Rogue's Reward

by Jean R. Ewing

  As he had demonstrated in that extraordinary encounter with Major Crabtree, hadn’t he? Eleanor tried to steady her voice. She knew what Lee did with some of his money: He sent it to people like Frank Garth and Mrs. Pottage. But then he had despicable ways of replacing it.

  “He will purchase another commission?”

  Richard nodded. “Once Bonaparte’s finally defeated, Lee intends to spend the rest of his life in the King’s service, probably in India. He wrote to ask me about it, since I have lived there. What other career is there for a man of his talents who has no accepted position in society and no inheritance?”

  Eleanor looked down at her hands and said nothing. For Mr. Campbell seemed to be allowing himself the luxury of blackmailing Lady Acton and the major. Without admitting to Richard that their mother had been indiscreet with Sir Robert, she could never mention it.

  “In the meantime, why condemn him?” Richard asked gently. “I think he has earned a little harmless indulgence.”

  “How dare you describe my indulgences as harmless?” a subtle voice said behind them. “It makes me sound like a schoolmarm with a bottle. For God’s sake, allow me a little style at least. I already told your sister once before that I had no desire to call you out, my lord, but if you malign me so thoughtlessly, I’m damned if I won’t ventilate your gizzard.”

  “Campbell!” Richard sprang to his feet and shook the other man by the hand. “Dear fellow! I’m damned glad to see you.”

  “Alas, but your sister isn’t.”

  Eleanor had also leaped to her feet. To her fury she found that her heart was beating like a trapped bird and a flush was flooding up her cheeks. She wasn’t—would never be—indifferent to him.

  “Because I believe your indulgences are neither harmless nor stylish, Mr. Campbell. It may seem so to others, but it’s not for your victims. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll leave you gentlemen to your visit.”

  She swept out in a flurry of skirts.

  Richard looked after her in amazement.

  “What have you been doing to my little sister?” he asked. “Am I going to have to challenge you and be slaughtered after all?”

  “If you like,” Lee said lazily. He took a seat and stretched out his long legs, then he grinned. “I’ve been allowing her to think me an out-and-out rogue, which I am, of course. You wouldn’t suggest that I allow her to like me, would you?”

  Richard had the grace to meet the other man’s gaze.

  “I do understand,” he said after a moment. “But sometimes I think it’s a damn shame that your father didn’t trouble to marry your mother. For God’s sake, I have been in India, you haven’t. The country eats Englishmen like frogs eat flies. Any mindless idiot can die of fever in some outpost of the empire—don’t interrupt me—meanwhile, England could use a man like you here at home to influence government. The need for reform cries out like a wounded animal.”

  “You take care of the reform. I’ll become a nabob,” Lee said calmly. Then as Richard frowned, he laughed. “In ten years I’ll be able to buy property enough to meet the franchise requirements and run for a seat in the House of Commons. Otherwise, what use am I to you? In the meantime, if fever takes me, so be it. Now, what’s the latest you hear from Wellington?”

  * * *

  Eleanor hurried straight through the house toward her room. She didn’t want to face either Lady Augusta or Diana at that moment. She was not destined to reach her destination. As she passed along the corridor that led toward the elegant guest bedrooms at Hawksley, a door opened to reveal her mother’s face.

  “A word, Eleanor,” Lady Acton said.

  Eleanor followed her into a spacious chamber. There was a small fire burning in the grate, in spite of the warmth of the day. The countess glanced toward it and smiled.

  “You should know, dear child,” she said, “that my little matter is resolved. My letters are now reduced to ash—there in the grate.”

  “All of them?”

  “Every last one. It’s over!”

  “Mr. Campbell brought your letters back?” Eleanor asked.

  Lady Acton gave her daughter a very shrewd glance. “How did you know it was Mr. Campbell?”

  She thought fast. “Well, I met him downstairs. He’s talking to Richard. He said nothing to me, of course, but no one else has visited today.”

  “Except Mr. Downe, who is with Diana in the garden. But you are right. Mr. Campbell was my deliverer. Now, let’s say no more about it.”

