The Distinguished Rogues Bundle

by Heather Boyd

  Giles pushed on the attic door. The hinges creaked, ending the silence. He shook his head again. That would never do. Another repair to see to.

  Boxes of disused toys and oddments littered the walls and he scratched his head. Where might the little book might be? Oh, yes. He had left it with the butterfly collection, where he’d found it, and the case still resided in the nursery below. He tugged the protesting door closed, turned, and stalked to his former quarters.

  He felt immediately out of place, far too large compared to the furniture in the room. His aborted butterfly collection lay on a high shelf, so he lowered it down carefully, and blew dust from the hazy glass. There it was, nestled between the dead forms of a Painted Lady and a Peacock butterfly. He had left her journal among other dead things.

  Cringing, Giles opened the case, lifted out the small book, and returned the case to the shelf. He flipped the cover. Pages of childish words, moments of pleasure amidst loneliness. He remembered feeling rather sad by the end.

  He slipped the journal into his inner pocket. Maybe Lilly wouldn’t like her father to know of her lonely musings. She had hidden them after all. Perhaps it would be best if he returned them to her after the baron departed.

  “Ah, there you are, lad,” Lord Winter exclaimed, hovering in the doorway. “I thought I heard someone thumping around in here. Not exactly where I imagined I’d find you on such a pleasant day.”

  Since the baron’s chamber was on the floor below, the older man had no reason to venture into the nursery either. Unless—Giles stifled a groan. This was the last room Lillian had stayed in before her accident. Had Winter thought to wallow in memories of his daughter when she’d been in perfect health? Giles didn’t want to witness this.

  “I was just reminding myself what the room looked like,” Giles said. “I haven’t been in this chamber in years.” And didn’t plan to return. Children were not in his future.

  “No need to imagine . . . ” Lord Winter’s voice trailed off, hands clenching tightly on a slate. It still held childish writing. Lord Winter’s hand shook and the slate broke apart, smashing to pieces on the bare hardwood floor.

  Alarmed, Giles brushed the larger pieces away with the toe of his boot, and approached the baron. Blood had leached from his face, but aside from that he was unharmed. “Don’t worry about the mess. I’ll send a servant to deal with it. Let’s go enjoy what’s left of the day.”

  Giles guided the unresponsive man toward the door and shut it behind them. Poor man. The writing on the slate was childish and repetitive: ‘I must be good’. It wasn’t his sister’s handwriting, nor his. It matched the writing in Lilly’s journal.

  By the time they reached the drawing room, Lord Winter’s color had returned to normal, but he reached for the brandy as soon as it came into view.

  Giles left him to get foxed, buried behind the latest newssheet from London, and turned to his letters to avoid participating in another uncomfortable conversation.

  The first few he had were invitations. But a note from a friend caught his eye and he broke the seal.

  Dear Daventry,

  My sister has agreed to marry a crushing bore. The date is set for a month away. I’m begging for an invitation to Cottingstone to get away from my mother and her obsession with my wedding plans. Please.

  Yours most sincerely.

  Viscount Carrington

  Giles choked off a laugh, glancing at his companion to see if Lord Winter was paying any attention. He didn’t imagine Lilly’s father would appreciate levity, even if his friend’s situation was damned funny.

  Poor Carrington—stuck in London with just the women of his family. They would be in an absolute frenzy of activity. Giles supposed he could save the lad from his mother’s unsubtle attempts at arranging a double wedding.

  He cringed when he thought of Carrington’s intended bride. She was a dragon in the making, far too controlling for Giles’ taste. Why the viscount had agreed to the unexceptional match was beyond his understanding. Especially since Carrington’s heart was engaged elsewhere.

  But Giles refused to interfere.

  He had meddled once, at great risk to a friendship he valued above all others. Even though that situation had turned out well, it could very easily have gone the other way. Still, he’d be more than happy to help Carrington avoid the parson’s clutches a mite longer.

