Page 3 of A Rogue's Rules for Seduction
It likelywouldhave shamed social-climbing Ned Kilburn when the skipper began to hand over the luggage to the waiting footmen, and Dom stepped in to take his bags. Both the footmen and the ship’s captain looked perplexed that a man in the expensive clothing of a gentleman not only insisted on carrying his own belongings, but didn’t stagger as he bore the weight.
As he watched everything, a corner of Finn’smouth quirked up. Yet he kept silent. As well he should. Finn and Dom had known each other a long time, and it was precisely their lack of interest in adhering to stifling rules that had made them friends in the first place.
The footmen pressed on, taking Finn and Tabitha’s luggage.
“Felicitations on your crossing,” a cultured voice said, “and welcome to Creag Uaine. While you’re here and beneath my roof, you’ll want for nothing, and your every whim will be indulged.”
Dom, Finn, and Tabitha turned to see Oliver Longbridge striding up the pier toward them. As usual, Longbridge was dressed in the height of fashion, his exceptionally stylish long coat billowing out behind him as he approached with his hand outstretched in greeting. Longbridge was the son of a Black West Indian father and a white English mother, and he’d made a fortune between his inheritance and shrewd investments. In London, he was a popular and well-respected figure—yet only a select few knew that the decorous Mr. Longbridge held clandestine parties notorious for their unbridled hedonism. The fact that Longbridge was hosting this particular house party ensured that it would be infamous for years to come.
After Longbridge shook Finn’s hand and pressed a suave kiss to Tabitha’s knuckles, he faced Dom with a wide smile.
“At last, we’ve pried you away from your beloved London,” Longbridge said cheerfully.
“They said you’ve got matchless cellars.” Fortunately, Dom had collected himself enough since disembarking so that he was able to use his elocution lessons, and could now sound more like a gentleman.
“And you plan to empty them,” Longbridge answered, chuckling. “There are other delights to entice you.” He waggled his brows.
“So I’ve been told, but I’ve more of a taste for whisky than anything else.”
They began walking from the pier to a set of wooden steps that climbed up the cliff. Finn was all solicitousness as he kept a hand at the small of Tabitha’s back, and Dom winced.
“Is there anything else you might desire?” Longbridge asked as they ascended the steep, worn wooden steps.
Dom frowned at this pointed question. But then, Longbridge was only playing the attentive host.
“Getting away from London is all I want,” he answered.
“The city is far behind us,” Longbridge said magnanimously. “Here on Creag Uaine, we’re free to do what we like, when we like. Become better acquainted withwhowe like.”
Having been to a few of Longbridge’s parties, Dom had seen his host and the guests eagerly becomingacquaintedwith many people. Domhimself had lost the taste for such wild and fickle activity the moment he’d met Willa, and had never recovered that appetite.
Still, he made himself say, “Brilliant,” as if the idea didn’t completely turn his blood to icy slush.
Finally, they reached the end of the stairs, which terminated at the top of the cliff. Hard not to feel slightly pleased with himself when he was the only one of their party who wasn’t out of breath, including the trailing string of footmen.
A gravel path stretched from the top of the stairs to the front of the manor house. This close to it, Dom whistled in appreciation. Sizable as the house was, the manor wasn’t flashy, more like a product of the rugged land surrounding it. It sprawled in several directions as if it had grown and evolved with the progress of centuries, and had a charming ramshackle quality in its organic structure. The house wasn’t an obvious display of wealth and power that often marked the residences of the elite. This had served as a home, with quirks and minute flaws.
Hearing Dom’s whistle, Longbridge beamed. “I like the heap, myself. Came down to me through my mother’s side. Legend has it that in its earliest days, it helped repel seaward invasions from the English and there are supposedly hulks of English ships rotting beneath the waves just off the beach. You can see some timbers when the tide is out.”
“I’d wager there are more than a few ghosts,” Finn noted.
“The dead outnumber the living,” Longbridge answered cheerfully. “It would take hours to enumerate them all. There’s no shortage of stories.”
“Quite fascinating,” Tabitha said with a studious look. She patted her reticule before pulling out a notebook and pencil. “I would be extremely interested in interviewing you and your staff to hear about the development of these stories, and the philosophical implications of affixing a kind of consciousness to a place.”
Longbridge blinked. “Ah—”
“Later, love,” Finn said fondly, guiding his wife toward the house. “For now, let us get out of the wind, fortify ourselves with some wine, and seek the comforts of the house. Then we can discuss all the philosophical implications you desire.”
Tabitha nodded in agreement, and Dom and Longbridge shared a look. There had been a few moments last year when Finn had attempted to play matchmaker between Dom and Tabitha, his rationale being that Dom had won a few academic prizes at Oxford, and Tabitha was... well... Tabitha. Fortunately for everyone, Dom had bowed out, Finn and Tabitha had become smitten with each other, and Dom had managed to avoid having to discuss scholarly subjects before noon.
True to Finn’s warning words, the wind was indeed starting to pick up, causing Finn and Dom to hold their hats as Tabitha’s skirts and Longbridge’s coat flapped.
“Storms happen quickly and with little warning out here,” Longbridge said above the gusts. “Inside, I’ve plenty to warm you up.”
He gestured toward the house, and they moved as a group through the arched stone above the heavy wooden front door that did in fact look as though it could hold off a group of English soldiers. Stepping into the large entryway, Dom looked around at the dark wood paneling on the walls, and the many pieces of weaponry mounted on those same walls.
“This is Mr. Brown, and this is Mrs. Murray,” Longbridge said, gesturing to a thin man in dark, sober clothing, and a stout, red-cheeked woman with an apron and a ring of keys at her waist. “The butler and housekeeper, respectively. Anything you want, you have only to come to them and it will be provided. No questions asked. Isn’t that right, Mrs. Murray?”
