The Prince & The Rogue Read online

  The Prince and the Rogue

  By

  Skyler Grey

  Dedication

  To my husband Maurizio, who has been forever faithful in his belief and support of my success. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, for YOU are my Prince and my treasured Rogue!

  Yours Forever!

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The Prince and the Rogue by Skyler Grey

  Red Rose™ Publishing

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  Red Rose™ Publishing

  Copyright© 2009 Skyler Grey

  ISBN: 978-1-60435-364-8

  Cover Artist: Ash Arceneaux

  Editor: Pam

  Line Editor: Lillith

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  This is a work of fiction. All references to real places, people, or events are coincidental, and if not coincidental, are used fictitiously. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only.

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  comes with a touch of Class!

  The Prince and the Rogue

  By

  Skyler Grey

  Prologue

  Catherine Townsend wrestled her cousin to the floor, twisting his arm behind his back. “Devan, just say uncle and I’ll let you up.”

  “Never, you skinny hog-wart! I’d rather you break my arm first!” Her cousin screeched.

  An evil grin spread across her face. “So be it, you spoiled, foul-smelling seed of a horse’s ass.”

  Just as Catherine again twisted her cousin’s arm higher, he let out a piercing scream that brought his mother running.

  “Oh, dear God! Catherine Elizabeth Townsend! What on earth are you doing?” Catherine’s aunt gave a shrill cry as she yanked her niece backward off her son. But not before Catherine gave her cousin another quick tweak of the wrist, causing him to cry out again.

  She fell onto her rump as long legs sprawled out beneath layers of petticoats. Her thin white hose ripped from their fighting, and a lost shoe lay off to the side.

  She watched her aunt coddle her cousin like a newborn and almost gagged. Unable to contain herself, she quipped, “Auntie, why not give poor Devan a suckle off your teat? His whining is worse than the sisters.”

  Everyone knew who the infamous sisters were, especially her aunt. She constantly compared Catherine to them at every turn.

  Her aunt spun around, glaring, her face filled with horror and shock. Catherine clenched her jaw and quickly hung her head in apology.

  “You! You insolent little brat! You’ve done nothing but upset this entire household since the day you arrived.” Her aunt’s face shriveled up like an over-ripened prune, her thin lips tightly stretched across clenched teeth.

  “I have tried with all my might to give you the proper guidance and this is the thanks I get? I will have it no longer. Do you hear me? I will not stand by and watch you ruin our good name – a respectful name I’ve worked hard to secure – with your unladylike outbursts. To have it tarnished by the behavior of a poorly brought up, embarrassingly clumsy, silly little chit of a girl who doesn’t even know her place as a young lady in polite society is not acceptable. You have been let to run far too long, and I for one, have had my fill of it.”

  Catherine refused to look at her aunt, not because she was afraid, but from fear that if she were to see her cousin smirking, she would box his ears and bloody his nose; something she’d done before.

  In a shrill tone near hysteria, her aunt added, “Young lady, you will learn your place in this house. You will blend in this family or by all that is holy, I will have your uncle pack you and your belongings onto the very next ship to America and stick you in a boarding school so far from home we will never have to bother with you again. If you continue to act like a savage, then to a savage land you’ll be sent!”

  Catherine’s head shot up as a smug look crossed her aunt’s round face.

  “Hmmm, I see that caught your attention, if only for a second. Now know this, Catherine Townsend – if you so much as cause another stir in this house or row with Devan or our friends’ children, I will be forced to carry out my threat. And you will have no one to blame but yourself.” Grumbling, her aunt struggled with her long skirts as she stood, pulling Devan up beside her and wrapping a protective arm around him. She shook her head as she clucked her tongue in annoyance and turned away.

  “To think what your dear mother would say if she could see you now. Sitting on the floor, hose torn, hair a mess…like a common barn rat. All I can say is, thank God she’s not alive to see how you’ve embarrassed her.”

  Catherine felt the sting of tears as she watched her cousin and her mother’s sister disappear through the large oak doors of the sitting room. Tucking her legs beneath her, she bit her bottom lip to keep it from quivering. Her chest burned as she fought back the overwhelming urge to cry. Anger joined her hurt, and she pressed the heel of her palms into her eye sockets to stop the tears from spilling. Her nose dripping, she grabbed the hem of her gown and roughly swiped it.

  She would not cry. She was a Townsend, daughter of the late Lady Christine, who had died but two years ago, a woman who showed only kindness and love toward others, nothing like her aunt Abigail.

  Her father Lord Richard Townsend had gone into a depression shortly after his wife’s death and sent his only child to live with his wife’s sister and family. She had not heard from him since. But Catherine came from a respectable family, a wealthy family; and it angered her that her aunt treated her as if she were less than what she was.

  Catherine buried her face in her hands to fight the hurt, and then punched at her skirts as she began to hiccup, something that happened when she was extremely upset. Alone in the empty room, she felt the lump in her throat swell.

