A Rogue to Remember

by Bowlin, Chasity

  Devil nodded. “Thank you, my friend. We’ll add it to the account of all the many things I owe you.”

  Highcliff laughed again, but it was a bitter sound. “If I ever collect on all the favors owed me amongst my compatriots—it hardly signifies. We both know I won’t. And this is for a child… and for Alice. You owe me nothing.”

  Devil said nothing further, just gave another quick, jerky nod and left the conservatory to make his way back through the darkened house and into the street beyond. Highcliff was a man haunted by his past and burdened by the prospect of his future. But he was a damned good friend to have.

  Chapter Ten

  Willa’s hands were clenched into fists at her sides. It was less from anger and more to control their trembling. The man was no less terrifying at a close distance. His lurking aside, there was something cold and calculating about him. She had little doubt that he was plotting something. His desire to lay claim to Marina as his child had nothing to do with any paternal inclinations he might have. He wanted something and Marina was a means to an end for him. Of that, she was certain.

  “Where is Lord Deveril?” she asked of the butler.

  “He has stepped out, Miss Marks,” the butler replied. “He had a matter of business to attend to but is expected to return shortly.”

  “Does the matter of business pertain to Mr. West?” she asked.

  “I cannot say, Miss,” the butler replied.

  Cannot say. It was a far cry from he did not know. She was fairly certain that given how difficult the afternoon had been that Lord Deveril would not have left unless it was to deal with the problem at hand.

  “When he returns, please inform him that I’m awaiting him in his study.” Her manner was as stiff and formal as the butler’s. She was well aware that he disapproved of her, that he remembered her well enough from her previous visit to the house and likely saw through their sham of a betrothal as if peering through a pane of glass.

  “I see no reason why that man should not have access to his child,” Lady Carringden proclaimed from her position on the landing. “It isn’t our place to prevent a father and his daughter from reuniting.”

  “Other than the fact that the child is terrified of him?” Willa demanded. “I cannot understand the hardness of your heart toward an innocent child.”

  Lady Carringden laughed. “My dear, are any of us ever really innocent?”

  “Yes,” Willa said, beyond infuriated by the woman’s cavalier answer. “I aim to wait for Lord Deveril in his study. Alone.”

  Breezing past the butler and his disapproving glower, and ignoring Lady Carringden’s indignant harrumph, she made her way down the corridor and into the study that was his sanctuary. It was the first time she’d been in that room alone, without his overwhelming presence to fill it. It was a strange feeling—almost as intimate as those charged moments that had passed between them earlier. It was a room filled with his letters and personal items. It was where he conducted his business, where he greeted his intimates, and where he spent the better part of his time. And every piece of furniture, every book, every letter, all seemed to be infused with the intoxicating scent that was simply him.

  Free to explore without his knowing and watchful gaze upon her, Willa did so. Walking around the perimeter of the room first, she studied the art work on the walls, the figurines that graced the shelves and mantel. The bookshelves behind the desk held a treasure trove of delights, many of them forbidden. There were books she’d read, devouring page after page until she could recite them. There were others that she’d never heard of and still more that she had, but only in hushed whispers. Erotic poetry. Novels that booksellers refused to let unmarried women purchase. She could have spent hours upon hours just drinking it all in, but the risk of discovery and the embarrassment she would feel if he were to see her reading one of those salacious books was enough to stay her. Still, she trailed her fingertips lovingly over the spines. The temptation was almost as great as her trepidation.

  “I fear that particular volume would make you blush so profusely you might actually burst into flames.”

  Willa gasped, her hand flying to her throat in an instinctually protective gesture as she turned toward him. He’d slipped in, opening the door silently and entering the room while she’d been engrossed with his wicked library. “You startled me.”

  “Caught you more like,” Lord Deveril replied. “If you really want to read those books, I won’t stop you. And what’s more, I won’t tell anyone either. They are quite… enlightening.”

