The Distinguished Rogues Bundle

by Heather Boyd

  He strolled out his door, along the street, and climbed the stairs to Agatha’s house.

  Agatha’s butler greeted him with a scowl. “Lady Carrington is waiting in the drawing room.”

  Poor man. The butler was quite put out with him, too. Laying Birkenstock to rest and marrying Agatha couldn’t come soon enough. After that, someone, besides Agatha, might actually smile at him again.

  “What did those old windbags want?”

  Oscar grinned at his mother as if he hadn’t a care in the world. He hadn’t come up with a kind way of saying they had been shown the door because of his scandalous actions. He would break it to her gently after the funeral. “Nothing too serious, Mother. Just some paperwork to look over.”

  “I expect they think I’ve deserted the enterprise. I’ll call there this afternoon.”

  He sat beside her and took up her hand. “No need. They were quite adamant that you take all the time in the world. No point upsetting the children from their current routine.”

  “Oh,” she whispered. The silence stretched. “They don’t want me to return, do they?”

  He drew his wise, wise mother into his arms and gave her a hug. “Saying I’m sorry doesn’t seem enough, but I am. I had not anticipated they would condemn you, too, because of my actions.”

  She sniffed. “I suppose if I had disowned you, as you gave me leave to do, they would have tolerated me. But I worry for Agatha. Being here so often lends her what little support I can.”

  “She appreciates it, even if she has not shown how much. In time, her grief will lessen and she’ll be more herself around you.”

  His mother gave him an amused glance. “Agatha and I are not such strangers that I would easily take offence. She is much caught up in her grief and I would be a poor mama-in-law to deny her time to cry. Was Manning with the trustees?”

  “Yes. Lynton was among them.”

  “And?”

  Oscar drew her into his arms again and squeezed. “Oh, Mother. Your love life is a bigger mess than mine. My father sends his affections and regards to you and Agatha. I did remember my manners and asked him to call on you here, but he had other business to tend. We will see him at Mr. Birkenstock’s funeral and after.”

  “After?”

  Oscar settled back in the chair and crossed his legs at the ankle. “Yes, of course. Agatha and I want him to marry us, and he has consented.”

  A deep frown line creased her brow. “Then he hasn’t left the church yet.”

  “No. He never said anything about it. He’s consented to obtain a special license for us, with the duke’s assistance if it is required. Once he has that, I expect to be wed as soon as possible.”

  His mother huffed, a bitter sound. “Should have known he’d pretend to be leaving the church to get on my good side.” She stood. “I’m going upstairs to sit with Thomas.”

  Before she reached the door, Oscar called out. “I say, Mother, does Lynton really have property in Oxfordshire?”

  “He did once. Why?”

  “Because he claims the duke will want me to live there. If that happens, will you come and live with us?”

  His mother swayed, and then righted herself. “Two women under the same roof makes for a disharmonious household, Oscar. I shall be all right on my own. Excuse me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  A COLD WIND blew through the church yard, hurrying more than one mourner across the grounds toward the grave where Agatha wept at Oscar’s side. For all his lower birth, it seemed Thomas Birkenstock had been well liked. There were faces here Oscar didn’t recognize. Some he did. The Earl of Daventry was here, a bookseller from Bond Street stood beside him. At the back of the crowd, Oscar spied Leopold Randall trying his best to keep his presence as unobtrusive as possible and still pay his respects.

  Lynton Manning kept the graveside service brief, his words uplifting despite the sad occasion. Oscar appreciated that for Agatha’s sake. She was taking the loss of her grandfather very hard. Her loss of appetite and lack of decent sleep shrouded her features with sorrow.

  Her cousin was not in attendance. He had send word of his coming, and then sent a terse note later to decline. That he shunned his own cousin’s funeral was Oscar’s fault. Rumors had spread that he had all but moved into the Birkenstock townhouse and Arthur’s note had been scathing of Agatha’s character. He wanted her out as soon as possible. Her dowry and the allowance that her grandfather had arranged would not be paid.

