Mary Jo Putney

by Sometimes a Rogue

  “Ask for whiskey,” she said with an endearing giggle. “It’s not a gentleman’s drink, as I understand it, and you must be true to your colors.”

  He was laughing when the knocker boomed again. With a sigh of exasperation, he left Sarah and turned to open the door. “I hope that twit’s carriage hasn’t broken down. If he needs to stay here for the night, he’ll have to settle for the stables.”

  He threw the door open—and found himself confronting a tall, voluptuous brunette wearing a magnificent black satin mourning gown with a feather-trimmed black cloak. He blinked at her décolletage. If she was a new widow, she appeared to be shopping for a replacement husband.

  She studied him with interest before asking in refined accents, “Are you by any chance the new Lord Kellington?”

  “I am,” he said shortly. “If you want to collect a gambling debt, you’re out of luck. I just ripped up a pack of vowels and sent their holder away.”

  “Is that why Freddie Loveton was just leaving? No matter. My purpose is very different.” She gazed at him with soulful eyes. “I’m Vivien Greene.”

  He searched his memory. “Sorry, I don’t know you and don’t believe I’ve ever heard your name. Unless you wished to engage me for a job? If so, I’ll have to decline. I’m about to resign from the Bow Street Runners.”

  Her gaze intensified. “You were a Runner? How delicious! But my purpose is not to engage you. At least, not in that way. I was betrothed to your brother and I’ve been mourning since he was tragically taken from us. I’ve come to mourn with you.”

  She embraced Rob so fervently that he stumbled backward a step. As her lavish curves flattened against him, he noticed she wore far too much heavy perfume.

  He tried to peel her off, but the damned woman was like ivy. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said as he removed her arms from around his neck, “but surely you should seek comfort from your friends and family and vicar.”

  When he managed to put some distance between them, she looked up reproachfully and batted long, dark lashes. “You were Edmund’s brother, I his beloved. Surely we can comfort each other better than anyone else!” Great tears formed in her blue eyes. “He fell from his horse in Hyde Park and was trampled by a coach and four, you know. He spent three days in agony before he mercifully died on . . . on what would have been our wedding day.” She produced a lacy handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes.

  The last time Rob had seen Edmund, his brother was gloating as he sold Rob into what was damned close to slavery. “Three days of agony are nowhere near enough,” Rob snapped. “I hope he burns in hell for eternity. So you see that we have nothing in common, Miss Greene. It’s time for you to leave.”

  She looked shocked, then calculating. “I’m sorry the two of you were so estranged. But that doesn’t mean you and I can’t be friends. I’m not Miss Greene, but Mrs. I’m a very wealthy widow with complete control over the fortune my dear old Walter left me. Edmund and I suited each other very well. He wanted an heir and a fortune, and I wanted a title and entrée into the highest levels of society.”

  She laid a suggestive hand on his arm. “There’s no reason why you and I can’t make a similar bargain. Your estate badly needs an infusion of cash, and I’d like a husband.” She ran a frank gaze over him. “And I must say you’re a good deal more attractive than Edmund. What do you say, Robert? Shall we further our acquaintance?”

  He felt like he’d fallen into a really vulgar dream. Sarah had said that he needed a merchant class heiress, and Vivien’s accent had been getting less refined the longer she spoke. There she was, the opulent answer to Kellington’s problem, because her fortune had to be real or Edmund wouldn’t have proposed to her.

  He’d marry her over his dead body.

  Where was Sarah? He scanned the hall and saw her standing to his right, looking fascinated and bemused. When their gazes met, her brows rose in a look that clearly said, “Well, what are you going to do now?”

  “As interesting as your proposition is, Mrs. Greene, I must decline. I’m already betrothed.” He closed the distance between himself and Sarah and wrapped an arm around her waist.

  Vivien’s brows arched. “Sorry, Kellington, but she’s already married to the Duke of Ashton. Unless he just died? Surely not. I’d have heard.”

  “The Duchess of Ashton is my twin sister,” Sarah said brightly. “And Lord Kellington is mine. It’s time for you to leave.”