  “I was simply curious about your collection, my lord. I didn’t realize you were such an avid reader,” she replied dryly. “Though I imagine a great many of these books consist primarily of illustrations.”

  He laughed, throwing his head back and doing so freely without any fear of censure. “Are you suggesting that I am only capable of reading picture books like a child?”

  “These are hardly children’s books.”

  “Indeed, they are not,” he agreed. “Though I daresay they have contributed greatly to the production of children the world over. They are quite inspirational in that regard.”

  Deciding to change the subject for the sake of her own comfort as well as propriety, Willa asked, “Where were you?”

  A raised eyebrow accompanied his sardonic response. “Am I to answer to you, then? Perhaps submit my schedule to you for approval?”

  She wouldn’t tolerate highhandedness from him. He might be a gentleman of a rank, but bastard or not, she was the daughter of one. “He came here. Alaric West is the name he gave. Whether it’s genuine or not is not for me to say. He came to this house and demanded to see Marina.”

  “I’ll see him dead first.” The words were uttered quietly, but there was a ferocity in them that was unmistakable.

  He was known for fighting and for dueling. By all accounts that she’d managed to uncover, he’d acquitted himself well while serving in India. But until that moment, she’d not understood what he’d meant when he referred to himself as a dangerous man. It had all been laconic charm, teasing smiles and flirtation that bordered on the inappropriate simply because of its source. Him. In rare moments, she’d glimpsed the serious side of him, that deeper part where all his pain and guilt resided. But what she saw in that moment was something else altogether. He had the appearance of a warrior, of an avenging angel.

  “That may be a bit extreme,” she replied.

  “He left my sister to die. He seduced her. And when it became known she carried his child, she was cast out. Where was he then, Miss Marks? As soon as he realized that she would not be his path to a life of ease and luxury, he left her and her child to fend for themselves in a squalid hovel. I cannot bear to think of what my sister was forced to do there, to endure there, in order to survive.”

  He’d bitten out the words, his tone harsh and a far cry from his usual dry, sardonic delivery. They were fueled by fury and suppressed grief. And by guilt, Willa realized. He blamed himself for his sister’s fate as much as he blamed West. His behavior had resulted in his exile and his exile had left his sister vulnerable to fortune hunters and opportunists. It wasn’t the truth. Willa knew that. How many girls at the school had slipped away and met with unsuitable men, running off with them, despite all the safeguards in place to protect them? If Alice had wanted to be with West, she would have found a way.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Willa said softly. “She hid her relationship with him from everyone. Not even her maid knew… until it was too late. She would have hidden it from you as well.”

  He strode across the room and reached for the decanter of brandy on the table. At the last moment, as if remembering their bargain, he removed his hand from it and let out a weary sigh. “How do you know that?”

  “Women have been loving unwisely and secretly for as long as they have existed, my lord. Not even you can prevent such a thing.” Willa moved toward the door, but paused before exiting, “If you feel the need to partake of a bit
of brandy, my lord, I won’t protest. Under the circumstances, I’d say it’s well deserved.”

  That arched eyebrow and droll tone returned. “Thank you, Miss Marks, for granting me permission to partake of my own spirits.”

  “You’re quite welcome, my lord,” she murmured. “He claims they were married and that he has proof. If so, the law will be on his side. What shall we do?”

  “It’s best you do not ask,” he replied darkly.

  Willa shivered at the implied threat. She didn’t want to know, she realized. And whatever it was that he would do, she’d not have any censure for him because of it. It was warranted, after all. “In the meantime, we’ll need guards. Not just footmen, as you suggested earlier, and the sooner the better. Marina cannot be kept as a prisoner in this house. She needs sunlight. Air. She needs to learn what it’s like to be a child again. That will not happen if she is trapped inside constantly.”

  “I’ll see to it,” he said. “I know some retired soldiers who’d be happy enough for the work.”

  Willa nodded her thanks and exited the room.