  Grinning, he reached for a sheet of paper. Carrington could come and, as an afterthought, Giles asked him to bring more brandy. At the rate Lord Winter was imbibing, there would be very little left in the decanter by the end of the day. He would need a lot more for when the baron returned from Wales. He had no doubt Winter would require considerable fortification to complete his plans to exile his daughter.

  He returned to his stack of correspondence, picked up one, but was overwhelmed by the scent of lilac. He flipped it over, and was surprised to find it bearing the address of a recent lover.

  My dear Lord Daventry,

  These weeks without you have been too dreadful to relate. London is so dull and lifeless. Come back soon. I miss your touch.

  Very truly yours,

  Lady M.

  Giles shuddered. A love note? Lady Montgomery knew exactly when he was returning to London. He had been very specific. He didn’t like that she’d attempt to entice him back. Their affair was a casual fulfillment of basic bodily needs—nothing further.

  If she was that starved for attention, she should find someone to take away the ache. He wouldn’t care. Hell, Sabine should rejoice in that. Apparently, though, his lover had the idea their affair had progressed beyond the simple pleasure he meant it to be.

  He didn’t think a letter was the appropriate way to remind her of his indifference to permanent relationships, so he slid her letter to the side and reached for the next. Sabine’s note would feed the flames as soon as he got to his feet. Perhaps by ignoring her demands, he’d communicate the affair was over.

  Chapter Three

  LORD WINTER’S PARTING the next day took some time. While Giles watched on, horses and carriages drew up in front of the house, swarming with servants as they prepared for departure. Much to Giles’ discomfort, the baron planned to take most of his staff with him. Only the nurse would remain behind to care for Lilly.

  Giles found that thought vastly unsettling. He did not like that Lilly was solely reliant on the services of one person. When the baron had also requested his silence regarding his destination, alarm bells pealed.

  He thought it was obvious that he wouldn’t say a word about Lillian Winter’s presence. Why would he tell the world that he had a single, unmarried woman staying in his country house without a proper chaperone? But, while Giles waited for the man to depart, he had to wonder why it was so important he keep the baron’s destination secret too.

  “I believe the carriage is ready, milord,” Dithers informed Giles unnecessarily.

  “Yes, it appears so.”

  “I’m certain the baron will be back before you’ve realized he’s gone.”

  “Hmph, I will remember you said that, Dithers. I wish he wasn’t doing this to me.”

  “You sound frightened, milord.” Dithers tugged at his sleeve. “She’s just a woman.”

  Giles scowled. He’d used his best arguments to try to dissuade the baron, short of threatening to ruin the chit. Lord Winter had not shared Giles’ reservations. “Shut up, Dithers.”

  Giles wasn’t truly irritated with the butler, but he had to take his annoyance out on someone. There was no female here he could take to bed to redirect his frustrations. Servants, despite their giggling suggestions, were off limits. Maybe the butler had a point. How much trouble could one ill woman be?

  He turned from his perusal of the servants, climbed the steps toward Lilly’s bedchamber, and struggled not to hurry. He told himself quite firmly that he was keen to have Lord Winter on his way quickly so he might return with similar speed. It had absolutely nothing to do with his curious need to catch a glimps
e of the woman who might have been his wife.

  A virgin. Giles shuddered. What on earth was wrong with him?

  He was in the country to rest until the next round of amorous diversions. He did not allow complications or remembrances of women, even virgins, to dominate his thoughts at Cottingstone. He was here to replenish his enthusiasm and relax.

  He turned toward Lilly’s bedchamber and saw a flash of dark skirts hurrying away. The nurse, he supposed. What a timid, scurrying creature.

  “Do you have to leave, Papa?” Lilly’s voice reached his ears and he paused outside the open door, unwilling to interrupt their farewells. He leaned against the wall, waiting and conveniently able to eavesdrop.

  “I am sure you will be comfortable here, daughter.”

  “Yes, Papa, I’m sure Giles will look after me perfectly well.” Her voice sounded different, stronger, but Giles was surprised she referred to him by his first name. What exactly did Lillian Winter think she was to him? He hoped she knew her father had ended their betrothal.

