Sometimes a Rogue

by Mary Jo Putney

  She smiled and flirtatiously tucked the coin into her bodice. His gaze followed, riveted, as the sixpence slipped into the shadowed area between her breasts. “I shall have to locate that coin later,” he said, his mouth going dry.

  “It’s interesting that after a lifetime of being told to behave modestly, I now have license to be bold with my husband.” She pulled up the ivory silk skirt of her gown to reveal a shapely leg and a beribboned garter holding up her silk stocking. As she fiddled with the garter, she gave him a slanting, mischievous glance.

  The carriage was high enough that only Rob could see her—but what he saw made him want to forget the feast and go direct to their bedroom. He swallowed hard. “That’s more than bold,” he said. “It’s downright provocative.”

  She smoothed the skirt down demurely. “Then I shall resume maidenly modesty.”

  “Everything you do is provocative. Even that perfume you’re wearing. It’s delicate and floral, but with a hint of spice. One of Lady Kiri’s concoctions?”

  Sarah nodded. “She gave me two versions. One to wear in the day.” She gave a slow, sultry smile. “The other for the night.”

  He laughed, caught between frustration and amusement. More than either of those things, he was intensely glad they were back on their usual friendly footing. “I do believe you’re trying to drive me mad. I’m considering kidnapping and ravishment.”

  “No ravishing till after I eat,” she said pragmatically. “Think how unromantic it would be if I fainted from hunger!”

  Their teasing took them all the way to the castle grounds, where they alighted in the middle of canvas pavilions and music and roasting food. Barrels of ale and tables covered with platters were everywhere. There was already dancing in the courtyard.

  “Ashton doesn’t stint when he sponsors a feast,” Sarah observed.

  “It’s very convenient to have a generous duke as a friend,” Rob agreed. “Which do you prefer first, eating or dancing?”

  “Eating,” she said firmly. “So I’ll have more energy to dance.”

  He escorted her to the pavilion closest to the castle, which was designated for family and gentry guests. After they’d rebuilt their strength with some of the excellent food, they danced one country reel together. Rob wasn’t much of a dancer, but reels were simple and Sarah was skilled enough for both of them.

  Then they turned to their duty as hosts and took other partners. Rob danced with Mariah, Anna, and Bree, who was bursting with pride at being his partner. He even tried to coax his grandmother out. She refused, but couldn’t seem to stop herself from smiling. He hardly recognized her.

  Sarah was dancing with laughter and an endurance that would have surprised anyone who hadn’t ridden across Ireland with her. He moved to the side of the crowd to observe. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Sarah was becoming the heart and soul of Kellington, he realized. Rob had the title and the bloodlines, but her warm charm and optimism were giving people hope for the future.

  He was a lucky, lucky man.

  After several dances in succession, Sarah stopped to catch her breath. Her slippers would never be the same, not after all this dancing. She’d retire the slippers to the back of her wardrobe and take them out sometimes to sigh over happily.

  She was looking around for Rob when an attractive dark-haired woman in her early thirties approached. “We weren’t properly introduced, Lady Kellington. I’m Helen Broome, wife of the vicar of St. Dunstan’s in Bendan. Thanks so much for inviting us.”

  Sarah smiled. “Thanks should go to the dowager countess, since she told us who to invite from the local area. It included all the vicars for miles around.”

  “It’s the advantage of marrying a vicar,” Helen said drolly. “We may live modestly in drafty vicarages, but we do get invited to all the best local parties.”

  “I’m glad you could come.” Sarah’s brow furrowed. “Isn’t Bendan where Bree, my husband’s daughter, used to live?” It was the first time she’d said “my husband,” and it was a strange sensation. She had a husband!

  “Yes, Bree was born and raised in the village. She and my younger daughter were great friends.” Helen gestured toward a group of men standing by the stables. “My husband is over there. The tall fellow in clerical black and wearing spectacles.”

  Mr. Broome looked very nice. “When we’re settled, I hope you’ll dine with us.”