  *

  When she’d gone, Devil took advantage of the reprieve she’d offered him and poured himself a glass of brandy. He didn’t simply throw it back as he might have before. He wasn’t drinking to numb his pain or bury his guilt, but rather to savor the taste of it and to ease the tensions of the day.

  But he didn’t want to think about Alice. Nor did he want to allow Alaric West to occupy any more of his thoughts on that evening. Instead, he allowed his thoughts to drift to something far more dangerous. What would Wilhelmina Marks have done had she opened that volume she’d been caressing so lovingly? She would have been shocked to be sure. But would she have found it titillating as well? Or, heaven help him, arousing?

  Moving back to the bookshelf, he picked up the very volume Miss Marks had been looking at. He placed it on the desk and opened it to a familiar engraving. It depicted a woman sprawled across her lover’s lap as he brought her to release with his hand. It was an exquisite piece of erotic art. But he wasn’t looking at it as a connoisseur of art, but as a man bedeviled by lust. He wanted Wilhelmina Marks sprawled across his lap in just such a manner, his breath hot on her neck as she strained against him and her cries echoing softly in his ears.

  It was a complicated thing. He needed her to provide a service, to care for Marina and help him reach the child he feared was beyond him. And he needed her because she could reach a part of him, something inside him that he had thought long dead. Wilhelmina Marks had somehow reached the romantic heart of him buried beneath years of cynicism and debauchery. It was a hell of a thing to feel; he’d need to choose between what he desired most and what was best for his niece.

  Cursing softly, he closed the book and left the library. Carrying his glass of brandy, he made for the stairs and the safety of his own chambers. He needed to be alone with his thoughts in a place where he knew he would not be disturbed, in the one place in the house her scent had not invaded. It was not in his nature to deny himself the things he wanted but, for once, he would have to.

  Chapter Eleven

  Alaric entered the tavern and made his way to darkened corner at the back. It was a place to do business, and he was a man with business to attend to. He meant to get them both, and if he was going to do so, he’d need the assistance of some fellows who couldn’t be bothered with scruples.

  Easing onto one of the hard benches, he signaled for a tankard of ale. One of the serving wenches came over shortly and placed it before him. “You’ve got no credit here,” she said.

  Alaric smiled and tossed her one of his few remaining coins. “I’ve no need of credit,” he said. “Soon, I’ll be as flush as Golden Ball himself.”

  “Aye,” she said, clearly skeptical. “And until you are, you’ll pay for every tankard as it’s delivered.”

  “You’ll get your money,” he said. “I’m looking for a couple fellows to do a bit of work for me. Big. Strong. Not missish if it gets a bit messy.”

  She surveyed him for a moment. “I might know of one or two. I reckon they’ll be in tonight. They usually are.”

  “There’ll be another coin in it for you if you send them my way.”

  “You’re all flush now, aren’t you? Where you getting this money from?” she demanded.

  “I can spend what I have because there is a promise of more… so much more,” Alaric said. “And maybe, when it’s all said and done, I can buy you a new frock and help you out of that old rag you’re wearing right now.”

  She threw her head back and cackled, her generous bosom jiggling from her mirth. “I’d like to see the day you’d spend a groat on anyone other than yourself… and new frock or not, you’ll not be warming yourself beneath my skirts. I knew Alice, you see. Knew her to be kind and sweet… and too bloody good for the likes of you. So I’ll take your money, I’ll send the miscreants and criminals that you want to hire to your table, but only because you’re a paying customer. And you’ll only ever get a drink in this establishment, no matter what you pay!”

  Alaric watched the serving girl stomp off, her skirts and her ample backside swishing. She’d come around. They always did. Loyalty was a commodity few could afford in the rookeries. Her rent would be due and she’d be tossing her skirts up for him soon enough. It wasn’t even that he wanted her, but he’d be damned if she wouldn’t want him.

  It didn’t take long for two younger men to enter the tavern. They spoke with the barmaid for a moment or two and then ambled in his direction. The larger of the two spoke first.

