To Rescue a Rogue

by Jo Beverley

  Dare nodded. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  Mara realized what he needed and left with the others. He would take some opium in order to cope. When would they ever have peace?

  When they were in a reception room, waiting, she said, “I wish I’d never met Berkstead.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Simon said, putting an arm around her. “You didn’t do anything to give him this mad illusion.”

  Mara burst into tears and confessed.

  Simon and Jancy stared at her. “How could you?” Jancy asked.

  “I don’t know. It is so obviously insane now, but at the time it was simply a game. It was very, very stupid, but it’s still no reason to persecute me like this. He sent me that awful silk, Jancy, with a note about our wedding night. I should have burned it, but I told Ruth she could sell it.” She shuddered. “He was following me. Spying on me.”

  “You should have told me,” Simon said.

  “I never imagined…If anything terrible happens, this will all be my fault.”

  Jancy hugged her. “No, it won’t, and it won’t.”

  Mara heard footsteps and sprang apart to attempt a bright smile for Dare as he came in.

  He wasn’t fooled. He took her in his arms. “Somehow, we’ll sail through these storms to calm waters. Neither kraken, nor Gorgon, nor beast will consume us. Come, let’s deal with Berkstead.”

  The Golden Cross was a busy place, even close to midnight, and their arrival didn’t cause surprise. The request for Captain Berkstead did, but a coin got the room number and a general direction. Simon knocked and, on demand, gave his name.

  The door was flung open by a haughty Berkstead, but then he gaped. They all went in. Someone else was there—the chunky-faced officer from Almack’s. He glared at them all and announced his name. “Lowestoft. Berkstead’s second.”

  Berkstead’s eyes were fixed on Mara and she saw in them a warped kind of devotion. She stepped forward to attempt reason.

  “Captain Berkstead, you are suffering under a dreadful error. I know I may have misled you, but I don’t love you. I have never loved you or wanted to marry you. You must believe me.” Seeing no reaction in his fixed expression, Mara added, “I’m not being forced to say this!”

  “Yet you come under guard.”

  She turned to the men. “Please leave us.”

  “No,” Dare said.

  Berkstead came to life. “See! Why can’t you see? If you’re not being compelled by force, you must be under some sort of dementia. I cannot let you plunge into the hell of marriage to a despicable man like Debenham.”

  Mara hit him. She’d not intended to—her hand whipped out and did it all of its own. Her leather gloves must have softened the blow, but he staggered back in shock as much as anything, then surged forward, fury in his eyes.

  Dare was between them. Berkstead froze, in part perhaps because Lowestoft had taken his arm.

  “You started that rumor about me,” Dare said.

  “What rumor?” But his eyes flickered.

  “That I fled the field at Waterloo. Fortunately for you, we have a witness to correct that mistake.”

  Mara worked at not showing surprised relief and saw confusion on Lowestoft’s face.

  “Fortunately?” Berkstead’s chin went up. “Why should I be pleased by that?”

  “Because I won’t have to take steps to make you admit to the world that you spread an invention out of pure malice.”

  “Threatening me from your eminence?” Berkstead sneered, but he’d backed up a step. He recovered like a toy on a spring, however, making Mara despair.

  “You can’t force lies down people’s throat with a title these days,” the major blustered. “Or steal children and abuse defenseless women.” He pushed his head forward to glare. “Are you going to marry the woman you wronged?”

  “Have you even met Madame Clermont?” Dare asked. Opium must give immense patience.

  “Do you deny she’s at your house and claims to be the true mother of your daughter?”

  “No.”

  “And a duke’s house takes in any raggle tail who turns up with a pretty story?”

  “Major Berkstead,” Dare said, “I have been advertising for the children’s parents for nearly a year. Of course I’m interested in any claimant. I’m investigating the woman’s story, but as she’s alone in a foreign land, my parents have kindly given her lodging. She’s a complete stranger to me, and when she conceived Delphie, I was at Cambridge. I have never claimed that Delphie is my true child.”

