The Rogue Is Back in Town

by Anna Bennett

  Chapter THIRTY-SIX

  Two days after the soiree, Sam moved out of Griff’s house and into the Albany. Though his friend claimed Sam was most welcome to remain there indefinitely, Sam needed his own place—and distance from Griff’s well-intentioned but ruthlessly matchmaking mama.

  Sam knew several other gentlemen who let apartments in the grand townhouse, and he slept soundly the first night in his new bed. The chambers were the perfect living quarters for a bachelor, and if they didn’t feel quite like home, the stark furnishings weren’t to blame.

  The most luxurious of palaces wouldn’t have felt like home without Juliette.

  Even home didn’t feel like home any longer, now that he and his brother were at such odds. After past rows, Sam had always gone crawling back to Nigel, seeking absolution.

  But Sam wasn’t the prodigal son any longer. He was determined to make something of himself—on his own.

  Sam had spent most of his time at Griff’s offices, working and learning. And yet, he managed to think about Juliette constantly. She’d said that she had to give Nigel an answer within three days … which meant she would inform him of her answer tomorrow.

  Sam knew that his brother was trying to force her hand—but he also knew Juliette was sufficiently strong-willed that she wouldn’t enter into an arrangement unless she wished to.

  The choice was hers.

  And as much as Sam wished to protect her and make her his, she deserved the freedom to make her decision without his interference. So he’d resolved to wait in the wings until she’d made up her mind and refrain from meddling—at least openly. He couldn’t help taking a few measures behind the scenes.

  The truth was that even if she didn’t choose Nigel, she might not choose Sam. But he would fight for her—and a future with her.

  In the end, no matter what happened, he needed to know she was happy.

  * * *

  The next morning, Julie headed to breakfast with trepidation. The grains of sand had relentlessly slipped through her metaphorical hourglass, and she owed Nigel a decision that very evening. Though she’d been working without respite since the soiree, she still had much left to accomplish before speaking with him.

  The first order of business, however, was breakfast. And tea.

  She hustled toward the dining room but slid to a stop in front of the study door and blinked at the sight of her uncle toiling at his desk. The tip of his tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth as he read a letter with one hand and scribed with the other. Ink stained his fingers, and a smudge marred his cheek as well.

  “My, but you’re up early this morning,” she said.

  He looked up at her, his eyes brighter and clearer than she’d seen them in ages. “I’m analyzing some new information which supports my case for safeguarding the Thames from further contamination.”

  Julie wrinkled her nose. “Do people truly need convincing? The water’s the color of mud and smells … horrid.”

  “Quite right, and yet, Parliament’s done nothing about it.” He held up his pen, heedless of the ink droplets that leaked from the nib and plunked onto his desk. “My hope is that when they’re faced with empirical malevolence as to the dreadful effects of dumping human waste and animal carcasses in the river, they’ll take steps to curtail it.”

  Julie placed a palm on her belly, thinking perhaps she’d forgo breakfast after all.

  “A very worthy cause,” she said, her chest squeezing with pride. “And you were able to find the evidence you require among your papers?”

  “Some.” Uncle Alistair’s gaze drifted back to his scribblings. “Cousin Samuel found scores of relevant letters while helping me organize this room.” He dipped the tip of his pen in the ink pot, and his tongue poked at the corner of his mouth once more.

  “That’s wonderful.” Julie hoped her voice didn’t betray the sadness and longing wrought within her at the mere mention of Sam’s name. “You see, the information you needed was here all along.”

  “Much of it was,” he said distractedly. “But a few key pieces were delivered yesterday. From Samuel.”

  Julie’s breath caught in her throat. “Samuel?”

  Her uncle glanced up at her, beaming. “Yes, he was good enough to query several of the barge captains whom he’s met in his new line of work. Some fishermen as well. I wouldn’t have dreamed of asking him to do such a thing, but he said that he thought the information might prove useful—and it is.”

  “Did you speak to him?” She felt an unseemly pang of jealousy in her belly.

