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 A Rogue for Lady Peacock
a steamy, standalone Regency romance
Sandra Sookoo

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means,
including photocopying, recording or by any information retrieval and storage system without permission of the author. Likenesses of
characters to anyone living or dead is strictly a coincidence.

A ROGUE FOR LADY PEACOCK © 2022 by Sandra Sookoo

Published by New Independence Books

ISBN- 9798201581480

Contact Information:
sandrasookoo@yahoo.com
newindependencebooks@gmail.com
Visit me at www.sandrasookoo.com

Book Cover Design by Forever After Romance Designs

Publishing History:
First Digital Edition, 2022
 Table of Contents
Dear Readers,
Dedication
Blurb
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue
Regency-era romances by Sandra Sookoo
Author Bio
Stay in Touch

Dear Readers,
It’s always fun to write a book that has enough heat in it to melt the siding off the outside of the house
while maintaining the romance. Such is what you’ll find in these standalone Regency romances.
A Rogue for Lady Peacock is no exception. I never know what to expect from a couple when I first
meet them and commit them to the page, but Giles and Nora ran away with the story—and each other
—and they never looked back.
The result is a super-hot romance that delves into a societal issue prevalent in the era and how the
characters fight to overcome that stigma. One of my favorite things about this book is the epilogue, so
be sure to tell me how you liked it in a review or on social media!
Happy reading!

Sandra
 Dedication
To Kelly Snyder. Thank you for your friendship and support, and for enjoying my work. I appreciate
that so much. Enjoy Giles and Nora!
 Blurb
When a kiss at a masquerade ball leads a roguish lord to Lady Peacock—London’s most curious member of the beau monde—
will he have what it takes to keep her for more than a midnight tryst?

If she were honest with herself, Lady Nora Riley is done with marriage and romance. They only proved a disappointment. Having
suffered through a lukewarm union of eighteen years, the last thing she wants is another husband. However, after a sensual dance with a
stranger, she wouldn’t mind entering into a torrid affair.

Giles Billingsley—11th Viscount of Hadley—is an unrepentant rogue. He’s prided himself on never falling in love, entering parson’s
mousetrap, or being with a woman for more than one night. But the moment he meets a mysteriously fascinating woman while at a
summer masquerade ball, all of those things start to lose their luster.

What was supposed to be a midnight tryst proves too tempting. Over the course of a month, the two conduct a passionate relationship
where they discover truths about each other and themselves that throw their current thinking into jeopardy. But when an innocent stroll
through Hyde Park one evening becomes harrowing, only they can decide what their futures will hold and whether love will feature into
those plans.
 Chapter One