  Facts and Dare’s almost eerie calm were having a strong effect on Captain Lowestoft and seemed to deflate the major. Berkstead turned to Mara.

  “I must protect you, my darling. Debenham’s an opium eater! I know what that means. It doesn’t matter what he says. He’ll always put the poppy first. You’ll never be able to rely on him. You’d be able to rely on me. I’d never hurt you.”

  Mara suddenly saw a possible way.

  “Yes, I probably would be able to rely on you,” she said gently. “That’s why I’ve always thought of you as an uncle, Major Berkstead. You are, I believe, forty-one, and I am but eighteen. How can you ever have thought us suited to marriage?”

  His jaw dropped.

  “As an older friend,” Mara continued, “of course you are concerned about my future, but if my loving family approves, how can I be wrong? Lord Darius has been almost a part of my family since I was a child. That’s why we all know he will win free of the drug. But it’s also why I know that if he didn’t, he would still be a loving, trustworthy husband.”

  Dare took her hand.

  Mara squeezed it, but kept her attention on Berkstead. “That’s also why I know without proof that he didn’t turn coward and flee the battle. It was very wrong of you, a soldier, to plant that unjust accusation.”

  She heard a mutter of agreement from the captain, who said, “What’s the truth, old fellow?”

  Berkstead’s mouth shuddered as if he might be fighting tears. “I…I might have been mistaken. I only wanted to protect her,” he said to his friend. “She’s so young, so innocent. A sprite.” He turned back to Mara. “You need a shield from the harshness of life. You don’t know. You can’t know what’s best for yourself!”

  Before Mara could protest, Simon did it for her. “Stop that infernal drivel, man. Mara has more sense and wisdom in her little finger than you have in your whole body.”

  Berkstead turned on him. “Then why did she slip out at night to romp around with me?”

  Mara thanked heavens that she’d confessed.

  “Because, as she said, she saw you as an uncle and trusted you.”

  Berkstead collapsed into a chair. “You see me as an uncle?” he asked Mara.

  For a moment, pity almost softened her, but she met his eyes. “Yes,” she affirmed.

  “Are we done with this idiocy?” Dare asked. “No one is going to meet you at pistol point, Berkstead, but if you create any more trouble, we will call up some very big battalions and crush you into the mud.”

  The flat statement seemed to ring in the room. Berkstead licked his lips. “I see. You’ll tell lies. Destroy my reputation…. I have only done what I thought was right. What I still think right. She is too good for you!”

  “That, we can agree on,” Dare said. “No one need tell lies about you. If you persist, however, some will tell the truth. The terms are these,” Dare said. “You cease to meddle in our lives. You scrupulously avoid Mara, which includes avoiding her sister and Sir George. We will have to tell the Verneys about your behavior, but if you keep your side of this bargain, no one will let the wider world know of your malice and folly.”

  “Because you don’t want the world to know how shamelessly she behaved.”

  Mara felt Dare tense and braced to prevent attack.

  But Dare said, “If you care for Mara at all, you do not want the world to know of her innocent follies.”

  “Innocent—” But Berkstead swallowed
any further words. Mara wasn’t surprised.

  After a moment, Dare added, “I do have some sympathy, sir. Mara is wondrous and she has become your addiction. The better part of you is doubtless crying for you to be sane, but the baser part howls that life is not worth living without her, that it is your sacred duty to protect her. The beast can be defeated. You are reputed to be a brave man and you have friends. Fight.”

  He looked at the shaken Captain Lowestoft. “Will you assist him, sir, and also keep these matters private?”

  “Yes, of course. Of course.” The man braced himself. “It was I who spread the story at Almack’s. I believed it. His wounds gave weight to his story. If you want satisfaction.”

  “Heavens, no,” Dare said. “Let’s put it behind us, like, please God, the war.”

  He took Mara’s hand and led her out of the room, down the stairs, and out of the inn.

  “Will it work?” Simon asked as they walked along the street.

  “I pray so,” Dare said. “Lowestoft seems to be a decent man.”

  “What of the witness to counter his rumor?” Mara asked. “Who is it?”