  “No, I just had a brief note from him yesterday evening. Apparently he’s extremely busy with his new responsibilities.”

  “Did he have any other news of import?” she asked, keeping her tone light.

  Uncle Alistair frowned slightly. “Only that he’s moved into the Albany. That should suit him nicely.”

  She had no doubt the sumptuous quarters would suit him. The Albany was a bachelor’s natural habitat as surely as New South Wales was the platypus’s.

  And Julie was happy that he’d moved on with his life so swiftly and surely.

  Yes, she was still floundering a bit, but at least she now knew what she wanted. All that was left was figuring out how to achieve it.

  “Would you care to join me for breakfast?” she asked her uncle.

  “Thank you, my dear, but I think I shall finish another page or two beforehand. Everything is right here”—he tapped his temple emphatically—“and I want to write it down before it flees.”

  “I don’t think your knowledge is going anywhere,” she said with a wink, “but enjoy yourself.”

  As she made her way to the dining room and poured her tea, she wondered at Sam’s thoughtful gesture. Perhaps it had been a simple thing for him, but it meant the world to her uncle—and to her.

  It was kind and selfless. Not rogue-like in the least.

  And it made her miss him all the more.

  She filled a plate from the sideboard, and as she took her first bite of egg, Mr. Finch entered the dining room waving a note. “This just arrived for you, Miss Juliette.” He placed it on the table beside her plate with a flourish and said, “I’ve the newspaper for your uncle as well. I shall deliver it to his study.”

  “Thank you,” Julie said, even as cold dread filled her veins. The note must be from Nigel. She’d expected some sort of summons, but she’d foolishly hoped the marquess might grant her at least a short grace period.

  She should have learned by now that Nigel was too ruthless to show the slightest mercy.

  Drawing a tremulous breath, she unfolded the note.

  My Dearest Juliette,

  The past week has lasted a year, but now the waiting ends. Arrive at Gunter’s this afternoon at a quarter past three o’clock, and, for the sake of discretion, act as though our meeting there is coincidental.

  I look forward to discussing our future, for it begins today.

  Yours, N.

  Julie pushed her plate away. She wished she could reply with a note, informing him in no uncertain terms that she found his offer abhorrent, but while penning such a response would be satisfying, it would not be prudent. Not when she still hoped to persuade him to sell the house to her uncle or at least allow him to rent it.

  She had to firmly but gently refuse Nigel, and, at the same time, appeal to his sense of compassion. If that tack failed—as she suspected it would—she had one final ace to play.

  Over the past few days she’d concluded that perhaps the best way to deal with a bully was to give him a taste of his own medicine. She wasn’t proud of stooping to his level, but if her plan helped her keep Uncle Alistair in his house and spared her sisters humiliation, it would be worth it.

  The thought of her sisters made her belly churn with guilt. Meg and Beth would be aghast if they knew Julie intended to meet with Nigel, especially since he’d proven to be less than a gentleman in his past dealings with her.

  Julie was fully aware that any face-t
o-face contact with the scoundrel was ill-advised at best, but she would take the precaution of bringing Lucy along with her. Besides, what harm could come to her in front of a renowned confectionery shop in the broad light of day?

  Chapter THIRTY-SEVEN

  At the appointed time, Julie and Lucy strolled toward Gunter’s in Berkeley Square. Sunlight reflected off the shiny storefront windows, making the street seem doubly bright and warm. Julie was grateful for her parasol, which not only protected her from the sun, but also provided some semblance of anonymity. Or at least the illusion of it.

  They’d stopped in a milliner’s shop on the way and purchased a smart hat for Uncle Alistair. He was in need of a new one, but the routine errand also served to calm Julie’s frayed nerves.

  As she and Lucy approached Gunter’s, Julie paused and pretended to look at a pair of slippers in the window of a neighboring shop. She wasn’t certain whether she should go inside the confectionery to wait for Nigel or linger outside, but her maid would be curious if Julie dallied too long on the pavement.

  Turning to Lucy, she said, “Let’s pay a visit to Gunter’s and treat ourselves to a pastry.”

