To Tempt A Rogue

by Adrienne Basso

  His uncle, Lord Bridwell.

  Alarmed, Harriet moved closer to Nathaniel. Her eyes anxiously scanned the open doorway, but Jeanne Marie and Phoebe did not enter the house. She saw them whispering and giggling outside with Jane, then the trio followed one of grooms as he led the carriage away. Relieved the girls would not be seen by the man who was their temporary legal guardian, Harriet turned her attention back to the drama at hand.

  Lord Bridwell straightened and took a step forward, his eyes narrowing with malicious triumph. “McTate insisted he knew nothing of your whereabouts, but I knew you’d be turning up here eventually. Are the brats with you or has Brockhurst taken custody of them?”

  “My nephew and nieces are none of your concern,” Nathaniel insisted hotly, resentment simmering in his every word.

  An amused smile curved Lord Bridwell’s lips. “That’s not what the courts say.”

  “Courts be damned. The children are mine. They belong with me and while there is breath in my body I will not relinquish them to you!”

  Something brittle and dangerous flashed in Lord Bridwell’s eyes. Harriet could feel the hostility radiating between the two men. If they each held swords they would in all likelihood be charging each other, swinging with the intent to kill. Though weapons were not necessary for the tension and violence to erupt. Fists would serve just as well.

  Hoping to avoid a brawl, Harriet planted herself in front of Nathaniel’s adversary. “Good afternoon. I am Harriet Sainthill. You must be Lord Bridwell.”

  His lordship’s rapt gaze fixed on Harriet’s face and she struggled to keep her expression neutral.

  “Ah, the little governess who likes to write letters. It appears I owe you a debt of gratitude, Miss Sainthill.”

  Beside her, Nathaniel went rigid.

  “You are gravely mistaken, my lord,” Harriet replied. “The letter I sent was not meant for you. It was written purely out of concern for one of my charges. In fact, if I was aware of the consequences, I would never have penned the missive.”

  “Then you would have missed the opportunity to correct a grave miscarriage of justice.” Lord Bridwell’s expression hardened. “But I will not condemn you for your part in this fiasco, since I am certain my nephew has lied to you about a great many things. He’s rather good at it, you know.”

  Lord Bridwell’s smug, raspy voice grated along Harriet’s nerves.

  “You know nothing of Lord Avery,” she said. “For if you did, you would not spout such nonsense.”

  “I know he is a kidnapper,” Lord Bridwell declared. “And soon the magistrate will also know of his crimes.”

  Nathaniel looked at his uncle with a speculative gleam. “If you intended to involve the law in our little family squabble, it would have already been done. Your idle threats do not intimidate me, sir.”

  “They should. I promise you, this is far from over, nephew.” Lord Bridwell smiled with chilling certainty and sauntered away.

  His departure smoothed away some of the tension that had gripped the room. For a few seconds they all stood in awkward, shocked silence.

  Nathaniel finally exploded. “Christ’s bones, McTate, how could you let that viper set foot under your roof?”

  The Scotsman shrugged. “When he appeared on my doorstep yesterday afternoon, I knew the secret was out. If I sent him away, who knows what he might have done. It seemed wiser to invite him to stay with me. At least if he is here we know he hasn’t run to a magistrate and tried to have you arrested.”

  Though the explanation made perfect sense, Harriet could see that Nathaniel struggled with the reasoning. His attitude was remote. He was regarding McTate cautiously, as if he no longer completely trusted his good friend. Harriet could sympathize with the Scotsman’s dilemma for she too had unwittingly betrayed Lord Avery.

  “We could all use a bit of rest,” Harriet decided. “Perhaps we can make more sense of things in a few hours.”

  “An excellent suggestion.” McTate seized the diversion and shot Nathaniel an unrepentant look. “I have had your usual bedchamber prepared, placed the children in the chamber beside you and Miss Sainthill next to them.”

  “My uncle?”

  “Is on the opposite side of the house.”

  “Since you are familiar with the residence, will you escort me to my chamber, Lord Avery?” Harriet asked.