June 20, 1817

London, England
Oh, bother. Is that a wrinkle?
Lady Nora Riley—or as she was known throughout the beau monde, Lady Peacock—frowned
at her reflection in the cheval glass as she sat at the vanity table. It wasn’t outside the realm of
possibility, for at the age of six and thirty, a woman’s looks began to fade. Yet, as she examined
herself while sitting in only her fine lawn shift, she admitted that her body hadn’t suffered from those
affects. Her breasts were still firm, her skin still possessed a creamy ivory hue, the texture still silky,
and her blonde hair hadn’t yet seen a thread of gray.
“If you were not acquainted with me, Susan, and you saw me at a ball, would you find me
attractive for my age?” she asked of her maid, who had been with her since she’d married almost
twenty years before.
The dark-haired woman shook her head. “You are not old, my lady, and your looks are a fat
lot better than mine, and I’m a few years younger than you!” Susan had quite the knack for dressing
hair in elaborate and becoming styles, which she was doing tonight, for Nora had been invited to a
masquerade ball hosted by her best friend, the Duchess of Grantfield.
“I appreciate that.” She and Susan, being of an age, had become fast friends over the years, for
their marriages had very much proved a disappointment on different levels. Gossip and
commiseration had been the order of their days, and that had made the trudging through the unions
much more bearable. “One tends to wonder as the days march on.”
Especially after one had been ever so grateful when one’s husband had finally expired.
Now she was free and had been out of mourning for eight months. It was time to take up the
reins of her life once more and discover who she was without that particular weight about her neck.
And perhaps have some fun in the bargain.
Susan chattered about inconsequential things as she worked to create art with hair. Flutters of
excitement danced through Nora’s belly; it was always lovely going out into society, and she did so
whenever she could. There was no end to the invitations, for she’d purposefully built a mystery about
herself once her husband had died, and people couldn’t resist the unknown. That suited her well. It
also ensured there was no shortage of men who asked her to dance each night.
Oh, but she so adored mingling in society and the energy that London evenings had. Everything
was so colorful and glittering; wealth and excess were on display. Not that Nora gave two figs about
how much coin a person had. She’d fallen for that trap before. It was a person’s character that made
them intriguing, and perhaps their history. If there was scandal and rumor attached, all the better. As
the daughter of an earl, she’d seen the best and the worst of people in the ton and had witnessed how
coin—or the lack thereof—affected them. Then she’d married a gentleman who hadn’t a title but
possessed a decent fortune and was well-respected within the circles she moved.
Neither of those things had been able to salvage her union once it had begun to fracture.
She’d vowed to never again voluntarily put herself into that sort of prison.
 “Perhaps you shall meet a beguiling gentleman tonight who will sweep you off your feet so
much that you’ll wish to marry him,” her maid said with a heavy dose of humor in her tones, for they
both knew Nora’s preference on that.
She snorted and rolled her eyes as Susan put the final pin into her tresses. “I’m not of a mind
to enter the unique trap of a marriage, but I wouldn’t say no to heavy petting or a quick tryst if the man
were handsome enough and interesting in his own right.”
Their giggles filled the air.
“I wouldn’t mind that myself,” the maid admitted. “I’m finished with the hair. Now let’s get
you dressed. You’ll need to leave soon.”
“Indeed.” Nora rose from the padded bench. Over the next few minutes, she donned a
petticoat, stays that Susan laced a bit tight, and then finally the gorgeous gown she’d had made
especially for this event. The emerald satin was cool against her skin while the blue overskirt of
sheer silk winked in the candlelight due to the golden-embroidered peacock feathers all over it. She
adored the colors of those birds, and since she only wore those shades exclusively while out in
society, she’d been given the moniker of Lady Peacock.
Instant allure.
Add to that the fact she never lingered in the same man’s company twice and she never
entertained at her own house, and it practically guaranteed interest and attraction.
As it should.
She smiled as she glanced in the cheval glass. “Yes, this will do nicely.” Then her smile
faded. Not letting anyone—female or male—into her private residence was a way to protect herself.
When she was at home, nothing could touch her or harm her, and she didn’t need to be perfect like the
ton demanded when out in society. At home she was able to befriend her flaws, heartaches, and
shortcomings, meet them in her own space, and forgive herself for everything she was not.
“I’ll fetch your slippers and gloves.”
“Thank you.” While the maid was busy, Nora smoothed her hands down the front of the gown.
The bodice was enticingly low, but not nearly as scandalous as some she’d seen at similar events.
“I’ll want the emerald and sapphire jewelry for tonight, Susan.” After drawing a shaky sigh, she
pinched her cheeks to promote color in them. “Did you secure the mask?”
“I did, and it came out beautifully, made to your specifications.” Susan handed her the
embellished domino mask and then laid opera-length gloves over the back of a chair.
Made of light blue satin and lined with clear glass beads, the mask sparkled with Nora’s
every movement. Two tiny peacock feathers at one side matched the theme of her gown.
“It’s lovely.”
“I agree, as are you.” Susan lifted a necklace from its box. Oval-shaped emerald and
sapphires—each seven carats each and set in silver filagree—glimmered. “And with this, every man
in attendance will have no choice but to look your way.”
“That is the plan.” She sighed as the maid slipped the necklace about her neck. It had been a
gift from her father upon her wedding day, and though she’d not been happy throughout that union, she
wore the parure every chance she had. In short order, she drew on the gloves. “I’ll take the bracelet
as well. Wearing everything else will take away from the gown’s impact.”
“Of course, my lady.” Susan fastened the bauble about Nora’s left wrist. “You’re all sorted.
Shall I wait for your return tonight?”
“There is no need. I will let myself in afterward and shouldn’t be out too long past midnight,
surely.” For it was highly unlikely the afore hinted at tryst would occur. She simply hadn’t found a
man worthy of her attention in that particular arena in at least six months. Skill at kissing aside, she
would need a spark, an utter captivation before she would allow a man access to her body.
“Very well. I hope you have a splendid time.” Before Susan departed the room, she handed
Nora a matching green wrap as well as her reticule. “You are lovely. Go break hearts.” It was what
she said every time Nora went out.
“I shall certainly try.” Then she quit the dressing room and went downstairs. The butler would
have her carriage waiting, and the drive from her home in Grosvenor Square to the duchess’ residence
in St. James Place wouldn’t take long.

