The Greatest Lover in All England

by Christina Dodd

  Changing his tack, Tony asked, “You stayed until Lord Sadler died?”

  “Aye.”

  “Afterward, why did you not deliver the child to the queen?”

  Sir Danny shuffled his feet. “Lord Sadler mumbled about the queen and the child, but I believed his pleas to be the raving of delirium. The coach had no rich trappings, it was built for speed. He had two attendants, and they were dead. I did not believe he knew the queen.”

  “A racing coach, perhaps?” Tony mused.

  “I wondered if he sought to outrun death. But since I had the will read to me, I have tried to remember…” Squinting, Sir Danny tried to see into the past. “The coach had no rich trappings. None. No blanket warmed the occupants, no gilt decorated the interior.”

  “Horses?” Tony asked.

  “Gone.”

  Disgusted, Tony stated, “The thieves cozened you, then.”

  Sir Danny shared his disgust. “I only hope they sickened with the fever as they dangled at the end of a rope.”

  So far Sir Danny’s rescue made a horrible sense, and Tony feared it might continue to do so. Intensifying his interrogation, he asked, “You accepted responsibility for the child?”

  “Aye.”

  “Was she ill?”

  “I thought she would die.”

  The rueful tug of Sir Danny’s mouth alerted Tony. “You hoped she would die?”

  The rueful grimace grew. “Not hoped, nay. Never hoped. But I was a mere forty years, free and unfettered, and I did not want Rosie for even the short time I deemed I would have her.” He glanced at the figure by the window. “She was violently sick and puny and a deterrent to a carefree life.”

  “When it became clear she would survive, why didn’t you make an attempt to take her to London and follow Lord Sadler’s directions?”

  “London had proved to be an unhealthy environment for me.” Sir Danny’s gaze shifted from side to side. “The plague, you see.”

  Rosie once again proved she had been listening. “Was that when you’d been swiving the mayor’s wife and got caught?”

  Sir Danny’s gaze shifted again, this time to glare at Rosie’s back. “It might have been. I forget. Once in the provinces, finding someone who could read, and would read, to someone as disreputable as an actor, proved beyond me. I tried, believe me, I tried.”

  Sir Danny’s character became clearer and clearer to Tony; a more lighthearted vagabond he had never met. “For how long?” Tony challenged.

  “We-ell.” Sir Danny seemed to contemplate the time, then said brightly, “For a long period. But naturally, as time went on, my efforts lessened. Remember, I had no idea Rosie was an heiress. To me, she was only a frightened child who clung to me with flattering desperation.”

  “For how long did you search?”

  “Until…” Tilting his head from side to side, Sir Danny searched for an acceptable answer.

  “How long?” Rosie asked.

  Sir Danny let out his breath with a sigh. “Until you worked your way into my heart. Until I couldn’t think of losing you.” He looked from one to the other, waiting for a challenge, but neither said a word. “So, have you faith in me?”

  Tony replied for the two of them. “Unfortunately, we do.” Pulling a candelabra close, he held the letter close to the flame. “But what’s to stop me from burning this paper?”

  Sir Danny flinched. “There’s nothing to stop you from burning the letter, murdering Rosie and me and all of our troupe and burying us on the grounds of Odyssey Manor. I knew that from the beginning. For that reason, I investigated you thoroughly before I offered our services for your house party.”

  Investigated him? A cheap half-pence actor had investigated him, head of the Queen’s Guard, son of Alfred Lord Spencer? The edge of the letter turned brown, and a faint curl of smoke lifted toward the ceiling.

  Sir Danny’s gaze never left the paper. “I spoke to the men who served under you in Her Majesty’s Guard. I spoke to the servants in your town house, and I slipped onto the grounds of Odyssey Manor and spoke to your servants here. The way a man treats the lesser folk, sir, often provides a clue to his character, and you’ll be pleased to know your character passed the test. You have the loyalty of your servants. They assured me you are all that’s honorable, and on that honor we now depend.”

