Once a Rebel

by Mary Jo Putney

  She stopped in the doorway, staring. “Lord George Audley! This is an unexpected pleasure.” Her gaze moved to Callie. “And this would be?”

  Callie rose and smiled cheerfully. “Good day, Lady Agnes. I’m Mrs. Bad Penny. Or perhaps that should be Lady George Bad Penny.”

  Lady Agnes laughed and called over her shoulder, “Refreshments, please. I foresee a long and interesting visit with the Bad Pennies.”

  She waved them to be seated, but Gordon remained standing. “Perhaps your memory is deficient, Lady Agnes. I’m told I’m considered your one failure, and I’ve come rather belatedly to apologize.”

  “There is nothing wrong with my memory.” The headmistress subsided on the sofa in a flurry of skirts. “Sit down, my boy. Where did you hear that you were allegedly my one failure? I never said such a thing.”

  Reluctantly smiling at her calling him a boy, he chose a chair where he could see both women clearly. “I heard as much from some old schoolmates I met in London recently. None of them seemed inclined to dispute the description.”

  Lady Agnes sighed. “You were certainly one of the more challenging students I’ve taken on. When you arrived here, you were like a puppy that has been beaten so often that he trusts no one. All you knew how to do was bite. Yet you seemed to be gradually improving while you were here. Was I wrong?”

  “No,” he admitted. “But I was far from being really right when I left.”

  She studied his face. “I’ve always believed that if you’d had another year here, you would have been decently sorted out and ready to face the world on your terms.”

  He thought back to the boy he’d been then and the way he was reluctantly coming to respect the school and his classmates. “It’s possible. I was beginning to realize that I needed to change and stop bashing angrily into brick walls.”

  “I thought as much.” Lady Agnes spread her hands in frustration. “But you left for the summer holidays and never returned. I received a terse note from your father’s secretary saying you were being withdrawn because you had ruined a young lady of good birth and were being dealt with.” She gave a wintry smile. “And I was expected to refund the money paid for your next term’s tuition by return post.”

  Callie had been watching the conversation with quiet fascination, but at that point she slid to the front edge of her chair, her eyes snapping. “Outrageous! I’m the ‘young lady of good birth’ that Richard was alleged to have ruined. He did that by offering honorable matrimony to save me from being married off to a stranger three times my age. A man who would allow my father to get rid of me for a profit.”

  Lady Agnes studied Callie, her expression arrested. “I was sure there was more to the story. If you’re willing to tell me, it will go no further.”

  Callie glanced at Gordon and he gave her a nod of permission. Lady Agnes had deflected his apology, but she deserved the truth.

  “Richard suggested Gretna Green to save me from the unwanted marriage,” Callie said. “Society might consider that ruination, but to me, he was salvation.”

  “So you two were childhood sweethearts?”

  “No, we were best friends. There was nothing romantic between us.” Callie gave Gordon an intimate glance. “At least, not then. But I was frantic, and when he suggested eloping as the only escape, I accepted gratefully.”

  She took a shuddering breath. “But our fathers, Lord Stanfield and Lord Kingston, caught up with us almost immediately. The only way to stop my father from beating Richard to death was to swear that I’d marry his rich Jamaican planter if he promised not to hurt Richard anymore.”

  “Stanfield kept his word,” Gordon said dryly. “Instead of finishing me off with his horsewhip, he had me convicted of theft and kidnapping and transported to Botany Bay.”

  It took a great deal to shock Lady Agnes, but those words caused her jaw to drop. She was given time to recover by the arrival of the butler and a maid with a rolling cart of small sandwiches, cakes, and pots of coffee and tea.

  When the servants had withdrawn, Lady Agnes said, “After telling me that, perhaps you both need something stronger?”

  Gordon chuckled. “Thank you, but sobriety is my usual state. It’s a rather horrible story, but it was a long time ago.” He accepted a steaming cup of coffee from Lady Agnes, then filled a small plate with sandwiches. Her ladyship had always kept good cooks.