Since Nora arrived at her friend’s home before the official start of the ball, she was able to
have a private chat with the duchess.
“It’s good to see you again, Sarah,” she said as she hugged the other woman. As always, the
duchess was stunning. Her mahogany hair gleamed in the candlelight, and her violet gown was styled
in the first stare of fashion, but the fairy wings made of sheer silk were fantastic. A crown of flowers
gracing her head completed that picture. “We should do this more often.”
“I agree. You are amazing in that color, and I adore those feathers on the gauze panel of your
gown.” A few minutes passed as they each examined the other’s costume. “Your maid is a wonder
with hair. I should like to borrow her.” The duchess pulled her over to a low sofa and tugged her
down beside her. “Life is so busy these days, between Grantfield’s responsibilities and the children
as well as my charities and social events, I don’t have a moment to myself let alone my friends.”
“Do not apologize. This is what life is.” Nora touched Sarah’s arm. “We have known each
other for more years than we can count, and still our friendship persists.”
“Of course it does.” Her friend’s green eyes sparkled. “What would my children do without
their Aunt Nora?”
“I shudder to find out.” Sarah’s youngest had just turned four, and the little girl doted on her
honorary aunt.
Nora’s smile flagged a bit, for during the course of her marriage, she was unable to carry a
child to full term. Most of the time, she’d lost the babes by the second month. While Sarah had gone
on to have five beautiful children, she had passed the years with additional heartbreak. Though by the
time the spark and interest had gone out of her union, she had reconciled to the fact she would never
be a mother.
Mostly.
“This isn’t a night for maudlin thoughts, dearest. Children are not the end all be all of life, and
you are a wonderful person. You don’t need to be a mother for that.” Sarah jostled her shoulder, made
a silly expression until Nora smiled once more. “This is my mid-summer masquerade ball, and you
know how much I adore this event each year.”
“I do indeed.” It had come about because Sarah had fallen in love with her duke at a mid-
summer ball eighteen years ago. “I hope you will throw caution—and propriety—to the wind tonight
and enjoy yourself.”
“Have you ever known me to do anything else?” She giggled, which made Nora laugh. “Have
you heard the latest gossip?”
 “That depends. I hear snatches of everything all the time.”
“Well, then you’ll like this.” Sarah turned toward her with excitement dancing in her eyes. “It
seems Viscount Hadley has returned to London.”
Now that was interesting. Lord Hadley was one of London’s premier rogues, always with a
different lady each week. None of them had managed to bring him up to scratch, and as far as the
gossip went, he’d never married, had never been engaged, had never given away his heart, yet that
only made him more desirable to the female population.
“Where has he been?” She only knew of him in passing at a few society functions. They hadn’t
spoken outside banal pleasantries.
“On the Continent, apparently, expanding his fortunes and no doubt bedding beautiful women
in Rome.” Sarah’s expression hinted that it must be a wonderful life she wouldn’t mind experiencing.
“Perhaps.” Nora kept her own counsel on that, for she didn’t know him well beyond what the
gossips held, and because she’d been put through that same mill a time or two, most of those wagging
tongues were eighty percent wrong.
The man was too handsome for his own good, but he wasn’t young any longer. She’d seen him
out at various society functions during her marriage; had danced with him a few times even when her
husband wouldn’t give her even that little courtesy. In fact, the viscount had stolen a kiss from her
when she’d let down her guard during the end of her marriage. Apparently, he thought nothing of
trying to seduce married ladies with the same effort that he did the singleones. Had he known she’d
been unhappily married? There was no way to tell. Though fleeting, she’d never forgotten how her
heart had leaped the moment his lips had pressed against his, and she’d be lying to herself if she
maintained she’d not enjoyed that bit of insanity.
Yet, the knowledge of what the gossips said about him sent cold disappointment twisting
down her spine for a few seconds even as she tried to keep an open mind. “Is he on the guest list
tonight?”
“Of course he is. Whenever he is in attendance, something entertaining is bound to happen.”
Which would make Sarah’s event the talk of Town for weeks to come. “I shall be certain to
avoid him, then.”
Perhaps.
Sarah laughed. “Why? You could find him a refreshing change.” One of her red eyebrows
lifted and speculation glimmered in her eyes. “In fact, the two of you might be well-suited.”
“I rather think that’s pushing it.” Nora shook her head. She held her mask in her lap, tilting it