  “I hear you’re looking for fellows to do some work.”

  “I am,” Alaric replied. “My daughter has been taken by her uncle. He’s a toff. He means to keep her from me. Her governess walks her in the park often enough… I need you to help me get her back.”

  “In the park. You mean Hyde Park? Where all the gentlemen and ladies associate?” the younger one said. “We’re not going to swing for the likes of you.”

  “She’s my daughter. He cannot have us arrested for taking my own daughter. If he were not a lord, I’d be the one having him taken to the gaol,” Alaric said, and he sounded so morally outraged that he almost convinced himself. “This is my daughter… now that her mother is gone, she’s all I have left in the world. I need your help to get her back. Please.”

  “What’s the pay?”

  “A pound each,” Alaric said.

  “Not enough to even bother with,” the larger of the two answered. “We won’t do it for less than five each.”

  The other one nodded in accord.

  Alaric bit back a smile. He’d have paid ten to both, so it was still a bargain. “Five pounds each it is then.” He pulled some coins from the small purse he carried. “Half now and the remainder when the job is done. Fair enough?”

  “Fair enough,” the other man agreed as his companion nodded. “When?”

  “We’ll watch the house tomorrow and see what they’re about,” Alaric replied. “That’s why I need the two of you. They know my face and they’ll be watching for me. Meet me here at nine in the morning.”

  When the two men had gone, Alaric returned to his ale. If he could get Marina out from under Deveril’s watchful eyes, he had no doubt the bastard would pay to get her back. At least a thousand pounds. Perhaps even more. He’d just have to wait and see. Perhaps he’d let Deveril make the first offer and see just what he thought the brat was worth. He certainly didn’t want to cheat himself out of the largesse that Lord Deveril could clearly afford.

  A tiny bit of doubt played at the edges of Alaric’s mind. What would he do if Lord Deveril didn’t pay? What would happen if he wound up stuck with the child? Get rid of her. It was what he’d asked Alice to do from the beginning, after all. Children disappeared in the city all the time, lost to the rookeries and abbesses. No reason that screaming brat should any different, he decided.

  *

  Devil had elected to avoid the complications of dinne
r with Miss Marks and his intolerable aunt. He fled to his club. If he were to be entirely honest, it was not the women in his house who had sent him fleeing. It was his own thoughts. Temptation, especially when one was honor bound to resist it, was torment.

  As he approached White’s, he realized he wasn’t in the mood for it either. He would keep his promise to Miss Marks and not indulge in drink. Gambling was not exactly fun without it, and given his recently “betrothed” state, other vices were forbidden to him as well.

  “Going in, Devil? Fancy a game or two?”

  Devil looked up to see the Earl of Sefton waggling his eyebrows at him much like an old woman. “Not tonight. Just looking in,” Devil replied.

  “Another time then!” Sefton said. “I’m always looking for a good partner for Whist!”

  Because the man was terrible at the game himself, Devil thought. No one who had ever been partnered with Sefton for a game had done so out of choice or in admiration of his skill. More often than not it was because he had Prinny’s ear. Reminding himself of that fact and that Sefton was a good ally to have, Devil nodded in agreement. “You may count on it.”

  Allowing Sefton to precede him into the club, Devil looked about him and noted Highcliff in rare dandy form. The man’s waistcoat was blinding. Few knew better than him just what an act Highcliff’s fashion obsession was. Tailors were a font of information because they were invisible to the nobility and things were discussed freely in front of them that should not have been. Highcliff visited them all and paid them well for their services. Well and on time. That set him apart from others of their class and inspired tradesmen’s desire to remain in his favor.

  Highcliff didn’t smile or grin, but the man’s lips did twitch with mirth. “Partnering with Sefton? If you’re really so desirous of giving away money, I can recommend several excellent charities.”

  “Let’s get a private room… I can’t drink, and I haven’t the patience to be around drunkards,” Devil suggested.