  Tony stared at the hand holding the paper. Closer. Closer. So easy to light it on fire, to send it into oblivion. The proof would be gone. His estate would be his forever. Sir Danny would be once more nothing but a traveling actor and Rosie…he’d have to do something for Rosie. Perhaps she could work on his estate as a serving maid or a—

  “Curse you, Sir Danny. Curse you to hell.” In his rage, Tony knocked the candelabra to the floor. The impact brought Rosie around to watch him as he snuffed each candle with the heel of his boot. Subsiding, he studied the wary woman who would dispossess him. “Why now? Why did you find someone to read this now?”

  “Ludovic.” Wiping a shaking hand across his brow, Sir Danny tried to hide his relief and fear.

  “Ludovic is the cause of this?” Rosie shook, too, but not with fear and not with relief.

  Tony didn’t understand why they could hear the rasp of her breath, why her whole body tensed as if to flee or fight.

  “Ludovic is challenging me for control of you.” Sir Danny watched her with a frown of puzzlement. “He wants you, and he’s not good enough. Even before I knew who you were, I knew he wasn’t good enough.”

  “So now you’re going to replace Tony with me as lady of Odyssey Manor?”

  Sir Danny held his palms flat out in a stop signal. “Not at all. I trow, you both misunderstand. Because of my…irresponsibility, Rosie, you have no training in the management of an estate such as this. Not to mention the Sadler foundry—”

  “Ah, you know about that, too.” Tony grimaced.

  “—and the Sadler town house. Our blessed queen has granted Tony shares in shipping and the right to sell silken cloth, and the income from that must be considerable.”

  Tony sneered. “Well, you’ll have to advise her on the best way to spend her wealth, won’t you?”

  Sir Danny chided Tony’s skepticism. “It would not be in her best interest for me to advise her, nor can I believe you wish to be removed from all of the privileges which you worked so hard to gain.”

  “Ah!” Tony opened his arms in mock embrace. “You want to hire me to care for my former possessions.”

  “Not at all,” Sir Danny said sharply. “I want you to marry Rosie.”

  Somewhere, children played. Somewhere, women laughed. Somewhere, men shouted. But in the study at Odyssey Manor, silence reigned. A silence unbroken by movement, breath, or heartbeat. A silence so complete as to be a hole in time.

  Then Tony’s arms collapsed, knocking documents to the floor, and Rosie’s elbow struck the window. Papers fluttered in a winsome accompaniment to the ringing of the glass.

  In one comprehensive glance, Tony absorbed her emotions. Attraction, fear, amazement, and something else. Fury? It could not be. What right had she to be furious?

  As an even exchange, he let her absorb his emotions. Fury, fury, and lust. And…fury. At being so trapped. At having to marry a lowlife, highborn actress. At losing the status he had slaved so hard to obtain.

  At being a bastard with no other prospects.

  Slowly, Tony lifted himself to his feet. “As you say, Sir Danny, marriage is the perfect solution to our problem.” Strolling over to the window, he wrapped his arms around Rosie’s stiff figure and insolently nuzzled her neck. “I will marry the vagabond heiress as soon as possible.”

  But he’d forgotten that Rosie was a child of the streets. One bony fist split his lip and one sharp shoe bruised his shin. As he cupped his mouth and hopped on one foot, she straightened with disdain.

  “If I’m the heir, why do I need Tony? Why do I need to be married? I’ll take my lands and my title back, and he can fry in hell.”

  10

/>   What is wedlock forced but a hell.

  An age of discord and continual strife?

  —HENRY VI, PART ONE, V. v, 62

  Stupid men, gawking at her like pelicans denied a fish.

  Stupid Sir Danny, playing the scene with flash and drama and thinking she would thank him for shaping her whole life while abandoning her.

  Stupid Tony, imagining he was doing her a favor by marrying her and lifting her from her lowly existence. Making a fool of her by pretending not to know she was a woman, and all the time laughing deep in his chest.

  And stupid Rosie, for fantasizing that she might really be the heiress Rosalyn. That she might have lived here in this place with a father who had loved her and servants who adored her. That she might belong somewhere other than a cramped gypsy wagon and a different village every week.

  Stupid, gullible Rosie.

  “Manly smell, indeed,” Rosie sneered. “You stink of carnation soap.”

