Tender Rebel

by Johanna Lindsey

  “And a new Gainsborough too,” he went on conversationally, his eyes briefly touching the magnificent painting that now dominated the wall to his left.

  “The new rosewood china cabinet and dining table should arrive today.”

  She still had her eyes fastened on her plate, but Anthony didn’t miss the sudden change in her. No longer was she sitting there seething with suppressed anger. Her smug satisfaction was palpable.

  Anthony nearly laughed aloud. She was so transparent, his sweet wife. Considering her present antipathy toward him and the subject they were discussing, it wasn’t hard to figure out what she was up to. It was an old trick, a wife making her husband pay for her displeasure through his pocketbook. And from various remarks Roslynn had made in the past, he knew she didn’t think his pocketbook could bear too much displeasure.

  “So you’re doing a little redecorating, are you?”

  A barely perceptible shrug, but a too-sweet tone. “I knew you wouldn’t mind.”

  “Not at all, my dear. I meant to suggest it myself.”

  Her head snapped up at those words, but she was quick to reply. “Good, because I’ve only just begun. And you will be glad to know it isn’t going to cost as much as I thought when I first toured the house. Why, I’ve spent only four thousand pounds so far.”

  “That’s nice.”

  Roslynn gaped at him, disbelieving her ears. His blatantly bored response was the last thing she had expected. Was it possible he thought she was spending her own money? Well, the wretch would find out differently when the bills started coming in.

  She stood up, throwing her napkin down on the table, too chagrined with his reaction, or lack of it, to remain in his company. But she couldn’t make the dramatic exit she would have liked. After yesterday, it was imperative that she insist there not be a repeat performance today when she was expecting company.

  “Frances is coming for dinner this evening. If you should happen to change your habit of returning late and show up to join us, kindly do so soberly.”

  It was all Anthony could do to keep his lips from twitching. “Bringing in reinforcements again, my dear?”

  “I resent that,” she said with icy hauteur before she stalked away, only to whip around at the door, glowering at him. “And for your information, my lord, I don’t distrust all men, as you so boorishly pointed out yesterday while introducing me to your friend—only rakes and bounders!”

  Chapter Thirty-two

  “That be ’im, m’lord.”

  Geordie Cameron turned to the short, bewhiskered man next to him and could have crowned him. “Which one, ye idiot? There are two of them!”

  Wilbert Stow didn’t blink an eye at the Scot’s abrasive tone. He was used to it by now, used to his impatience, his short temper, his arrogance. If Cameron didn’t pay so well, he’d tell him where he could stuff this job. Probably slice his gullet too, just for good measure. But he was paying well, thirty English pounds, a fortune to Wilbert Stow. So he held his tongue as always, letting the insults pass over him.

  “The dark one,” Wilbert clarified, keeping his tone servile. “’E’s the one what owns the ’ouse. Sir Anthony Malory be ’is name.”

  Geordie trained a spyglass across the street, bringing Malory’s features into sharp relief as he turned at the door to say something to the blond chap with him. So this was the Englishman who had been combing the slums for Geordie these past few days, the one who was hiding Roslynn? Oh, Geordie knew she was in there, even if she hadn’t shown her face outside the door since he had ordered Wilbert and his brother, Thomas, to keep a constant watch on the house. She had to be in there. This was where her clothes had been sent. And this was where that Grenfell woman had come twice now to visit.

  Roslynn thought she was so smart, secreting herself inside that house and not coming out. But it was easier here, keeping watch, what with Green Park just across the street. Plenty of trees for concealment, not like having to sit in a carriage that might draw suspicion, as had been the case on South Audley Street. She couldn’t make a move without Wilbert or Thomas knowing it, and they kept an empty coach up the street just waiting to follow her in. It was just a matter of time.

  But in the meantime, he would take care of the English fop who was hiding her and who had twice forced Geordie to change location in the last five days because of his infernal snooping. Now that he knew what the dandy looked like, it would be an easy task to settle.

