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  The Phoenix Club

  Book Seven

  Darcy Burke

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  Copyright © 2022 Darcy Burke

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 9781637260951

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Book design: © Darcy Burke.

  Book Cover Design: © Erin Dameron-Hill at EDHProfessionals.

  Editing: Lindsey Faber.

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

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  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  Also by Darcy Burke

  About the Author

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  Society’s most exclusive invitation...

  * * *

  Welcome to the Phoenix Club, where London’s most audacious, disreputable, and intriguing ladies and gentlemen find scandal, redemption, and second chances.

  * * *

  Former courtesan and pretend widow Evangeline Renshaw is happy with her reinvented life as a patroness of the Phoenix Club. She doesn’t need or want a husband or a lover…until she meets the devastatingly charming and surprisingly virtuous Lord Gregory Blakemore. He’d like to court her, but he’ll have to settle for a short, thrilling affair instead.

  * * *

  After the death of his father and the marriage of his older brother, Lord Gregory can finally focus on what he wants: a government appointment. However, the enchanting Evie makes him desire intimacy for the first time, and now he wants her most of all. Their entanglement is supposed to be temporary, but he can’t let her go.

  * * *

  As Gregory reveals himself to Evie, she wonders if she might finally share the truth of her past. Unfortunately, there are those who seek to ruin her carefully crafted second chance. To protect Gregory’s dreams, she must sacrifice the only love she’s ever known.

  Don’t miss the rest of The Phoenix Club!

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  * * *

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  Chapter 1

  Oxfordshire, December 1815

  * * *

  Evangeline Renshaw could almost imagine she was strolling in the park, as she liked to do at home in London. She was, however, at her brother-in-law’s sprawling new estate. Did her sister Heloise actually live here? Evie could hardly believe it. Or that Heloise was a mother. Or that she was happier than either of them ever dreamed they could be.

  And that made Evie happy.

  A soft whimper sounded from the hedgerow not far from the dirt track where Evie was walking. She held very still and listened, wondering if she was hearing things that weren’t there. But the sound came again, prompting her to venture onto the damp grass and make her way to the hedgerow.

  Crouching down, Evie peered into the shrubbery. “Is someone there?”

  A white head poked out, its dark brown eyes fixing on Evie. The animal surveyed her a moment before letting out another gentle whimper.

  “Are you caught?” Evie moved closer.

  The dog jerked back into the hedgerow, surprising Evie. She lost her balance and fell back on her rump. “Blast,” she muttered.

  “Is someone over there?” A low masculine voice called from the other side of the hedgerow.

  Evie stared at the shrubbery as if she could see through the thick greenery. “Yes. There is a dog in the hedgerow. I think he—or she—may be stuck.”

  “I thought I heard a whimper,” the man said.

  “I seem to have frightened it,” Evie said. “It showed me its face, but when I moved too close, it retreated.”

  “Let’s see if I can coax him out. Here, doggy,” he cajoled. “Let us help.”

  He received another whimper in response.

  “Do you see him?” Evie asked, pushing up to her knees and leaning forward.

  “I do. He’s very sweet.”

  “Or she.”

  “Or she,” he said. “How are you, then, little doggy?” the man asked in a surprisingly tender voice. “He—or she—looks young.”

  Evie hadn’t noticed, but then her experience with dogs was limited to the ones she’d fed scraps to on the streets of Soho in her youth. “You are familiar with dogs, then?” she asked.

  “Somewhat.” His voice changed to that softer lilt. “Can you come out? Or are you stuck in there, poor thing? Let me help,” the man coaxed.

  This was met with a yelp and considerable rustling in the hedgerow. The dog’s white face peeked forth once more on Evie’s side, along with the upper half of its body. Evie grabbed its shoulders and held fast, despite the animal’s wriggling. “I’ve got you,” she said softly.

  “Don’t let go!” the man called. “I’m coming!”

  He was? Rather than look up and down the hedgerow for an opening, Evie kept her gaze fixed on the small dog who was still trying to get loose of her grip. She attempted to pull the animal free, but this was met with a louder whimper than the rest. It seemed he—or she—was stuck.

  “Do hurry!” she yelled to the man, wherever he was.

  “We’re only trying to help,” she said to the dog. “Will you let us? You’re awfully cute.” Evie brought her face even with the animal’s, perhaps unwisely. What if it tried to bite her? “You won’t nip at me, will you?” she said with a confidence she didn’t quite feel. “We’re going to be friends. In fact, I think we are already.”

