Lord Rogue

by Patricia Rice

  Travis suffered a moment’s trepidation at this news, but he didn’t allow it to deter him from his goal. He smiled with her pleasure. “I am happy for you, Blue Eyes. Now I had better go before your landlady believes I am holding you hostage.”

  He rose and held out his hand to the captivating woman at the fireside. Her fingers curled trustingly in his, and again he felt his breath catch. He would have to find a woman soon, or this one would drive him out of his mind.

  She shook his hand and led him to the door. The landlady had left the parlor door ajar, apparently to better hear her guests screams. Alicia’s gaze met his, and he grinned in understanding.

  “Perhaps you should introduce me to your guard dog,” he suggested.

  “Of course.” Alicia lowered her eyes demurely to hide the laughter there. Sometimes they understood each other too well.

  Bessie bobbed a curtsy as Alicia introduced her guest as Captain Travis, for want of a better name for him. He commented warmly on Bessie’s lovely home and what good hands Miss Stanford found herself in until the landlady was blushing with delight. Then he made his farewells.

  Outside, Travis encountered a slight figure hovering in the bushes, and his frown returned. “Rebecca Whitefield, come out of there!” he commanded.

  The maid darted out, gazing at his stern profile with anxiety. “Is it OK, then? Did she take the money?”

  “I didn’t see any evidence that she was starving, and she just cost me a pretty packet with her haggling. What made you paint me such a bleak picture?”

  “She said we’d both be starving if we didn’t find jobs soon!” she protested. “And you told me to look after her and so I did.” She stood up to him pugnaciously.

  “Seems to me Miss Stanford is the only one working, Miss Whitefield. I don’t suppose you considered taking on employment before you came to me?”

  Becky straightened her shoulders indignantly. “And who would look after her if I did? You don’t want all them fancy dudes hanging around her, do you? And besides, I been helpin’ out Miz Clayton, too.”

  Travis laughed. “I’m sure you have. Well, then, Rebecca, I suppose I must reward you for your loyalty.” He flipped her a coin, but his expression became stern. “Just you remember to stay with Miss Stanford and keep her from harm, or I’ll come after you with a stick. Do you understand?”

  Becky grabbed the coin and nodded.

  Chapter 12

  Travis made no attempt to call on Alicia after the one visit. The money from the sale of the boat was delivered by messenger, and that seemed to be an end to it.

  Alicia chose to forget him as he’d forgotten her. She devoted all her time to conquering the challenge of her first position. If she missed the occasional rewards of her previous existence—the music, the witty conversation, the access to influential and interesting people—she chose not to weep over what was past. As the month of November ran into December, her lesson plans became easier.

  Alicia had never been away from home for Christmas, but neither had she ever planned her own holiday. At home, tradition had dictated the decorating, gift giving, and parties. Here, everything was new, and she had to adjust to different traditions, different people, even different weather. Although natives swore the winter was the coldest they had ever seen, no snow turned the dry grass to a wintery white, and sleigh bells were mostly a tale told by those who remembered them from their past.

  Homesickness struck in mid-December with the sight of a carriage full of young people gaily dressed in holiday garb laughing and chattering on their way to a party. Alicia wistfully watched the carriage, and wondered if she would ever meet those of her own kind hidden behind the stone walls and gardens of town. She had scarcely even had the opportunity to meet the wealthy parents of her students.

  Loneliness lodged beneath her skin. She had never been allowed close friends at home, and now it seemed she would not have the opportunity to make any. Christmas would be shared with Becky and Mrs. Clayton.

  It could have been worse, she reminded herself as she walked through the twilight. Heavy clouds had built up while she stayed late after school working on costumes for the Christmas play. The first flakes of snow fell as she hurried down the block to her welcoming two-story home.