  Lady Agnes poured tea for Callie. “If you’re Stanfield’s daughter, you’d be Catherine, if I recall correctly. How did the marriage turn out?”

  “I used to be called Catherine, but now I generally go by my middle name, Callista.” Callie took an appreciative sip of the tea, then collected sandwiches for herself. “I had an easier time of it than Richard. My husband was much older, but a kind man. His oldest son by his first wife was—difficult. But I became very fond of my two younger stepchildren.”

  Gordon noticed that Callie was leaving the impression that the younger ones shared a mother with Henry. Well, there was no need to go into more detail.

  Callie continued, “After my husband’s death, there was reason to doubt his heir’s goodwill, so I collected the two youngest and their grandparents and we escaped to Washington and lived quite comfortably there under the name of Audley.” She smiled at Gordon. “That was in memory of my childhood friend, whom I was told had died. Then Richard was sent by someone in London to rescue the Widow Audley, which he did. After several weeks in Baltimore, here we are, now properly married.”

  “I’m sure that explanation covers many fascinating events. Were you in Washington when it was burned? A disgraceful business!” Lady Agnes said indignantly. “What about Baltimore? The Americans did an admirable job of standing their ground.”

  “One can’t say the British didn’t have provocation for burning the American capital, though I wish they hadn’t.” Callie finished off a potted ham sandwich. “In Baltimore, we had a splendid view of the bombardment. It was all very educational and will enliven my eventual memoirs if I ever write any. Which I don’t suppose I will.”

  Lady Agnes chuckled. “Lord George, you’ve chosen the perfect wife, though you don’t need me to tell you that.”

  “No, I don’t,” he said fondly.

  “I have a question about names.” Lady Agnes studied him again while pushing the much depleted plate of sandwiches in his direction. “When you were a student here, you were correctly called Lord George. Recently Westerfield old boys have referred to you as Gordon when discussing various hair-raising adventures. I know that you’re entitled to all those names, but which do you prefer?”

  Now that he was settling in to respectable marriage in England, he realized that it was time to decide how he wanted to present himself to the world. He considered the question while taking more sandwiches.

  “Lord George was a very annoying fellow and I never liked the name. Consider him dead. Richard belongs to Callie. Gordon suits me as I am now. So I choose to be Mr. Gordon Audley. You may call me Gordon if you like.” He glanced at Callie. “Are you willing to sacrifice being Lady George?”

  “I shan’t miss it. I don’t like the name George, either.” She glanced at Lady Agnes. “Is that treason? But your title is merely a courtesy one. As long as I’m Mrs. Audley, not the Widow Audley, I’m satisfied.”

  “Gordon, then,” Lady Agnes said with a nod. “It suits you.”

  Callie said, “I want to hear more about the hair-raising adventures! Lady Agnes, will you tell me some? I’m sure Richard won’t.”

  The headmistress chuckled. “Well, he was instrumental in helping Lord Kirkland rescue his kidnapped wife and her maid.”

  When Callie turned to him, eyebrows raised, Gordon shrugged. “Mere chance that I happened to be in London and captain of Ashton’s latest steamboat. I just drove the boat. It was Kirkland and his friends who risked their lives boarding the kidnappers’ vessel, and it was Ashton in the engine room who got so much speed out of his ship. That man is wasted as a duke. He’s a really first-class e
ngineer.”

  “You are definitely telling me more about this or else!” Callie said threateningly, her eyes like wide golden coins.

  Gordon smiled wickedly. “I look forward to finding out what your ‘or else’ will look like.”

  Callie laughed. “So do I. Lady Agnes, what other tales do you have to tell of my husband’s adventures?”

  Lady Agnes considered. “The only really dramatic one I know is that he used his most excellent marksmanship to save the lives of another of my boys and his wife. And there’s a story about a cellar in Portugal.”

  “I’ve heard about the cellar,” Callie said as her thoughtful gaze returned to Gordon. “I’m not going to write my memoirs; I’m going to have to write yours. Terrifying Tales of an English Gentleman!”

