Free Between a Rake and a Hard Place by Connie Mason Page B

presence, yet you offer not so much as a ‘by your leave.’”
    â€œNo,” Jonah said as he turned to go. “I don’t.”
    ***
    Jonah pushed into the Blind Pony with scrapes on his knuckles and a hole in his garrick that was not at the seam. One of the gang of ruffians he’d encountered had brandished a wicked dirk, but with a few deft moves, Jonah had relieved him of it and sent the crew scattering like roaches caught in sudden lamplight. Unfortunately, not before the fellow managed a slash to Jonah’s outer coat.
    He mentally castigated his friends again for choosing such a sketchy place for their meeting.
    Jonah was naturally cat-eyed, but this pub was so dim even he couldn’t make out most of the patron’s faces. As he scanned the low-ceilinged common room, he saw a hand raised in greeting from the booth in the far corner. As he drew closer, he recognized his friends, Rhys Warrington and Nathaniel Colton, nursing pints of dark, yeasty-smelling ale. A third pint waited on the rough plank table before an empty place.
    Jonah slid into it and took a long swig of the drink. It was execrable. “Who ordered this horse piss?”
    â€œIt’s not so bad once you start on the second one,” Nate said. “You’re late, Sharp.”
    â€œAnd if that frown of yours is any measure, you’re obviously out of charity with the whole world,” Rhys observed. “What’s wrong?”
    â€œMy new coat is ruined thanks to this meeting.” And several of the local ne’er-do-wells were missing several teeth. “Why did you insist on such a spotty location?”
    â€œDesperate times call for desperate measures and we didn’t want Alcock to be aware that we are joining forces. You should have dressed down for the occasion,” Rhys said. Both he and Nathaniel were disguised in the rags of a common worker—slop trousers and long shirts topped by shapeless capes. A pair of floppy-brimmed hats obscured their faces from all but the most determined observers.
    â€œI am who I am wherever I go,” Jonah said. His friends both rejoiced in a “Lord” before their names. It might be a lark to them to pretend to lesser status. A commoner’s lot struck Jonah too close to the bone. “Why should I pretend to a lower station?”
    â€œIt might save on your tailor’s bill,” Rhys said. “But seriously, what’s troubling you?”
    â€œFor starters, unlike the pair of you, I haven’t finished my commission for Alcock.” Jonah knew he was endangering not only his own family, but his friends’ as well by the delay, but the last thing Jonah wanted to admit was that his conscience was keeping him from accelerating his plan to seduce Lady Serena. “Besides, you both cheated.”
    That earned him a chuckle. “Alcock didn’t specify how we were to keep the ladies from wedding a royal duke,” Rhys said, “though I must confess I didn’t intend on marrying Olivia myself at first. What about you, Colton?”
    â€œFarthest thing from my mind. But I admit to being happily ensnared in the parson’s mousetrap with my Georgette.” Nate raised his mug. “To our wives.”
    Rhys clinked mugs with him while Jonah eyed them both stonily.
    â€œDo not expect me to follow suit.”
    Nate shrugged. “Very well, but it’s something to consider.”
    No, it wasn’t. People whispered about his brother Harold, the future viscount, setting his sights too high by courting the earl’s daughter. The ton would have a field day if a mere baronet lifted his eyes to the only daughter of a marquis. Not that Jonah gave a tinker’s damn about what was said about him, but it galled him that Serena might become fodder for wagging tongues on account of him.
    Then how in hell do you intend to ruin her chances with the royal duke without offering her up to the gossip mill?
    Jonah