The Road to Ruin
A Daughters of Disgrace Historical Romance
Bronwyn Stuart
The Road to Ruin
Copyright© 2020 Bronwyn Stuart
EPUB Edition
The Tule Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
First Publication by Tule Publishing 2020
Second Edition
Cover design by Erin Dameron-Hill
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-1-951786-94-6
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Dedication
For my husband and my girls.
Without your never-ending support, I wouldn’t be living out my dreams.
I love you guys!
And to my sister in crime, Kelly Ethan: you helped brainstorm my sagging middle into a rockin’ set of abs and I’ll never forget it.
You’re on the love list too!
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Epilogue
The Daughters of Disgrace series
About the Author
Chapter One
What the devil was she up to now?
They had to be in the worst part of London’s seedy wharves and warehouses. The stink of rotten fish mingled with the even ranker filth flowing down the edges of the street. James Trelissick flexed his fingers and then clenched them again, the urge to block his nostrils almost too much. “Are you sure this is the address, miss?”
Her uncovered head leaned through the open window of the closed carriage beneath him and James had to fight an even stronger impulse to whip the horses until they were far away. Vibrant red hair and a fair complexion turned the spoiled young woman into a beacon. At least she’d had sense enough to don a dark cloak over her evening gown, although even a fool half blind and deep in his cups would note her station.
“Your job is not to question, John,” she reminded him.
James bit his tongue and held the pair still while his quarry opened her own door and stepped lightly to the blackened ground. It wouldn’t do to remind her once again that his name was James or that she should wait until he opened the door for her. Propriety was not something Miss Germaine would be able to learn at the age of one-and-twenty. You either had it, or you didn’t. She did not. He saved his breath and concentrated on the matter at hand.
His military-honed instincts rose to full alert as a shuffle from the right was accompanied by boot heels clicking against cobbles from the left. He should never have brought her to the address she gave him, not in a thousand years, but he couldn’t refuse without revealing his true identity.
“I will be some time inside, so you may drive around the corner and wait for me there.”
“Not bloody likely,” James told her, biting his tongue too late.
“I beg your pardon?” she hissed, her wild green eyes checking the shadows all around.
“I’m not going anywhere without you.” He added as an afterthought, “Miss.”
“You will do as you’re told.”
Inclining his head in her direction, James gave the horses a gentle flick with the ancient leather and the carriage moved off quietly, though the clamour of alarm bells in his mind was surely loud enough for even his stubborn mistress to hear. He should have taken her over his knee and spanked some sense into her. If she’d been his sister, he would have her locked in a room with padded walls and declared a bedlamite to keep her from self-inflicted harm.
Once around the corner, not even moving his head in the slightest to look back, James stopped the carriage, tied the reins tight and jumped to the ground. He hit hard but did not pause. As he rounded the back, he rapped two short sharp knocks against the luggage compartment.
“Shite.” His man popped out of the compartment and swung his dirt-stained face left and then right. “What the hell is she doing now?”
James shook his head and lifted his woollen cap to rake a hand through his hair. “I have no idea but you can bet it isn’t good. Watch the horses; don’t move from this spot but be ready to flee as soon as I say the word.”
He didn’t wait for Hobson’s nod or reply. His man would know what to do.
As he ran back to the warehouse his mistress-for-the-moment was intent on entering, he transferred a pistol from his pocket to his hand then pulled his ragged coat sleeve over the weapon. At some stage he would need to use it, of that he was sure. Trouble didn’t so much follow Daniella Germaine as she was the trouble herself.
Peering around corners and down dark alleyways, no sound met his ears and no other person came forwards. He found the door to the leaning warehouse and slowed to an unsteady walk when he saw two burly men standing guard.
“Evenin’, gentlemen,” James said in a servant’s accent.
“What do you want? You got no business ’ere.” The one on the left puffed his chest out and took a step in James’s direction.
“The mistress, she told me to come back and assist her.”
The two eyed him dubiously and James hoped like hell he’d said the right thing. “Come on,” he whined impatiently, “she’ll ’ave me ’ide if I’m not in there yest’dee.”
Finally they nodded and opened the door. James held on to his sigh of relief until he’d walked over the threshold but choked on it when the