this way and that as it caught the light. “Unfortunately, there is no substance to Lord Hadley. A man I
choose to tarry with must have at least brains in his head in addition to certain other skills that have
nothing to do with intelligence.”
At least she was honest in her needs. To date, she hadn’t found a man worthy of either
furthering conversation or inviting him into her bed.
Her friend clucked as if she were a mother hen, which Nora sometimes likened her to. After
all, she did have a mother’s instinct. “Let me ask you this. Do you want a man of substance? I
gathered from our last chat you weren’t searching for a forever sort of relationship. If that is so, then a
temporary liaison—a fling perhaps—would suit you better, and I would think Lord Hadley would be
the best fit.”
“This is true.” On all counts, perhaps. Yet he was certainly popular among the female
members of the beau monde. There were pitfalls associated with aligning herself—even just carnally
—with such a man. And under no circumstances was she looking to contract a handful of diseases or
health ailments.
For long moments, the duchess rested her gaze on Nora. “What do you want? You spent a
horribly long time in a union that turned loveless. Don’t you believe a second marriage will be
different?”
Nora snorted. “Are men different?” When her friend didn’t answer, she shook her head. “What
do I want? I suppose that largely depends on the man.” She traced the mask with a gloved fingertip,
and for whatever reason, an image of the viscount’s face swam into her mind’s eye. “Perhaps for
tonight, I want to dance as much as I can without having that intent run into scandal. After?” She
shrugged. “Who knows.”
“You forget that I know you better than you know yourself.” Sarah laid a hand on her arm.
“Yes, your marriage disappointed you on many fronts, but that doesn’t mean a new relationship will
do the same. If you don’t believe me, look to my husband.” A faint blush rose into her cheeks. “The
heat hasn’t faded from our union even after five children.”
“Which is exactly why you have the brood that you do,” Nora said with a fair amount of
teasing in her tone.
“Yes, isn’t it lovely?” From the way Sarah gushed, there was no doubt she was still in love
with her ducal husband.
“It is.” She thought she’d had that long ago, but as the years had gone by, that love had faded,
and with it, any hope of intimacy. Especially after her reproductive issues had come to light. Perhaps
her husband had taken a mistress; she’d never had the confidence to inquire, and then after a handful
of years, it hadn’t mattered.
The duchess sobered. “If you aren’t looking for a match tonight, then what about a kiss?”
“In order for that to even consider a next step, said kiss would have to be spectacular. It
would have to surprise me in every way.” Though she wasn’t a stranger to the odd tryst since her
husband had died, at this point in her life, she wanted something more. Not marriage, per se, but if she
met the right man, then definitely a hot, torrid affair. “Thus far, I haven’t experienced anything to that
effect.”
“Then flirt like mad tonight, my friend, and if the viscount comes near, maneuver him into a
shadowy corner to see what all the fuss is about.” Sarah winked. “If I were unattached…”
Nora snorted. “You wouldn’t pursue a man like Lord Hadley. He’s not your style.”
“I don’t guess he’s yours either, but if I were you, I wouldn’t count him out.”
“Why are you so interested in him? Or rather in me partnering with him?”
Sarah grinned. “I must live vicariously through you, my dear, and at this time in my life, I
require much juicy gossip.” She winked. “Especially if it involves carnal activity.”
“You are too much.” Nora donned her mask, secured it behind her head with the ribbons. Then
she rose from the sofa. “Shall we go in? No doubt you’ll be needed at the reception line before too
long.”
“I have promised Grantfield I would wait for him. His costume is complex, you see.”
“Then perhaps we can talk again later in the evening.”
“Of course we shall. After you secure a kiss from the viscount.” Sarah’s merry laugh filled the
air. “I hope you find scandal tonight anyway, my dear Lady Peacock. You need it, and beyond that,
perhaps you deserve it.”
Nora grinned. “You haven’t changed since we were young girls, have you?” Sarah had always
pushed and prodded. Though scandalous ideas had always been her idea, she had looked to Nora to
carry out those plans. The two had been hoydens in their Come Out days and had given society
matrons apoplexies.
“What is the point of living if one cannot have fun while doing so?”
“Indeed.” She waved as she crossed the room and went into the corridor beyond. Now that
Nora was a widow, she was just as willing to not follow proper society rules, and since widows had
more freedom to do so than unmarried innocents, she meant to have as much fun as she could tonight.
If a kiss—from any gentleman—was exceptional then perhaps a tryst might follow, but that
depended on more than merely a mindset.
 Chapter Two

