Once a Scoundrel Read online

  “IF THE LADY’S VIRGINITY IS WORTH FIVE THOUSAND POUNDS, I’LL BUY IT TO KEEP HER SAFE!”

  “Can you afford that much?” Malek asked with interest.

  Gabriel did a swift inventory of his savings and assets. “Yes, but you’d have to accept a draft on my London bank. Would you trust me for that?”

  Malek considered, then nodded. “I would.”

  Lady Aurora stared at Gabriel, startled. “Would you spend that much so you could have me? Or would you do so and then honorably refuse to touch me?”

  He gazed at her, his brain paralyzed by erotic images of kissing her. Pulling away those gossamer veils so he could run his hands over warm, soft skin, sinking into her . . .

  Five thousand pounds might buy passive acceptance, but would it buy passionate desire? Knowing that passive acceptance would never be enough with this woman, he said brusquely, “You’d be safe from me. I’m not in the habit of buying bedmates.” Feeling as if he could read the thoughts behind those misleadingly innocent blue eyes, he added, “And don’t think you could sell your damned virginity twice if I didn’t demand full value for my money!”

  “I did wonder if that would work,” she admitted with a self-mocking smile. “But it would be very unsporting on my part.”

  Books by Mary Jo Putney

  The Lost Lords series

  Loving a Lost Lord

  Never Less Than a Lady

  Nowhere Near Respectable

  No Longer a Gentleman

  Sometimes a Rogue

  Not Quite a Wife

  Not Always a Saint

  The Rogues Redeemed series

  Once a Soldier

  Once a Rebel

  Once a Scoundrel

  Other titles

  The Bargain

  The Rake

  Mischief and Mistletoe

  The Last Chance Christmas Ball

  MARYJO PUTNEY

  ONCE A SCOUNDREL

  ZEBRA BOOKS

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  “IF THE LADY’S VIRGINITY IS WORTH FIVE THOUSAND POUNDS, I’LL BUY IT TO KEEP HER SAFE!”

  Also by

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Author’s Note

  Teaser chapter

  ZEBRA BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2018 by Mary Jo Putney

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

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  ISBN: 978-1-4201-4096-5

  eISBN-13: 978-1-4201-4097-2

  eISBN-10: 1-4201-4097-3

  To my ever patient and ever cuddly

  Mayhem Consultant:

  Hugs to you and the cats!

  And to the Real Spook, who is certainly a Real Cat.

  Prologue

  Gabriel Hawkins Vance stood in front of the massive door and tried to control his shaking. He’d entered the Royal Navy at the age of twelve and had not been the youngest in his group of midshipmen. In the six years since, he’d faced cannonballs and lethal diseases, helped put down a mutiny, and, at age sixteen, commanded a captured French prize ship that had to be sailed to Portsmouth.

  But nothing had terrified him as much as having to face the man on the other side of this door.

  Accepting his fate, he took a deep breath and gave a brisk double rap before opening the door and entering his grandfather’s study. Admiral Vance was sitting at his desk with a frown, but he rose when he saw his grandson, his frown deepening.

  Tall, white-haired, as inflexible as weathered oak, he wasted no time on pleasantries. “You are a disgrace to your name! Generations of Vances have served and died in the Royal Navy with no stain on our honor. Until you!”

  Gabriel tried to control his flinch. “I’m sorry to have disappointed you, sir.”

  “You were doing well. I was proud of you. And then you threw it all away.” The old man’s face twisted. “It would have been better if you’d died in battle!”

  Gabriel thought of the bodies of his fellow sailors after they had been torn into bloody shreds by French cannonballs. That was usually a quick way to die and it would have satisfied the old admiral, but Gabriel couldn’t bring himself to wish that he was dead.

  “I am sorry to have disobliged you,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “But you are aware of the circumstances that led to my dismissal.”

  “Those circumstances, your youth, and your family name saved you from a court martial and being hanged,” his grandfather spat out. “Even though you deserved that.”

  With a sudden, urgent need for honesty, Gabriel said, “I would do the same thing again in those circumstances.”

  “You unrepentant scoundrel! Get out of my sight!” his grandfather snarled. “Don’t come back unless you have restored honor to your name!”

  The words were ice in Gabriel’s veins. “As you wish, sir,” he said stiffly. He gave his grandfather a perfect salute, pivoted on his heel, and marched from the room, knowing he’d never see the old man again. Never . . .

  He was heading blindly toward the front door when his grandmother intercepted him. “Oh, my darling boy!” She enveloped him in a warm embrace as if he were a child rather than half a head taller than she was. “It was bad?”

  “He doesn’t ever want to see me again.” Gabriel hugged his grandmother, choking back a shameful urge to cry. “Not unless I’ve restored honor to my name, which means never, because to him, honor means only the Royal Navy. Now that I’ve been forced out, that can’t happen. Not ever.”