  Sir Danny looked confused. Tony did not. He lowered his hand and wiped his bloody palm on his canions. “I smell of carnation, and you strike like a warrior. We will be a seemly couple.”

  Did he think she was jesting when she declared she would not marry? “We will be no couple at all.”

  “How do you think you will be rid of me? I’m in possession. You might say”—Tony smiled, although she would have sworn he was furious—“I am firmly in the saddle.”

  Outraged by the innuendo, she snapped, “Why not return to your original plan, with some modification, forsooth. I’ll take possession of the Sadler lands, and you can marry into the nobility and live off your wife. Lady Honora has been eyeing your codpiece.”

  Tony roared like a baited bull, and Sir Danny grabbed her wrist and jerked her aside as if he expected him to charge. But Tony regained control immediately—or perhaps he’d never lost it—and smiled with insolent disdain.

  Drawing her stiff figure into his embrace, Sir Danny hugged her tight while keeping an eye on Tony. “You’re hurt. You’re angry. You’re speaking without giving consideration to the advantages for me.”

  “Advantages?” She could scarcely understand him, and didn’t care.

  Holding her gaze, Tony slid a hand along the sill where she had stood and rubbed the rich brown wood with his palm. “It’s still warm,” he said.

  Sir Danny chatted. “You’ll have a title, and with that you’ll be able to sponsor my acting troupe.”

  She watched the caress of Tony’s fingertips and remembered that first moment they met. How he had tempted her, taught her, touched her.

  “Wouldn’t you like to be our benefactor?” Sir Danny coaxed.

  “I don’t need him to be your benefactor.”

  Sir Danny struggled on, regardless of her aversion. “I’ll be able to legitimately act in London, just as Uncle Will does. I’ll have money for costumes and when I get too old to go on the road, I’ll have a place to come.”

  “Fine. But all this is mine. I needn’t marry.”

  Observing her unrelenting rejection, Tony asked, “Ungrateful wretch, isn’t she?”

  She shoved Sir Danny aside and marched right up to the obnoxious, scornful jackanapes. “You’re out of favor with the queen. I heard that much from your guests at your house party, and as obnoxious as you are, I understand why. I’ll present my claim to Her Majesty, and she’ll grant it at once.”

  “How do you propose to get to the queen?” Tony took hold of her shirt strings and reeled her in like a fish. “I have you here, and I will hold you.”

  She looked down at the knuckles close under her chin, and looked up at him, taller and broader and tougher than any man she knew. He would keep her here, a prisoner? “I’ve got out of tighter predicaments.”

  “By yourself? Without the help of Sir Danny?” His beautiful wide eyes narrowed. “With my faithful servants and my faithful soldiers watching your every move?”

  Tony thought just because he paid the soldiers and servants they would do as he wished, and she feared he was right. She said, “I trow there are some servants left from the days when young Rosalyn played here, and I trow they would help me.”

  “That’s a thought.” Tony nodded. “Thank you for warning me. I’ll take steps to thwart that alley of escape.”

  Defiance, she realized, exacted its own retribution.

  It wasn’t fair, but the life of an actor had prepared her for injustice. However, nothing could make her like it. Trying to peel his grip off her shirt, she said, “Hold me, but I’ll not wed you.”

  “As you wish.” Their fingers grappled, fumbling, straining, slipping, and even with one hand Tony could easily have overcome her. She knew it, and he knew it. She fumed, and he smiled unrelentingly as he insulted her. “You’d be totally inappropriate as my wife. You haven’t had the training to be a noblewoman.”

  Stung, she broke his hold. “I’ve got noble bloodlines,” she cried. “I’m a fast learner and I’m an actress who has many times played the part of a noblewoman. ’Tisn’t I who lacks what is necessary to be noble.”

  “Rosie,” Sir Danny warned.

  But she rushed on, unheeding. “I’ve heard rumors about your background. You’re a bastard. You’re not fit to be a nobleman.”

  Thrusting his head down to her level, he asked, “Are you really a woman?”

  Equally aggressive, she thrust her head forward, meeting him nose to nose. “Aye.”