Grantfield House
London, England
Giles Billingsley, the 11th Viscount of Hadley, surveyed the ballroom where costumed guests
swirled about the dancefloor as well as milled about the sidelines and spilled out into the corridor
beyond. His own costume as a highwayman wasn’t that original—he’d spotted three other men
dressed in the same fashion already—but he wasn’t one to extend much thought on pretend personas.
Being a rogue was difficult enough at times.
“Quite the crush tonight.”
Which meant the potential for trysting partners was unlimited.
At his side, with a glass of champagne in his hand, his best friend Lord Masterson snorted.
“Doesn’t that life grow stale? The amount of effort you expend on investing in different women is
exhausting.”
“Why must you prove a bore and a bother?” To say nothing that the man had been his moral
compass for more years than he could count. At least his friend’s censure kept him honest.
“Because you have the sense of a wombat,” the other man said smoothly, for this was a faux
argument they held more often than not. The candlelight made his blond hair gleam and his brown
eyes twinkle behind his domino mask.
“Ha! Then in answer to your question, no, this lifestyle hasn’t grown stale quite yet.” Though,
that was a bit of a bammer. As much as he adored playing the rogue—it kept deeper thoughts at bay—
a part of him wished he’d had the knack or foresight to have already married, to have been content in
a marriage of twenty years by now.
After all, what sort of legacy would he leave like this?
The other man sipped at his champagne. “You are forty, for God’s sake. Settle down and start
a nursery. If nothing else, you need an heir.” Though fond amusement threaded through Masterson’s
voice, there was a bit of censure there was well.
That was new. Why did his marital status so bother Gregory?
Unable to puzzle it out, Giles snorted in derision. “I am not the marrying type.” He downed the
remainder of his own glass of bubbly French wine with one gulp. “Besides, I’m afraid I will prove a
horrible father like mine was to me.” The man was unreachable and practically useless during Giles
and his brother’s formative years, and then later, when they’d had the chance to connect as men, his
father was more concerned about his mistresses than his family. His mother had taken the betrayal
hard. After that, she’d started out livid, but when her reaction hadn’t an effect on his sire, she’d begun
to fade, until the day she’d contracted a chest cold and wasn’t strong enough to survive it.
Or she hadn’t wished to.
That rough marriage had been his example, and ever since then, he’d wanted no part of it.
“Besides, the viscounty can go to my brother’s son. Thereby relieving me of any guilt.”
He had spent copious amounts of time thinking about the matter and this was the best outcome.
Perhaps for everyone.
 Lord Masterson eyed him with speculation. For a big, barrel-chested man who wasn’t a
stranger to indulging in pugilistics, he held the crystal flute with a delicacy one wouldn’t think from a
man his size. “Afraid you cannot father a child?”
“Absolutely not.” He set his empty flute on a silver tray of a passing footman. “I have reached
this age without having any bastards running around, so I am either sterile or exceedingly careful.”
Giles shrugged. It mattered not. “I have never wanted children. There is no harm in that decision.”
Though it practically made him a pariah. Friends in his inner circle often looked at him with
pity in their eyes when they discovered he was childless.
As if I’m a relic or a failure.
“Perhaps,” Masterson said softly as the glitter and color filling the dance floor went on in
front of them. “I admire your bravery, regardless. The courage you exhibit in bucking tradition is
amazing.”
“It is a personal choice, of course.” He, too, observed the crowds on the dance floor. The
doors to one side of the room had been thrown open to allow the relative coolness of the night into the
room, but the terrace beyond was much too shallow to allow for more than a quick conversation or an
entry point into the gardens at the back of the house. “I rather think my decisions are a large part of my
popularity.”
His best friend scoffed. “Sure, that’s the reason.”
“It means I am an independent thinker.”
“Or immature.” Masterson shrugged. “Or perhaps afraid of commitment…” He winked as he
looked at Giles. “I could go on, but that would be in poor taste.”
“I would expect nothing less of you.” Their friendship had endured for years now, and he
remained ever grateful for that support, hoped he gave the same to Gregory.
“Are you glad to have returned to London? It was a long, dull winter and spring while you
were gone, I must say.”
“So I gathered from your letters.”
“Yes, well, with a mother under my roof and a younger sister entering her Come Out year, I
will prove fit for Bedlam before too long.”
“I don’t disagree.” Really, the man needed a woman to occupy his time. Perhaps that’s what
Giles should do. Turn his attention to matchmaking. Except, if Masterson went and got himself leg-
shackled, who would he commiserate with? “But yes, I am pleased to be back. England is always
home, but it is also good to have adventures every now and again.”
No one need know the true nature of his visit to Rome and the surrounding areas. It would put
him in a whole different light within the beau monde, and that would perhaps damage the image of a
rogue he’d worked so hard to cultivate.
For long moments, his friend remained silent. Then, “Are you staying here long?”
“Only time will tell.” A flash of green and blue caught his eye, and for a few seconds, he
followed her progress over the floor as a country reel was in progress. “Say, Masterson, who is that
woman in the green-blue gown?”
“Who?” His friend glanced in that direction. “Ah. I believe that is mostly likely Lady
Peacock. She’s masked, of course, so I cannot properly see her eyes, but those are exclusively the
colors that she tends to wear.”
“I see.” Lady Peacock. London’s most mysterious and alluring member of the ton.
From all accounts, the lady didn’t adhere to any of society’s rules, was never happier than
when she was alone. She kept herself busy with her charities and causes but never entertained, yet she