  Giles eased closer to the door, but he could see nothing except darkness within. He had no right to eavesdrop, but he had learned a great many things by that very poor habit.

  “You must take particular care while I am gone, Lillian. Do not allow yourself to give in too frequently. We do not want to impose on Lord Daventry too greatly. He has been very good about you being here.”

  Sheets rustled and when Lilly answered, her voice sounded muffled. “I know, Papa. I will do my best and rest a great deal. I am sure everything will be just fine. Do not worry. Have a good trip, but hurry back. I’ll miss you.”

  There was a lengthy pause before he heard sheets rustle again and then the heavy tread of Lord Winter approaching the door. Giles moved back with every stealthy skill that he possessed to hide the fact he’d been listening, but Lord Winter seemed unsurprised by his presence.

  “Your carriage is ready, sir,” Giles informed him.

  Did Lilly know of her father’s plans for her future? Judging by Lord Winter’s face when he raised his chin, she did not. The man was as distraught as he had been the first night of his arrival.

  Tears streamed down the older man’s face and he mopped them up hurriedly with a square of clean linen. Lord Winter obviously loved his daughter. Leaving her behind for this errand must be tearing him in two.

  Atticus chose that moment to return to the house. He moved purposefully to Lord Winter, nuzzling into the older man’s hand for affection. The baron scratched behind the hound’s ears, earned a contented whine for his efforts, and then Winter leaned down to whisper into them. Atticus’ ears flattened and then he turned, ignoring Giles to re-enter Lilly’s room.

  “You have a good hound there, Daventry. I did not credit that he would remember Lillian as he does. I am sorry if my daughter has deprived you of your companion, but I am grateful for the dog’s devotion. Atticus distracts her from her pain. I feel happier knowing he stands guard over her.”

  Giles stopped the baron with a hand on his arm, holding him back when he would have left. Hints and innuendo be damned. “Stands guard over her? Is there something you are not telling me?”

  Lord Winter glanced around to judge the position of his daughter’s bedchamber then encouraged Giles further along the hall. “I did not want to trouble you, but strange things happen around Lillian. Odd accidents. I do my best to be always nearby. You have seen Atticus’ behavior. He will stand in for me as best he can. You need not worry yourself over her.”

  Giles was not satisfied with that response, but it appeared all he would get. Lord Winter shrugged from his grip and headed out of the manor at a sprightly pace. Giles ran to keep up.

  “The faster I am away, the faster I can return. You will be here until I get back won’t you?”

  Giles groaned. He would be lucky if he made the next Huntley ball to see his ghost again. After such vague hints, Giles doubted he possessed enough resolve to leave Lilly here alone. Lord Winter vaulted into the conveyance and, together with the more usual level of noise, the carriage departed.

  Giles watched the drifting dust settle with quiet resignation. Over ten years spent building a sterling reputation as a rake and reduced to a nursemaid by a few well-chosen words. He should have mentioned his intentions earlier. But at least he could expect Lord Carrington’s company soon.

  Giles stopped cold. Damn. How the hell was he going to hide Lillian Winter’s presence from the viscount? He hadn’t believed she’d still be here when he’d sent off his reply. Giles shook his head. He could not stop the viscount’s visit now, but at least Carrington knew how to keep his mouth shut. His friend hated gossip as much as Giles did. Yet, in a strange way, Giles was pleased to think that someone else would learn of Lilly’s existence.

  Maybe he should introduce them, but only after Giles had the pleasure of meeting Lilly again himself. Lord Winter hadn’t extended him the courtesy, just the pleasure of providing a roof over her head. Perhaps later he could work out an excuse to check on her personally. He had a journal to return, after all.

  He’d have to arrange it before Carrington arrived. Maybe tomorrow, or the day after, but certainly before the viscount charmed her into falling half in love with him, as every other female in London was willing to do.

  If Lilly had been out in society, she would already be familiar with the viscount. Hell, everyone knew Carrington. Most debutants had kissed him. The lad had an easy charm. Well, here was one woman the viscount had missed.