  They had become the scandal of the year.

  Oscar shifted his weight from foot to foot. Winter was coming, if today’s chill was any indication. Agatha’s black-gloved hands kept clenching and unclenching until he could bear it no longer. He reached for her restless fingers and captured them in a tight grip. Agatha swayed until she leaned against his shoulder. She really should not have come, but he couldn’t persuade her otherwise. And because Agatha was here, so too was his mother.

  Oscar doubted they could live this lapse of etiquette down any time soon.

  More than a few mourners frowned at Agatha, but not the people who loved her best. They knew how hard she grieved for Mr. Birkenstock, how easily tears had flowed over these last few days.

  Lynton concluded his sermon and closed his prayer book as the coffin was lowered. His gaze flickered to their joined hands, then he circled the grave and led Agatha a little away from the other mourners to speak with her privately. As always, Oscar followed, but not too close—ready to offer support if she had need of him.

  “She managed that far better than I expected,” his mother murmured.

  “Yes, but she trembled the entire time.” Oscar glanced at the muttering crowd. “She’ll need to rest when we return home.”

  His mother offered him a weak smile. “Well, the worst is over now.”

  The worst wasn’t over. “We’ll see.”

  The mourners lined up to say farewell to Agatha. She did well, accepting everyone’s condolences, offering thanks for their coming in soft tones. Randall tipped his hat to her, but made no attempt at conversation. Oscar gestured to his mother to take his place with Agatha, and then moved away from the crowd.

  “Taking quite a risk with the lady’s reputation,” Randall remarked as they shook hands. “I should warn you that there is more than one person outraged by her presence and your behavior. You might find yourself out of favor with society.”

  “We are already firmly out of favor.” Oscar shrugged. “It cannot be helped.”

  Randall rubbed his chin. “I’m leaving London in a few days.”

  “So soon?”

  Randall crossed his arms over his chest. “So far my search has come up empty. Even in the most unsavory of places. I take it you’ve had no luck, either.”

  Oscar had forgotten Randall’s concerns in the wake of Birkenstock’s passing. He winced. “I’m so sorry. With everything that has happened, I have let you down.”

  Randall stared over Oscar’s shoulder. “I’ll take the risk and return home to request an audience with the young duke. Perhaps the current duchess will be more forthcoming than her predecessor. One can only hope. Don’t worry about me—your lady needed you more.”

  Oscar turned and spied Agatha alone by the graveside. He searched the lingering mourners and could see no sign of his father anywhere. His spirits fell. Manning must have been more upset with him than he’d let on. If memory served, he’d not spoken one word to his mother either.

  His heart ached for Agatha. What a great mess he’d involved her in. She said little on the subject. Her sorrow consumed her. However scandalous the Carrington’s might be now, Randall was correct. He’d done the right thing to put her first above all else. Society and their impatience be damned.

  He turned back to Randall. “Leave your directions at my home before you go, and be sure to send a letter to let me know how you get on at Romsey. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll make the trip south. I swear it.”

  Randall nodded with a quick dip of his h
ead, but his eyes glassed. “Birkenstock was right about you. You are a true gentleman.”

  That cut. He’d not done the right thing by Agatha before, not by any stretch of the imagination. But he would now. She was the only thing worth living for, and he would soon set her reputation to rights. “Safe journey, Randall.”

  Randall stuck out his hand. “Best of luck to you both. Take care of her.”

  “Count on it.” Oscar strode over to where Agatha stood with Lord Daventry at her side now. He drew Agatha’s arm through his and moved her away from the grave again. He dipped his head to better see her expression. “All right, precious?”

  Agatha let out a weary sigh. “I am now.”

  Oscar turned to Daventry. “Might I impose upon you for the use of your largest carriage in the near future? We may need to take a long trip fairly soon.”

  Daventry’s eyes narrowed. “How long a trip?”

