‘She’s not my lady,’ Rob protested. He hated the sudden smug touch of satisfaction those words gave—his lady, his Anna. No matter how easily those thoughts came to him.
‘Is she not?’ Edward said with a grin. ‘I’m sure Lord Maddingly will be glad of that. He arrives this evening, and Mistress Barrett seems just the sort of beauty he enjoys.’
Hot anger flooded through Rob, and he reached impulsively for the dagger at his belt. ‘He’d best keep his distance from her if he doesn’t want a blade at his poxy throat!’
Edward laughed. ‘A mere joke, Robert, I swear. But if she is not your lady you are doing a fair imitation of it. Are you up to some masquerade?’
‘I hardly know any longer.’ What was real and what was a counterfeit? He had lost his real self so long ago.
‘That sounds intriguing. I hope there’s a part for me in whatever you’re planning.’ Edward stopped to bow to one of the ladies in the garden who waved to him, a pretty blonde in yellow satin and gilded lace.
Rob recognised her—Lady Arabella Bowen, one of the Court ladies who lingered at the playhouse so often. She sent him secret notes and lacy garters, but that was as far as things had ever gone with that particular lady.
Thus far.
She waved to Rob, too, and covered her mouth as she giggled and blushed.
‘I have the feeling Lady Bowen would be glad to hear that you and Mistress Barrett are only travel companions, as well,’ Edward continued. ‘Elizabeth says she asked about you as soon as she arrived.’
‘There is no time for such things right now, I fear.’ Rob studied Lady Bowen as she cavorted among the flowers with her friends. She was pretty indeed, a fluffy Court sweetmeat, with an obvious liking for actors. But he felt strangely unmoved as he looked at her. He could see only Anna’s face now.
‘My friend, there is always time for such things,’ Edward said. ‘Except for men like me, whose hearts have been entirely claimed. If you are not in the same situation…’
‘I am not.’ Not yet—and never, if he guarded himself as well as he had in the past. If he kept his armour in place. Even as he knew Anna would hate him after, and that knowledge pained him as nothing else could.
‘Then Lady Bowen might be a fine distraction from your work.’ Edward led Rob down a winding path that twisted around the house to the meadows and fields that rolled away into the distance. Once they were alone by the decorative lake, with no one to overhear, he said, ‘Speaking of work, Rob, what progress have you made?’
‘Walsingham believes he is closing in on the plotters,’ Rob said. The plotters—including Anna’s own father. He scooped up a flat stone from the ground and sent it skimming hard into the water. ‘He still seeks their leader, and I think he does not yet know the essence of their plot. Only that they work for Spain.’
‘Always Spain,’ Edward said. ‘Even when we defeat them we are not rid of them. But perhaps some of our guests will know information of help to us.’
‘Which guests are you thinking of?’
‘Ah, we shall have to discover that later, won’t we?’ Edward pointed to the crest of a distant hill, where a dark grey stone wall snaked its way through the lush green. ‘Beyond that border lies Thomas Sheldon’s new estate, which he bought after the downfall of the unfortunate Carringtons.’
‘Sheldon lives there now?’ Rob said in surprise. ‘And you have not yet run him off?’
‘It amuses me to watch him squirm so close by,’ Edward said, his eyes narrowed as he studied that wall. ‘And his days are numbered now. He has many interesting visitors—and I have many watchers along the road to make note of them. He grows careless. With these comings and goings, and the papers Elizabeth’s enterprising niece snatched for us, he will soon be done.’
‘And you think he has something to do with these new Spanish plotters?’
‘The Spanish have gold, and lots of it. Of course Sheldon will deal with them. I will show you the papers later. I’m eager to see what you think of them.’
‘Will we have to break into his house to search for more evidence?’ Rob asked. House-breaking was not his favourite activity—it lacked the quick, sharp action of a fight, the satisfaction of meeting an enemy face to face. But sometimes it was the only way to accomplish a goal.
‘No need,’ Edward said. ‘He will be at the ball here at Hart Castle a few nights hence. Perhaps the lady who is not your lady might care to dance with him? She seems very observant, even if she is here with you.’