  Geordie lowered the spyglass, smiling to himself. Soon, lass. Soon I’ll make ye pay for all this trouble. Ye’ll be wishing ye hadna turned against me like yer stupid mother and the auld mon did, may they both be rotting in hell now.

  “Would you care for another sherry, Frances?”

  Frances looked at her glass, still nearly full, then back at Roslynn, who was already refilling her glass with the amber liquid. “Will you relax, Ros. If he hasn’t shown up by now, it’s rather doubtful that he will, don’t you think?”

  Roslynn glanced over her shoulder at her friend, but she couldn’t quite manage the smile she tried for. “I’ve come to the conclusion that Anthony shows up when least expected, just to keep me nervous.”

  “Are you nervous?”

  Roslynn gave a little half laugh, half groan, and took a large swallow of her second sherry before returning to join Frances on the new Adams sofa. “I shouldn’t be, should I? After all, he wouldn’t do anything outrageous with you here, and I did warn him you were coming.”

  “But?”

  Roslynn finally did smile, though it was more a grimace. “He amazes me, Fran, with his many different moods. I never know which one to expect.”

  “There’s nothing unusual in that, m’dear. We have our moods too, don’t we? Now, stop fretting. Tell me what he thought of this new room instead.”

  Roslynn’s deep chuckle was infectious. “He hasn’t seen it yet.”

  Frances’ eyes widened. “You mean he didn’t approve your choices first? But these pieces are so—so—”

  “Delicate and feminine?”

  Frances gasped at the twinkle in Roslynn’s hazel eyes. “Good God, you did it on purpose! You’re hoping he’ll hate it, aren’t you?”

  Roslynn glanced about the once-masculine room that had been drastically transformed with the lovely satinwood furnishings. Now it looked the way a parlor should look, for a parlor was really a woman’s domain. Adams might be known for his excessively refined style in delicacy of structure and ornament, but she liked the carved and gilded framework on the two sofas and chairs, and especially the satin brocade upholstery of silver flowers on an olive-green background. The colors weren’t really feminine. She had compromised there. But the ornamentation was. Then there was the new wall papering that she hadn’t made a decision on yet

  “I doubt Anthony will hate it, Frances, and if he does, it’s unlikely he would say so. He’s like that.” Here she shrugged. “But of course, if he does, I’ll just get rid of these pieces and buy something else.”

  Frances frowned. “I think you’re too used to spending money without thought to price. You’re forgetting your husband isn’t quite as rich as you are.”

  “No, that’s the one thing I’m not forgetting.”

  At that bald statement, Frances sighed. “So that’s it. Well, I hope you know what you’re doing. Men can have funny reactions where money is concerned, you know. Some can lose twenty thousand pounds and not care. Others would go out and kill themselves for such a loss.”

  “Don’t worry, Frances. Anthony is bound to fall into the not caring category. Now, can I make you another drink before dinner?”

  Frances looked at her glass, still half full, then at Roslynn’s, empty again. She shook her head, but not in answer to the question. “Go ahead and make light of it, Ros, but you can’t tell me you’re not anxious over his reaction. Was he very unpleasant when you had this argument you don’t want to talk about?”

  “It wasn’t an argument,” Roslynn replied stiffly. “And he’s
been unpleasant since I married him.”

  “You weren’t exactly gushing over with charm yourself the last time I saw you two together. I would guess that his moods are directly related to yours, m’dear.”

  Roslynn made a face at this sage observation. “Since he’s obviously not going to join us for dinner, and his brother and nephew are out for the evening, it’s just the two of us. Surely we can find a more pleasant topic to discuss.”

  Frances gave in and grinned. “Surely we can if we try hard enough.”

  Roslynn grinned too, feeling some of her tension drain away. Frances was good for her, even if some of the advice she offered Roslynn didn’t want to hear.

  She set her glass down and stood up. “Come on. Another drink will spoil the excellent fair cook has prepared, and Dobson has only been waiting for us to adjourn to the dining room to commence serving. And wait until you see the new table that was delivered this afternoon. It is sheer elegance, quite suitable to anyone’s taste.”