  “Oh, Gabriel, my dear.” She released him, her face sad. “He is only so harsh because he cares so much for you.”

  Was it caring, or had the admiral looked on him as a vehicle for family tradition rather than as a man in his own right? Gabriel thought he knew the answer. “He won’t miss me. He has other grandsons.”

  “Yes, but you’ve always been his favorite.” Her voice softened. “For what it’s worth, I think you did the right thing. I’m proud of you.”

  The kno
wledge helped a little. “Thank you.” He kissed her soft cheek.

  “What will you do now?”

  He hesitated because he’d been unable to think beyond the inevitable, brutal confrontation with his grandfather. “I’m not sure. Find a berth on a merchant ship, I suppose.”

  She studied his face with shrewd eyes. “Would you have chosen the navy as a boy if you’d had a choice?” Her words struck to the heart of his life.

  He thought of the sea in all its changing moods. Beauty and terror, exhilaration and endless boredom. “I don’t know. Perhaps not,” he said honestly. “But it’s the only trade I know.” And now the sea would provide solace.

  “Whatever path you choose, walk it well,” she said firmly. “And please! Write me. You can send letters to your Aunt Jane.”

  “I will,” he promised, unable to bear the thought of losing the one person whose love he’d never doubted. “And I’ll take a different name so Grandfather won’t be further embarrassed by me.”

  “Use Hawkins,” she said with wry humor. “It’s your middle name and Jack Hawkins was one of England’s great seafaring heroes.”

  His grandmother had always shared his sense of humor. “I’ll do that. From now on, I’m Gabriel Hawkins.” He gave her a last hug, then walked out the door into a future he couldn’t imagine.

  Chapter 1

  London

  Autumn 1814

  Lord and Lady Lawrence were enjoying a pleasant afternoon in the library when the letter arrived. The butler himself delivered it to the earl. Sylvia Lawrence glanced up and saw that the missive was wrapped in stained oilcloth and must have traveled a great distance. “Is that a letter from Rory?” she asked eagerly. “We haven’t heard from her in so long! Is she coming home?”

  Her husband unwrapped the letter and read it with a deepening frown. Then he swore with the vibrant profanity that only one person ever invoked. “Your daughter, Lady Aurora Octavia Lawrence, has gone and done it this time!”

  “She’s your daughter, too,” Sylvia pointed out as she began to worry. “What’s wrong?”

  The earl snarled, “The letter is from the British consul in Algiers. Your damned daughter was captured by Barbary pirates and they’re demanding an outrageous ransom to return her!”

  Sylvia gasped as levity was replaced by horror. “How is that possible? I thought the Barbary pirates had given up their thieving ways after the Americans fought them and forced a treaty.”

  “The pirates of Barbary are not great believers in treaties,” her husband said bitterly. “The consul says she’s unhurt, but she’s locked in a harem and will be sold into slavery unless she’s ransomed.” His voice rose. “Fifty thousand pounds! Fifty thousand pounds!”

  He slapped the letter onto the desk, sending a fine goose quill pen flying. “Well, they can damned well keep her! I’m not paying a ha’penny to get the girl back.”

  “Geoffrey, you can’t possibly mean that!” Sylvia gasped. “Our youngest daughter! Rory was the delight of your life.”

  “Until she grew up, and she’s been nothing but trouble ever since.” He scowled at Sylvia. “She won’t make a proper marriage and she’s spent her inheritance from her great uncle on her travels. She’s a clever minx. Let her get out of this scrape on her own. I can’t afford her anymore.”

  “She’s our daughter!”

  “You think I don’t know that?” His initial rage was cooling and there was pain in his eyes. “I may be an earl, but I can’t afford a sum that large. It took me years to pay off debts left by my father, and you know the amount of the mortgages we’ve had to take out to establish the rest of those eight children you had.”

  “You had something to do with all those children,” she pointed out dryly. “We’ve been blessed with eight healthy, charming, intelligent offspring. Which of them would you give up?”

  He sighed. “None, but giving them the futures they deserve has exhausted the family resources. There simply isn’t the money available to pay such an enormous ransom. Not even for Rory.”

  Sylvia bit her lip because she knew how difficult it had been to raise the money to establish the older offspring. “But slavery in Barbary, Geoffrey! That’s not a scrape—it’s disaster! Just think of the horrors she might suffer!”

  His mouth tightened. “She’s pretty enough to avoid the worst atrocities. She’ll probably end up as chief concubine of the dey of Algiers. I’m sorry, Sylvia. Rory has made her bed.” His voice broke and his pain showed. “Now she must lie in it with whatever man is willing to pay her price.”

