Rogue's Lady

by Robyn Carr

  Charles’s hand was on the door when Andrew asked, “And if she consents to be alone with me again?”

  “Good Lord, boy,” Charles laughed. “Don’t let the moment get away from you. She can only tease you so much before you lose control. She has tortured you for a year, who would not understand? You want her, do you not?”

  “I want her desperately. I have wanted her more with each passing day.”

  “And though she hesitates, it is all for the sake of propriety,” Latimer told him. “She wants you as well, or she would have denied you long ago. The lass is frightened, poor thing. It is better that you make the decision for her. Believe me, Andrew, when you are married and Vieve is expecting your first son, you will barely remember these hard times.” Charles gave Andrew an affectionate, fatherly pat on the back. “But if you delay, she may find another, and we cannot let that happen.”

  Andrew nodded. “You are probably right. I think perhaps she is exercising great will for the sake of good conduct. I will try my best.”

  “Good, good,” Charles said, opening the study door and virtually pushing him out. “Come and see me when you have some good news. I will leave it to you until then.”

  Andrew left the study feeling as if some unfinished business still nagged at him. Before he could give consideration to his doubts, he heard his name urgently whispered. He turned and looked up and down the long hall several times before he saw young Faye Latimer. She stuck her head out of the parlor doors, her eyes alive with mischief and her cheeks rosy with desire.

  “Andrew, in here,” she whispered.

  He frowned slightly. He would rather have gotten out of the house without a confrontation with this girl. Faye was too well endowed for a fifteen-year-old; she was too forthright and too brave. Each time he visited the Latimer house, this troublesome girl hid in waiting for him, tempting him to tarry with her before he left.

  “Go away, Faye,” he warned. “You’ll get into trouble.”

  “Come here,” she demanded.

  Andrew sighed heavily, stepping into the parlor. Faye was outrageous in her pursuit of him. While Vieve had pushed his hands away, Faye pressed against him. Vieve refused to yield her virginity, while Faye begged him to take hers.

  Faye closed the parlor door and looped her arms around his neck.

  “This is dangerous, Faye. You shouldn’t be doing this.”

  “Just kiss me,” she begged, lifting her chin and closing her eyes.

  “It’s not easy for a man to ‘just kiss.’”

  “Andrew...”

  “You little tease...you ought to be spanked.”

  He covered her mouth in a searing kiss. She strained toward him. It was impossible for Andrew to believe the girl was inexperienced, she moved her lips so convincingly.

  “Someone might come,” he warned her.

  “Father is the only one at home. And the door locks.”

  “I’m warning you, minx, if I start kissing you, I’ll want more. I have been a long time without a woman.”

  “Oh, Andrew, why do you try to frighten me?”

  “Because you should be frightened, Faye. You tempt me more than is wise.”

  Her-eyes lit up with excitement. “Do I? Do I really?”

  “Of course you do. Now stop moving so. I am not a eunuch.”

  “I know, Andrew. Oh, I know. Just kiss me.”

  “But...”

  “Don’t worry. Just kiss me.”

  He looked down into her eyes and frowned his displeasure. She was plump and pale; she was really only a child. In fact, of all the women Andrew knew, from noble dame to peasant wench, Faye was undoubtedly the least attractive to him. But she was the most eager for him. While Vieve had a way of making him feel like a foolish boy, Faye made him feel like a man.

  He touched her cheek with a finger. “You are not prudent, dear. Surely you know that you can only tease a man for so long before he loses control,” Andrew warned, knowing full well he echoed Charles Latimer’s very words.

  “I know,” she said in a passionate breath.

  He relented then and kissed her in a way that satisfied her wildest expectations. She took his hand and pressed it to her large, round breast. She writhed in wanton pleasure, and it was far too late by the time Andrew felt in control again.

  Vieve sat in the sitting room beside her bedchamber with her eyes turned toward the window. The summer of her seventeenth year had not been much fun. Her decision to follow her father’s advice had certainly not increased her prospects for a husband. In number, perhaps, but not in quality.

  Her brother sat nearby and leaned the chair he occupied back on its two rear legs. “Do you worry that you can’t trust me?” he asked in a tender voice.

  She would not look at him, but continued to gaze out the window.

  “Perhaps I should have sent Evelyn to speak to you.” As he leaned forward the front legs of the chair banged on the floor. “Simply tell me the truth.”

  “But I have,” she sighed. “I have not been compromised by any man. Andrew did not steal my virtue, although he wanted my virginity. He did not mince words; he said that Father would approve if we had lain together.”

  “That is not a very chivalrous request, but I doubt that Andrew is the first man to make such a suggestion. You seemed much in love with him,” Paul said. “Now, why do you refuse to see him?”

  “Refuse?” she repeated. “Oh, no, he is welcome here, but I will not be alone in his company, and he is very angry about that.”

  Paul frowned. “That is not exactly what he told me. However, if Andrew’s demands are as excessive as you claim, you must maintain a proper chaperone.”

  “What exactly did he tell you?” she asked hotly.

  Paul shrugged. “He said you have been extremely close, that you had exchanged many promises and words of love. He was not more explicit than that, but he implied...”