  The sweet aroma of cookies baking enveloped Alicia as she entered the door. The joy of Becky’s happy chatter in the kitchen brought a smile to her face. The wizened, owlish child she had first met had slowly transformed into an almost normal sixteen-year-old these past weeks. She was still crafty and wise-mouthed when given the opportunity, but lately her talk had all been of Christmas. The plans for Mrs. Clayton’s Christmas dinner had awed her, and the greenery decorating the chandeliers, banister, and mantels had been lovingly laid by Becky’s hands. Alicia doubted if her little maid had ever celebrated Christmas.

  As soon as Alicia closed the front door, Bessie Clayton bustled from the kitchen in, wiping her floury hands on her starched apron.

  “You’re home, at last! We didn’t think you would ever arrive. I just heard from a friend of mine . . .” Bessie stopped in the hallway to smile. Her eyes danced with anticipation. “Your father was seen riding into town not two hours ago.”

  Alicia staggered into the nearest chair, covering her mouth in shock. Her father was home for Christmas! He was alive and in St. Louis and she could see him again. Tears stung her eyes, and she made no attempt to remove bonnet or pelisse.

  What if he didn’t receive word that she was here? She had left her messages weeks ago. Perhaps he would not even return to the Chouteau house, but had made arrangements to stay in that empty house he had built. After so many years of no communication, the possibilities seemed endless.

  “I must go to him,” she murmured, securing her bonnet strings.

  Bessie frowned. “That is foolish. It is getting dark and you have to go all the way across town. Wait until morning and then you can send Becky.”

  Alicia shook her head stubbornly, standing and pulling on her gloves again. “He may leave town again by morning. The streets are safe this time of day. Becky has a cough and shouldn’t be out in this cold. It will take me no time at all.”

  Her landlady’s protests went unheard. The miracle of finding her father after all these years overrode all else.

  Alicia walked briskly along almost empty streets in the last rays of daylight. Lanterns and oil lamps flickered in windows, leaving patterns of shadows across the street. Stores and businesses had closed for the day. The snowflakes blew and danced in the streets, and Alicia reveled in their freedom.

  The Chouteau house loomed large and set apart from the others, but Alicia’s thoughts were only on the man who might even now be sitting in that lighted study or conversing with the occupants. How much would he have changed over all these years? Would he remember her? Would he be pleased to see her? Alicia refused to allow doubt to enter her mind. She marched up the front steps and let the brass knocker fall.

  Eventually the tall black servant she had encountered before answered her knock. He acknowledged her impassively.

  “Is Mr. Stanford in?” she requested formally, hiding her eagerness.

  The servant blinked and considered the question before replying. “No, ma’am. He only stopped for a moment and left in a hurry. Don’t know where he’s bound this time.”

  The awfulness of this announcement shattered Alicia’s euphoria. Gone again. She stepped back as if struck, managed a stammered “thank you,” turned around, and fled.

  She should have known it was too easy. Had he been in too much of a hurry to see the message she had left? Or had her message produced the hurry? Perhaps he had fled at the discovery that his daughter had arrived in town.

  Blindly Alicia rushed through the darkened streets, fighting tears. Until now she had fully believed her father hadn’t wanted to leave her, that he loved her still, that he would welcome her with open arms. And now this. A door slammed in her face. A cold shoulder she could not ignore. Fool. Fool that she
should believe any man cared for anything other than his own selfish pursuits. Her mother had been right all along.

  Loud music and a splash of light crossed her path, but Alicia paid it no heed. Drunken revelry held no interest in the empty pit of loneliness she’d entered.

  Two men staggered from the saloon into her path. She stumbled to miss them, stepped backward, and slid on a frozen puddle. The two men hit the ice at the same time. One grabbed her shoulders to steady himself, and the other fell to the ground with a stream of invectives, nearly drowned by his companion’s roar of laughter.

  Alicia attempted to jerk away, but her movement only served to return the drunkard’s attention to her presence. Garbed in filthy buckskin and unwashed linen, he reeked, and the stench of whiskey was overpowering.

  “Look what I found, Earl!” he exclaimed, twisting Alicia more securely until he held both shoulders. “We don’t need those fancy women in there when we got this out here!”