  Devan’s name-calling had infuriated her. He was always calling her names, especially in front of his friends. After several times of going to her aunt for help, she finally gave up and began to use her fists to compensate for her anger and humiliation. Even though he was a year older, she had, on several occasions, chased him away bleeding and whimpering.

  She smacked her fist into the palm of her open hand as she dropped them in the folds of her wrinkled gown. She’d show them! She’d show them all, including the father who’d abandoned her. She didn’t need them. She didn’t need anyone! The only one who truly mattered was gone, anyway, and she was left alone. The realization of it hit her like ice water. It was in that moment Catherine learned that she had only herself. And at the age of ten, it was a harsh awakening.

  Chapter One

  “Catherine, come down here right now. I need to speak with you immediately!” Came the shrill cry of her aunt Abigail.

  Catherine released a sigh of irritation. “Coming,” she replied in a slightly irritated voice.

  Having lived with her mother’s relatives for nearly nine years now, she still struggled to keep her temper in check. The woman ha
d never opened her heart to Catherine. And after the incident in the sitting room with her cousin seven years previous, she had given up caring.

  Even though Devan had been sent to a private school soon after their encounter, her aunt had kept her distance, only being polite when etiquette demanded. Other than that, she avoided Catherine like the plague.

  Her uncle, on the other hand, had been a bit kinder. He’d had soft, friendly eyes and plump cheeks, which gave him a jolly appearance, but he had never been extremely healthy that Catherine could recall, and wound up dying a few years back, much to her dismay.

  After her aunt threatened to send her away, Catherine had withdrawn into herself, ignoring the taunts of her cousin and his friends and seeking refuge in the serene peace of her aunt’s huge labyrinth, avoiding everyone within the house as much as possible.

  Devan tried calling her new names, like screwy and no-tits pucker lips but because he could no longer get a rise from her, his name-calling became less frequent. It wasn’t long after that the rest of the children began to leave her alone as well, except for the sisters, Florence and Hilary. They were a vicious pair well-known in high society, saying and doing whatever they pleased, never being reprimanded for their cruelty, who enjoyed making Catherine’s life miserable.

  Fear of being shipped off to America kept Catherine from retaliating and forced her to endure the brutal treatment. Ignoring them, she found friends among the small animals that lived in her aunt’s garden and around the large pond that was home to a pair of white swans. They had become used to her presence and rushed to greet her whenever she came to visit, as she fed them snacks of dried bread.

  One day, after befriending a stray kitten she’d found hanging around the cook’s back door, Catherine snuck it into the house, hiding it in her room until Devan caught her. But to her surprise, he’d kept her secret. Instead, he snatched the kitten from her and held it before him by the scruff of the neck to inspect it.

  “Hmph! Puny thing, isn’t it?” Grinning, he shoved it back into her hands. “I do hope you at least keep it clean if it’s to stay in your room, Cat. I’d hate to think you’ve a dirty little pussy.”

  Catherine scrunched her face in anger as she shook her fist at him. “You’d best watch your mouth, you pig-of-a-whore. Teat suckers like you won’t always have their mothers around to protect them.”

  With that, she spun on her heel and marched angrily down the hall to her room, only to hear her cousin laughing loudly behind her.

  Needless to say, when the day came for him to leave, Catherine was not the least bit upset.

  “Catherine Elizabeth, do you not hear me calling you?” came the shrill voice of her aunt once again.

  Catherine cringed as she made her way to the door. She was always amazed that the Lady Abigail was her mother’s sister. They were totally opposite of one another. Her aunt was short and plump, with dull brown eyes and plain brown hair, while Catherine’s mother had been tall and slender, with long blonde hair and blue-eyes.

  When Catherine asked her aunt why they looked so different, her aunt’s reply was short and blunt. “I took after father; he was a great and respected man. Your mother did not!”

  Catherine could sometimes hear her mother’s voice singing softly in her head as she lay quietly at night. The memory always brought a small smile to her face.

  She stood at the top of the stairs. An urge to jump onto the banister and slide down was tempting but she resisted. That was an enjoyment she saved for late at night, when no one was watching. Lifting her skirt in one hand, she daintily and slowly crept down the long stairwell toward her aunt, who waited impatiently at the bottom, tapping her foot. The pleasure she received in annoying her mother’s sister was sweet, and she hid her pleasure well behind an innocent face.

  Reaching the bottom, Catherine smiled sweetly. “Yes, Aunt?”

  Abigail pressed her lips together as she studied her niece. Then, taking a deep breath, she threw her hands in the air. “A rumor has made its way to my ears —one that is very upsetting and in which needs addressing immediately so it may be nipped in the bud, before it spreads among the Ton, God forbid!”

  Catherine frowned. She had no clue as to what her aunt was referring, but from the look on her reddened cheeks, it wasn’t good.