  “I lied,” Dare said. “One effect of opium at its height is that it makes it so very easy to lie.”

  Mara returned to her bedroom in Marlowe House in no state to rest. When Ruth offered her laudanum, she dashed the bottle from her hand.

  “But you must sleep, Miss Mara!”

  “So must you, Ruth. Go away, please. I’ll be all right.”

  Solitude felt like a blessing, but Dare’s presence would be a greater one. Mara leaned by the window, looking in the direction of Great Charles Street, trying to send her love and strength. In some ways this would be an easier night for him because he’d taken extra opium, but that would make it a worse one, too.

  Mara found the disk that Ruyuan had given her, then worked on the patterns Ruyuan had taught her. They came back to her and she went through them again and again, visualizing Dare doing the same thing at Yeovil House. Slowly her mind cleared, and she hoped it meant his had, too. When she went to bed, she slept.

  The next morning, Jancy came to take breakfast with her. “What are we going to do?”

  Mara buttered bread and spread jam on it. “Prepare for the ball.”

  “You know what I mean. Everything is in disorder.”

  “It could be worse,” Mara pointed out. “Madame Clermont is not dragging a terrified Delphie off to Belgium. Dare isn’t facing Berkstead at pistol point. Tonight, the ton will swarm into Yeovil House, thus attesting that they believe Dare to be brave, honorable, and true.”

  “You’re sure of that?”

  “I met Lady Cawle. I’m sure.”

  “I don’t know how you can be so calm!” Jancy exploded. “You know how rumors stick. People will have written letters, spreading the story, but they won’t bother to write a retraction. Especially if there isn’t one.”

  Mara covered Jancy’s anxious hands. “They’ll write about the ball, too. Jancy, I’m trying to look on the bright side.”

  “Oh, sorry.”

  Jancy left and Mara remembered she’d been promised a ride.

  She wrote a note to Dare and summoned Ruth to find her habit. Poor Godiva hadn’t had a ride for a week or more. Mara was only just ready when Dare was announced, and she ran down, truly feeling full of bright spirits.

  Instead of going outside immediately, however, he drew her into a reception room.

  Her bright spirits fled. “What? What’s happened now?”

  “Nothing bad. I’m sorry for frightening you. I wanted to give you this.” He produced a ring—a clear, faceted topaz circled by small cabochon rubies, then by tiny diamonds, and slid it onto her finger.

  “It’s perfect. How did you find it?”

  “I commissioned it last week, before we left Town. The rubies protect the topaz,” he said, tracing the stones, “and the diamonds protect both.”

  She searched his eyes. “No lingering thought of marrying Madame Clermont?”

  “None.” He brushed her cheek with his knuckles. “What good would a dead husband do her or Delphie, and how could I live without you?”

  Mara went into his arms and simply held him, encircled him, never wanting to let go. She felt him kiss her hair and was complete, as she was now only when with him.

  “We should go,” he said reluctantly. “The horses are waiting.”

  So they kissed, left the house, and rode to Hyde Park. They talked, but only of tranquil plans, and they didn’t talk much. In the park, they cantered and then indulged in a galloping race in the wilder areas, deliberately bringing it to a dead heat. It was good. It was normal. It was a pattern for their life together.

  Chapter 30

  Mara took lunch with Jancy and knew how she should spend the rest of the day. A young lady planning to attend a ball, especially one at which she would be a center of attention, should rest, then spend hours in preparation.

  She, however, had something to do.

  She summoned a carriage and, accompanied by Ruth and an armed footman, went to the jewelers in Bond Street. The young man recognized her. “You require more beads, ma’am?”

  “No,” Mara said. “I wish to commission a ring. Can it possibly be made for tonight?”

  The clerk’s brows rose, but he summoned the master jeweler. The square-jawed, sharp-eyed man emerged in a working apron and was immediately intrigued by the challenge. He studied Mara’s ring. “You want the same but with a ruby at the center, ma’am, surrounded by topaz? But gentlemen do not wear such rings these days. A cravat pin, perhaps?”