  Helen smiled and said they’d be delighted. She was someone who could become a friend, and she could also provide useful information. “Bree’s birthday will be in several weeks,” Sarah said. “I thought we could hold a birthday party for her that would include her friends from Bendan. Does that make sense, or do you think two years at her age is so long that the girls in your village will have forgotten her?”

  “Alice would love to see her, and several other girls were particular friends. Bree was very popular. What did you have in mind? It’s a bit of a distance.”

  “I’d like to hold the party here. We’d send a coach to collect the girls, of course.”

  Helen’s eyes brightened. “That would be splendid! I volunteer to travel along as a chaperone. I’d love to see more of Kellington Castle.”

  Bree skipped up, her hat missing and her dark hair spilling down her back. “Mrs. Broome! It’s me, Bree! Is Alice here?”

  “No, but I’m so happy to see you!” Helen gave her a swift hug. “I’ll tell Alice that I saw you, and you’re looking very fine. Your stepmother was just telling me about your birthday party.”

  Bree looked surprised but interested. “I’m having a birthday party?”

  “We haven’t had time to talk about it with the wedding,” Sarah explained. “But I thought we could invite some of your old friends from Bendan and some of your new friends from here. Would you like that?”

  Bree’s eyes widened like saucers. “Can Alice come?”

  “Of course,” Sarah said.

  Bree bounced, looking less like a young lady and more like a happy urchin. “Can we have the party in the ruins of the old castle? It’s bloody picturesque!”

  Sarah blinked. “Language, Bree. But yes, if the weather permits, we could have a picnic there.”

  Bree looked ready to burst with excitement. “Thank you!” Then she spotted one of the Holt girls and buzzed off to tell her the news.

  “She’s looking very well,” Helen observed as both women watched the girl dart across the courtyard. “I was worried for her after her mother died.”

  “Her grandfather was a dreadful old man,” Sarah said. “He just dumped her here and left. Rob had no idea Bree existed. But he was delighted, of course.” Sarah didn’t feel she could ask outright about Bryony, but she was curious. “She seems a happy, healthy girl. That speaks well for her mother.”

  From the twinkle in Helen’s eyes, she understood the curiosity. “Bryony was a very devoted mother. I presume Lord Kellington gave her money to stay away. Probably not a huge amount, but she managed it well enough to give herself and her daughter a comfortable life. She was beautiful—Bree looks just like her. She could have married, but she liked her independence.”

  “How did she die?”

  “A fever of some sort.” Helen sighed. “It was very quick. One day she was striding over the cliffs with her hair blowing straight out in the wind, and three days later she was gone.”

  Sarah bit her lip. “Poor Bree. So horrible for her.”

  “Yes, but she survived two years with her grandfather, apart from some damage to her language, and now she’s here. She’s fortunate.”

  Many children weren’t. But Bree was happy now. Sarah vowed to do her best to see that she stayed that way.

  Rob began working his way through the crowd, greeting acquaintances and introducing himself to guests he didn’t know. He was thinking of finding Sarah for another dance when an unexpected old friend found him. Dark and enigmatic, Lord Kirkland was a former Westerfield classmate, wealthy shipping merchant, and spymaster.

  Deli
ghted, Rob offered his hand. “Kirkland! I thought I saw you in the distance, but decided I imagined it.”

  Kirkland shook his hand. “Congratulations, Rob. She’ll make you an admirable countess.”

  Rob’s instincts went on full alert. “Why do I think this visit is nothing as simple as coming to the wedding?”

  “It was a surprise to arrive just as the wedding was beginning,” Kirkland admitted. “Despite my reputation, I don’t always know everything.”

  Rob’s exhilaration vanished in a finger snap. This was Kirkland, the stormy petrel whose arrival signaled trouble. “Shall we retire to my ugly but private study?”

  “Yes, but I’d like to collect Ashton. He’ll want to hear this, too.”

  Which meant Kirkland’s visit had something to do with Ireland and attempted abductions of duchesses. As Rob scanned the crowd for the duke, Kirkland asked, “Is the Catholic priest from this area?”