  So he had kept his word on this, at least, but what had made him do it? “You forgive the blackmail, just like that?”

  Lady Acton laughed. “It didn’t last very long, did it? And the lesson is learned. I wash my hands of Major Crabtree, so the incident is closed. But perhaps some good comes out of everything. I’m glad if we can be closer, Eleanor.”

  Eleanor said nothing. She knew her mother too well. Lady Acton already had a life of her own that enthralled and delighted her. It didn’t leave much room for her children. As soon as they returned to London, she would forget her noble desire to be a friend to her daughter, and plunge back into the social whirlwind.

  The countess strolled to the window and gazed out.

  “He’s leaving,” she said.

  Eleanor joined her and looked down into the driveway. Walter was there, already mounted and ready to depart. He leaned down a little from the saddle, because Diana was clinging to his hand.

  Tactfully ignoring them, Leander Campbell was adjusting the tack on his black charger. He looked powerful, lithe, and self-contained.

  “Mr. Campbell is an extraordinary young man,” Lady Acton said. “Sometimes I wish—”

  “What?” Eleanor said.

  “Oh, nothing! One can’t change the world. Good Lord! Norfolk bores me to tears. I wonder why we ever came down here? It’s time we went up to Town. Your father will have arrived there by now. I shall order the carriage for tomorrow. Meanwhile, Richard has stopped in to see us and we leave him trapped with Augusta in the drawing room. If we don’t rescue him immediately, she will drive him to drink. And when Diana comes in, wracked with despair and frustrated desire, she will need all our support. I think I’ll go down and be charming. At least Richard will be amused. Eleanor, where are you going?”

  Eleanor paused just long enough to grin at her mother.

  “To say goodbye to Mr. Downe, of course,” she said.

  * * *

  She ran into the courtyard just as the men were preparing to leave. Her cheeks were flushed from racing down the stairs, making her eyes brilliant.

  Lee’s heart missed a beat. She was lovely. Lovely and innocent and lost to him forever.

  He quickly led his horse away from Walter and Diana, so that when Eleanor stopped in front of him, they were well out of earshot.

  “What made you do it?” she asked.

  “What have I done now, brown hen? I rather thought I had been behaving better today—no breaking of roofs or stealing of kisses.”

  She stared up at him, her soul in her eyes. “Why did you return the letters?”

  “Why not? I decided I preferred your mother to Sir Robert.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  He grinned. “Am I required to explain myself to you? I don’t believe you have ever returned the compliment.”

  “The answer to that is easy. With me there’s nothing to explain. I am as transparent as glass and as simple as a lunatic.”

  “Ah, yes, I had forgotten. You’re just a schoolgirl, aren’t you?”

  “Mr. Campbell, if my family wasn’t already involved in your machinations, I wouldn’t give you the time of day, believe me. But since they are, I think you owe me something other than pat phrases and evasions.”

  He took her hand and bent to kiss the tips of her fingers. “Alas, Lady Eleanor,” he said. “That’s all you’re going to get. Infuriating, isn’t it?”

  “Oh, stuff! You don’t matter enough to warrant more than indifference, sir.�
�

  “That’s what I like about you, Lady Eleanor. You’re so calmly consistent. It’s a great virtue in a female.”

  “Virtue?” she said, spinning about to walk away. “You wouldn’t know it if it bit you.”

  Lee watched the proud tilt of her head and the rigid line of her retreating back for a moment, then he swung onto his horse. She stopped in the doorway and gazed back at him with her eyes full of indignation.

  Diana released Walter’s hand, then stood swaying with one hand pressed to her mouth. With a last meaningful look back at her, Walter turned his horse to join the black.

  Lee immediately asked the black for a side pass and the horse stepped elegantly over to stop in front of Eleanor. It cost him every bit of his self-control to keep his smile light and his voice flippant.

  “You had better support my poor sister,” he said softly, leaning from the saddle. “Love has her in its blind grip. Diana is about to have the vapors.”

