To Dare a Rogue

by Lana Williams

  “I don’t know whether she’s guilty of anything.”

  “She ignored your distress. That makes her as bad as your brother.”

  “What do you mean?” Charlotte didn’t follow Margaret’s logic in the least.

  “How can he not know what you’ve been doing? It’s as if he’s deliberately looking the other way rather than aiding you.”

  “I, for one, am glad he isn’t looking. I wouldn’t have gone on any of my adventures if he were paying close attention.” Charlotte was ready to think about something else other than her problems for a time. “May I say your attire is delightful? Your cleverness with fashion never fails to amaze me.”

  “Thank you. I do enjoy it.” Margaret glanced down at her gown. “Now that funds are less tight, it’s even more fun. So many possibilities.”

  “Will you accompany me to the dressmaker’s next week? Mother doesn’t care to go, and I have a difficult time deciding on my own.”

  “Of course.” Light sparkled in Margaret’s eyes. “I have a bit of news to share.”

  “What might that be?”

  Margaret glanced about as if to make certain no one could overhear them. “Can you keep a secret?”

  “You know I can.” Charlotte leaned closer.

  “I’m working on a set of fashion plates for a magazine.”

  “That’s wonderful.” Charlotte patted Margaret’s arm. “How did that come about?”

  “You remember that Annabelle’s husband, Mr. Raybourne, has a publishing house. He’s asked me to draw a few designs for his publication. Anonymously, of course.”

  “Of course. What a thrill it will be to see your creations displayed for all to see.”

  “It would be a bigger thrill if I could tell everyone they’re mine.” She shrugged, her smile still in place. “This will have to do. I’m having so much fun.”

  “No wonder you haven’t been anywhere of late. You’re busy.”

  “I am. I want them to be perfect. I only wish Mother was more pleased about it. But she is worried someone will find out and I’ll be ruined.”

  “That seems to be a worry among most mothers, doesn’t it?” Charlotte didn’t think her own mother had the same concern.

  “So what will you do?” Margaret asked. “Plan another adventure?”

  “Yes.” But only if James agreed to accompany her. Mayhap all that had happened would change his mind about it. “And introduce Lady Barbara to Lord Samuelson at the first opportunity.”

  Margaret chuckled. “If only it would be so easy.”

  “One can always hope. For without it, we have little left to keep our spirits up.” Charlotte intended to hold onto hers with both hands for as long as possible. Unfortunately, James was the key to that hope.

  ~*~

  James sipped a glass of lemonade, wondering how soon he could leave. His mother’s sister, Aunt Prudence, hosted a garden party each spring for as long as he could remember and this year was no exception.

  “Such a perfect day, isn’t it?” His mother smiled at several acquaintances even as she nudged him with her elbow when he didn’t respond. “You’re supposed to agree, dear.”

  “Indeed.” He had agreed to come only after his mother coerced him. While he enjoyed spending time with her, attending a garden party wasn’t his preferred type of gathering. Then again, few were.

  “James, if you don’t at least pretend to be enjoying yourself, not only will you hurt Aunt Prudence’s feelings, you’ll hurt mine.”

  “My apologies, Mother. Your company is splendid as always. I’m afraid my thoughts were on something else.” He looked up at the cloudless blue sky, a rarity in London, determined to try harder for her sake. “The weather is certainly perfect.”

  She nodded then looped her arm through his. “And the flowers your aunt takes such pride in?”

  “Delightful.” He returned her smile. “Is that better?”

  “Yes, thank you.” She continued to study him, making him wonder what she saw. “I’m so very happy to have you here this year.”

  He blinked as memories of where he’d spent the previous year threatened. Now wasn’t the time to be overwhelmed by the past. “I’m happy to be here with you as well.”

  And he truly was. He only wished the old, carefree version of himself had returned. Yet moments such as this were among the reasons he and his fellow soldiers had fought. So England would be free to enjoy days just like this.

  “Viscount Redmond,” an older gentleman greeted them as he held out his hand.

  “Lord Mumford. Good to see you in fine health.” James shook his hand. He hadn’t seen the lord since his return. Mumford was a friend of his father’s and always had a kind word for James.

  “May I say the same of you? I’ve kept track of your efforts since you bought your commission. I’m proud to say I know you. Thank you for the years you spent protecting England’s shores.”

  The warm remarks only made James feel inadequate. He was no hero. However, Mumford had spent many years in Her Majesty’s Royal Navy and received numerous accolades for his efforts. He didn’t seem to suffer from terrible memories the way James did.

  “We’re proud of him as well,” his mother said. “And so pleased to have him home again.” She turned when someone called her name then excused herself to greet a friend.

  “How has your return been?” Mumford asked.

  James frowned, not certain of the older man’s meaning.

  Mumford shifted to stand beside James so they were both looking out over the garden, watching those wandering along its paths. “It’s been years, but I will never forget how I felt when I came back. Your family wants the same man you were when you departed. But you’re not.”

  James drew a quick breath, surprised at the understanding in the older man’s words. “Yes.” He couldn’t say more without releasing a tangled web of emotions that were better left contained.