  “No, he’s one of my Irish cousins. We played together as boys.” Rob glanced at his friend. “Do you want to interrogate him?”

  “Later, perhaps,” Kirkland said imperturbably. “Look, there’s Ashton.”

  Rob signaled for the duke to join them, then guided his guests to the house. When Kirkland entered the study, he remarked, “I wouldn’t call this ugly.”

  Rob stopped, surprised, on the threshold. The study had been transformed. The walls were whitewashed and attractive draperies replaced the dismal ones that blocked the light. Pleasant landscape paintings graced the walls, and a set of bookcases had been arranged behind the desk and stocked with books and interesting curios. Comfortable chairs had replaced the old ones, too.

  “Sarah.” Rob smiled as he turned, taking in all the changes. “She must have done this as a surprise.” He gestured for the other men to sit. “What’s the bad news?”

  “The fact that you won’t be working with me anymore is bad from my point of view, but probably good from yours.” Kirkland frowned. “I’m sure you’ve considered that the attempted abduction of the Duchess of Ashton was political.”

  Ashton nodded. “I’ve not heard of the group Free Eire, but I gather they’re radicals who want England out of Ireland. Kidnapping a duchess could be considered a blow against the aristocracy, though I’m not sure why they’d go after Mariah. I don’t own a square inch of land in Ireland.”

  “They’d not be averse to a large ransom,” Rob said dryly. “The fact that your estate is in Wiltshire and easier to reach than other duchies might be why you were targeted. Do you have more information, Kirkland?”

  Kirkland answered his question with another question. “Did you learn anything else about them that you didn’t tell me when you sent your report?”

  Rob frowned, trying to remember. He’d been tired when he wrote those first essential letters, and he’d kept them brief. “Did I mention that they may have a female leader? Though I can’t swear to that since it was part of a conversation that took place over open water as we were sailing away from Kinsale. Does that matter?”

  “Not unless she’s French. I’ve evidence that France has been quietly funding some of the more radical Irish independence groups with the aim of creating problems in England’s backyard.”

  Rob whistled softly. “That makes perfect sense. Some of the Irish would take aid from the devil himself if it would help them drive the British out of Ireland.”

  “They might have trouble getting the French out again,” Adam observed. “But that wouldn’t stop an angry rebel.”

  “Did you hear anything to suggest French support?” Kirkland asked.

  Rob frowned as he thought. “They had to be well funded to mount their raid on Ralston Abbey and get away again. But I saw no real evidence. The person to talk to is my cousin Patrick Cassidy, the priest who’s here at the wedding.”

  “Why did he come to Kellington?”

  “To persuade me to improve conditions at Kilvarra, the Kellington estate in Ireland,” Rob explained. “Since I’m cooperating on that, he’s in charity with me and will probably talk willingly. Up to a point, anyhow.”

  Kirkland studied him narrowly. “Is he a radical?”

  “He wants the English out of Ireland and no mistake,” Rob said. “But he doesn’t support violence. He’s a member of the United Irishmen, which is a moderate group, but I suspect he hears about a good deal more that’s going on.”

  “Will you introduce us?” Kirkland smiled wearily and got to his feet. “Here’s hoping your cousin has had enough ale to loosen his tongue.”

  “He wouldn’t tell you anything that might be considered a betrayal,” Rob warned. “But he was appalled when I told him about the intended abduction of a young woman on the verge of childbirth. It’s worth questioning him. I want to be there, though.”

  Kirkland’s brows arched. “I’m not going to use thumbscrews, Rob.”

  “I know. But he’ll talk more easily if I’m present.”

  Kirkland nodded acceptance of that as he started for the door. “Let’s find the good father. I’m sure he’ll have some interesting things to say.”

  And Kirkland would know exactly how to use anything he learned.

  Chapter 34

  The sun had almost set but the festivities were going strong when Rob sought Sarah out. She couldn’t read his expression, other than the fact that he didn’t look as relaxed and happy as he had earlier.

