The rebel and the rake

Lady Helen never thought sneaking out of her family’s London abode to attend an after-dark suffragette meeting would be easy. But, although her ill-fitting trousers are almost as uncomfortable as wearing her corset, so far she’s masterfully avoided every creaking floorboard completely unnoticed. Except, that is, by her neighbour, the devilishly handsome, Arthur Crawley.

It seems that Helena is the only London’s heiress not to have accompanied Arthur to this season’s soirees – and at this moment in time Arthur isn’t quite sure how he’s allowed that to happen. Those men’s trousers, cinched in with a silk ribbon, are hugging her curves in a most tantalizing way…

Threatened with imprisonment for her courageous actions, Arthur steps in to protect Helena in the only way he knows how – strip away her disguise and seduce her, right there in the middle of the street. After all, a lady standing on the street in her flimsy nightwear is the last person to be suspected as a suffragette!

And however much Helena fights the infuriating flares of desire, it seems the rake could very well become this rebel’s undoing…

A Lady’s Undoing

Lorelai Ryan

www.CarinaUK.com

Contents

Cover

Blurb

Title Page

Author Bio

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

Endpages

Copyright

LORELAI RYAN

lives in her head most of the time, or in a book or in a mad frenzy. The rest of the time she lives in the North East of England with her handsome hero husband and two dream-come-true daughters. She has a diploma in Creative Writing and Literature but currently works in IT.

In her spare time she daydreams (a lot), reads a wide variety of books and attempts to learn to crochet. She spends weekends thinking of fun things to do with her family and sharing the love of reading with them too.

I’d like to dedicate this book to all my wonderful family. Especially to my husband who supports me every time I choose writing over ironing (which is often) and my daughters who cuddle me whenever my writing isn’t going to plan. I couldn’t do any of this without all of their smiles and love to keep me going.

I’d also like to thank all the eyes that have read this story and given me invaluable feedback to get it where it is today (they know who they are). And also a massive thanks to Carina UK for taking a chance on me and my book.

Chapter One

October 1912, London

Helena pulled and tugged at her trousers. How men wore these every day she would never know. Baggy in some places, riding up in others, they hadn’t been well thought out at all. It was worse than squeezing one’s bust into a too tight corset. That at least looked attractive.

She tucked her night gown into the waist band, threaded a ribbon through the belt loops and cinched them in tight to her middle. Her father’s midriff was substantially bigger than her own but she didn’t have much other choice. For what her night entailed she needed a suitable disguise. She pulled on his thick winter coat to hide her nightwear and stuffed his flat cap into her pocket.

She crept on tiptoes out of the house and pulled the front door silently shut behind her. Now she needed a minute to breathe. Sneaking out and masterfully avoiding every creaking floorboard had just about exhausted her every breath.

‘Don’t do it Helena!’ a deep voice startled her.

My giddy goodness! Helena crouched to her knees in shock, her hand still clutching the brass door knob. ‘Arthur!’ she scolded, squinting into the pitch black of the street and struggling to hide her shock at seeing the one man who did make trousers look attractive. ‘How dare you jump out on me like that? My heart was nearly in my petticoat there.’

‘Don’t you mean in your trousers?’ he mocked, taking all three porch steps in one long stride and holding out his hand to help her up. No one was supposed to see her like this – most definitely not Arthur. He was many things, most of which she admired, but supportive of the suffragettes was one thing he was not. If he’d seen how much women like her mother suffer at the hands of power-hungry men, maybe he would share her enthusiasm.

Helena scrunched up her face, pushed away his hand and straightened herself up. She brushed down her trousers and felt his deep, gorgeous blue eyes and dimples teasing her.

‘What are you doing here at this time of night Arthur? Shouldn’t you be out wining and dining with the latest Lady?’ It seemed Helena wasn’t the only girl to find her neighbour attractive. Most of London had been seen accompanying him to soirees and the rest were as envious as she was.

‘I was bored,’ he said, shrugging his broad shoulders. ‘Watching you sneaking around seemed like a lot more fun. And you know there is still one Lady that I haven’t had the pleasure of wining and dining.’ He raised his right eyebrow suggestively.

‘This Lady has certain standards,’ Helena said, pulling on her fine leather gloves and pretending not to pay him any attention. She’d been there too many times, daydreaming about the handsome neighbour, imagining saying I do and passionately consummating their marriage, only to realise that he would never settle down. It had all become irrelevant because now neither would she.

‘This very ‘Lady’ who’s dressed as a man?’

Helena’s cheeks felt as red as radishes. She wanted to scream but forced herself to whisper. ‘There are more important things in life than looking beautiful just to be admired by men you know? You have to be a man to get anywhere. Look at you.’ Arthur was the very picture of a successful man but he hadn’t always been. Yet even his middle class, fatherless upbringing as little more than a local rascal in a big house hadn’t affected his prospects. Arthur Crawley had already proved himself as a Sheriff of London and now was almost certain to be chosen as the next Lord Mayor. Helena on the other hand was well bred and well educated but she couldn’t get into any of the universities she wanted to and worse, she was expected to roll over and let some Duke have his wicked way with her. She wouldn’t let that happen to her.

With a nod of her head, she gently brushed Arthur aside with her hand, hitched up her trousers and hurried down the front steps.

As she hurried along, the cool night air faded the colour of her cheeks. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t let Arthur get under her skin again, that she’d ignore his bright blue, soul-penetrating eyes and his strong, angular jaw. She’d many a time wondered what it would be like to kiss that very mouth that taunted her so often but she realised how tainted his lips would be by the many lips of others. She’d pushed him out of her thoughts yet here he was, perfect timing as always, trying to force his way back in.