  “Nor did things here remain the same.” Mumford nodded. “Friends, family, and acquaintances moved on with their lives while you attempt to pick up the threads of where you left off.”

  That was only a part of his problem. The other part was adjusting to the realization of who he was while trying to determine who he wanted to be.

  Mumford turned to face James. “Give it time. Be patient with yourself and others. They can’t imagine what you went through, nor do you really want them to.”

  “I confess I am not who I thought I was. That has been one of the biggest struggles to sort through.”

  “So few of us are truly tested in life. Events mold and shape us. They change us. Sometimes for the better. Occasionally for the worse. The challenge is to stay focused on the better parts.” Mumford patted his shoulder. “You’ll come through on the other side. I have no doubt.”

  James watched the lord move on to speak with another gentleman. Though he longed to call him back and ask how he’d found his way back to normalcy, he didn’t. For the moment, it was enough to know he wasn’t alone in the way he felt.

  “Lord Mumford is a gem, don’t you think?”

  James turned to see Charlotte at his side. He drank in the sight of her, appreciating the way her presence cleared his dark thoughts like the sun spreading warmth and light on a cloudy day. “I didn’t realize you were coming.”

  “I haven’t missed one of your aunt’s garden parties in years. Though I never realized she was your aunt until yesterday. Mother came as well.” She tipped her head, and he followed her gaze to see Lady Wynn speaking with his aunt.

  “Are you feeling better?” he asked. Charlotte looked beautiful, wearing a pale yellow gown with a straw bonnet, the ribbon tied along her jaw. He wanted to take her arm and find a private spot where he could be with her and only her.

  “I am. Thanks to you.” She looked down, her long lashes hiding her thoughts for a moment. “I’m grateful you came to my rescue.”

  He tensed at the thought of what Lord
Palmer had attempted. Of what he could’ve done if James hadn’t come along.

  “I couldn’t help but overhear some of what Lord Mumford said. What was it like?” Charlotte asked.

  “What?”

  “The war. The fighting. The battles.”

  He shook his head. “Nothing you should hear.”

  “But surely carrying all those terrible memories is too much of a burden for any one person to bear. I know my problems don’t compare to yours, but I always feel better when I speak to someone else about what’s bothering me.”

  “I don’t think talking would prove helpful in this case.”

  “Hmm. I disagree. But I don’t suppose your aunt’s garden party is the place to debate the topic.” She smiled. “So instead, why don’t we enjoy the flowers so we can tell her how lovely her garden is?”

  “Excellent idea.” Though he wanted to offer her his arm, he decided better of it since his mother continued to watch him out of the corner of her eye. He didn’t want her to get any ideas. She’d only be more disappointed when he eventually told her and his father that he didn’t intend to marry.

  He gestured for Charlotte to lead the way.

  Rather than the formalized, symmetrical gardens such as the French ones so popular in years gone by, Aunt Prudence preferred English influences with curved pathways, natural-looking ponds, and flowers and shrubbery left to grow in a haphazard fashion. The result was more pleasing than he could’ve imagined.

  Charlotte’s sincere delight in the various plants she paused to admire caused him to view them in a new light. A whimsical statue of a cherub caught her eye, bringing her to a halt again.

  “Your aunt’s garden rivals the conservatory we visited. Having a garden such as this to wander in would be a treasure, don’t you think?” she asked then turned to him, clearly waiting for a response.

  “Quite peaceful,” he agreed with a smile. Charlotte was an excellent listener. That was one of the many qualities he admired about her.

  They continued on their way, their conversation easy, and he realized he truly did feel more peaceful between the beautiful garden and his lovely companion. He drew it in, determined to hold on to it and etch it into his mind to pull out during one of the dark nights to come.

  At that moment, he realized he wasn’t ready to let her go. He needed more of all she offered—the optimism, the fresh way she viewed the world. All of it. He needed more time with Charlotte.

  “Have you planned your next adventure?”

  “No, I haven’t.” She studied him with one brow raised. Then a dimple flashed, weakening his knees. “I don’t suppose you’re offering to accompany me?” The hope in her tone and her eyes slayed him.

  “I thought to venture to Astley’s Amphitheatre. Would you care to join me?”

  Those eyes went wide and both dimples appeared. He was in serious trouble.

  “I would love that. When shall we go?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Astley’s Royal Amphitheatre was part circus and part theatre, renowned for its equestrian and military dramas. Charlotte had attended several performances during her youth but hadn’t returned in the past few years. It had been destroyed by a fire in 1803 but rebuilt with lavish improvements which made it even more popular.

  Though she looked forward to the performance, even more, she looked forward to being with James. The fact that he’d been the one to suggest it thrilled her. She’d been certain he would avoid her, or at the very least, insist she not attempt additional outings after the last one had ended so disastrously.

  “How exciting,” she murmured when they met outside the theatre as evening approached.

  “Surely you’ve attended many times.” He eyed the large building warily, making her wonder if entering concerned him.

  “Not for several years.” She turned to her chaperone. “Allow me to introduce my former governess, Miss Weston.”

  James exchanged pleasantries with the older woman, and they moved toward the entrance.