  The countess cringed. Geoffrey had decided that the ransom was impossible and he wouldn’t lift a finger to help Rory. She closed her eyes, shuddering as images of her youngest filled her mind. She loved all her children deeply, but Rory had been such a golden, happy baby. That was why Sylvia had named her Aurora, for the dawn.

  Aurora had quickly become Rory as her daughter had grown into laughter and mischief. Yes, she sometimes got into trouble, but that was because of her appetite for life. There was no malice in her.

  Sylvia knew her husband. Now that Geoffrey had analyzed the situation and decided there was nothing he could do, he would close the door on Rory and concentrate on problems closer to home that he could solve. He’d bury the fate of his daughter so deeply that he wouldn’t feel the pain, except in his nightmares.

  But that didn’t mean that Sylvia must do the same. She’d heard of a man who was good at dealing with difficult situations. An aristocrat with connections to people in all walks of life. She’d call on him in the morning. Perhaps—pray God!—he knew someone who could bring her daughter home.

  The schooner Zephyr

  Pool of London, England

  As a boy, Gabriel had dreamed of being the bold captain of a sailing ship, a privateer like Drake and his own legendary namesake, Sir Jack Hawkins. Imagination did not include long, boring weeks at sea or weevilly ship biscuits or granite-textured hardtack.

  Nor accounting. His was casual because he was owner as well as captain, but some figuring was required to keep the Zephyr running properly. Luckily, his last mission to America to rescue a stranded English widow had been very profitable, thanks to the lady’s generous family. As a bonus, he’d even avoided being blown up by the Royal Navy warships that had been thundering up and down the Chesapeake Bay.

  He was glad to set aside his account book when Landers, his auburn-headed American first mate, rapped on the frame of the open door and entered his cabin. “Morning, Captain. We’ll be through with the provisioning by tomorrow or the day after.” He handed over a list. “These are the supplies we’re waiting for.”

  Gabriel scanned the list, then nodded. “Even if it takes longer, it’s worth waiting for Halford sails. One should never skimp on good sails.”

  As he handed the list back, Landers asked, “Where will we be heading next?”

  “That’s an excellent question.” Gabriel leaned back in the chair that was secured to the solid oak floor and absently scratched the head of the white and gray ship’s cat that was snoozing on his desk. “I’m not sure. With Napoleon in exile and the British and Americans in peace negotiations, there aren’t many blockades to run. I’ll have to rustle up some regular cargo. Safer but less profitable.”

  “I’m getting old,” Landers said with a sigh, being all of twenty-six years of age. “We’ve dodged enough cannonballs that safe is sounding good.”

  “Even without cannonballs, the sea can kill us quickly enough if she chooses,” Gabriel said dryly. Being past thirty himself, he’d seen enough danger to agree with his mate, but a man must do something to keep himself busy, and he was well experienced with the sea. “I’m considering the China tea trade.”

  “The Zephyr’s speed would be an advantage there, but the voyages are very long.” Landers hesitated before continuing. “I wouldn’t sign on for that. My father is halfway done building a first-rate coastal trading vessel. It will be ready in the spring. I’ve been thinking that it’s t
ime to go home to Maryland and find me a wife before all the pretty girls marry someone else.”

  “I’d miss you,” Gabriel said with real regret, “but the China trade isn’t a good fit for a man who wants a home and family. It’s time you had a ship of your own.”

  Speaking with the zeal of a happy romantic, Landers asked, “Have you thought about settling down and finding a pretty wife of your own?”

  Gabriel’s brows arched. “I wouldn’t know which side of the Atlantic to settle on, and in my business, I meet very few pretty ladies, so the answer is no.”

  “If you settle in St. Michaels, I guarantee you’d find no shortage of attractive females interested in furthering your acquaintance,” Landers said with a grin.

  “A first mate has many important duties on shipboard,” Gabriel said acerbically. “Matchmaking isn’t one of them.”

  “I have a very fine cousin named Nell,” his mate volunteered. “Pretty as a picture, and can bake a cherry pie that would make angels beg!”

  Gabriel gave his best ferocious captain glare. “Go!”

  The glare must not have been working because Landers was laughing as he withdrew. When his mate was gone, Gabriel returned to his accounts, but his mind wandered.

  He’d seen more than his share of dire times, but in recent years, he’d done rather well. In fact, he had reached the point where he had choices. But what the devil did he want for his future?

  Since he had no idea how to answer that question, he was relieved when Landers stuck his head in the door again. “There’s a Mr. Kirkland here to see you, and he looks like someone you might want to talk to.” Landers vanished again.

  Kirkland? Coming to sharp awareness, Gabriel got to his feet. He knew the name, but why on earth . . . ?