attended parties and events frequently. Above all, it was rumored that she was never in the company
of a man for more than an evening, and she never let herself be under any man’s protection.
Why?
“What do you know of her?” From the recesses of his mind, he recalled an incident several
years prior. He had met her at some soiree or another. The lady had a wealth of emotion hidden in her
eyes that certainly hadn’t been stamped upon her features, and she was as gay as any other married
lady there. However, when he’d asked her to dance, she’d been lit as if from within, and she had
enjoyed the dance immensely. He’d been taken off guard, so at the conclusion of the set, he’d escorted
her behind a grouping of potted plants and hothouse flowers, and that’s when he’d kissed her, fully
knowing she was married. It hadn’t been deep and neither had he promised her wicked things, but
he’d felt a bit empathic toward her that night. Regardless, the lady had let him, had even gone so far
as to briefly touch her tongue to his bottom lip before he pulled away and then she’d vanished into the
crowds of the ballroom.
Of course, he had seen her about London a time or two after that, but it was always in the
company of her husband. Then the man had died, and she’d been in mourning. While Giles had taken
himself off to the Continent on business.
Now he was here in this teeming ballroom, as was she.
Fate or fortune?
“Are you interested in her?”
Giles shrugged. “I’m not certain.”
“Think you can crack through her shell and solve her mystique?” Masterson eyed him with
suspicion. “Or are you thinking more to break her heart merely to shore up your own reputation that is
perhaps beginning to flag?”
“Bite your tongue, friend.” But he dug an elbow into the other man’s side in jest. “I am still
one of the most sought-after rogues of the beau monde.”
Wasn’t he?
“No need to defend your position.” His friend drained the champagne in his flute. “So then,
what are your plans? To bed her or wed another?”
What part of his wasn’t the marrying type did Gregory not understand? Yet Giles snorted.
“Putting a foot into parson’s mousetrap is not part of my agenda.”
Masterson’s eyes twinkled. “You might enjoy it.”
“What? Bedding Lady Peacock or marriage in general?”
For long moments, the other man was silent. Then he shrugged. “Let’s go with marriage. I
already know you will never be able to catch Lady Peacock. She’s like the wind.”
Was that a challenge? For the moment, Giles ignored it. “Why are you shoving marriage in my
face when you remain unwed?”
Shadows clouded his eyes. “There is a reason for that.” All of his previous joviality faded.
His was a tragic tale indeed, but it was something they would revisit another time. “Back to the matter
of Lady Peacock.” One of his eyebrows raised. “Do you think you are the one to finally steal her
heart?”
Why were they stuck in this conversational rut? Giles concentrated on the twirling, laughing
people on the dance floor. “One step at a time, my friend,” he finally said. “My reputation is bedding
them and leaving them. Always wanting more, but no hearts required—broken or otherwise.”
Especially his.
“Ah.” That was all Masterson said.
 How maddening. The flash of green and blue skirting once more caught his eye, and he
followed the lady with his gaze. The way she held herself, the way she moved proclaimed a
confidence that many women never found. To say nothing of the curve of her cheek, the slender line of
her neck, the ivory expanse of her bosom he would do anything to taste. Damn, but she was exquisite.
“Lady Peacock is a widow, yes?”
Lord Masterson nodded. “From what I can gather, she had a long-standing marriage. Mr. Riley
perished a few years ago.”
Then how the devil did she come by the moniker of Peacock?
“What was the state of their union?” When he’d kissed her that night, she hadn’t conducted
herself as if she were personally affronted or betraying her wedding vows.
“I’m sure I don’t know.” The bigger man shook his head. “The details surrounding her private
life are scarce. In my opinion, she’s London best kept secret.”
A slow grin curved Giles’ lips “Ah, well, I always did have a flair for solving such things.”
“I wish you good fortune then, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He pinned Giles with a hard
gaze. “Lady Peacock is never in a man’s company for more than one night and never does she let him
linger afterward.”
Giles adjusted his domino mask. “There is a first time for everything, my friend.”
“Hadley.” Gregory laid a hand on his shoulder. His expression was stoic. “Do not mess about
and leave her broken merely to prove your skill. I suspect she has already been through enough.”
That only strengthened the call of the challenge. “I promise not to do anything the lady hasn’t
expressly given me permission to do.”
“Good.”
“Now, if you’ll excuse me?” Giles stepped away and left his friend to his own devices.
All the while, he eyed Lady Peacock as she completed dancing a second set. She was quite
attractive even with the costume and skilled in the steps. Though the lady laughed and smiled, she
coquettishly flirted with her partner but never allowed him too close or even let him touch her more
than the dance required.
Why?
For long moments, he pondered the conundrum. Did she have an aversion to men in the
physical sense? Had she been too ruined by a bad marriage? Or perhaps she preferred the company of
women.
He maneuvered around the sides of the ballroom in order to keep her in sight. The blue
overskirt she wore held the subtle design of peacock feathers done in gold embroidery. Clever of her
to play on words there. Of course his gaze lingered on her stunning décolletage, and damn if her hips
weren’t rounded enough to provide a man a good grip during carnal activity. His shaft stirred to life
as his imagination ran away with him.
Yes, she had a body made for pleasure, so why wasn’t she chasing it?
I need further study.
When the opportunity to meet her when the dance concluded and her partner escorted her to
the sidelines, he silently rejoiced. Since this was a masquerade ball, after all, he declined to
introduce himself.
Would she remember him from that kiss years ago?