Rob stared hard at the hillside, imagining Anna in Sheldon’s fat arms, the villain braying down at her as he stared at her bodice. It made that hot fury return, stronger than ever.
He had never felt so possessive of a woman before—so protective. He could never do his task—clear her father, be rid of Walsingham—if he spent every moment waiting to skewer any man who looked at her, who wished to do her harm.
Especially when he feared he would be the first one to hurt her.
He shrugged, feigning indifference. ‘You must ask her yourself, Edward. I told you—she is not my lady.’
* * *
‘I do hope you will be comfortable here, Mistress Barrett,’ Lady Elizabeth said as she bustled around the bedchamber. She fluffed a cushion on a chair and opened the window to let in the fresh country breeze.
Anna carefully laid her hat and gloves on a small carved table, staring around her at the room that was larger than the first floor of her father’s house. An immense dark wood bed, etched with images of fruit, flowers and fantastical birds, was hung with deep green curtains and spread with an embroidered counterpane that matched the cushions of the cross-backed chairs by the fireplace. Large clothes chests lined the walls, which displayed a valuable oval looking glass and portraits of sumptuously garbed Hartleys. Her own luggage looked small and puny next to such furnishings.
‘Oh, yes,’ Anna murmured. ‘I dare say I will be comfortable enough here.’
‘If you have need of anything at all you need only ring for it, or ask me. My own apartment is across the corridor.’ Lady Elizabeth suddenly hurried over to clasp Anna’s hands in hers, a happy smile on her face. ‘I am so very glad you’ve come here with Robert! He has never brought a lady to one of our parties before.’
Startled by such a fine lady’s gesture of friendship, Anna managed to smile back. What a strange house this Hart Castle was! She was starting to feel as if she had tumbled down into a new, strange land, and Rob was her only anchor.
‘Has he not?’ Anna asked.
Lady Elizabeth shook her head. ‘I do fear he is very lonely.’
Lonely? Robert? Anna almost laughed at the thought as she remembered the bawd in the dirty yellow gown, the ladies who crowded the galleries at the White Heron to toss flowers at his feet, and the woman in the garden below who stared at him.
But then she remembered something else—the shadow in his eyes sometimes when he looked at her in an unguarded instant. The tender way he held her in his arms once the storm of passion had passed. There was something raw and aching he hid deep inside, and it was that which called out to her so strongly, which drew her to him even as she knew she should run.
But he would never reveal that vulnerable heart to her—not fully and freely.
A burst of laughter rang through the open window, and Anna hurried to see what was happening, Elizabeth right behind her. The view was down to the driveway and statues below, the curve of the lane, the formal gardens and the trees beyond. A new carriage had just arrived, its glossy, crest-painted doors opening to disgorge its passengers.
They were two men and three women, all dressed in sumptuous satins and velvets, creamy pearls and plumed hats. The guests who had been strolling among the flowerbeds rushed to greet them amid more raucous laughter and shouts.
Lord Edward and Rob appeared from around the hidden side of the house, and one of the ladies broke away to hurry over to them. Blond curls and bright ribbons flying, she threw her arms around Rob’s neck and s
quealed with joy.
Anna smiled wryly. ‘Terribly lonely, I see.’
‘Lady Arabella flirts with everyone,’ Elizabeth said.
‘And so does Robert.’
‘Does he?’ Elizabeth waved towards the scene below. Rob had unwound Lady Arabella’s arms and held her away as she pouted up at him. Rob just laughed and strolled lazily to the house, disappearing up the front steps.
Lady Arabella then bounced over to another gentleman and took his arm. He seemed rather more receptive.
‘Dinner tonight should be very interesting,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Now, Mistress Barrett, tell me all the news of London. I have not been back to town for many days, and I’m sure much has happened since then! Has the unhappy Moreton been released from the Tower yet? What of the French ambassador’s quarrel with Lord Meyers?’
As they shared gossip of the city, and maids appeared to unpack Anna’s borrowed trunks, Anna began to feel more at ease. Lady Elizabeth was not grand or snobbish, despite her title and the fact that she had been lady-in-waiting to the Queen, and they laughed and chattered as old friends. Anna could at last let go of her worry over her father, her confused thoughts of Rob and all that had happened between them, and just enjoy herself.