  The dog stopped struggling so much. Its gaze held hers, then he—or she—let out another whimper. Where was the gentleman?

  Evie turned her head to the right and saw him bearing down on them. She didn’t have time to assess him before he was down on his knees in the grass beside her. “It seems stuck,” she told him. “I can’t pull it free.”

  “Hold on, and I’ll reach in.” The man tucked his hands into the hedgerow around the dog. “Ah, yes, there. Its foot is stuck in the branches. I can work it free…” He pressed himself against the hedgerow as he worked, allowing Evie a view of his profile. He was white, with pale, narrow brows that drew together over his rich brown eyes as he worked. His strong jaw clenched, press
ing his lips together. He was very attractive. And he looked familiar.

  Suddenly, the dog vaulted forward, straight into Evie’s chest, sending her off-balance. Because she was on her knees, she fell to the side. She managed, however, to hold the dog close. “I’ve got you,” she murmured.

  The dog squirmed, and Evie feared it would run away. “Don’t go,” she pleaded, not yet ready for this unexpected adventure to end.

  Was that because of the dog or the gentleman?

  The dog! She had no interest in gentlemen, even if they were handsome and vaguely familiar.

  “Are you all right?” the man asked.

  “Yes, just give us a moment. I think he—or she—is settling down.” Evie kept her gaze locked with the animal’s. “Aren’t you? This isn’t a bad place to be, is it? Certainly better than that nasty old hedgerow.”

  “I would say so,” the man responded.

  She resisted the urge to look toward him, thinking it was best if she maintained her attention on the dog. Doing so seemed to calm it.

  “You’re doing wonderfully,” the man said. “You must have a great deal of experience with dogs. Or animals in general.”

  It depended on the type of animal, but she was fairly certain he didn’t mean those of his own species. Those, she knew quite well. “Actually, no. I’ve never had a pet.” Or known anyone with a pet.

  “Extraordinary. Well, I’d say you’re naturally inclined. I think you may have a pet now.”

  “I can’t have a pet.” She said the words without thinking and immediately hoped the dog didn’t somehow understand and take offense. “But if I did, I would choose you,” she said, smiling at the dog.

  The dog tipped its head, then nuzzled her chin. Oh, dear.

  “I don’t think the dog agrees that you can’t have a pet.” The man chuckled softly. “Can I help you up?”

  She couldn’t lie about in the damp grass. “What do I do with the dog?”

  The man edged forward slowly and spoke softly to the dog, whispering encouragement and endearments. It really was quite sweet. Then he stroked the animal and gradually transferred it into his arms. Moving the dog, which did appear to be an older puppy, perhaps, to one arm, he rose, then gave his hand to Evie.

  She clasped him, and her gaze immediately riveted to his. He helped her to stand, all while keeping the animal in his grip.

  “Well done,” Evie said. “You are quite the hero.”

  “No more than you. I am Gregory Blakemore.” He inclined his head, still holding her hand.

  Now she knew him—they’d met last Season in London. “Don’t you mean Lord Gregory?”

  The man’s father was a marquess. Or had been. Evie recalled that he’d passed away in the spring. Which meant Lord Gregory’s older brother was now the marquess.

  “I suppose,” he responded. “Seems unnecessary here, in this moment,” he added. His brows knitted. “Have we met?”

  Evie released him. Somewhat reluctantly, which she refused to credit. “Last Season. You were nearly courting a friend of mine—she is now Lady Overton.”

  “Ah. Forgive me for not recalling you, Miss…”

  “Mrs. Renshaw,” she said. “I am widowed.” Why had she felt the need to add that detail?

  “So young,” he murmured. Not terribly young. Evie was twenty-five. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you.” She always felt a small sting of discomfort when people said this. Because she wasn’t actually a widow. Evangeline Renshaw was a fabrication. Or, more accurately, a reinvention. “I’m sorry for yours—your father, I mean.”

  “Thank you.”

  She saw the flash of sorrow in his warm brown eyes. “Were you close?”

  He nodded. “I miss him a great deal.”

  Evie wondered if he still had a mother—she’d lost her parents long ago. It was just her and her older sister, Heloise. “At least you have your brother,” she said kindly.

  This time a shadow passed over his features. “I do.”

  There was an undeniable tension in his response, but Evie wasn’t going to pry. “What are we going to do about the dog?” He—that was no longer in question now that he was free and fully visible—was happily snuggled in Lord Gregory’s embrace. Evie fancied that was a rather nice place to be. She wondered what he smelled like.