  Oscar thought it through. He’d never traveled to Scotland before, but he did think it a long and tiring journey. If they stopped frequently, Agatha’s spirits might be lifted by the fresh surroundings. “I think we should return in about a week to ten days.”

  “A border wedding? Surely it shan’t come to that.” Daventry set his hand to Oscar’s shoulder and squeezed. “But about time you made an honorable woman out of her. Congratulations.”

  “Thank you,” Agatha murmured, turning her face into Oscar’s shoulder to hide a blush.

  Daventry smiled. “I was starting to think I’d have to call you out for not proposing marriage to this forbearing young woman. Lilly will be thrilled that you are to wed, but not that she will miss the wedding. However, my carriage is at your disposal as soon as you need it. Call on me day or night.”

  “Thank you.” How he’d been lucky enough to have such good friends astounded him. They were very forgiving of his flaws. But then again, Daventry was not entirely a saint where his wife was concerned. Oscar guessed that Daventry had tested the waters with Lilly, so to speak, before actually proposing matrimony.

  When Daventry departed, taking Oscar’s mother with him for the journey so he and Agatha might have privacy, Oscar wrapped his arms around her. He rested his chin on the top of her head. “We should be going, precious.”

  “I know, it’s just…”

  The clank of the mortsafe being carried toward the open grave sounded behind them. He couldn’t have Agatha stay to watch it being lowered. She could have nightmares from witnessing that. Oscar kissed her cheek. “You have done everything a dutiful granddaughter could do and more. He would be proud of you.”

  Agatha sniffled. “I don’t think he would be proud of the way we are behaving, and in public, no less. Where is my mind? My sense of decorum?”

  “Misplaced with mine. Don’t fret about it.” Oscar curled his arm around her waist, lifted her from her feet, and set her in the direction of their carriage. “Once we are married, the whispers will die down and another scandal will rise up to take our place.”

  But he still worried how long it would take. The whispers and stares aimed at Agatha and his mother bothered him a great deal more than he let on. No one called on his mother. Neither of them received invitations to entertainments. The only company they had kept was with each other and the Earl and Countess of Daventry. Not even his new father came to call.

  After tonight though, things would change. He had waited long enough. He would ensure Agatha got a sound night’s sleep and then tomorrow, if Lynton failed to arrive with news of a special license, they would depart for Scotland.

  He hoped Agatha wouldn’t be too disappointed about the long trip and marrying without friends beside them in Scotland. But their life would be free of scandal once the words were spoken to join them as man and wife. And after that, they would see how well they were received by society.

  With his arm draped around Agatha’s shoulder, he moved them toward the waiting team. Agatha clambered inside, a deep sigh passing her lips as she sank into the well-padded seats. Although she looked comfortable sitting alone, Oscar pulled Agatha into his lap as soon as the carriage lurched forward. “I love you.”

  Agatha cradled his face. Tears began to fall again, but Oscar had some hope that they were tears of happiness, not sorrow. She pressed their lips together, urgent, desperate, and so full of her own love that Oscar’s heart raced.

  When she drew back they were both out of breath. “Are you vexed with Mr. Manning for rushing off?”

  “Well,” Oscar shuffled her on his lap until he was more comfortable. “Lynton did not speak to me today about the special license, as I expected. I’m wondering if he can obtain one at all. I want us married, and soon.”

  Agatha frowned. “And if he cannot obtain a license then you want to marry over an anvil?”

  Oscar smoothed his fingertips over her cheek until the frown lines disappeared. “It may be necessary. I wanted to be prepared, just in case.” He winced at the image Agatha’s words evoked. An anvil wedding would hardly be any young woman’s dream. Agatha deserved far better than a rushed affair far from her friends. “Will you forgive me for that?”

  She smiled. “Your mother will be disappointed. But I will not. Not if you really want to marry me.”

  Oscar set his head against Agatha’s and drew in a deep breath. “Oh, my precious girl, of course I do. Whatever did I do to deserve you?”

  A soft laugh escaped her. “You are kind to me when I need you most. Exactly as you were when my parents died and I’d come to live with my grandfather. You made me love you then, and nothing has changed except my love grew stronger.”