  He rolled his eyes in schoolboy fashion. “Such a book would never sell. As I’ve told you, I’m always an accidental and cowardly adventurer.” Wanting to change the subject, he asked, “Lady Agnes, you always are in touch with the ton. Neither of us have had news of our families in some years. To begin with, are our fathers still alive?”

  The headmistress shook her head. “No, Lord Stanfield died about two years ago. Callista’s brother Marcus is now Lord Stanfield and he seems to be quite a pleasant young man.”

  “My father’s passing is no loss to humanity. I’m glad to know my brother hasn’t turned out like him,” Callie said tartly. “What about Richard’s father?”

  “Lord Kingston died about a year ago. His heart failed, I believe.”

  Gordon regretfully let go of his fantasy of confronting his father and telling him what an appalling specimen he was. But that anger was old and easily released.

  “So my oldest brother, Welham, is now Marquess of Kingston. I’m sure that’s making him very happy.” Gordon made a mental note not to go near the family seat, Kingston Court. He had no desire ever to see Welham again. Welham and Julian, the sons of the first Marchioness of Kingston, had both been coarse and difficult, though Welham had been worse, having the arrogance of an heir.

  “From what I’ve heard, the newest Lord Kingston annoys everyone.” Lady Agnes thought a moment. “I don’t recall hearing anything about your younger brothers, which presumably means they’re alive and well.”

  There was a better chance of developing a decent relationship with his younger brothers. Their mother had been generally pleasant to her three older stepsons, and with luck her boys would have inherited their mother’s temperament, not their father’s.

  The next brother in line after Gordon was Eldon, the youngest was Francis. Gordon could barely remember their faces, but they’d be young men in their twenties now, so he probably wouldn’t recognize them. Maybe someday he’d look them up.

  Lady Agnes said, “It’s late in the day to continue on to London, so why not spend the night here? I’ve plenty of guest rooms and they’re used regularly by my old boys. Emily and General Rawlings will be here for dinner, and I know they’d like to see you.” She glanced at Callie. “They are my partners in running the school.”

  “Would they be as agreeable as you’ve been?” Gordon asked warily.

  “I expect so. You’ve come up as a topic of conversation now and then over the years. They’ll be glad to see that you’ve not only survived but are flourishing.”

  Callie looked a question at Gordon. “Unless you wish to get back to London right away, I’d be happy to spend the night here. With luck, I’ll learn more alarming stories about your wild youth.”

  He chuckled. “How could I deny you such a treat? Thank you, Lady Agnes. We’re happy to accept your hospitality.”

  She’d been the challenge he’d feared most. Instead, she’d made his apologies easy. He wondered if that meant other attempts at redemption would be more difficult than expected.

  He hoped not. He was growing fond of doing things the easy way. Callie made everything easy, and he liked this new turn his life had taken.

  Chapter 35

  “Look at the way the leaves are changing color. Green and beautiful and also golden.” Callie stared out the carriage window, entranced by everything she saw. It had been fifteen years, after all. “I didn’t know that I liked having four seasons until I didn’t.”

  “Washington had four seasons,” Richard pointed out.

  “Yes, but they weren’t English seasons. They were too extreme, and Jamaica was mostly very hot.”

  He chuckled and caught her hand to draw her back onto the seat beside him. “You’re leaving nose prints on the window. You might feel a little less fond of having four English seasons when icy gales are blasting down from the North Sea.”

  She batted her lashes at him. “Why do you think I got married? It’s your job to keep me warm all winter.”

  He laughed and tucked her against his side. “I’ll do my best.”

  She rested her head against his shoulder. “We can be very silly. You might have noticed.”

  “Yes, and I like it.” He stroked her arm. “Why not try to get a bit of rest so you’ll have new exclamations available when we reach London? You must be tired since we were up half the night talking over the dinner table.”

  “Yes, and it was lovely.” She covered a yawn. “You’re right about being tired though. Wake me when we reach London.”

  She dozed off, and didn’t wake until Richard said, “We’re entering Mayfair and will be home soon.”