  * * *

  Walter and Lee trotted along together in silence, until Lee put his mount into a canter that soon became a gallop. When he finally pulled up, Walter had been left several hundred yards behind.

  “Devil take you!” Walter said with better humor than his words implied, as he eventually rode up alongside his friend. “Can’t shake off the dust of Hawksley fast enough? You might have given some thought to my sensibilities.”

  Lee smiled back at his friend. “I should never have brought you,” he said. “I admit I thought perhaps Diana was enjoying only a passing fancy which proximity might cure, but in spite of her histrionics, I think she genuinely loves you, sir.”

  Walter flushed. “I’ll wait for her,” he said grimly. “Even if it takes five years.”

  “If you persist in being so honorable, you may have to.”

  “What about the other issue?” Walter said, deliberately turning the subject. “Did you get any satisfaction from the major?”

  “About Manton Barnes? No, I didn’t. And I found nothing at the house.”

  Walter looked at his friend in astonishment. “You searched Deerfield?”

  Lee grinned. Eleanor had given him the information he needed: if there was a hiding place in the library, perhaps there were others in the house. Then Frank Garth had confirmed it. Yet gentlemen did not usually rifle through other people’s papers. Neither would Eleanor have done so, if she hadn’t wanted to save her mother from blackmail.

  “Of course,” he said. “That’s why I went back there. Don’t look so upset. You know I am shameless.”

  “I only know that you must have thought you had bloody good cause.”

  “I did, as a matter of fact.”

  There was silence for a moment. Then Walter spoke. “You’re going to leave me hanging, just like that?”

  The violet eyes gave him no mercy. “Yes, I am.”

  “But you might at least—”

  “No! Stay out of it, Downe! Don’t speculate and don’t press me. The thing is deeper than you know.”

  “You know your own business best, of course,” Walter said stiffly. “But for God’s sake! What the hell is this?”

  Lee looked ahead and edged his horse onto the verge. A carriage was ponderously rolling toward them. Pairs of outriders in elaborate livery rode before and after the vehicle. On the box sat not only the driver, but two servants armed with weapons to guard against highwaymen, and one with a loud and piercing coaching horn to warn other travelers out of the way.

  Lee and Walter were immediately honored with a blast, startling their horses so badly that Walter was almost unseated.

  “Good heavens,” Lee said, though the black also shied and then bucked. “I hope my sister is feeling strong.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Unless I am very much mistaken, Mr. Downe, those are the colors of the Duke of Maybury. It would follow, therefore, that the inhabitant of this splendid equipage is none other than his son, your rival for the hand of the fair Diana: the infamously charming, wealthy, and eligible Roger Waters, Lord Ranking.”

  Chapter 10

  The girls quietly rejoined the company in the drawing room. Fortunately Lady Augusta was distracted by a comment from Lady Acton and was thus unaware that Diana was positively drooping. Eleanor’s high color met only her brother’s shrewd black gaze. What did Richard guess? Thank goodness there wouldn’t be any further chance for a private word!

  When he took his leave she was able to hug and kiss him, and wish him a safe journey back to Helena, as if nothing at all were wrong. Then while Lady Acton made her own good-byes, Eleanor returned to her room so that her mother could enjoy the last few minutes with her eldest son.

  At least, that’s what she told herself. Surely her desire to be alone for a few moments and gather her thoughts had nothing whatsoever to do with Leander Campbell? But the luxury of reflection was denied her. She heard rapid footsteps running up the stairs and someone hammered at the door.

  Eleanor opened it to find Diana, her eyes swimming with tears.

  “Oh, Eleanor, it’s all quite dreadful! Now Walter has gone back to London, when shall I ever see him again?”

  “Very soon, don’t you think?” Eleanor was not feeling very sympathetic. “Mama and I go to Town, too, and surely you and Lady Augusta follow right away?”

  Diana dropped onto Eleanor’s bed. “Yes, and that’s the worst of it. Your brother Richard barely trotted out of the driveway, when a carriage turned in. It has the Maybury arms, Eleanor. Lord Ranking is here.”