  Continuing to pace the short distance between them, her aunt huffed. “It is being said that you, cough, talk to animals and that you have shunned the other girls, refusing their invitations to parties and tea. Is this true?” Stopping in mid-stride, she turned to look directly at Catherine.

  Catherine rolled her eyes, tilting her head slightly before answering. “Aunt, what honestly would you have me do? Has it not been clear as the sky is blue, your snobby friends and their daughters do not like me? They invite me only because they want to use me as entertainment for their vicious tongues and boring lives. And as far as talking to animals, that is absurd. Who, other than God Himself, can speak with the animals? Those malicious jaw-jackers are bored and have nothing better to do than gossip to one another and spread outrageous rumors about those they consider beneath them.”

  Abigail stood quiet for a long moment as she tapped her toe against the tiled floor, then shook her head. “I refuse to have a niece of mine speak such cruel things against my dearest friends and their children. I have known these girls since they were but babes in their cradles. They are sweet and innocent children who have been gently raised, and your jealous accusations are appalling.”

  Taking a deep breath, Abigail turned to straighten a painting hanging nearby before continuing. “My dear friend, the Lady Montgomery, is throwing a huge soirée this weekend and her daughters, Hilary and Florence have asked that you come. I will not be attending, as Devan is returning home that same day and I will be quite busy preparing his welcome. You, on the other hand, will not be busy and shall attend. Not only will you be there, Catherine, but you will also lay to rest all this nonsense I am hearing. Is that clear?”

  Catherine gritted her teeth. How she wanted to reach out and slap her dear, sweet aunt, just once. But the woman was her legal guardian, giving her full power to ship Catherine off whenever she so desired.

  Lifting her chin, Catherine gave her a tight smile. “If it means that much to you then I will go, if only to lie to rest these rumors and secure your good name.”

  With that, Catherine turned, leaving the house. Heading for the sanctuary of the labyrinth her aunt had put in almost four years ago, she hid herself amidst the thick greenery which had grown quickly over the walls, creating a wonderful maze of passages and thus becoming quite the popular site for her aunt’s precious group of cronies. But if not careful, one could become easily lost within it twists and turns, except for Catherine, who knew the labyrinth like the back of her hand.

  Reaching the center, she dropped to the marble bench that sat privately tucked away in a sheltered corner. She had talked one of the gardeners into dragging the bench over to the small cove where she could sit, discreetly hidden. Even if someone were to walk past, they’d never notice she was there.

  This was her favorite spot; a secluded world of peace and quiet where she snuck food from the kitchen to feed the birds and watch the rabbits play at the base of the shrubs. Frustration engulfed her as tears filled her eyes for the first time in years. How she hated living here. Why her aunt was so insistent she make friends with those cruel girls who ignored her completely unless, of course, they felt the need to make her the brunt of their jokes, was beyond her comprehension. It was all she could do to contain herself from pounding their milky white faces into the dirt whenever she was around them. Each time she felt herself begin to lose control, her aunt’s threat would come flooding back, forcing her to walk away while they snickered at her back.

  She recalled once, when she was thirteen, she had asked to write a letter to her father. But her aunt snorted, giving her a sour look. “The man abandoned you when you were eight, my dear. He has not once bothered to write to see how you ar
e faring, much less send money to support you. And you want to write him? For what, pray tell? Even if I knew how to reach him, and I don’t, mind you, I certainly would not encourage it. He lost his home soon after you came to us and no one has heard from him since. Be thankful that your uncle can support you with the finest things a girl in your situation demands.” Her aunt released an annoyed sigh as she turned, leaving her alone.

  Catherine never asked about her father again. Her aunt’s words were not only humiliating, but they had cut her deeply, adding another scar to the broken and lonely heart of a little girl.

  The weekend arrived much too fast for Catherine’s liking, and she reluctantly began to prepare herself. The party was only hours away, and she had yet to do anything to get ready for it. Devan was not to arrive until the wee hours of morning, but her aunt had been in a mad fever, barking out orders here and there all day, making his arrival almost as important as if he’d been the king himself.

  She was glad she would not have to see him, at least for a few days. After the party, she could easily plead exhaustion. Sure it would buy her at least two or three days of peace before she had to deal with her obnoxious cousin. She hoped he was not going to be in town for long. Had she cared enough to know, she might have asked, but she didn’t.

  Catherine pulled the long rope that hung alongside her bed’s head post. Almost instantly her young maid Abby appeared and shyly curtsied before her mistress.

  Catherine looked at the girl who wasn’t much younger than herself and wondered what her life was like. Having to wait on her mistress everyday had to be tiresome as well as boring. She took in Abby’s clothes with a slow sweep. They were plain, but fresh. Her aunt demanded cleanliness, and the servants did not dare have a spot on them.

  On impulse, Catherine asked, “Tell me, what do you do after your work is finished?”