”
“And…”
“I am in need of an heir.”
“I see.”
“Everything I have is entailed. My London town house. The country estate. Everything. If something were to happen to me, Annie and Rebecca would have nowhere to go. They would be without even a roof over their heads.”
“It took you all this time to realize this?”
Freddie raked his fingers through his dark, curly hair. “Perhaps I’m finally growing up.” He gave a short laugh. “That’s a surprise, isn’t it? Father would be shocked if he were still alive to hear me say that. Or perhaps I have finally accepted my own mortality. None of us knows what tomorrow will hold. You more than anyone can attest to that.”
Griff’s blood turned to ice. “Yes. The future is uncertain for all of us.”
“I don’t see why Father couldn’t have supplied the Brentwood line with at least one more male instead of just Annie and Rebecca, but he didn’t.” He took another swallow of ale and set the glass back on the table with a great deal of concentration. “Although considering his failure at being a husband and father, I suppose I should be thankful I’m not an only child.”
Griff thought of his own childhood. It had been so different from Freddie’s, his parents so loving. “Not all marriages are like your parents’.”
“So I’ve heard. And it wasn’t so bad, really. At least I was sent away to school and could escape the upheaval for part of the year.” Freddie slowly turned his glass in tiny circles on the table. “It was worse for Annie. She had nowhere to go.”
Freddie lifted his glass and took another swallow. “It’s no wonder neither of us have jumped at the chance to marry.”
Griff absorbed Freddie’s words, then softly asked, “So, have you begun the search for your perfect candidate?”
“I began tonight but tired of it after dancing with the fifth or sixth blonde-haired, blue-eyed twit. Bloody hell, Griff. They all seem so…young.”
“They are. You should have chosen your bride years ago, when the eligible young ladies were your age.”
“What a depressing thought.”
Griff smiled. “So you’re seeking out my company on the rebound? I am indeed flattered.”
“You should be. At least I have no intention of letting you step on my toes, then whispering my apologies as if
your
clumsiness was
my
fault.”
“It must indeed have been a trial for you.”
“It was.”
Griff smiled. “Drink up. You can spend the night at Covington Manor. Things will look better in the morning, after a good night’s sleep and a hearty breakfast.”
The two friends finished their drinks, then walked together into the cool evening air.
Thousands of bright stars twinkled above them, and a gentle breeze washed over them as they made their way across the rutted yard to the stables beyond.
Perhaps it was due to Griff’s years in the army as a spy, but the hairs at the back of his neck pricked in warning. Griff took in his surroundings to evaluate the danger he felt.
He noticed a movement to his left. Then Freddie noticed it, too. They both paused. Their footsteps halted as they turned to the side.
A glint of metal shone in the moonlight. The realization of what was happening sent a wave of panic racing through Griff’s body.
“Get down, Freddie!”
Griff reached for the pistol he always kept in the pocket of his jacket—but not in time. A loud explosion shattered the peaceful country air as Freddie spun against him, taking them both to the ground. A second shot followed the first.
The force of Freddie’s body was too much, and Griff fell backward, his arms splayed out on either side of him. His chest heaved as much from careening against the hard earth beneath him as from the jolt of Freddie’s weight.
Bloody hell! He thought he’d left all this behind him. He was sure they’d executed all the traitors. Just as he was sure the sniper who’d tried to kill him after the war hadn’t followed him to England. He must have been wrong. Whoever it was evidently had no intention of stopping until he was dead.
Griff’s blood ran cold; dread and disbelief ran rampant through his brain. He put his hands on Freddie’s arms and gripped hard as he tried to move him.
“Freddie.” Griff rolled Freddie to the side. “Are you all right?”
Griff heard a soft, muffled groan and passed his hands over Freddie’s face and arms to see where he’d been hurt. Then he felt the warm, sticky liquid at Freddie’s chest.
The pain of a dozen cannonballs slammed into Griff’s gut. He looked down and, instead of seeing Freddie’s face, relived the death of another friend. A spy’s bullet had also killed Gerald Fespoint, a fellow officer—a bullet Griff knew had been intended for him.