  She shot up in the seat. “You let me miss most of London!” she said indignantly.

  “It will still be there tomorrow, and you’ll be less tired.”

  “I look forward to spending years exploring London.” She returned to pressing her nose on the carriage window. “I was brought here once or twice as a child, but I don’t remember much of anything.”

  He looked out the opposite window. “We’re almost there. The house is on Mount Row, which is kind of a pocket Berkeley Square. The private garden in the center of the square is much smaller and has no Gunter’s for ices, but it’s pleasant to look out and see a bit of greenery.”

  “It looks lovely!”

  The carriage rumbled to a stop by a house on a corner. Richard climbed out, flipped down the step, and offered his hand. “Welcome to your new castle, my princess!”

  She was almost bouncing with excitement. The square was surrounded by neat terraced houses, all of them well kept. She realized that the front doors were each painted a different color, subdued enough not to be distracting, but quietly enriching the square. Richard’s house—their house—was distinguished by a very dark red door. “I think you said the couple who take care of your house are named Bolton?”

  “Yes. They’re both very capable, with the magical ability to appear when needed and remain invisible the rest of the time.” He led Callie up the half dozen steps to the front door and rapped briskly with the shining brass knocker. Callie smiled to see that it was a lion’s head.

  Having given warning that they were there, Richard opened the door with a key and ushered her into a small vestibule. It was shiny clean and brightly lit by the afternoon sun, with a vase of autumn flowers set on a long table against the wall. Next to the vase were three baskets overflowing with letters and invitations.

  “Go away for a few months and the post gets quite out of hand,” Richard remarked as he helped Callie with her cloak. By the time he had it off her shoulders, a man who must be Bolton had appeared. He was burly and had a ragged scar down the left side of his face.

  “Lord George!” He bowed, seeming genuinely pleased. “How good to see you home again.”

  “My wife and I have decided to dispense with being Lord and Lady George,” Richard said. “We’ll be Mr. and Mrs. Gordon Audley. I’m sorry if that diminishes the respect that your positions inspire with other servants.”

  “We shall endure, sir.” Bolton’s expression was sober, but his eyes were amused. “Welcome to London, Mrs. Audley. And may I offer my congratulations to you both?”

  “You may.” Callie smiled at him
warmly. “I’m anxious for a tour of the house.”

  “It will be my pleasure to show you around, Catkin, though it won’t take long.” As Richard offered her his arm, he said to Bolton, “Will you see to the luggage and driver, please? When we’re downstairs, I’ll ask Mrs. Bolton to have dinner ready in an hour and a half. Nothing elaborate, if that suits you, Callie?”

  “That will be perfect.” Under her breath, she said, “I assume the last stop on this tour will be the master bedroom?”

  He gave her a devilish smile that required no words.

  Mrs. Bolton proved to be a sturdy woman with shrewd eyes and quiet confidence. Callie thought the two of them would get on very well.

  They moved from the kitchen level to the public rooms a flight up. The house was attractive, with most rooms warmed by richly colored Persian carpets, though it could use some small decorating touches.

  Richard said apologetically, “The place needs more work. I haven’t owned it long and I’ve been away a good bit of the time. Feel free to make what changes you wish.”

  “I enjoy home decoration.” She suppressed a pang at the thought of her beautiful vanished home in Washington. “I love this house, Richard. It’s so much warmer and more welcoming than the houses we grew up in.”

  “That was rather the point,” he said wryly.

  As he led her up to the bedrooms, she trailed her fingers along the silken oak of the railing. “The Boltons must love this house, too. They take such good care of it even though you haven’t been here for months.”

  “They do love the place,” he agreed. “Bolton was a sergeant in the army and this is the first lasting home they’ve had.” He guided her toward the back of the house. “There are two bedrooms overlooking the back garden, and they have a connecting door. I use the one on the right as a sitting room and study, but it can be turned into a bedroom for the lady of the house if you like.”

  She chuckled. “I am nowhere near tired of our marital bed, my Lionheart!”