  The maid beamed. “That sounds lovely.”

  They started to walk toward the shop door when a long shadow slanted over them, instantly cooling the air by several degrees. A midnight blue coach with no markings rolled to a stop along the curb. Dark curtains hung at every window of the elegant cab, concealing the interior and any passengers.

  But Julie knew who was inside.

  She hesitated briefly but remembered what Nigel’s note had said about pretending that the meeting was unexpected. Forcing a smile at Lucy, she decided to enter the shop and let Nigel follow.

  She’d only taken a couple of steps when a liveried footman rudely blocked her path. She opened her mouth to admonish him, but he merely pointed at the coach, his expression apologetic.

  “Good heavens,” Julie murmured—mostly for Lucy’s sake. “What could this be about?”

  She walked back toward the coach but hung several feet back from the open door.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Juliette.” Nigel peered out of the darkened cab. “What an unexpected pleasure.”

  “Quite,” she said through her teeth.

  His gaze flicked to her maid then back to her. “It’s a lovely day for a ride. Would you care to join me?”

  Behind her, Lucy gasped.

  “Don’t be alarmed,” she said to the maid. “He’s Cousin Samuel’s brother and a friend of the family’s.” To Nigel she said, “I would vastly prefer to take tea inside the shop like two civilized persons.”

  His face hardened, sending a chill down Julie’s spine. “I’m afraid I haven’t the time for tea,” he said politely. “Surely you could spare half an hour for a family friend. I thought we might take a brief ride through the park and enjoy the sights.”

  Alarms sounded in Julie’s head. “Perhaps we could take a walk through the park,” she suggested. That way, Lucy could follow at a distance that allowed them to talk while still serving as a proper chaperone.

  “I’m afraid that’s impossible. You see, I injured my leg while boxing yesterday and neglected to bring my cane with me. Why doesn’t your maid enjoy a treat at Gunter’s while we take a short ride?” To Lucy, he said, “I promise I shall deliver Miss Lacey safely back to you before you’ve finished your water ice.”

  The maid grasped Julie’s elbow protectively and whispered in her ear. “I don’t like this, Miss Juliette.”

  Julie didn’t either, but she did want the opportunity to make her feelings abundantly clear to him.

  “Do not worry.” Julie handed Lucy her parasol, then reached into her reticule and gave her a few coins as well. “Enjoy yourself and wait here for my return. If I am not back in precisely half an hour, please go to my uncle and ask him to send for Cousin Samuel at once.”

  The maid frowned. “Are you certain, miss?”

  “Absolutely. No harm will come to me.” Julie pasted on a bright smile, but her ankles wobbled as she climbed into the coach. “I shall see you soon.”

  She caught one last look at Lucy’s troubled face before the cab’s door shut and clicked, as though it had been locked.

  Wrapped in a sudden and unnatural darkness, she settled herself on the plush velvet seat opposite Nigel and blinked, waiting for her eyes to adjust.

  “At last.” He rapped on the ceiling of the cab, and the coach lurched forward.

  She ignored the roiling of her stomach and reached for the curtain to admit some light, but he shot out a hand and clasped her wrist. “Leave it. For the sake of your reputation, it’s best if no one knows you’re with me.”

  Julie barely refrained from rolling her eyes. “You pretend to be concerned about me, but I’ve come to realize that you care only for yourself.”

  “That’s not fair,” he chided. “And it’s no way to begin our conversation.” He ran a hand through his hair and drew a deep breath. “Allow me to start over. You are a vision today. You quite take my breath away, Juliette.”

  “That was not my intention. And I confess I’m surprised you can see anything at all. It’s dark as a mausoleum in here.”

  “That’s one of the things I love about you,” he said smoothly. “You do not mince words.”

  “I do not. And I won’t prevaricate now.” She slipped her reticule off her wrist, reached inside, and pulled out the aquamarine and diamond earrings. “I cannot accept these.”

  “Of course you can. You’ve already worn them. They’re yours.”