  “Oh, that blackguard,” she stormed. “He threatened to cheapen me before my own family to get Father to approve our marriage. I see it was not an idle threat.”

  “Perhaps that was not his intention. My reason for bringing this to your attention is because Andrew has approached Father again and also came to me. His estate has apparently improved, and yet Father is not moved to accept his offer of marriage. And neither are you, it would seem.”

  “Good for Father,” Vieve said smugly. When she was first made aware of Andrew’s poor estate, it gave her reason to pause, and she had fantasized some instant relief if Andrew could quickly rectify the situation by coming into some money. Now Andrew’s money or even lack of it had nothing to do with her decision.

  “Does that mean that regardless of Andrew’s improved estate, you are no longer interested in marriage with him?”

  “I’m afraid that is what it means.”

  “Has some other suitor caught your eye?”

  “No. Paul, do you support Andrew? Is that it?”

  “Well, he is my friend, though you must not be influenced by that. I came because he asked for my help. He says he loves you desperately, and I believe him. I could say nothing more to him until I heard your explanation.”

  “I don’t think I quite understand his great longing.”

  Paul laughed indulgently. “You are proud of your good looks. Is this an attack of humility?”

  “No... but... he is fine-looking, noble, and has the ability to be charming, yet over this past year he has become angrier, more desperate and less chivalrous. I feel as if he is a different person from the man with whom I once kept company.”

  “I will have a word with him about that,” Paul said. “He needs to mind his manners with you.”

  “You may tell him that courtesy is the first thing he must learn, and if he truly wishes to endear himself to me and to Father, he should begin by acting the gentleman in our presence.”

  Paul put his hands in his pockets, and his shoulders rose in a shrug. “That is fair enough. I will ask only one thing of you.”


  “Anything,” she sighed with relief.

  “I would have you shed some small bit of understanding on Andrew’s blighted case. I do not ask you to fall in love with him,” Paul assured her when he saw her angry expression. “I do not ask you to go alone with him, nor do I ask you to marry him. Just try to understand that he is a lover scorned and his behavior may not be at its best.”

  She shook her head. “You were the first to caution me about Andrew, and now you urge me toward greater patience.”

  Paul took her by the hands. “That is exactly why. It was because of Andrew’s lack of money that I worried about your marriage to him, but that is remedied. And, you see, darling, I am sympathetic because I know what it feels like to love a woman. Evelyn tried to withdraw from our betrothal because of her estate problems, and I was in a fit. Andrew’s whims need not be indulged, Vieve, but we can make an effort to understand his hurt.”

  Vieve gazed into her brother’s eyes. She would not try to explain to Paul that her romance with Andrew was quite different from anything that had passed between him and Evelyn. Paul, she was certain, had always loved Evelyn far too selflessly to ever ask her to demean herself for him. But she could see that Paul had some sympathy for Andrew, so she smiled instead.

  “I will try to understand him, Paul. But you will be doing Andrew a grave disservice if you lead him to believe he might expect any more than that from me.”

  They walked arm in arm down the stairs, and by the time they reached the lower floor, they were laughing together. As they crossed the foyer, Vieve was halted by the sound of two men’s laughter. She stopped suddenly and clung more tightly to Paul’s arm. Within a moment both her worst fears and greatest hopes were realized, for her father came into the great hall with Captain Gervais.

  Lord Ridgley stopped when he spied his offspring, and his thick moustache rose to expose a wide grin. “I couldn’t have planned it better myself. These are the two finest children, Tyson. They are ever around when you call for them. Come, you two, well have a toast. Captain Gervais and I have just this moment had a handshake that will begin a very long and prosperous partnership.”

  “Father,” Paul said, breaking into a wide smile. “At last? The warehouses? By God, I knew it would work out.”

  Paul abandoned Vieve, grasped his father’s hand, and gave it a hearty shake. Then he turned to the visiting captain and shook his hand. Vieve watched, her eyes wide with surprise, her heart beating rapidly. He is back.

  “More than the warehouses. Tyson sent a letter on a packet bound for the Americas last May, and his brothers answered him with both hearty approval and money. It will be both warehouses, and Tyson would like to consign all four of our ships to bring cargo from their family plantation to England. It is better and bigger than we even anticipated.”

  Paul slapped his thigh and gave a wild hoot of enthusiasm. “You won’t be sorry, Tyson. We have the best ships and crews in London port.”

  Vieve watched Tyson and he watched her. His attention was drawn away from the happy exclamations of Paul and Lord Ridgley.

  “Daughter,” Lord Ridgley said, startling her out of her stare, “come along, this calls for a brandy.” He held his arm out to include her.

  “Urn, no thank you, Papa,” she said softly, looking back at Tyson. “Go ahead. This celebration is more for the three of you.”

  She turned toward the steps. Paul had forgotten all about her problems with Andrew, but it was understandable. After the years of hard work he had endured to try to help heal their ailing business, he was entitled to this happy distraction. The Yankee had brought them trade and money. Perhaps Paul could rest easier now, and her father would not be so beset by worries.