  Feeling somewhat better, he looked back at his home but shuddered. There was a lot of work needed around the old place. The sooner he got his staff to work, the better. He would hire extra hands from the village and have them start straight away. At least his extended stay would not be a complete waste of time. The broad steps needed scrubbing too.

  He stepped into the old house, through to the servants’ quarters where he was sure to find Dithers and Mrs. Osprey at this time of day. They stood in surprise when he entered the housekeeper’s sitting room, but he waved them back to their places.

  Glancing about him, he noticed how cozy the two of them appeared. He settled into a sturdy looking armchair and told them what he wanted done. They both nodded, but it was not until he was near the end of his orders that he noticed the strange gleam in his housekeeper’s eyes.

  “Do you have concerns, Mrs. Osprey?”

  “No, my lord, everything can be done as you requested, quicker with the extra hands from the village. Was there any particular completion date for the work? Any important event in the near future?”

  Giles peered at her then scoffed. Her tightly clasped hands gave her away. “No, Mrs. Matchmaker. I am not getting married.” The housekeeper slumped. “Much to your obvious disappointment.”

  “I’m sorry, my lord. It’s just that the house is so quiet these days, and I cannot help remembering that your father was a father of two by your age.”

  “Hmm, my parents married young. Much good that did them.”

  “They were happy,” Dithers and Mrs. Osprey murmured in unison.

  “Yes, until my father broke his neck. Enough. Just because I have been cajoled into playing nursemaid doesn’t mean I have changed my opinion of women and the position in my life they occupy.”

  The pair exchanged discontented expressions, and then Mrs. Osprey sat forward. “About the young miss? Do you have any idea how long your intended will be staying with us?”

  Giles looked at Mrs. Osprey hard. “The betrothal ended at their request, Mrs. Osprey. You would do well to remember that and not cause discomfort to Miss Winter. The baron wants us to conceal her presence and I quite agree with him.”

  Mrs. Osprey frowned, unconsciously rubbing her hands over the chair arms. Had she forgotten that, too? After a moment of fierce contemplation, she blushed. It appeared she had forgotten.

  Dithers leaned toward the housekeeper. “You should concentrate on your duties, Ossie, and not let the nurse’s talk of the past confuse you. Som
ething isn’t right with that one. She’s sticking her nose where it oughtn’t to be.”

  “Well, you’re just annoyed because your charms don’t work on her,” she snapped.

  A vein pulsed in the butler’s temple. “I beg your pardon,” Dithers ground out through clenched teeth.

  As the spat developed between his servants, Giles considered his butler’s earlier words instead. The man was not a high stickler, but he was particularly observant. If Dithers had concerns, Giles would do well to heed them. “I have not spoken to the nurse, but Miss Winter is the daughter of a baron and deserves to be shown proper respect during her stay. Watch what you say around her. I would not like her made uncomfortable by references to the past.”

  Mrs. Osprey held the butler’s glare a moment longer and then her face blanked of all emotion. She turned to Giles and it was as if that disagreement had never started.

  “Of course, my lord. I never considered that she would understand us.”

  Giles clenched the arms of his seat. “Where the hell did you hear that she won’t understand you, and from whom?” He had heard Lilly’s soft words and believed her mind sound. Such a statement was clearly ridiculous.

  “Why, the nurse herself, my lord,” Mrs. Osprey confided. “She told me not to fret because Miss Winter won’t understand what’s going on around her. She said she’d take care of everything.”

  Giles’ estimation of Mrs. Osprey’s intelligence sank. “Mrs. Osprey, I am sure you have something to do. Go. Do it somewhere else. I want to have a word with Dithers about the south fence.”

  Mrs. Osprey fussed her way out the door, never noticing the pained glance Dithers cast at Giles.

  The butler sighed, long and loud. “She grows worse each year. It sneaks up on me at times like this.”

  Giles wiped a hand over his face as he contemplated his housekeeper’s unhappy future. “You’re certain her mind is failing?”