  No, she did not. Would not.

  “You should take him home. And feed him immediately. He feels rather skinny.” He scratched the pup’s head. “Aren’t you, boy?”

  “Didn’t you hear me?” Evie tried not to sound aghast. “I can’t have a pet.”

  Lord Gregory appeared bemused. “Why not?”

  “Because…I’ve never had one, and I don’t know how. Please, you must keep him.”

  He looked down at the dog. “I suppose we should try to see if he has an owner. Perhaps one of the tenants had a litter in recent months. I’d say he’s a few months old at least.”

  “I will tell Alfred—that is, Mr. Creighton—about it.” Alfred was Evie’s brother-in-law, but since she’d reinvented herself two years ago as Mrs. Renshaw, she couldn’t claim Heloise as her sister. Not without exposing herself and her disreputable past.

  Lord Gregory’s eyes lit. “How is it you are associated with our new neighbors?”

  “The Creightons are dear friends of mine.” She sought to quickly change the subject to avoid further questions. “Does this hedgerow divide your estate from theirs?”

  “It does. Though, it isn’t my estate. It’s my brother’s.”

  “Then I suppose you’ll have to ask his tenants as well. There’s no telling which side he came from.”

  “You make a good point,” Lord Gregory said. “I will keep him while we search for a potential owner.”

  Evie looked at the sweet puppy and stroked his head. “You will be well looked after.”

  “He will indeed, and if we are unable to find whoever owns him, I shall endeavor to change your mind about taking him. Everyone needs a pet at least once.”

  She kept her mouth closed, not wishing to debate him. “I’ll walk with you back to wherever you came through.” Why? She should take her leave immediately. She didn’t need or want a pet or a gentleman friend. She had plenty of gentlemen friends in London. None of whom made her heart pick up speed or her flesh tingle.

  “I squeezed between the shrubbery and that ash tree.” He nodded in the direction from which he’d come.

  “Ash,” Evie murmured, looking at the pup. Perhaps she could try having a pet. And what if it didn’t work or she was terrible at it? She couldn’t abandon the poor thing. She would never do that. “We should call him Ash,” she suggested.

  “It goes with his coloring for certain,” Lord Gregory said with a faint smile. “Ash it is. Remember, I am only keeping him for you until you’re ready to claim ownership.”

  “I won’t, but I would appreciate the opportunity to visit.”

  No, you would not. You should run away from both these creatures.

  They started toward the tree.

  “I’ll see about having my brother invite you and the Creightons to Witney Court. I should like to meet them.”

  Evie wondered if that would actually happen. Not Lord Gregory speaking with them—she believed he would do what he said. She just didn’t think the invitation would be forthcoming. Alfred had purchased Threadbury Hall six months ago, and they’d moved into the house in July. At no point had their neighbors at Witney Court made any invitation or overture of any kind, which Alfred and Heloise attributed to the fact that the household was in mourning. However, the marquess had married nearly two months ago, so Evie supposed it was possible an invitation or visit might occur.

  Or not.

  Cynicism about members of Society was something Evie doubted she’d ever be able to shed. It was ironic since she had so many friends who moved in that upper echelon. But those people were different. They were the members of Society who didn’t feel as though they entirely belonged or who had
been ignored or disdained for one reason or another. These were the people whom her close friend Lord Lucien Westbrook invited to join the Phoenix Club, a membership club for men—and women—that Evie managed. She was also one of four patronesses of the club, which was as close to that most revered sector of Society as she ever wanted to get.

  That Society had refused to welcome Heloise after her marriage to Alfred was perhaps the primary reason Evie couldn’t ever embrace it fully. Heloise had been Alfred’s mistress, and though they’d fallen in love, the ton couldn’t forgive or forget Heloise’s past. What would they think if they knew the truth—that she and Evie were the daughters of a French chevalier who’d been killed during the Terror? Evie wasn’t naïve enough to think that would matter. Many in Society liked to think they were better than others. It was the basis of their self-worth.

  “Did I lose you?” Lord Gregory asked as they approached the tree.

  Evie shook her head gently. “Not at all. I’m certain the Creightons would be delighted to meet their neighbors.” Heloise, in the interest of being friendly, might even try to invite them to Threadbury Hall.

  Lord Gregory turned to face her, his lips turning up slightly. “This is where we leave you, I’m afraid. What will I do if Ash despairs in your absence?”