  “I need to have a private word with the Laird,” Nathaniel replied grimly.

  With little more than a curt nod, the two men departed. Sighing tiredly, Harriet followed the footman to her room. As she climbed the stairs she could not help but once again be impressed by her elegant surroundings. Duncan McTate’s town home was as well appointed, refined, and luxurious as any London establishment she had ever seen. It was such a stark contrast to the ancient, medieval Hillsdale Castle that Harriet could scarcely believe the same individual owned both properties.

  Harriet took full advantage of the civilized amenities in her lovely bedchamber and washed away the grime of travel. Then she stretched out on the comfortable bed and closed her eyes, dozing briefly. Refreshed, she left her room an hour later and had taken but a few steps before she was waylaid by a footman.

  “His lordship requests your presence in the drawing room, Miss Sainthill.”

  Harriet nodded and followed the servant, eager to see Nathaniel. But when she entered the drawing room she discovered it was not Lord Avery who awaited her.

  “I was not sure you’d have the courage to come.” Lord Bridwell rose stiffly to his feet. His intense gaze honed in on her, but Harriet refused to so much as blink. “I might not have, if you had shown the courage to reveal the summons came from you,” Harriet replied tartly.

  Lord Bridwell grunted his response. He resumed his seat beside a mahogany table near the window. A shaft of sunlight illuminated his narrow, harsh face. Harriet might have considered him a handsome man if she did not know of his nature.

  Harriet took her time settling into a chair. She smoothed her skirt and made a deliberate show of admiring the drawing room’s rich, exotic furnishings, silk wallpaper, and gilded ceiling.

  “I assume you have called me here to discuss my charges,” Harriet said in her most professional, governess tone. “Would you like a detailed report of their progress? They are each apt pupils, showing excellence in various subjects.”

  Lord Bridwell shifted in his seat. “If you insist.” “Whom shall I speak of first?”

  “The boy.”

  Harriet felt a rush of ill will towards Lord Bridwell. “Yes, the boy. The child you claim to have such a keen regard for, such grave concern for his future, and yet you cannot even recall his name.”

  There was a slight pause. “Garret.”

  “Gregory,” Harriet said deliberately.

  “The young whelp is the eighth Duke of Claridge. He will be known by his family and friends as Claridge and by the rest of society as Your Grace. His Christian name is of no importance.”

  “He is four years old,” Harriet said. “Those of us who love him call him Gregory.”

  “How disappointing to learn the reports of you were misleading,” Lord Bridwell replied with faint hauteur. “I had heard you were a female who disregarded sentiment.”

  I used to be. Harriet nearly spoke the words out loud, but she would not share such an intimacy with Lord Bridwell. She had been the type of female who was practical and sensible and even rigid. But her weeks at Hillsdale Castle and her love for Nathaniel had softened that part of her personality.

  “Enough of this farce.” She bolted from her chair. “We both know your interest in the children is purely monetary. Why did you summon me here?”

  “I want you to use your influence on my nephew to convince him to give me the children without a legal battle. If you do, I will see that you are handsomely rewarded.”

  Harriet had fully intended to dislike Lord Bridwell. He had caused no small amount of anguish and suffering to those she loved and those acts of cruelty were difficult t
o overlook. This suggestion only served to further solidify her initial negative impression.

  “Lord Avery is not a man who is easily swayed from his convictions. What makes you think I would have any influence on his decisions?”

  “I see the way you look at him, with such care and concern, such deep emotion.” Lord Bridwell spat out the words. “He also appears far from indifferent toward you. There are ways a clever woman can manipulate a man, if she is so inclined.”

  “And if I refuse to help you?”

  “Then you will suffer.” Lord Bridwell’s hand curled into a fist, casting a claw-like shadow on the carpet.

  “I am not so easily frightened. Nor is Lord Avery.”

  “You intend to stand beside him?”

  Harriet nodded.

  “A most unwise decision. My nephew is foolish, stubborn, and proud. This will be a nasty fight, yet my victory is assured. If you will not help me, at least have the sense to remove yourself from the scandal.”