  “It must be a ring,” Mara said, “but I see what you mean.”

  “Perhaps, we could adapt a gentleman’s ring?” He produced a heavy gold one with a smooth oval top ready for engraving. “The stones could be inset in one corner—very small—and the rest engraved.”

  Mara considered, then nodded. “Yes, that would be best. It can be done for tonight?” She gave him her best and brightest smile. “For my betrothal ball, you see.”

  His eyes twinkled. “It will be done for tonight, ma’am, but I will need the gentleman’s size.”

  Mara hadn’t thought of that, but said, “You shall have it within the hour, sir.”

  Once back at Marlowe house, she sent a message to Salter, instructing him to send Dare’s ring size to the jeweler. Then she tried to do the expected things, but even the choice of gown fretted her. She summoned Jancy to help.

  “They’re all lovely,” Jancy said. “I can’t believe you’re in such a twitch over it.”

  “I’m going to be the center of attention. And it’s so important!”

  “Whether you wear white, blue, or yellow will hardly affect anything.”

  “I know, but I need to do something to shape fate. Will you read the cards again?”

  “No. They’re not to be consulted again and again, and what they told you was good.”

  “More or less.”

  “None of us can expect a completely smooth path.”

  “We can wish for it, though. Work for it.”

  Then Jancy noticed the ring. “Mara, it’s lovely! So unusual.”

  “It’s Dare, protected by me, and by the Rogues. There are twelve small diamonds, see? I’ve ordered something similar for him, but it hasn’t arrived yet.”

  Jancy was summoned to her bath and Mara studied the gowns again. Yellow would catch the color of the topaz.

  How was Dare passing the time before this important event? Would the plan work, or would people stay away? What if Berkstead appeared in the ballroom to tell the sorry saga of her foolish adventure?

  No. He was stopped. She truly believed that.

  For the first time she worried that one of the men at the ball might recognize her from that gambling hell. She didn’t think the patrons had been aristocratic, but it hadn’t been a low dive, either. She studied herself in the mirror, remembering the mask and the turban-style headdress that had concealed her hair. The room
had been dim and fogged with pipe smoke. Surely no one would know.

  Then, as she sank into her bath, she was assailed by images of empty rooms, of the ton simply staying away. How could they if Lady Cawle had let it be known she would attend? Who would want to offend the Yeovils? Apart from their high rank, people liked them, especially the duchess.

  She made herself stop running round and round these things like a dog in a spit and applied creams and a hint of color to her lips and cheeks.

  Then the coiffeur arrived to begin his endless fiddling with her hair, chattering all the time. It gave her a headache, but the effect was lovely, she admitted, and exactly as innocent as she’d wanted. She was crowned with a mass of curls in a bandeau of yellow roses.

  She put on the gown, which had a yellow satin underdress and an overlay of white spider net set with tiny crystals. The bodice was very low. She remembered Almack’s, when Dare had admired her breasts. And Brideswell, where he’d worshipped them.

  “What are you blushing for?” Ruth demanded. “Shocking, those bodices are, but you’ve worn them for years without a tremor.”

  “I’m nervous,” Mara said, and Ruth seemed to believe her.

  With the addition of pearls, she was ready. They would dine here, including the Yeovils and their family, then all go on to the ball at nine.

  But where was Dare’s ring? It would be his talisman. He must have it!

  “Sit down, milady,” Ruth said, “before you wear yourself out.”

  “I’m expecting something.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind.”

  Ruth tidied up, muttering.

  But then there was a knock at the door, and a footman presented a small box. Mara thanked him, opened it, and there was the ring, exactly as she’d hoped with the circles of jewels set in one corner, and an engraved entwined D and M. She’d decided on Mara, not Ademara.

  The bell sounded, and Mara went down with the ring in her hand. Dare was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. Sudden awareness of the body beneath dark evening clothes flooded heat and hunger through her. The look in his eyes as he kissed her hand echoed her thoughts. Their hands tightened one on the other, seeking.