  “You’d best prove it then, because if you’re a man, I’m going to run you through.”

  “Prove it?” Sir Danny squawked.

  “Now,” Tony agreed, and grabbed her by the crotch.

  Furious, beset, invaded, she grabbed right back. Neither of them jumped; they stared, eyeball-to-eyeball, breathing heavily. Finally, Tony whispered, “Have I proved to your satisfaction that I am a man?”

  “Aye,” she whispered back. “Have I proved to you I am a woman?”

  “Aye.”

  Did he know how those little pulses fed excitement to her insides? Did she know exactly what it meant?

  “I think,” he continued, “we should wed soon.”

  “Nay.”

  For the first time in this dreadful interview, his smile was whimsical, a curve of happiness that begged to be kissed. “Pray tell, lady mine, why not?”

  “Why not? Why not?” Lady Honora stood in the doorway, bristling with indignation. “Because you’re going to wed me!”

  Tony and Rosie jumped apart, and Lady Honora swept in, her wide, stiff skirt catching the sides of the door. She freed herself with a jerk. “Explain yourself, Tony.” Tony slid behind his desk and seated himself, and Rosie knew why.

  “How did you hear of this?” he demanded.

  Without inflection, Lady Honora said, “Your steward did his duty and told me.”

  “Hal?” Tony glanced around, then shouted, “Hal!”

  “Sir?” Hal hastened in.

  “I have scarce heard the news myself, and you’re spreading the word like a royal messenger?”

  Bowing repeatedly, Hal stammered, “Nay, sir, I only kept guard at th’ door because o’ th’ faulty latch.”

  “Faulty latch?” Tony stared, impressive in his fury.

  The color slid down Hal’s wrinkled brow and found residence in his sagging chins, and he swung the door back and forth, back and forth in nervous little movements. “Aye, th’ door developed a problem with th’, ah…” Giving up, he bowed to Lady Honora. “This lady demanded t’ know th’ events which transpired within, an’ sir, I’m so sorry, but I couldn’t withstand her questioning.”

  “Of course not.” Lady Honora dismissed him with a gesture.

  “Of course not,” Tony agreed. “Justly punished for your eavesdropping, you are and will be. Get out of my sight and stay out. I’ll replace you as steward—”

  “Nay, sir,” Hal implored.

  “—unless you can prove your loyalty to me and Odyssey Manor.”

  “Aye, I will. I swear I will.”

  “T
here are others who vie for your position. Now get out.”

  Rosie shut her eyes to close out the sight of Tony, still, quiet, and so angry he frightened her. But some sound brought them open again, and she found Hal on his knees before her.

  “My lady.” He took her limp hand and held it as if it were a holy chalice. “’Tis an honor to serve ye once more. This time—”

  “Don’t touch her!” Tony was beside her before she could blink, snatching her hand from Hal’s grasp, holding it so tightly her knuckles cracked.

  “Tony, such violence! He’s just ignorant,” Lady Honora rebuked as Hal scrambled up and ran. “He believes she is the heir.”

  “Lady Honora,” Sir Danny called, but Lady Honora’s high ruff kept her from turning her head. Stepping into Lady Honora’s line of vision, he said, “Lady Honora, she is the heir.”

  “You!” Ignoring Tony with impressive disdain, Lady Honora looked down her impressive nose. “You’ve lied to me about everything.”

  Sir Danny tossed his impressive mane. “There is another alternative. I could have told you the truth about everything.”

  “Why should I believe an actor?” she demanded.

  “Because”—with impressive courage, Sir Danny laid his finger between her thin, tweezed brows—“you are an excellent judge of character.”

  She stood still as if she couldn’t believe he’d touched her, and he held her gaze until the door slammed against the wall once more.

  Jean and Ann elbowed each other like children, both anxious to enter the room first.

  “Tony,” Jean said. “What’s this tale the servants are babbling?”

  Ann finished, “That the lost heiress is back, and you’re marrying her?”

  Tony looked out the door to the milling group of excited servants. “News travels faster than a flash of lightning, I see.”

  “You mean it’s true?” Jean clutched her red wig as if it would blow off in the strong wind of change.