  “I am not afraid of gossip.”

  “No, I do not suppose that you are, especially after last Season.” His eyes gleamed with malice. “I am sure you think nothing could possibly be more hurtful or humiliating than the scandal you faced but a few months ago.”

  Harriet’s heart skipped a beat. He was trying to intimidate her, to shake her confidence. “I am only the governess. My character is not at issue.”

  “Oh, but it could be. And what of my nephew? What will you say if you are called to bear witness to his character? That he lied, employed you under false pretenses, made inappropriate advances towards you? Will you, I wonder, reveal the extent of your involvement with him or will you lie under oath to save your reputation?”

  “My relationship with Lord Avery has no relevance in this case,” Harriet declared.

  “Perhaps. And perhaps not.” The corners of Lord Bridwell’s mouth turned down. “Moral character is a key element in his case. You cannot deny it will be more difficult for my nephew to prove his worthiness if your involvement in this matter is taken into account.”

  Harriet lifted her chin. “If that were true, you would be encouraging me to stay, for it would weaken Lord Avery’s position and strengthen your own.”

  Lord Bridwell sighed. “Whatever you may believe, I am not a cruel man. Though you claim otherwise, I am certain my nephew lied to you. You are an innocent victim in all of this and I would not want you to be further tainted by the scandal to come.”

  Harriet swallowed hard. “I do not believe you.” Lord Bridwell leaned towards her. “Believe that I will use whatever means necessary to win and that will include dragging what is left of your good name through the mud. I suppose my nephew might be forced to marry you, in an attempt to add an air of respectability to your relationship. Though I believe any magistrate with a lick of sense would see through that ploy. If you have any shred of self-respect, Miss Sainthill, you will gather your belongings and make arrangements to be on the next coach out of the city.”

  Harriet trembled with anger and humiliation. The brutal frankness of Lord Bridwell’s words hit her hard. She had no defense to his arguments. He was as ruthless and formidable as Nathaniel had told her.

  “Yes, I think you are right,” Harriet whispered. “I need to see about packing. Immediately.”

  Dignity and strength had always been two of her greatest assets. Harriet now called upon every ounce of that character as she rose from her seat. Without saying another word, she quit the room and marched resolutely up the stairs.

  Chapter Twenty

  Nathaniel found his uncle in the drawing room, looking smug and satisfied. When he entered the room, Lord Bridwell fixed a disdainful eye on him and Nathaniel returned the glare. He was tired of allowing this man to dictate the particulars of his life. He could hold power over him only if Nathaniel permitted it.

  The worry over the fate of the children was Nathaniel’s greatest weakness and Lord Bridwell had ruthlessly tried to exploit it. No longer.

  Nathaniel knew precisely what he wanted and he had every intention of gaining it. He planted his feet wide and drew himself up to his full height. “I was told Miss Sainthill was in here, but I see you are alone. Has she gone for a walk in the gardens?”

  Lord Bridwell raised his eyebrows. It was a forbidding gesture that Nathaniel ignored. “She has gone upstairs to pack her belongings. It took very little effort for me to convince her to leave. I originally thought she held some affection for you, but clearly my impression was mistaken.”

  The words were chosen carefully with the intention of wounding. Nathaniel’s throat constricted. The thought of Harriet leaving brought on a black wave of despair that threatened to overpower him, but Nathaniel would not be drawn away from the true issue. The fate of the children was to be decided here and now and he was not going to be denied his victory.

  “Miss Sainthill is my concern, not yours.” Nathaniel scanned his uncle’s harsh features, seeking some trace of familial sentiment or regard. There was none. “I have given this a great deal of thought. The Highlands are a beautiful place, desolate, harsh, and perfect for reflection.” He forced his voice to sound calm, almost bored. “I had considered negotiating with you for custody of the children, essentially buying you off. But I eventually rejected the idea. After all, you might agree to a sum today and decide in a year you wanted more.”

  Lord Bridwell’s expression tightened at the veiled insult, but he made no comment.