It was a strange and delicious feeling. It made her wonder what a life like this could be like—a life in the pretty countryside, with friends and a man to love, as Elizabeth obviously loved Lord Edward. It wouldn’t be such a grand house as Hart Castle, of course, but maybe a cottage with a little garden…
Anna almost laughed at herself. A country cottage was as beyond her reach as a palace would be, and a man like Robert would never share such a place. She just had to enjoy this fine holiday now. She was determined to find a way to enjoy life again at long last. Rob had given her that.
The light outside was turning a mellow golden-pink, the sun beginning to sink towards the horizon, when Elizabeth said, ‘How is it grown so late? I must see to dinner and leave you to change your gown, Anna. You have let me chatter on too long!’
Suddenly there was the clatter of more carriage wheels down the drive.
‘Who would be arriving so very late?’ Elizabeth wondered, and Anna went with her to peer out of the window once more. The carriage was a sombre black one, and only one lady stepped out into the deserted garden.
As she looked up at the house the hood of her cloak fell back and Anna glimpsed a pale face and light brown hair—a face she had seen only recently.
‘Lady Essex,’ she whispered.
‘So it is,’ Elizabeth said with a frown. ‘Whatever is she doing here? Edward and her husband do not get along at all.’
‘Mayhap she is on an errand for someone else?’ Anna wondered out loud. Someone like her father, Secretary Walsingham? Was she sent here with some new, dangerous task for Robert?
‘Whatever her purpose, I must go down and greet her,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I shall see you at dinner, Anna?’
‘Of course.’
‘I am glad you are here,’ Elizabeth called back to her as she hurried from the room. ‘I’m sure we shall be friends!’
Alone again, except for the maids setting up a bath by the fireplace and laying out her clothes, Anna turned back to the window. Lady Essex was gone now, and her empty carriage rolled towards the stables. Why was she here? And what was Robert really doing with someone as dangerous as Walsingham?
She had to find out if she was to help him and protect herself. And, just possibly, have a little fun while doing it.
Chapter Thirteen
Anna tiptoed down the staircase, past the glow of the stained-glass window and the silent hulk of the armour. She didn’t feel quite like herself, dressed in the deep red velvet gown with gold brocade sleeves, trimmed with gold and cream ribbons and false rubies, a starched lace ruff fanning out around her head. Elizabeth’s own maid had dressed her hair in a high swirl of waves and curls fastened with pearl pins, and she held a feathered fan clutched in her hand. Her grey gowns were packed away, along with her everyday life, and it felt strange and exhilarating not to be cloaked in their disguise.
Nay, she was not herself tonight. She was sure she was someone entirely different—someone flirtatious like the lady who had greeted Rob on the garden driveway, and assured like Lady Elizabeth. Someone who could coax secrets from a man.
She could hear the hum of voices from a half-open door at the end of the tapestry-lined corridor, a high-pitched burst of laughter. A servant hurried past, bearing a tray of silver goblets, and Anna followed him, slipping into the chamber behind him.
It was filled with the people she had glimpsed earlier in the garden, and even more she had never seen. They were all dressed fit for Court, in sumptuous, jewel-coloured velvets, flashing gold embroidery, and snow-white ruffs that all swirled together like the brilliant stained glass of the staircase window. One man was leaping about, seemingly to demonstrate new dance steps, and everyone laughed at his antics. Lady Essex, the surprise guest, was nowhere to be seen.
Rob stood by the fireplace at the far end of the room, with Lord Edward and a few other guests. He wore a black and purple doublet, and his hair was swept back from his face to reveal an onyx teardrop at his ear and the handsome, austere lines of his features. He didn’t laugh with the others, but watched them with an almost brooding look in his eyes. Anna couldn’t fathom what he was seeing and thinking as he observed all the merriment around him.
Then he glimpsed her there by the door. For an instant his eyes widened and he went very still, as if stunned. They stared at each other for a long, frozen moment, and it was as if everyone else in the room vanished. The colour and noise became a mere blur, and all Anna could see was him. All she could remember was her new determination to enjoy herself for a while.