Well tonight her new life would begin and it was imperative that it went to plan. She had no time for silly neighbourly flirtations. Hopefully he’d take the hint and leave her alone.

Helena checked over her shoulder as she skulked along in the shadows of Savile Row. She stopped outside Henderson’s, the most lavish tailors in London, which she had been assigned to target. The suffragettes wanted to make the politicians suffer and, as a popular dresser of London democrats, Henderson’s was an obvious target. Helena only wished she and her family weren’t such good acquaintances with the Hendersons but now was not the time for trivial loyalty. The Hendersons were rich enough, Helena consoled herself, and it would be little more than a minor inconvenience for them.

She appreciated the shop’s anonymity in the darkness. It looked rather plain and ordinary and could have been any other shop. Her guilt momentarily assuaged, she knew it was now or never.

The weight that was heavy on Helena’s heart also tugged on her pocket. She reached her fingers into the pocket, clasped them tightly around the brick and pulled it out. The brick was wrapped in the front page of a newspaper that had been printed days earlier. The headline, ‘The Suffragettes will stop at nothing,’ was still visible. Her hand shook and for a moment she thought she couldn’t do it. It was breaking the law. Her throat tightened as she remembered the maddening attitude of the government towards women, and worse, of her father’s treatment of her mother. After thirty long years Helena’s mother had come to accept and believe Lord Elstob’s very low opinion of her and every slap sent her further into the maelstrom of her depression. A furious fire shot through Helena. Some things went above the law, she decided, aware that she was on shaky moral ground. She raised the brick to her lips and left a lingering kiss on the dirty paper, then held the brick steady above her head.

***

He had never seen a woman in men’s trousers before. There was something exciting about it and how they hugged her curves.

Arthur Crawley had followed his beautiful neighbour as she’d stolen across London in her curious disguise. Her father had long ago forbidden Arthur to ever pursue Helena which had only made him crave her more, although acting on it would be more than his life was worth. Lately something about her had changed and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. When he’d realised a few weeks earlier what she was getting involved with, he’d promised himself that if it all went wrong he would be there for her. He would protect the girl that made his heart race no matter what the cost to him. If Lord Elstob knew she was involved in this, how did he put it, nonsense? Then her life would hardly be worth living.

The problem was she never listened to reason. She was one stubborn girl, which just made her all the more interesting.

This time her tenacity was going to get her into big trouble. She was involved in something she didn’t understand the complexity of and now she was on the verge of breaking the law. He knew he shouldn’t interfere but he couldn’t see enchanting Helena sent to prison either.

Arthur watched intrigued as she twisted her waist-length golden hair into a tight knot and buried it under a flat cap. She pulled the collar of her coat around the naked nape of her neck and he tugged at his own. Seeing a woman, a Lady, dressed in that shocking outfit was stirring feelings in him he hadn’t expected. Her disguise was good but not if you were in on her secret. Her lips were too full and red, her nose too dainty and her walk too mesmerising. Even in her hefty coat he could imagine the curves that hid below it. He’d imagined them often enough for sure but she’d made it perfectly clear what she thought of him on many occasions. She must be the only woman he’d met who wasn’t falling over at his feet since his rise up the political ladder. He kept reminding himself that that was in fact a good thing. A woman would only complicate things for him.

He watched from the shadows as Helena held a brick above her head and then released it with the force of a cricket bowler.

Smash!

The glass rained in and out of the shop. Helena cowered into the hugeness of her men’s clothes. Lights from the buildings nearby flashed on and foggy faces pressed up against windows.

Why was she still just standing there? Arthur’s brain was racing.

He heard footsteps stampeding down the streets from somewhere in the darkness. Whistles were blowing and bells ringing and he guessed his heart was going along about the same speed. The police!

Run, Helena run, he urged silently but she just stood staring at the shop, at the shattered glass, her hands in her pockets.

He’d really hoped he wouldn’t have to get drawn into this for the sake of his career, but he had to help her. It was Helena, for goodness’ sake, the young, spirited beauty who always reminded him of his strong, independent mother.

He only had one plan. He dashed across the road in the shadows of the buildings and grabbed Helena by the arm, dragging her into the nearest back lane. She needed to get away from the main street. He was sure he could find a path home through the dark, narrow lanes and return her home a free woman.

‘You again, Arthur!’ She tugged her arm from his grasp. ‘What are you doing here now?’

‘Saving you from prison. Do you have a problem with that?’

The sense of danger really suited Helena, not that he would tell her so. The blush from the thrill was an exciting change to her milky complexion and her eyes were wide and sharp with a silver twist as she glanced up and down the alley and then stared at him.

‘Fine,’ she agreed.

‘You need to take this disguise off,’ he said, she’d never make it home unnoticed in that outfit now.

‘No.’

‘This is no time to be stubborn Helena.’ The independence he admired most was going to get her in a lot of trouble, and him too.

‘Fine, go ahead,’ she taunted, her hands on her hips.

Arthur rapidly unfastened the buttons and then pulled open the heavy coat. He gasped at the fleshy tones that shimmered through the lace nightwear. He hadn’t expected to see a veil of fabric and nothing more skimming her breasts. As if Helena could see her near-naked reflection in his eyes she hauled her coat closed and folded her arms.

‘You see? I can’t exactly walk home in my undergarments, can I?’ She straightened her cap and marched off down the cobbled back lane.

Arthur cursed under his breath. He was done with Lady Helena. She always threw his help back in his face, so she could learn the hard way in prison for all he cared.

With the vision of sheer nightwear shimmering through his head, he tensed his fists by his side and stormed off in the opposite direction. Not caring was going to be difficult.

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