  Nathaniel continued, “I have many legal options, and a few illegal ones, and I will not cease until I have untangled this mess in my favor. You are an old man sir, and I am a much younger one. My stamina, resources, and dedication are far superior to your own and have grown stronger these past few weeks.”

  “You are not invincible, nephew. The fact that I so easily located you should be an indication to you of my resolve in this matter.”

  “You found me purely by chance and I can state with certainty that you will never have a second one. Miss Sainthill told you the letter was never meant for your eyes. She acted out of kindness and consideration for the children, two ideals which I am certain you would fail to comprehend. I can find no fault with her behavior.”

  “You are a highly tolerant employer.” Lord Bridwell’s lips turned up into a sneer. “She must be an exceptional governess.”

  Nathaniel felt the fury gathering in his chest. He would endure much from his uncle in order to gain custody of the children, but he could not allow Harriet’s honor to be impugned. “There is a Bow Street Runner nursing a sore jaw who had the audacity to approach Miss Sainthill at a posting inn. If you utter one more distasteful remark I will have no difficulty giving you a pair of dark-ringed eyes to match the bruises on the runner’s face.”

  “Threatening me?”

  “Hardly. I am merely warning you of the consequences.” Nathaniel looked his uncle straight in the eye. “The children belong with me and I will fight you through every court in the land if necessary. I will win. No matter how long it takes or how much money it costs.”

  Lord Bridwell squirmed slightly in his chair, as if the reality of the situation was just beginning to dawn upon his mind. “You are too hasty with your accusations and your readiness to battle. There is no need for a lot of barristers to get rich over a family disagreement. If we put our minds to it, as civilized men, we should be able to reach an acceptable agreement.”

  “You are not a civilized man. I am, however, a reasonable one.” Nathaniel felt the muscle in his jaw twitch with excitement. Was it possible that he had finally managed to convince his uncle to relent? “My solicitor will draw up the appropriate papers and you will sign them. In recognition of your cooperation you will be awarded modest financial compensation.”

  “The dukedom is worth a fortune! I’ll not be bought off by a mere pittance.”

  “The amount will be fair. But also non-negotiable.”

  Nathaniel held his breath as he waited for a response. He had never sat across th
e gaming tables from his uncle and knew not if he was the type of man willing to wager on the possibility of winning in the distant future or taking the sure thing of the moment. Lord Avery believed he had proven that he would not quietly relinquish his claim. Was it enough to convince the older man to cry off?

  Had he underestimated how far his adversary was willing to take this matter? Should he have offered more money, more incentives?

  The questions swirled in his brain, but outwardly Nathaniel showed no signs of his inner qualms. Yet his concentration was soon broken by the sound of a loud thump, followed by a shout. It came from an upper floor in the mansion and sounded as if someone was in the middle of an argument.

  Lord Avery tried to ignore the noise, but it grew too loud. Worried that one, two, or all three of the children might be involved, Nathaniel had to investigate. Sparing a quick glance at his stone-faced uncle, he quit the drawing room and ascended to the second floor.

  He followed the sounds down a short hallway and discovered a servant standing in the open doorway of one of the bedchambers. The shrieks were coming from inside the room. Recognizing the voice, Nathaniel frowned and charged forward.

  Upon seeing him, the servant’s eyes lit with relief. “Oh sir, please, you must aid me,” he cried anxiously. “I am Lord Bridwell’s valet and this is his bedchamber. Not ten minutes ago a woman came barreling into the room and began grabbing his lordship’s clothing. I tried to stop her, but she screeched like a Bedlamite and then threw his lordship’s new coat at me!”

  It was then that Nathaniel noticed the man clutched in his hand a coat of blue superfine, guarding the item like a sentry.

  “I am acquainted with the lady,” Nathaniel told the fidgeting valet. “Perhaps she will tell me what is wrong.”

  The servant let out an exaggerated sigh and backed away from the doorway. Curious, Nathaniel peered inside the room and discovered Harriet rummaging through the wardrobe. He watched her yank out a pile of clean shirts, stalk across the room and shove them haphazardly into the open portmanteau that was set in the middle of the bed.