  He bowed over her hand. “Time to escape, my lady.”

  “I’m ready,” she said. “Being the bride is rather grand, but it’s tiring to have to be charming for so many hours.”

  He smiled a little at that. “You charm as naturally as you breathe.” He set his hand on her lower back and guided her toward the house. The warmth of his open palm was very . . . intimate.

  It took time to reach the house because of people who wanted to chat and offer best wishes, but eventually they made it inside. As they climbed the stairs, he asked, “Your room or mine?”

  “The master suite,” she said. “The rooms are quite pleasant, and I thought the symbolism was appropriate.”

  “Starting a new phase of life in a new place? You’re right, the bedrooms we’ve been using are nothing special.” As they turned down the corridor, he added, “Thank you for your efforts in the study. You improved it out of all recognition.”

  “Good. Since you seem to end up there often, it needs to be welcoming.” The passage ended with a series of doors leading to the various rooms that made up the suite. The large door in the center led to the sitting room while the others opened into dressing rooms so servants could come and go unobtrusively.

  Rob was reaching for the middle door when Sarah said, “The doors are locked. I didn’t want anyone planting bridal surprises inside.”

  “Good precaution,” he said with approval. “Most such surprises are amusing to the pranksters, but not for the bride and groom.”

  She retrieved the key from under a vase on a hall table and unlocked the door. It didn’t escape her notice that Rob seemed to gird himself mentally before entering. That was the trouble with family homes where generations had lived and died. There were always layers of memories, and not always good ones.

  They stepped into a short passage leading to the sitting room that lay between the bedrooms. He took the key, locked the door, then turned to envelop her in a hug.

  The embrace wasn’t one of passion, but affection and comfort. She leaned into him with a small hum of pleasure as she wrapped her arms round his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. Mariah was right, she and Rob hadn’t spent enough time together in the last few days. Being in his arms felt very right.

  “I’m glad we’re no longer on public display,” he murmured. “Being the genial lord of the manor is tiring.”

  She chuckled. “You prefer lurking quietly in the background, don’t you?”

  “Lurking is much more my style,” he agreed. “But you, my countess, make a superb lady of the manor.”

  “Thank you.” She burr
owed closer. “Credit goes to the duchess gown Mariah gave me. Wearing it would make any woman feel like a grand lady.”

  “I did wonder where you found a garment so magnificent on short notice. I should have guessed. You’re fortunate in your family.”

  “It’s your family now also,” she pointed out.

  “True,” he said thoughtfully. “I’m having some trouble with the idea that the Duke of Ashton is now my brother-in-law.”

  She tilted her head back to gaze up at him. “But you’ve known Adam forever.”

  “Yes, but he was always a duke while I was a younger son, a younger student, and more recently his employee for various investigations. Being family is different. My life feels like a reshuffled hand of cards.”

  “Because it is,” she agreed. “Are you still dubious about being an earl?”

  “Yes.” He grinned. “But I like that now there’s room in my life for a wife.”

  He released her and took the last two steps into the sitting room as he peeled off his coat and cravat.

  As he tossed them over the back of a chair, he noticed his surroundings. The last rays of the setting sun poured in the windows like liquid gold, gilding the elegant furnishings and the vases of bright flowers set around the room.

  “Are we in the right house?” he asked, startled. “This looks completely different from what I remember. And better. Much, much better. How did you manage such a swift transformation?”

  “Mariah and I invaded the attics and found older furnishings,” she explained. “Then it was just a matter of moving and cleaning.”

  “That must have been a substantial job! But the results are worth it. This no longer feels like it belongs to my father.” Rob sat to tug off his boots, then took Sarah’s hand and began to explore the suite. After admiring the earl’s bedroom, he looked into his dressing room, where his own clothing was neatly stored.

  “Harvey has been busy, I see. My wardrobe looks paltry in here. As I recall, the countess’s dressing room is twice as large, so I hope you have a very large wardrobe.”