  “And no doubt devilish expensive?”

  Roslynn chuckled. “That too.”

  They linked arms and left the parlor to cross over to the small dining room, which had previously been no more than a breakfast room, since Anthony had rarely dined at home before he married and still didn’t, for that matter. But Roslynn stopped, noticing Dobson in the process of opening the front door, and then stiffened as Anthony walked in. However, she lost her breath entirely on seeing who was with him. He wouldn’t dare! He had dared! He had deliberately brought George Amherst home with him. knowing full well that Frances would be here. And from the look of George, who had come to a dead standstill on seeing Frances, he hadn’t been warned either.

  “Splendid,” Anthony said drolly as he handed his hat and gloves to the wooden-faced butler. “I see we’re just in time for dinner, George.”

  Roslynn’s fingers curled into fists. Frances’ reaction was a bit more dramatic. Ashen-faced, and with a small squeal of horror, she tore away from Roslynn’s side and ran back into the parlor.

  Anthony clapped his friend on the back, bringing him out of his bemusement. “Well, what are you standing there like an ass for, George? Go after her.”

  “No!” Roslynn snapped before George could take a step. “Havena you done enough?”

  Her contempt sliced into the poor man, but he didn’t hesitate another moment in starting toward the parlor. Aghast, Roslynn turned to beat him there, intending to slam the door in his face. But she hadn’t counted on Anthony’s intervention. Somehow he crossed ten feet of space before she had reached the parlor door, and with a band of steel locking firmly about her waist, he steered her toward the stairs instead.

  She was outraged beyond belief by his high-handedness. “Let go of me, you—”

  “Now, now, my dear, have a care, if you please,” he told her glibly. “I believe we’ve had quite enough distasteful scenes in that hall for the delectation of the servants. We don’t need another.”

  He was absolutely right, so her voice was lowered, but no less furious. “If you dinna—”

  His finger pressed to her lips this time. “Pay attention, sweetheart. She refuses to listen to him. It’s time she was forced to, and George can do that here—and without interruption.” Then he paused, grinning at her. “Sounds awfully familiar, doesn’t it?”

  “Not at all,” she gritted out beneath her breath. “I listened to you. I just didna believe you!”

  “Stubborn chit,” he gently chided. “But no matter. You’re coming along with me while I change for dinner.”

  She didn’t have any choice but to go along with him, since he practically carried her up the stairs. But once in his room, she jerked away, not even noticing that Willis stood beside the bed.

  “That is the most loathsome thing you have ever done!” she exploded.

  “Glad to hear it,” he replied blithely. “Here I was under the impression that the most loathsome thing I had—”

  “Shut up! Just shut up!”

  She pushed past him to get to the door. He caught her up about the waist and deposited her in the chaise longue by the mantel. And then with a hand on each side of it, he leaned over, until she had to press back in the chair to keep a distance between them. There was no longer a trace of humor in his expression. He was now deadly serious.

  “You’re going to stay put, my dear wife, or I will tie you to that chair to see that you do.” With just the barest crook of his brow, he added, “Is that perfectly clear?”

  “You wouldna do that!”

  “You may be absolutely certain that I would.”

  Her lips set mutinously while their eyes did battle. But when Anthony wouldn’t move away and stayed there hovering over her, she thought it prudent to give in for now.

  Her agreement was offered by lowering her eyes and drawing her legs up into the chair to get comfortable. Anthony accepted these signs of surrender and straightened, but his humor did not return. He was aware that in helping George, he had thoroughly damaged his own cause. Whatever progress had been made toward the diminishing of Roslynn’s anger by the sheer passage of time was now destroyed. So be it. After all these years, George deserved his chance. What were a few more weeks of Roslynn’s renewed bad temper? Torture.

  He turned away from the chair, his scowl so black his valet took an involuntary step backward upon seeing it, which finally brought him to Anthony’s attention. “Thank you, Willis.” His voice was deliberately colorless to sheathe the inner turmoil of his thoughts. “Your choice is superb as usual.”