He suddenly smiled at her, a dazzling grin that banished every hint of the darkness that had hung around him only a moment before. He snatched two goblets from the servant’s tray and made his way towards her. He came straight to her, ignoring any attempts to catch his attention, and bowed before her.
‘Anna,’ he said. ‘You look most beautiful.’
‘Beautiful? Nay, you’re just startled to see me without my grey!’ She felt unaccountably nervous with him. After the wild intimacies they had shared in the carriage, and in his bed at the Three Bells, she shouldn’t feel shy with Rob at all. Yet she did—as if she would start giggling and blushing at any moment. She took the offered goblet and drank deeply of its fine Rhenish wine, hoping it would steady her and bring her back to herself.
All he did was shake his head, and stare as if he couldn’t get enough of her.
The wine didn’t steady her. It just made her feel giddier, and she laughed. ‘Have you no poetic words for me, then?’ she asked. But she wasn’t sure she could take poetry just yet—the mere word ‘beautiful’ was sweet enough.
‘I fear poetry fails me when it comes to you, Anna,’ he said. He took her free hand in his and raised it to his lips. His kiss was warm and soft, lingering on her skin. He turned her palm over and pressed it to his cheek, the heat of him flowing into her and giving her strength.
‘Come, let me introduce you to the other guests,’ Rob said as he looped her arm through his.
‘I would like to meet your friends,’ she said. She wanted to be let into his world, his secrets. Would he let her in? Could she let herself in, and follow her resolve to enjoy herself? To enjoy her life, with Rob, for just a little longer…?
* * *
Rob watched Anna where she sat along the length of the banquet table. She was lit by the golden glow of the candles, the red lights in her dark hair like flames, her skin white as a pearl against the fine lace ruff she wore. She laughed at something the man beside her said, her cheeks flushing the palest of pinks.
The man leaned closer to her, as if to whisper in her ear, and Rob saw it was Lord Maddingly—one of the greatest libertines at Court. Women were said to follow him wherever he went, besotted, begging for his attention. And now
that attention was entirely focused on Anna. He refilled her goblet from one of the silver ewers on the table and smiled at her.
Rob’s fist closed hard on the hilt of his eating knife.
‘Robert? Is something amiss?’ asked Elizabeth, who sat beside him.
He forced his hand to open and dropped the knife to the table. It seemed he became a hot-tempered fool when it came to Anna. He had no right to feel jealous of anyone she spoke to, anyone she liked. Not when he would soon be forced to hurt her more than another man ever could.
He thought of poor Mary, and the memory of her scarred face. His promise to her held him back from Anna.
‘Why do you ask that, Elizabeth?’ he said. He reached for his own goblet and took a long drink of the strong spiced wine.
‘Because you had that murderous look on your face. I thought perhaps one of our cook’s fine dishes had displeased you.’
‘Your hospitality is the finest, as always.’
‘Then what… .’ She looked along the table, and when her gaze alighted on Anna and Lord Maddingly, their heads bent together in close conversation, her eyes widened. ‘I see.’
‘What do you see?’
‘Your fair young lady and Lord Maddingly. But you have nothing to fear from him.’
‘Mistress Barrett can do as she likes,’ Rob said. It took all his hard-won acting skills to make that sound convincing—even to himself.
‘I have not known Mistress Barrett long, but she seems too sensible to believe Maddingly’s nonsense.’
‘Then why did you seat her next to him?’
‘Why, Robert, is that jealousy in your tone? I thought she could do as she liked, with whomever she likes? I thought he might amuse her.’
Rob gave a snort. ‘Amuse?’
‘Aye, for his overblown compliments and attempts at poetry he can be most entertaining to those of us who don’t take him seriously.’ Elizabeth skewered a bit of chicken in cinnamon sauce from a nearby platter and slid it onto his trencher. ‘Mistress Barrett’s father owns the White Heron, does he not? I’m sure she knows just how to handle poetic blandishments from men who are too handsome for their own good. Even you.’
The Taming of the Rogue Page 11