  Humbled by her words, he held her snug against him for the short ride to Berkeley Square. They were meant to be this way—together against the world. Nothing would separate them. He’d see to that and make her smile every day.

  When the carriage stopped, he helped her out and led her gently up the stairs, shielding her from the staring faces of their neighbors. Once inside, he kissed her cheek. “I’ll have tea sent up if you like.”

  She nodded and wearily trudged up the stairs. He’d join her later and sleep in her bed tonight rather than the chair he’d occupied since her grandfather’s death. Maybe if he held her through the night, she wouldn’t seem so sad come morning.

  There was nothing he could do until evening. He turned for Agatha’s little corner of the house to resume reading the book he’d started the day before.

  Before he got there, however, her butler cleared his throat. “Might I have a word, my lord?”

  Oscar smiled, hoping to get Agatha’s servant on side. “Of course, George. What can I do for you?”

  “I wanted to enquire about a position, my lord.”

  Oscar blinked. “A position? Are you not gainfully employed here?”

  George drew himself up straighter. “For the time being, my lord. However, it has come to my attention that you have an opening, and I would much rather remain employed here in Town, or wherever Miss Birkenstock resides.”

  “An opening? I don’t have an opening in my household.”

  “Then you have not been home as yet?” George winced. “I, ah, hate to be the bearer of bad news, my lord, but your butler decamped today for a position in another household. And then most of your household staff left as well. At present, you have one pot boy running your house. The gossip about the departures is racing up and down the street.”

  “Oh, for Heaven’s sake.”

  George smiled hesitantly. “Those were my exact words. Inexcusable behavior, if I may say so.”

  “You may.” Oscar looked over Agatha’s butler. She had never spoken a bad word against George and they would need someone to manage their household efficiently. As long as George here could get over his dislike of their present situation, there was no reason not to employ the man if he were in earnest. “What about your position here?”

  “We think, the staff and I, that Miss Birkenstock will be more comfortable with familiar faces around her. We worry that she’s no
t herself. If you should accept my application for the post of butler, I have several other household staff candidates to put forward to replace the servants you’ve lost.”

  Amused by this turn of events, Oscar raised a brow. “And what happens with Agatha’s cousin? Won’t Arthur Birkenstock be somewhat put out with you all for leaving?”

  George tugged on his waistcoat. “He should not have withdrawn his financial support from Miss Birkenstock. He should have honored Mr. Birkenstock’s last wishes. We are certain Mr. Birkenstock would have wanted his granddaughter well cared for after his passing, and she is not.”

  Oscar winced. “Not yet. But I will do my best to correct the situation.”

  George smiled suddenly. “That is what we believe too, my lord. When should you like me to begin in my new post?”

  The sooner the better. If the gossip was spreading the way George claimed, then he was unlikely to find suitable replacements of good character at short notice. “Possibly from tomorrow. I will discuss the matter with Agatha after she has rested, but it is my hope that she will be my wife by tomorrow night. With her agreement, you may take up your new duties as soon as convenient. Wedding or not, I do hope to remove Agatha to my home tomorrow. Arthur Birkenstock was most keen to have the house back.”

  “Very good, my lord.” George smiled. “On behalf of the staff, we should like to congratulate you on your wise decision to marry Miss Birkenstock. She is a remarkable woman.”

  Oscar nodded. “She is truly remarkable, but I’m surely not wise. Not yet, at any rate. Fate is responsible for my good fortune, George. Never doubt that.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  CHAOS REIGNED AROUND Agatha as the servants of her household removed themselves and Agatha’s possessions to Oscar’s home next door. The noise of closing up the house was really quite deafening after the peace of the last few days, and although they still were not married yet, she looked forward to the change of location. As Oscar put it, either here or there, they would create scandal until they were wed. But she had to move anyway. Cousin Arthur wanted her gone from his house, so she had agreed to move from the only home she could remember. It was almost done.