“Ah, good evening, fair lady. I have been watching you from afar this night.”
“Oh?” One of her light brown eyebrows rose over the top of her glittering mask. “And why
would a highwayman have an interest in one such as me?”
 “Why would he not? You are easily one of the most beautiful women in attendance tonight.” It
was heavy-handed and exaggerated praise, but would it be enough to hook her curiosity?
A faint blush stained her cheeks. Her eyes behind the mask sparkled like blue gems in the
candlelight. “A lofty compliment indeed. Surely there are others you might entertain with that silver-
tongued flattery.”
“I rather doubt that. You have had the same from many more before me.” Suddenly, he had no
appetite for flirtations with younger ladies in attendance, and neither did he wish to pursue unhappily
married women this night. There was something about Lady Peacock he didn’t quite understand but he
wished to unravel her secrets. “I believe a Continental waltz is forming.” Giles held out a gloved
hand. “Will you do me the honor?”
“Will it have a deleterious effect on my reputation?” Teasing threaded through her softly asked
question.
“That largely depends on how we conduct ourselves while on the dance floor.” The fact she
was adept and seemed to enjoy verbal banter ramped his curiosity of her. Awareness tingled over him
when she slipped her hand into his.
“Very well, Highwayman. You may proceed to impress me.” She winked. “If you can.”
“Oh, I’m quite certain I can.” The issued challenge shivered down his spine to lodge into his
stones in a rush of need. As quickly as he could, he led the lady onto an open spot on the floor and
then assumed the position, with a hand resting at the small of her back while he held her hand with the
other.
Lady Peacock tilted her head back and gave him a slow grin that brimmed with wicked
promise. “I do hope I’m not wasting my precious time by dancing with you.”
He couldn’t stop staring at her lips. The top one was slightly thinner than the full bottom one,
and how well he remembered the softness of them from that long ago but brief kiss. “I suppose we
shall discover that together.”
Then the opening notes of the waltz floated into the air, and Giles set them into motion. The
wonderful thing about a Continental waltz over the more outdated but proper Vienna version was the
fact a man could hold a lady close, and he partnered only her throughout the course of the set. It
wasn’t popular at most balls since more often than not, hostesses were more concerned about
propriety than anything else, but apparently the Duchess of Grantfield was a tad more progressive
than others.
With each turn about the ballroom, Giles dared to pull Lady Peacock closer, and by the fourth
turn of the room, their bodies rubbed scandalously against each other. Thigh to thigh, chest to breast,
his hand insistent—and a tad possessive—at the small of her back, her skirts swirled about their legs,
and it was the most glorious experience he’d had in some time. The subtle scents of jasmine and
vanilla wafted to his nose, but it was the heat of her that proved a distraction, as well as the way her
fingers on his shoulder tightened by increments.
Daring much, he let his hand slip slightly toward her derriere. Would she call him out? When
she didn’t, only held her bottom lip between her teeth for an instant, his confidence soared. “If you
were mine tonight, my lady, there are so many things I would do to you while lying twisted in the
sheets that would have you exhausted by dawn.”
“Ha!” Her soft exclamation warmed his chin. “I have yet to experience such carnal delights,
and I rather doubt you are what you say if you must brag about your skills.”
He rather liked her spirit. “Ah, so then you doubt a man can make a woman fly with his
fingers, tongue, and teeth before he ever claims her body?” Oh, it was risqué to hold such a
conversation on a dance floor, but there was something about Lady Peacock that made him throw
caution to the wind.
The faint pretty blush on her cheeks intrigued him. “I don’t doubt the concept; I do, however,
doubt you can do such a thing.” Her lips remained slightly parted, as if she waited for his next parry.
“Perhaps we should put those words to the test.” When she answered him only by cocking an
eyebrow, he dared even more. “Let us start with a kiss and go from there. I’m told my skill in kissing
is unparalleled.”
A snatch of laughter trilled from her. “There is nothing stopping you, Highwayman.”
Damnation, but he wanted to hear her say his name in those dulcet, slightly throaty tones.
“Meet me privately following this set.”
Had he completely lost his mind, or would he go insane if he didn’t touch this woman?
She fairly purred in his arms. “We are not acquainted yet you want an intimacy usually only
granted for couples who know names.”
He shrugged and pulled her ever closer on the next turn. “You fascinate me.”
“I, too, am curious about you.” Her fingers tightened on his. “There is a garden at the back of
the house, and a square of green space beyond with many trees and shrubberies where we could
stroll.”
“Ah, but I do not have strolling on my mind, fair lady.” Hell, if his shaft grew any tighter, he’d
embarrass himself before an outing could get underway.
Her chuckle only served to inflame his blood. “Does it matter what we do as long as there is
privacy available?”
“I suppose not.” Giles’ pulse raced. An assignation was truly happening! “When?”
“Ten minutes after the dance concludes.”
“Done.” Again, his hand slid toward her arse cheek, and as he maneuvered her so that her
back was to the bulk of the room, he lightly gave that flesh a pinch. A tiny inhalation of her breath was
the only reaction she gave. “Until then.”
Once more, that wicked smile of hers was back, only this time her eyes had darkened. “I look
forward to discovering if your application matches—or surpasses—your bragging.”
Then the set was over, and he was obliged to release her. After kissing her hand and nodding,
Lady Peacock slipped into the crowd and melted into the crush.
Giles grinned, and thanked providence he wore black breeches that hid his raging cockstand.
The next ten minutes would pass in an eternity before he could begin his seduction of the lady.
 Chapter Three