  “She’s a pretty little thing,” the widow said critically. “But too young for you, and I guarantee she has less money than I do. It’s not too late to change your mind.”

  Rob tightened his grip on Sarah. “Sorry, but you’re barking up the wrong earl.”

  Vivien laughed and fluffed her feathery cloak. In a more natural voice, she said, “You can’t blame a woman for trying. There aren’t all that many eligible earls around, and even fewer who are young and good looking. I expect I’ll have to settle for a baron.”

  “Good luck finding a lord less poisonous than my brother,” he said dryly.

  “I’d love to know what drove you two apart,” the widow mused. “But I expect you won’t tell me.”

  “Quite right. Good-bye, Mrs. Greene.”

  With a last flash of her décolletage, she said, “No doubt I’ll be seeing you two lovebirds in London.”

  Sarah smiled sweetly. “If you come near Rob again, I’ll scratch your eyes out.”

  Vivien laughed. “I could like you. Take care of him, pet. Good men are hard to find. Just as a hard man is good to find. . . .” She left in a fluttering of feathers.

  “Did that really happen?” Rob said, a little dazed by his recent visitors.

  “It did indeed. Really, Rob, you could do a lot worse,” Sarah said thoughtfully. “You’d have to confirm the money, of course, but she seems to be rich and eager to be a countess, and she certainly looks fertile.”

  Her words were the last straw. “No! Bedamned to common sense!” Rob turned and gripped her shoulders with his hands. “Sarah, will you marry me?”

  Chapter 28

  Sarah’s jaw dropped. “You can’t mean that! You said you’re in no position to marry, and it’s not as if we’re in love with each other.”

  “No, but I’m tired of being noble and sensible and doing what’s best.” His aquamarine eyes were blazing. “There’s no good reason for you to marry me. I have a shabby imitation castle, an illegitimate daughter, and my financial situation is still unknown and probably dreadful. I may end up having to lease the estate to a nabob since I won’t be able to afford living here. As you say, we’re not in love, and I have it on good authority that I’m no gentleman.”

  Struggling with her instant impulse to accept, she said, “You make a compelling case for declining your offer and running for the hills.”

  “I want to be very, very clear.” He stepped back, his hands clenching into fists. “I don’t want you to agree out of gratitude because that would be a terrible foundation for a marriage. Nor do I want pity even if my situation is dire. Though you’d have a title, you’d not have the luxurious, fashionable life that usually goes with being a countess. But I swear that I would do whatever is necessary to provide a decent home for you and Bree even if that means working as an assistant steward for your uncle.”

  She bit her lip, torn by so many emotions she didn’t know what she felt. “Why are you offering? A wife would just be a complication now. Or are you looking for a mother for Bree? A year from now you’ll be in a much better position to decide what you want in a wife, or even if you want a wife at all.”

  “I’m not asking for Bree’s sake, though if you recall, you told me to watch how a prospective wife acted toward Bree rather than just listening to her words,” he pointed out. “I’ve given her riding lessons, but it’s you who made sure she has a room, a wardrobe, friends, an education, and everything else she needs. You’ve done it for no reason beyond the fact that she needed to be cared for, and you seem to like her.”

 
; “Liking Bree is easy. She’s a delightful girl. But if you’re not marrying for her—why?” She had to know before she could give an answer. “Do you want a wife to help you with all the burdens that have dropped on you? Or do you want me?”

  He opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again, frowning as he sorted out his thoughts. “I’m out of my depth, Sarah. A really competent, knowledgeable wife like you would be a great blessing. I need a capable woman who can run a large household and move comfortably in society. Someone with a generous heart, but not extravagant tastes. But I don’t mean a woman like you. I mean you. In the last weeks we’ve seen each other under difficult conditions and have a good idea of each other’s characters.”

  “What do you see in me?” she asked curiously.

  He smiled with a warmth that came from deep inside. “You’re beautiful, of course, but you’re also resilient and intelligent and good natured. Enjoyable to be with. And—honorable.”