  In answer, she let them drop onto the seat beside her, where they landed with a satisfying clink. “The reason I’m here is to ensure you understand—I reject your offer. I shall not enter into any sort of arrangement with you.”

  He sniffed, and although it was too dark in the carriage to read his expression, his shoulders stiffened perceptibly. “I suggest you reconsider. Have you forgotten all that is at stake? The house you and your uncle currently live in, your reputation, your family’s good name…”

  “I know what is at stake. The question is, do you?”

  “I do. I know I want you in my life. And I am certain, that given the chance, I could make you happy.”

  “I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m capable of seeing to my own happiness.” The coach slowed and rolled to a stop. There definitely hadn’t been enough time for them to ride through the park. “Why have we stopped?” she asked.

  “Peek outside.” He gestured to the curtain on his right.

  She brushed aside the heavy velvet and looked out at an elegant stone-front building—somewhere near Mayfair, if she had to guess. “I do not recognize the address.”

  “I’ve rented a suite of rooms here—they’re yours. Your private haven from the world. I’ve hired a maid who will provide anything you need. Only the basic furnishings are there now. I thought you’d enjoy decorating the rooms to suit your taste. You may purchase anything you like—spare no expense.”

  Sweet Jesus. He didn’t seem to understand, and he certainly didn’t respect her decision. She reached for the handle of the cab door, intent on jumping out. They hadn’t been in the carriage for long—she’d figure out where she was and walk back to Gunter’s before Lucy alerted her uncle and Sam.

  But the door handle didn’t budge. Nigel rapped on the ceiling again, and the carriage moved forward again.

  Her fingertips tingled with panic. “I wish to leave. Immediately.”

  “What do you mean? I said I’d return you to the confectioners shortly, and I will.”

  Dear God. She must have been mad to climb into the carriage with him. “You’re not listening to me. A true gentleman wouldn’t ignore a lady’s wishes.”

  “I’m not a monster, Juliette. You’ve nothing to fear from me. It’s my brother you should worry about. Samuel’s the one who seduced you and provided fodder for every gossip in London.” He pinched his bottom lip, thoughtful. “Of course, the news hasn’t circula
ted. Yet.”

  Gooseflesh broke out on her arms. “I don’t know what news you’re referring to,” she said blithely. “However, if unsavory rumors began to spread about me, I shall find it necessary to confide in my new friend.”

  Nigel straightened the cuffs of his jacket, unperturbed. “I should think you’d want to refrain from recounting the humiliating details, but that is your decision.”

  “It is indeed. And I think my friend would be sympathetic. If I explained my predicament, perhaps she could counsel me.”

  “Is she a sensible sort?”

  “It is hard to say. Perhaps you know her. She is the Duke of Grimby’s daughter—Lady Clementine.”

  “Juliette.” He spoke her name like a warning.

  “A mutual friend introduced me to Lady Clementine yesterday, and we had tea together. She’s charming—but then, I’m sure you’re already aware of her many assets. I wonder if she would still be amenable to marrying you if she knew how you’d tried to manipulate me.”

  “It would be your word against mine.” He chuckled cockily.

  “True. Although I do have the notes you wrote to me. The ones that accompanied your gifts. They could prove rather incriminating.”

  Nigel shifted on his seat. “I understand your jealousy and am incredibly flattered by it, but—”

  “I’m not jealous,” Julie said evenly. “I pity her, because I think perhaps she was fooled by your reputation—just as I was. Now I know that one need not be featured in the gossip papers to be a true scoundrel.”

  Nigel barked a laugh. “If I were as noble and honorable as the ton thinks I am, you would find me boring indeed.” He leaned across the carriage, so his knees were almost touching hers. “Be honest, Juliette. Beneath your ivory gloves and modest gown lives a wildly passionate creature. You need a man with an edge. Someone who can keep you safe but also make your heart beat faster.”

  Julie kept her face a mask, giving no sign that his assessment hit rather close to the mark. “You know nothing about me.”

  Propping his elbows on his thighs, he said, “I know that your lips taste like ripe strawberries and your skin is as soft as down.”