  “Come, Vieve,” she heard Tyson say. A shiver went up her spine at the slow, seductive drawl. Without even thinking about the action, she turned back to him. It was natural to respond to the sound of his voice. “Don’t disappoint us. This is a family agreement... and you are family.”

  He stood, holding his hat in his hand, his eyes seeming to call her with their amorous glitter. She knew at once that the summer had been wasted, for no man could ever interest her now that the Yankee had returned. “It is better that I decline,” she said softly. “I am no less pleased than the rest of you, but I think you should celebrate without me.”

  “It won’t be the same without you,” he said.

  Her brother and father continued to laugh and talk and slap each other on the shoulders in profound relief and excitement, but Vieve felt as if she were alone with Tyson.

  “You will be staying on for a while, won’t you, Captain?”

  “For a while.”

  “Then we will see each other again.”

  His eyes burned an intense message into her. She could not tear her gaze away. Though no words were spoken, she thought they both understood their attraction mutual and confirmed. She was surprised her father and brother did not feel the sudden heat in the room. She trembled slightly, but it did not show. All that could be seen was a new apprehension that put color in her cheeks and caused her eyes to widen, for his expression had promised he had returned to Chappington for more than business. Then she turned to mount the stairs, listening to their voices behind her.

  “What?” Lord Ridgley asked. “She’s not coming? What the hell, she complains I don’t include her in business, then she won’t be included. Well, come along and let’s get a drink.”

  “Your daughter seems different somehow,” she heard Tyson say. “Older.”

  “A few months makes a world of difference in a girl her age,” Paul laughed.

  “Bah,” Lord Ridgley scoffed. “She’s too young for one thing, too old for another. I need a husband for her, that’s what.”

  “I’m sure you’ll find one, my lord. She shouldn’t be that hard to match.”

  Vieve slowly opened her bedroom door, entered the quiet of her room, and shut out their voices from below. She leaned against the door with her hands behind her back and closed her eyes. An almost imperceptible smile formed on her slightly trembling lips.

  Elizabeth Latimer was just coming down the stairs to attend to a housekeeping matter in the parlor when the sound of crashing glass caused her to halt in surprise. She took two cautious steps, and then the sound of her husband’s angry voice brought her up short again.

  “Get out. Just get the hell out.”

  Elizabeth stood in the foyer in wait to see who was being so chastened. Will Tetcher, one of her husband’s hired agents from London, walked briskly toward the door, not exchanging words or even glances with her.

  Elizabeth went directly to the study. Charles paced behind his desk. She stepped over the broken remnants of a pitcher that lay smashed on the floor. “Charles, what is it?”

  “That damned colonial bastard,” he growled. “He’s done it. He’s given my brother money even though I had agents offer both Gervais and Boris better agreements for what they need.”

  Elizabeth twisted her hands with worry. “What does it mean?”

  “It means, you imbecile, that he no longer needs money.”

  “Will he...ever?” she asked haltingly.

  Charles glared at her. “Ever? The man is sixty years old. There is precious little title left before he dies. And that blasted Yankee has given him enough money to see him through at least a few years.”

  Elizabeth felt her heart begin to beat wildly. She had lived through this obsession of her husband’s for so many years. Could it truly be over so easily? “Charles, we have so much—”

  “I don’t have what I want.”

  “You are rich and respected and...”

  “I am respected by tailors and printers and farmers. My brother is asked to devise the laws that govern the land when I hold more property than he. Yet he refuses to grant me the slightest respectability through title. Our mother was noble, but I have been separated from her property and title because my father was a tradesman. I won’t stand for it.”

  Elizabeth fe
lt tears in her eyes. “You could have found a noble dame to wed.”

  “Ha. And be the consort of some old duchess? Chappington and all the prestige of that title is as much mine as his. And I have worked for twenty-five years to show him so.”

  “But Charles, if it is hopeless...”

  “I will find a way,” he shouted. “By damn, I will roust him yet.”

  “Charles,” she entreated. “Please give this up. Think of your family.”

  “My family will be better off when I finally succeed. Robert will be a baron and my daughters will marry nobility.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she insisted. “We don’t care about titles and nobility.”

  “Of course you don’t. You are common yourself, offspring of a simple merchant.”

  “My father was the most successful man in his—”

  “Why the hell do you think I married you? For passion? I needed your father’s money to get the title I deserve. I almost had it, too. My brother was ready to name me his heir in exchange for money...until that Yankee—”

  “You delude yourself, Charles,” she interrupted stiffly. “He has never been ready and he never will be.”

  “He will. He will have to.”

  “He won’t. Not ever. Why don’t you see that you risk everything that matters in a futile attempt to overthrow your brother?”

  “What matters more?” He laughed suddenly. “If that is how I choose to spend my money, if my family profits in the end, why would you care?”

  “You fail as a husband and a father in this pursuit,” she said courageously.

  “I fail? You have two fine houses, three children, plenty of dresses and jewels and servants.”

  “The London house was my father’s. The country manor that I inherited was sold for this, so you could be near Chappington. You barely know your own children, and you have not been a husband to me for ten years. I won’t allow you to go any further with this horrid scheme of yours.”

  “You will be quiet and stay out of my business. All I have ever done is to buy property and lend money through agents.”