  She didn’t need to be told how much honor meant to him. Or how desperately she’d miss him if she left. Trying to be as sensible as he was, she said, thinking out loud, “Life has been dull since my parents reconciled. They’re so happy together that I feel rather like an intruder. And I did not like winter in Cumberland.”

  “Somerset is one of the warmer parts of England,” he pointed out.

  “It is that.” Her lips curved up. “And life with you would not be dull.”

  “Since we’ve both loved and lost, we’re well matched,” he said quietly. “Without romantic illusions, we’re free to be friends.”

  Something unpleasant twinged in the vicinity of Sarah’s heart. “Shouldn’t husband and wife be more than friends?”

  He stepped forward and drew her into his arms. “There is also this.”

  He kissed her not as a guilty pleasure, but as a lover, with passion and tenderness and promise. One hand slid into her hair, loosening pins to clatter to the floor.

  She opened her mouth under his, savoring his taste and his teasing tongue. They could be friends and lovers and share common goals, she realized. That would be enough, and so very much more than what she’d had.

  As her eyes closed, she slid her hands under his coat, feeling the flex and power of his muscles through his linen shirt. His hand was caressing her breast deliciously when the door to the hall opened and a gasp sounded. Sarah tensed, breaking the kiss.

  “What is the meaning of this?” boomed from the doorway.

  Sarah looked up to see Lady Kellington glowering at them. She looked ready to break her cane over someone’s head.

  Rob’s embrace tightened protectively. “Isn’t it obvious?” he said mildly. “I’m kissing Sarah.”

  Before the countess could explode, Sarah spoke up. “Rob and I have just become betrothed.”

  “I thought you were betrothed!” the old lady snapped.

  Sarah could feel the joy blazing through Rob as he heard her words. “The situation having changed, we needed to reconsider,” he explained. “Can you blame me for celebrating the fact that she has accepted me again?”

  “Hmmph!” his grandmother snorted. “If the chit has a fortune, it’s the first I’ve heard of it.”

  “Alas, I’m no heiress,” Sarah said. “My portion is a mere two thousand pounds.”

  Lady Kellington snorted again. “You could have done better, boy, but I suppose you could also have done worse. Come to the salon and make your announcement. It’s bad enough that I had to come looking for you.”

  “We’ll be there in five minutes,” Rob promised. “But we have a few things to discuss before we make the announcement. Could you send a servant to collect Bree and bring her down to the salon?”

  “Five minutes then.” She cast a scathing glance over Sarah. “Use it to make yourself decent, girl.” She pivoted and marched away, cane tapping.

  “Are you reconsidering your acceptance?” Rob asked as the door slammed behind his grandmother. “I should have put her on the list of reasons why you wouldn’t want to marry me.”

  Blushing and laughing, Sarah broke away from him and bent to collect her hairpins from the floor. “My grandmother Babcock was a similar old tartar. She lived with us in Hertford, barking orders at Uncle Peter and my mother like they were still in the nursery. We all adored her. She died when I was fifteen and I still miss her.”

  “My grandmother terrifies me, so I leave you to deal with her.” Rob offered his hand as she rose with her recovered hairpins. She didn’t need the help, but she liked holding his hand. She was still giddy with the idea that this handsome, dark-edged man wanted to marry her. They would face problems—but together, they could solve them.

  “Where and when would you like to be married?” he asked. “Your family church in Hertford? At your parents’ home in Cumberland? Ralston Abbey? London?”

  “Here,” she said decisively as she coiled her hair at her nape and stabbed in a hairpin. “This will be our home, so why not begin as we will go on? The wedding of the local lord will give the people of Kellington something to celebrate. A good symbolic start to the new era of the fifth earl of Kellington.”

  “I like that idea. When?”

  “How long would it take to get a special license from London?”

  Rob’s brow furrowed. “Perhaps three or four days. I’ll admit that I’d like to marry sooner rather than later, but do you want it that soon?”

  She finished securing her hair, then shook out her gown. “Most of my favorite people are right here, so we might as well take advantage of that.” She gave him a sultry look. “I don’t want to wait any longer than necessary, either.”