  When James suggested she select the day they attend, she’d thought to go as soon as possible. But when she discovered the upcoming performances were historical military dramas, she decided to wait for the equestrian show, certain James would enjoy it more.

  The covered theatre contained a sizeable stage and circus ring that allowed for hundreds of performers. There were also boxes, a gallery, and a pit from which to view them, depending on one’s budget.

  The true challenge with the outing had been finding who might accompany them. She couldn’t risk going without a proper chaperone when they might easily be seen by someone they knew.

  She settled on Miss Weston, who had accompanied her on occasion in the past and had her mother’s full approval as she knew Miss Weston wouldn’t let Charlotte out of her sight. Miss Weston had been a pleasant if strict governess. Charlotte had always enjoyed her company, at times feeling closer to her than her own mother. She’d retired and lived with her sister and her family in London.

  They entered the theatre and made their way to an upper box. Charlotte stayed next to James, pleased when she managed to sit beside him though Miss Weston, who took her chaperoning duties seriously, sat on her other side.

  When the show began, a dozen white horses pranced into the ring with daring riders on their backs who rode backward and along the sides of the horses. Soon after, a young woman with a beautiful voice took the stage along with other performers. The singing was delightful, the horses and their riders amazing. The antics of a clown had the audience roaring with laughter. One rider stood astride two cantering horses while playing a pipe, much to the delight of the cheering crowd.

  Charlotte enjoyed watching the spectators nearly as much as the performance. She pointed out a family with five children to James, their eyes wide with awe.

  Much to her relief, the only loud noises were an occasional drum. She knew how much such startling sounds bothered James. She watched him closely to make certain he was comfortable with the performance, relieved when he chuckled and applauded with the rest of the audience.

  All too soon, it was over.

  “I don’t know why I waited so long to attend a performance again,” Charlotte said as they rose from their seats. “That was wonderful.”

  “I need to work on my horse’s training.” James shook his head, obviously impressed with the animals.

  “Can you imagine being able to keep your balance while standing on a galloping horse?” Charlotte laughed at the thought. “The horses look so proud when they’re performing, don’t they?”

  “My favorite was the clown,” Miss Weston added with a smile. She pressed a hand to her middle. “I don’t think I’ve laughed so much in an age.”

  Miss Weston led the way out of the box, but James drew Charlotte back, giving them a brief moment of privacy. “Thank you for joining me.”

  “Thank you for suggesting it.” She looked up at him, wishing she could say more. Did he understand how much these outings meant to her?

  She bit her lip, for that wasn’t quite true. It was the fact that he was with her that mattered. Yet she could imagine the regret that would fill his expression if he realized how much she was coming to care for him. Though she hoped he saw more than his friend’s younger sister when he looked at her and he seemed to enjoy their time together, it wasn’t as if his affection ran any deeper than that.

  No doubt he merely found their friendship a diversion—one of many in which he took pleasure. Much like Edward, he didn’t seem to be in any rush to marry. Why should he? He’d missed so much while serving in the army. He deserved the chance to enjoy himself for a time before he moved forward with his life.

  But for her, time was running out.

  Lord Samuelson was calling on her again on the morrow, and they were to go for a ride in Hyde Park in his phaeton. She didn’t look forward to it. Making conversation with the lord was painful. No matter how many times she told herself to make
the best of it, she couldn’t. Not when it felt so wrong.

  “What is it?” James asked.

  She forced a smile. Now wasn’t the time to think of such things. She needed to enjoy these moments as much as possible.

  “If you—” he began, only to pause at the sound of a throat clearing.

  They both glanced over to see Miss Weston standing in the doorway of the box, waiting.

  If you what? Charlotte was left to wonder what he’d been about to say as they followed Miss Weston out of the theatre. Progress was slow given the size of the crowd.

  “Will you be attending the Sorenson garden party tomorrow afternoon?” James asked when they reached the pavement outside.

  “No,” she said with great reluctance. “I—I have a previous engagement.” She didn’t want to mention with whom.

  He frowned and for a moment, she thought he might ask for details. But he said nothing more as they waited for the carriages to arrive.

  Her heart ached as they stood in silence, together but apart, as other conversations flowed around them. The moment made her reconsider the wisdom of her adventures. When her heart hurt this much when she was with him, would it be wise to discontinue these outings? They only made her long for what could never be.

  When her carriage arrived to take her and Miss Weston home, she turned to James, her voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you for the invitation.” She held his gaze, a lump in her throat preventing her from saying more.

  “The pleasure was mine.” His solemn expression hid his thoughts.

  She watched Miss Weston enter the carriage then turned back to James. “I’m not certain I’ll be able to see you again.”

  “I understand.” He showed no emotion, no disappointment at her words. Nor did he protest. That alone hurt.

  Even though it felt as if her heart was shattering, she held the hurt inside and followed Miss Weston into the carriage without looking back.

  “Is anything amiss?” Miss Weston asked once they were settled inside.

  “No. All is well.” She didn’t want to speak about it. Perhaps James was right—talking about problems didn’t solve them. Sometimes it only made one feel worse.