Free Her Wicked Proposal: The League of Rogues, Book 3 by Lauren Smith

limitless after all,” Anne retorted.
    “As it should be,” Cedric replied. Part of her wanted a nice vicious fight with him for his cheeky tone, but he wouldn’t even give her that, the insufferable cad.
    The coach came to a stop, and a footman dressed in the midnight blue and silver livery of the Duke of Essex opened the coach door on Cedric’s side. Cedric took his cane, reached for the edges of the coach and felt for the step.
    Anne noted that he was far more hesitant getting out than getting in. She couldn’t help but wonder if he’d suffered a nasty fall from a coach recently. She could only image how painful that must have been, not to mention humiliating.
    Anne’s stomach twisted in unease. How often had he hurt himself since last December? The memory of finding him in his gardens, hands bloodied, was one that haunted her. Even as he tormented her with his kisses and caresses, she could not hold her usual indifference or fury at him like she could other men. Cedric had suffered like she had, and that fact bound them together now as kindred spirits.
    “Are you coming?” Cedric called out, offering his hand.
    She took it and let him help her down. Lifting her skirts, she walked with him toward the steps of the St. Laurent townhouse. To her dismay, he did not release her hand. It seemed he wished to embarrass her by such an obvious display of ownership of her person.
    “My lord, you must release my hand,” she whispered, tugging to free herself.
    “Ashamed of me already, Anne?” Cedric replied rather loudly as the footman opened the door to the foyer for them. He did that so often, murmuring her name at the end of a question or a sentence, as though getting her used to the sound of him saying it. It had riled her before, but now she was growing accustomed to the honeyed way it rolled off his lips.
    “You know I am not. A gentleman would let me take his elbow, and I could assist in guiding you to the door,” she replied icily, but Cedric merely chuckled, as though her tone did not concern him at all.
    “I’ll not trip.” He waved his cave in front of them, tapping the stones. “Relax, love. No one here tonight will judge us if we show outward affection for each other.”
    “Is that what you call this? I would call it enforced imprisonment of my hand,” Anne hissed. But before she or Cedric could continue this line of conversation, Emily came out of the nearest room and hurried over with her husband, Godric, on her heels.
    “Anne!” Emily hugged her tightly, her young face shining with excitement.
    “It’s so good to see you, Emily. Your Grace.” Anne dipped into a slight curtsy in Godric’s direction, even though one of her hands was still firmly clasped in Cedric’s. Godric beamed at her and nodded in greeting.
    “We are so glad that you could attend. Please, come this way.” Godric took Emily’s arm and proceeded with Anne and Cedric back into the room from which they’d come.
    From the multitude of bodies and voices, she realized that she and Cedric had arrived last. The Earl of Lonsdale was leaning against the mantel of the fireplace speaking to Godric’s half brother, Jonathan St. Laurent. Lord Lennox sat on a couch conversing with Horatia, Viscountess of Rochester. Her husband, Lucien, stood behind the couch, hands resting on his wife’s shoulders in a gesture both affectionate and protective. The intimacy they displayed made Anne’s heart stir with envy and sadness.
    Emily and Godric moved into the room, leaving Anne and Cedric standing in the doorway, exposed to the others. Anne moved instinctively closer to Cedric, her left arm brushing his, fingers tightening around his hand. She felt embarrassed and awkward being here in what was so obviously a strange sort of family built upon love, loyalty and friendship, none of which she had a claim to other than with Emily.
    “What’s the matter?” Cedric whispered, his concern touching her heart.
    “I just… What if they don’t