  “Di, pray, don’t be a watering pot! It makes your skin blotchy. Not even your formidable mama can make you marry Ranking, if you don’t want to.”

  “But he’ll fawn over me and pay me attentions, and I can’t bear it. What if he should try to propose?”

  “Refuse him. It won’t cause an international incident—merely a minor tempest in the domestic teapot.”

  Lady Diana mopped at her eyes and smiled. Then she looked at her friend with her heart in her eyes.

  “You said you would help me, Eleanor. If you were nice to Lord Ranking, maybe he wouldn’t want me, after all. You’re so much braver than I, you could cope with him. And anyway, you’re not in love with somebody else, so it wouldn’t be nearly as upsetting to your sensibilities. I shall die if he takes us to London. Get him to escort you and Lady Acton, instead. Say you will, please?”

  Eleanor laughed. “According to your brother, only heroines in romances would rather die. Anyway, it’s highly unlikely that Lord Ranking would transfer his affections from a blond angel to a brown hen.”

  “Why?” Diana said. “I don’t think he’s ever noticed what I look like. He just wants a suitable wife. And in so many ways, you’re a better catch. Your father has all kinds of influence and standing. You’re an Acton.”

  “Do you think Ranking so mercenary? I thought he was captivated by your beauty.”

  “Lord Ranking was never captivated in his life. He’s a toad. Oh, say you’ll help me, Eleanor!”

  “I don’t see how I can. Really, Di! I’ve never had any practice at captivating before.”

  “Think of it as a challenge,” Diana said. “Just enough to make him leave? Please?”

  Eleanor looked at the genuine distress on her friend’s lovely face and felt a rush of remorse. She reached out and squeezed Diana’s hand.

  “Of course I’ll try,” she said. “Whatever I can do to help you marry your Walter Feveril Downe, from this moment I promise it shall be done. So let’s go downstairs to face this toad together.”

  A drooping young man stood in the hallway.

  He did not look up as the girls came down. His skin was pale and a little flaccid, as if he rarely saw fresh air, and he was unwinding several layers of woolen scarf that had been wrapped about his neck. He seemed unaware of the resulting crushed cravat and bent shirt collar, which thrust up crookedly beneath it.

  “How can Lord Lenwood ride away without a coat?” he asked, his voice petulant. “Your son cares
nothing for his health, Lady Acton?”

  “Richard is never ill,” Eleanor’s mother said with her most incisive smile. “We Actons enjoy the soundest constitution.”

  “Which is most fortunate for you!” Lady Augusta led the way into the drawing room. “To my way of thinking, you are very wise to take no risks, Lord Ranking. Why, Lady Acton herself had to be brought back in the carriage after walking too far from the Park. It is so foolish to expose oneself to a raw wind on a blustery day.”

  Lord Ranking turned to the countess. “Did you indeed, Lady Acton? I am always subject to a most horrid inflammation of the lungs after the slightest exposure. I am known for the delicacy of my organs. No one has to be more careful. Ah, Lady Diana!”

  Diana made a stiff curtsy and introduced her friend to her unwelcome suitor. Lord Ranking immediately produced a quizzing glass and surveyed Eleanor from head to toe, before bobbing his head in a small bow.

  “Most delighted, I’m sure! I hope you will forgive my not bowing too deep, Lady Eleanor? Nothing aggravates a delicate chest more certainly than to disturb its natural elevation, I find. And once irritation sets in, only the most determined care can cure it, and then, alas, but temporarily.”

  Eleanor swallowed her smile and replied as gravely as she was able. “Red flannel is the answer to such problems, Lord Ranking. Worn as a preventative against chills and sudden upsets, nothing is more effective. I have it on the highest authority.”

  “Red flannel is all very well, of course.” He gazed at her with serious interest. “But a posset of treacle and boiled milk is very comforting—unless one fears ague, in which case nothing can answer better than elderberry ague ointment. You have consulted Culpeper’s Compleat Herbal?”