In this tempestuous new series, rebellious hearts prove hard to tame — but can England’s most dangerous rake be captured by a wild Irish rose?   They call him Lord Ash, for his desires burn hot and leave devastation in their wake. But Gabriel Finch, Marquess of Ashborough, knows the fortune he’s made at the card table won’t be enough to save his family estate. For that he needs a bride with a sterling reputation to distract from his tarnished past, a woman who’ll be proof against the fires of his dark passion. Fate deals him the perfect lady. So why can’t Gabriel keep his eyes from wandering to her outspoken, infuriatingly independent Irish cousin?   Camellia Burke came to London as her aunt’s companion, and she’s brought a secret with her: she’s written a scandalous novel. Now, her publisher demands that she make her fictional villain more realistic. Who better than the notorious Lord Ash as a model? Duty-bound to prevent her cousin from making a disastrous match, Cami never meant to gamble her own heart away. But when she’s called home, Ash follows. And though they’re surrounded by the flames of Rebellion, the sparks between them may be the most dangerous of all…   Praise for Susanna Craig   “Craig gives readers quite a treat.” — RT Book Reviews , 4 Stars    “Beautifully written, richly atmospheric, deeply felt, and so deftly researched—I felt utterly absorbed into the world of late Georgian England. I’m tremendously excited to discover such an elegant new voice in historical romance!” — New York Times  bestselling author Meredith Duran   A love affair with historical romances led  SUSANNA CRAIG  to a degree (okay, three degrees) in literature and a career as an English professor. When she’s not teaching or writing academic essays about Jane Austen and her contemporaries, she enjoys putting her fascination with words and knowledge of the period to better use: writing Regency-era romances she hopes readers will find both smart and sexy. She makes her home among the rolling hills of Kentucky horse country, along with her historian husband, their unstoppable little girl, and a genuinely grumpy cat. Visit her at www.susannacraig.com. The Companion's Secret A Rogues & Rebels Novel By Susanna Craig KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP. Copyright © 2018 Susan Kroeg All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-5161-0401-7 CHAPTER 1 London, May 1798 Gabriel Finch, Marquess of Ashborough, played by his own rules — one of which was never to hold his cards during a game. A fan Of cards amplified the movements of a man's hand: his nervousness, excitement, shock. Besides, staring at them had never yet forced the pips into a different configuration. In response to the dealer's silent call, Gabriel squared the small stack lying on the table in front of him before turning over the topmost card. The gesture was quiet, efficient. Only reckless men proclaimed loudly when they had been beaten. Or when they won. Like the fools at the far table, who had been making raucous demands all evening — of their dealer, the servants, the painted ladies employed to distract the cardplayers. Years of practice had proved insufficient to tune them out. Now, one man's voice pierced the miasma of smoke and sweaty desperation that hung over the gamblers like fog. "You know I'm good for it," the familiar voice wheedled. "Or will be. Why, right this moment I could raise a mortgage on Stoke that would be worth ten times that pot." Gabriel pushed away from the table and stood. A footman hustled to his side, gathering his winnings, while the dealer praised his luck, subtly goading him to continue. The owners of this particular establishment used every trick in the book to encourage patrons to play longer than was wise. Good food, though not so rich that a man would feel drowsy. Plentiful drink, though not so much that a man would realize he was drunk. Painted windows and plush furnishings masked light and noise from the street, making it impossible to tell how many hours had passed. But there were always clues, if one knew where to look. Six-hour candles had dwindled to stubs. It must be nearly dawn. Across the room, play continued. With a nod to the others at his table, who protested his departure with a mixture of groans, self-deprecating laughs, and sighs of relief, he took the bundle the servant handed him and was gone, his pocket bulging with scraps of paper — banknotes, vowels, and, if he was not mistaken, the deed to a square of land in some backwater shire. The night had been a profitable one by any measure, but its most important gain had been intangible. Just a few words. A mortgage on Stoke. Interesting, very interesting. Would anyone take that bet? Gabriel had been gambling too long to imagine the answer was anything but yes. Damp air filled his lungs when he stepped into the dim, quiet street. As he had suspected, the hour was late — rather, early — enough that the girls who called to him from beneath the arcades of Covent Garden offe