Nora couldn’t deny the excitement that tingled down her spine. It had been far too long indeed
since she’d last had a dalliance, and the fact that she would with the highwayman—otherwise known
as Lord Hadley—brought an edge of scandal to the upcoming meeting.
For of course she’d recognized him right away even with the domino mask that covered the
upper portion of his face. The way he spoke, the confidence he showed, the daring he’d taken while
on the dance floor, all pointed to the fact the man could be none other than him. Perhaps Sarah had
been right. What she needed in her life in this moment was a rogue.
Not for forever.
Not for marriage.
Simply to play with on a carnal level, reassure herself that she was still wanted and attractive
at her advanced age, and then once the tryst of the night had concluded, she could send him off with
naught but a wave and a kiss.
No mess or fuss.
The moment she stepped outside onto the terrace by way of the darkened library on the ground
floor, the air cooled her overheated skin. According to Sarah from their conversation earlier, the
guests were not encouraged to use the library, and no candles would be lit in that room.
“But you may utilize it if you need a bit of privacy,” the duchess had said with a grin.
Nora had waved away her comment, but now the idea held much appeal, for her gown had
been expensive, and if something came from Lord Hadley’s kisses, she didn’t wish for the silk to snag
on tree bark or twigs of shrubbery. She rested her gloved hands on the stone railing. For the moment,
she remained alone, but if his bragging had been stronger than his skill, she needn’t worry about
anything after dismissing him.
The soft scrape of a boot sole directly behind her proclaimed the arrival of someone else.
After whirling about, her gaze alighted on the highwayman. In the shadows of the night, he was even
more attractive than he’d been in the candlelight of the ballroom. A few fruit trees at the edge of the
terrace hid them from the garden but they were still very much on display from anyone gaining the
terrace from the ballroom.
“I wasn’t entirely certain you would go through with his meeting,” he said in a barely audible
voice, for the ballroom was next door and the new dance hadn’t started.
“Why wouldn’t I?” She retreated as he advanced, edging more toward the shadows the trees
gave off, and in the small area, her hips bumped against the stone railing, preventing further flight.
The sensation of being trapped added a layer of intrigue and excitement to the meeting. “Can not a
woman desire a string of scandalous kisses as much as a rogue?”
“I never said you couldn’t, but I had expected a bit of resistance since we’re flirting with the
fine line between scandal and propriety.”
Nora snorted as he stepped closer, so close the heat from his body seeped into hers. “No
doubt by the end of this interlude, we will have stepped over that line—unless your kisses aren’t up
to snuff… Lord Hadley.”
 He gasped. “You knew of my identity this whole time?”
Poor thing. The man seemed genuinely upset. “Of course I did.” Wanting very much to get on
with it—for the evening was still young and if he didn’t scratch that particular itch she had, she would
continue her search—she grabbed hold of his cravat and pulled him closer. When his arms went
around her, she grinned. “I would recognize your eyes, the shape of your mouth, the way you flirt
anywhere.”
“Well, I don’t know what to say. I assumed I was suave and mysterious.” He tugged off his
gloves and then tucked them into the crimson sash at his waist.
Oh, it would be so much fun to keep him at sixes and sevens if the night proceeded in ways
she hoped. “Why say anything? After all, we are here to share kisses, are we not? And every moment
that goes by when you are not trying to impress me, makes me think you truly were only bragging.”
“The rumors weren’t wrong, Lady Peacock.” His breath steamed her cheek as he slipped one
of his hands to cup her check, but then he surprised her by switching their positions and guiding her
deeper into the shadows until her back connected with the townhouse. From this vantage point, they
were more shielded from anyone else who might venture onto the shallow terrace.
“Yet, I wouldn’t know since you haven’t begun.” It was such fun to exchange verbal swords
with him. “And by the by, refer to me as Nora. Or Lady Nora if you must use a title.” Though it was
much too early in their association to make use of Christian names, and she certainly didn’t grant that
boon to many men of her acquaintance, there was something about Lord Hadley that drew her onward
like a beacon.
Interest flickered through his eyes, but he nodded. “Let me rectify my oversight… Nora.”
She didn’t have time to revel in the sound of her name in his deep tenor, for he crushed his
mouth on hers in his opening overture.
And it was everything he’d alluded it would be.
With a soft sound of surprise at the back of her throat, Nora slid her hands up his chest that
was surprisingly hard for his age—according to the gossipmongers he was forty—and loosely looped
her arms about the breadth of his shoulders. Then she set out to kiss him back.
Why should he have all the fun?
Except, the viscount wasn’t a rogue for nothing. Absolutely, he refused to let her boss him
during that kiss. Instead, he settled her more comfortably into his embrace, and then he set out to
apparently separate her from her senses. He moved over her lips with slow leisure that would drive
her mad before too long. When she applied pressure at his nape in a bid to hurry him along, he
ignored her and took his time.
Over and over, he nipped and nibbled her lips in a bid to introduce himself to her. That
fleeting kiss he’d given her a few years ago didn’t hold a candle to what he did to her now. Soft but
firm, those two pieces of flesh both cradled hers and provided enough stimulation and heat that her
body felt as if it were vibrating, shifting, preparing for whatever else he had planned.
When he drew the tip of his tongue along her lower lip, erotic sensations trailed after, and she
gasped from the unexpected delight of it. The viscount took advantage to slide that organ into her
mouth and flirt with her tongue. A game as old as eternity commenced, as they both thrust and parried
while the kiss deepened, and time seemed to stand still.
Desire clouded her brain as the heady embrace continued. Though it was the middle of
summer, she craved the heat of him, and in fact tugged him closer until their bodies were layered
scandalously against each other. The scent of him accelerated her heartbeat, and oh she couldn’t have
enough of that blend of cedar, orange, and leather.
 Eventually, the viscount pulled away merely to drag his lips down the side of her neck while
her fingers went into his hair, knocking off his hat and setting his domino mask askew. Then he guided
those talented lips to the tops of her breasts, and flutters erupted in her lower belly as the faint scrape
of his stubble heightened her awareness of him.
“Dear God, but you are most intoxicating,” he whispered against her skin, but his hands were
at her breasts, cupping them, teasing her nipples through the fabric, and sending shivery sensations
zipping through her veins.
Oh, how she wanted his mouth on her!
The dratted man must have read her mind, for he curled his fingers into the low bodice of her
gown. In a thrice, he pulled the fabric down, taking the petticoat and chemise with it, and didn’t stop
until her modest breasts were bared to his inspection. “I knew you would be perfection,” he
murmured seconds before he took one of those aching tips into the warm cavern of his mouth.
“Yes!” The hiss of approval seemed to hover on the summertime air. Nora arched her back,
which put her more firmly into his hold. How long had it been since a man had pleasured her so
thoroughly without even putting a hand between her thighs?
“Just wait,” he whispered around her nipple before moving to the other tip and starting the
seduction all over again.
Suckling, soothing with his tongue, and then he withdrew only to blow upon the moisture he’d
introduced onto her flesh. It was a heady combination indeed, and already she shook with anticipation
for what else was to come.
When he rolled those sensitive peaks, starting at the root and moving upward with varying
degrees of pressure, Nora cried out with approval and more than a little need. A chuckle was his only
answer, the blackguard!
Well, if he wants tit for tat, he’ll have it.
Shoving a hand between their bodies while he continued his unique brand of torture, Nora
cupped his impressive erection through the fabric of his breeches. A groan left his throat, both
haunting and arousing in the shadows, and she smiled. “Did you think you would leave this terrace
unscathed, Lord Hadley?”
“I don’t know what I expected, to be honest.”
She stroked him as best she could through his breeches. Oh, he was so impossibly hard that
she couldn’t wait to see him, touch him, taste him. Where this man was concerned, she had apparently
gone temporarily mad.
“Bloody hell.” His guttural utterance sent gooseflesh over her skin. Leaving off with his own
teasing, the viscount yanked her hand from his person. “I believe we are well past that line now.
Agreed?”
How could she not? “Yes.”
“Good.”
“However, before we do anything more than kissing, I need to know you are not carrying any
sort of disease.” It ran against arousal, but she refused to put her health at risk.
His chuckle loosed butterflies in her belly. “Clever lady.” But he nodded. “I have, in fact,
seen my personal physician just two weeks prior. I am quite healthy and clean, and besides, I have
been extremely selective with the women I take into my bed.” He lowered his voice. “Dying of
syphilis is not a life goal. Neither is contracting lice or any other sort of crawly thing.”
“Good. Then I suppose we can resume.”
“Thank God.” With a half growl half curse, he put a hand to the small of her back and ushered
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