  Roslynn’s head snapped around upon hearing that, her eyes first lighting on Willis, then on the clothes carefully laid out on the bed. “Do you mean to be saying he knew you’d be home for dinner?”

  “Of course, my dear,” Anthony replied as he shrugged out of his coat. “I always let Willis know when to expect me if I am reasonably certain of my schedule.”

  She gave Willis an accusatory look that brought hot color to his already ruddy cheeks. “He could have told me,” she said to Anthony.

  “That is not his responsibility.”

  “You could have told me!”

  Anthony glanced over his shoulder at her, wondering if it would do any good to risk turning her anger onto this lesser subject. “Quite true, sweetheart. And if you hadn’t flounced off in a pout this morning, I would have.”

  Her eyes flared. Her feet hit the floor. She came half out of the chair before she remembered his threat and dropped back into it.

  But she hadn’t lost her voice. “I did no such thing! And how dare you say so?”

  “Oh?” Anthony faced her again, his lips slightly curled. “Then what would you call it?”

  His shirt dropped into Willis’ waiting hand before she could answer. Roslynn turned around so fast, Anthony nearly laughed aloud. At least the new subject was improving his temper, if not hers. And that she was reluctant to watch him undress was most interesting.

  He sat down on the bed so Willis could tackle his boots, but he kept his eyes on his wife. She was wearing her hair differently tonight, more frivolously, with dainty curls dangling from a high-swept coiffure. It had been too long since his hands had been in those glorious red-gold tresses, too long since his lips had tasted the smooth skin along her neck. Her head was turned away, but her body was in profile, the sharp thrust of her breasts particularly drawing his attention.

  Anthony was forced to look away before it became an embarrassment to both him and Willis to go any further in his undressing. “You know, my dear, it quite escapes me, the cause of your ill humor this morning.”

  “You provoked me.”

  He had to strain to hear her, since she wouldn’t face him. “Now how could I have done that when I was so exceedingly well behaved?”

  “You called Frances my reinforcements!”

  That he heard well enough. “I suppose it will be boorish of me to point this out, sweetheart, but you were in a sulk long before your friend was mentioned.”

&nb
sp; “You’re right,” she hissed. “It’s boorish of you to be saying so.”

  He stole another glance at her to see her fingers worrying at the arms of the chair. He had pushed her into a corner. That had not been his intention.

  Even-toned, he said, “By the by, Roslynn, until I locate your cousin, I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t leave the house without me.”

  The abrupt change of subject floored her. At any other time she would have retorted that she had already concluded for herself that it was wisest to stay at home for a while. But at the moment she was too grateful that he had given up pressing her about this morning.

  “Of course,” she agreed simply.

  “Is there any place you would like to go in the next few days?”

  And be forced to endure his company the whole while? “No,” she assured him.

  “Very well.” She sensed his shrug. “But if you change your mind, don’t hesitate to tell me.”

  Did he have to be so bloody reasonable and accommodating? “Aren’t you finished yet?”

  “As a matter of fact—”

  “Malory!” The shout was muffled on the other side of the door, but then George Amherst burst into the room. “Tony! You’ll—”

  Roslynn shot out of the chair, Amherst’s presence canceling Anthony’s threat in her mind. She didn’t wait to hear what he was so eager to impart to her husband, but rushed past him and out the door, offering up a little prayer that Anthony wouldn’t make another scene by trying to stop her.

  She didn’t look back, either, as she ran down the stairs and straight into the parlor. She came to an abrupt halt on finding Frances still there, standing in front of the white marble fireplace with her back to the room. She turned, and Roslynn felt a lump of misery rise in her throat, seeing the great tears swimming in her friend’s eyes.

  “Och, Frances, I’m so sorry,” Roslynn lamented as she swiftly closed the space between them, catching up Frances in her arms. “I’ll never forgive Anthony for interfering. He had no right—”

  Frances stepped back to interrupt. “I’m getting married, Ros.”