  “Ah, princess.” He smoothed back a strand of hair that she’d missed, his fingers warm against her throat. “If you don’t stop looking at me like that, we might end up consummating our betrothal right here.”

  “And be caught when your grandmother comes looking for us again? No, thank you!” She took his arm, but didn’t start walking. “I just thought of something awkward. Who should give away the bride?”

  “Why . . . ah, I see. Your father and uncle are both here. Your father is your father, but your uncle raised you.” He regarded her thoughtfully. “Which would you prefer?”

  She hesitated, remembering all the years she’d tagged around after her uncle, learning to ride, to shoot, to keep the books for an estate. He’d doted on her, carrying her on his shoulder when she was little and saying she was more fun than all his sons put together. She always giggled and kissed him and called him a silly when he said that. “Uncle Peter.”

  “Then ask him. Your father might not like it, but he’s a fair-minded fellow. He’ll understand.”

  She gave a decisive nod. “Uncle Peter it is. Mariah will be my matron of honor, of course, but I’d like Bree to be my bridesmaid. Do you think she’s too young?”

  He smiled. “She’ll love that. It will be a good start to our becoming a family.”

  As they headed to the salon, Sarah wondered what to wear. One of the gowns Mariah had brought from Ralston Abbey would have to do. She began making mental lists, grateful that this would be a simple country wedding.

  Just outside the salon they intercepted Bree, who was being brought down by Harvey. Bree wore one of her new gowns, a pretty blue linen with dark blue trim. With her hair pinned up, she looked every inch a young lady.

  Rob smiled at his daughter and his friend. “I’m glad to be able to break the news early to both of you.” He patted Sarah’s hand where it rested on his arm. “Sarah and I just became betrothed.”

  “Surprised it took you this long to ask her,” Harvey said with an approving nod.

  Bree stopped in her tracks. “Bloody hell!” She frowned at Sarah. “You’re not my mother.”

  “No, I’m not,” she said, not raising an eyebrow at the language. “You had a fine mother who will always be part of you. I’m just Sarah. You can think of me as your stepmother, or a sort of aunt, or even a big sister if you like. But we will be part of the sam
e family. That makes me happy.”

  Bree looked unconvinced. Sarah guessed that since the girl had just discovered she had a father, she wasn’t inclined to share him with another female.

  Rob caught his daughter’s gaze. “You and I will both benefit by having Sarah in the family, Bree. I guarantee she’ll be much better at demonstrating how to be a lady than I will ever be.” He held out a hand. “Will you celebrate with us?”

  She approached warily, then burrowed into Rob’s side under his arm, her face hidden. Sarah said, “Bree, I’d like you to be in the wedding as my bridesmaid. You and my sister would be my attendants because you’re my family. Will you do that for me?”

  Bree raised her head and peered across Rob, looking unnervingly like her father. “You really want me in your wedding?”

  “I really do,” Sarah said seriously. “Some families are born, others are built. I want the three of us to build a family together.”

  “I . . . I’d like that,” Bree said as she straightened.

  “Good girl!” Rob crooked his left arm for his daughter to take. “Now let’s go into the salon and break the news to the others.”

  They entered the salon with Sarah on Rob’s right arm and Bree on his left. Conversation paused as the half dozen guests turned their way.

  “In case it isn’t obvious,” Rob said, “Sarah has done me the honor of accepting my proposal. Since you’re all here, we plan to be married in three or four days, depending on how long it takes to get a special license from London.”

  There was an arrested moment and Sarah saw surprise on most faces. Apparently she and Rob had done a good job of convincing everyone there was nothing romantic between them. Then Adam raised his glass. “To Sarah and Rob. Congratulations on finding each other. I’m glad we’ll be brothers-in-law.” He smiled at Bree. “And what a bargain to acquire a niece at the same time!”

  As Bree blushed, everyone else toasted the news and the room exploded with talk. Sarah’s parents and uncle approached, beaming. Her mother said, “I’m so glad, darling! I was beginning to think I’d never have the chance to cry at your wedding!”