  His equally grubby companion staggered upright and beamed blearily at this evidence of manna from heaven. He whistled and pawed her bonnet. “What have we here? Reckon she’s new?”

  Alicia panicked, realizing she had no protection against their drunken advances. She did not even wear boots that might scar their shins. She struggled against the larger one’s hold, but he was not so drunk as to lose his grip. He pulled her closer until his stinking breath smothered her.

  “Let go of me!” she cried, trying to kick but hampered by heavy skirts and pelisse. Terror gave her more strength than she possessed, and she jerked one arm loose, swinging hard at her attacker. She reacted with pure instinct, all ladylike manners lost as she screamed and beat at him.

  The trapper attempted to silence her protests with his broken-toothed, foul-smelling mouth, but Alicia ducked and dodged. Her hysterical screams produced little effect against the raucous revelry from the tavern.

  And then a tall shadow blocked the yellow light. A hand grasped the collar of the trapper’s jacket, flinging him backward into his companion.

  Still gasping in fear, she almost fell to her knees until a strong arm caught her and a familiar voice warmed her ear. “It’s all right, Alicia.”

  She fell into his arms, quaking and sobbing.

  “In the name of all that is holy, don’t cry.” Travis sounded almost as panicked as she felt, but he growled a fierce warning at the two burly men staggering to their feet. “If you ever lay hands on this lady again, you’ll account to me.”

  Travis’s menacing drawl and terrifying visage startled the two drunks into backing away.

  “Didn’t know she was yours, Lonetree,” one stammered. “It’s a cold night and when you wouldn’t let us—”

  Travis cut him off sharply. “Go sleep it off. Don’t annoy the lady further.”

  The men melted into the night, leaving Alicia shivering in the hold of the man she knew to be more of a danger than any other. Too ashamed of her uncivilized behavior, she could not meet his eyes.

  “What in hell are you doing out here alone?” Angrily Travis kept his grip on her.

  “I wasn’t thinking.” Hurriedly Alicia tried to explain and escape. “I was upset and wasn’t watching. I have to get back. Mrs. Clayton will be worried.”

  Travis caught her elbow and steered her from the noise of the tavern. Only now did she realize he was garbed formally in tailored velvet frock coat and elaborate cravat, the gold buttons of his satin waistcoat winking in the lamplight. He had whipped his tall beaver hat back on his head when he took her arm, and in the shadows she could not have distinguished him from any Philadelphia gentleman attired for a formal evening.

  “Will you tell me what upset you so much it sent you into the streets?” Travis asked as he walked her toward the safety of her home.

  The story poured out without bidding. Too shaken to hold anything back, Alicia felt tears scalding her cheeks as she recited her tale.

  “Perhaps your father received your message and hurried out to find you,” Travis suggested.

  Alicia steps hastened in hope. “We shall see,” she replied. “You seem to have done well since we arrived. Have you found what you were looking for?”

  Travis’s white grin flashed in the darkness. “I’m just doing what comes naturally. There’s money to be had for the taking out here. I’m taking a little of it while I look around.”

  His cheerful, familiar tone steadied Alicia’s nerves. The warmth of his arm beneath her hand was more reassuring than threatening. He matched his long stride to hers as they strode toward the boardinghouse.

  “By that comment and your whereabouts this evening, I take it that you are not exactly making an honest living?” She strove to keep her voice normal.

  “More honest than many I can name,” Travis protested. “I’ll admit I don’t frequent the best houses as yet, but I mean to. How is your employment coming along?”

  She did not feel any surprise that he knew of her job. She suspected he knew a lot of things about a lot of people.

  Alicia gave a brief description of her duties as teacher, but her heart had already begun to pound again at the sight of Mrs. Clayton’s parlor spilling over with light. Her fingers tightened against his arm.

  Travis too noted the unusual display, and his jaw locked. There had not been time enough to establish his position in society, but he fully intended to meet Alicia’s father on his own terms. He didn’t know what kind of man Stanford might be, but Travis realized her father would be the biggest hurdle to cross in his pursuit of Alicia. He wanted to know his opponent’s strengths.

  “It appears Mrs. Clayton has company. Shall we go in?” He searched the pale oval of her face. He expected to be rejected and was already planning his argument, but she stared at him with wide, frightened eyes and nodded. That brief glimpse of fear cut Travis to the bone, and made him more determined than ever. Someone had to protect her, and it might as well be he.

  They entered the welcoming warmth of the Clayton front hall together. The happy chatter of voices in the parlor ceased, and the room’s occupants swung to stare at them.

  The landlady stood beside a graying, distinguished man of middle height. His conservatively cut coat and trousers spoke of wealth. His self-assurance as his gaze fixed on Alicia spoke of good breeding and lifelong security. He scarcely cast Travis a second glance.

  “Alicia?” he asked in a voice of joy and wonder.

  Alicia’s sapphire eyes lit from within, transforming her usually cold features to radiant beauty. With a sob she cried “Papa!” and flew into his waiting arms.

  Over their heads Mrs. Clayton and Travis exchanged glances. The landlady wiped a tear from her eye with a corner of her apron. Even the most cynical of men would be moved by this reunion. He had to be happy that Alicia had found her father at last, but he could only pray it did not mean an end to his own dreams.

  Gradually, as exclamations and bewildered questions slowed, Alicia remembered her manners and stepped back so that Travis could be introduced. Chester Stanford only had eyes for his daughter and scarcely gave Travis a glance.

  “Papa, this is Captain Travis. But for him, I would never have made it to St. Louis.”

  Travis gave a wry smile at this introduction. He took Chester Stanford’s hand and shook it firmly. “Most pleased to meet you, sir.”

  “Good to meet you, Captain Travis. I owe you more than I can repay for returning my daughter to me. If there is ever anything I can do . . .”

  Travis bowed his head politely, and with a nod toward Alicia and Mrs. Clayton, eased toward the door. “I don’t mean to intrude upon your reunion. It’s been a pleasure.” Returning his hat to his head, he strode out.

  Alicia frowned in confusion at this behavior in a man whom a moment before had practically admitted to being a gambler or worse, but the presence of her father obliterated all else. She threw her arms ecstatically around his neck again.

  Chester chuckled and drew her into the parlor, leaving Bessie to tactfully disappe
ar into the kitchen in search of refreshments.

  “Your young man is very imposing. Why ever did he have you out on a night like this?”

  “He is not my young man, Papa. Captain Travis merely escorted me home when he found me wandering in the dark. I heard you were home and rashly went looking for you.”

  Chester looked at her affectionately. “Never mind, dear, I will soon introduce you to some of the best and brightest young men this country can offer. It will be my pleasure to introduce you to society.”

  An alarm should have sounded in Alicia’s head, but her pleasure was too great to notice.

  Chapter 13

  Chester Stanford opened his newly built house with a dinner and dance on New Year’s Eve. The best of St. Louis society turned out for this celebration within a celebration. The arrival of Chester’s beautiful daughter and the expected announcement of his engagement to the widow of one of St. Louis’s oldest residents made this the social event of the year.

  The polished floors were as yet uncarpeted. The piano and much of the furniture had not yet arrived from New Orleans, and the servants were all new and poorly trained, but none of these factors diminished the gaiety. Chandeliers gleamed with a thousand flames, and every professional musician within the limits of the city had been called upon to provide entertainment. The chance to shine before the wealthy and the powerful inspired both guests and entertainers.

  Standing on the curved mahogany stairway overlooking the glittering crowd, Alicia found her father proudly introducing Letitia Labbadie to the new governor. Letitia wore a narrow gown of blue velvet over her short, rather full figure, but the simple cut of the gown served only as a backdrop for her elaborate parure of diamonds.

  Alicia had not had the opportunity to get to know her stepmother-to-be, but her father’s announcement that he meant to marry again now that he was a free man had left her shaken. Watching the couple, she realized she had no right to deny them the happiness they sought, but she felt excluded from the loving warmth that surrounded them.