Deborah Simmons

by The Last Rogue

  “Lud, Jane, it’s just me,” he assured her.

  But it was soon obvious that his soft words had done nothing to comfort her. “Raleigh! What are you doing here?” Her shocked tones told him she suspected him of some nefarious designs upon her sleeping person.

  “Following the trail of the rattling noises,” he said. “Did you hear what sounded like chains last night?” Still looking upward, he blinked when he was bathed in a soft glow. Unfortunately, little light reached the high plastered ceiling, so he turned to see a sleepy-looking Jane fumbling with her spectacles. Although Raleigh found the vision oddly endearing, he knew a sudden, swift desire to step forward, take the glasses from her hands and cup her face…

  His pleasant musings ended abruptly with one glance at the suspicious cast to his wife’s expression. “I suppose I heard something that might be construed as a clanking,” she admitted with a frown.

  “As did I, this night,” Raleigh said. “It came from above,” he said, pointing. “Maybe I ought to go up and investigate.”

  “No!”

  Startled by Jane’s fierce protest, Raleigh glanced toward her. Was she flushing or was it a trick of the candlelight? If she had other plans in mind, he would happily abandon a trek through the nether reaches of Craven Hall. “Don’t want me to leave you alone, do you?” Raleigh asked, grinning.

  She gave him one of those disapproving looks that effectively dampened his former enthusiasm for staying with her. “I meant that it is far too dangerous, with all the clutter, to go wandering around in the dark.”

  Raleigh glanced upward. “I suppose you’re right,” he admitted, none too eager for the task anyway. “God only knows what’s up there.”

  “Mrs. Graves said it’s the long gallery and the state apartments.”

  Raleigh laughed at the thought of Craven Hall ever housing important visitors, and as for the housekeeper…“She’s probably knocking about up there like a ghoul,” he said. “I say, I ought to sack the creature if we’re to stay here for even a few more days.”

  “Oh, don’t do that! She is harmless, I’m sure, just a little set in her ways.”

  “In her spells, you mean,” Raleigh muttered, sighing at Jane’s kindheartedness. Why didn’t it extend to him? He was a nice enough fellow. Why couldn’t she pat the bed beside her and invite him in with her?

  “As you say,” he added when he caught her disapproving glance. He wondered if the chit could read his mind. “But I think I’ll have someone look at the roof tomorrow. Maybe the windows upstairs are chained shut,” he suggested wryly. Anything was possible in this wretched place.

  “Well, whatever it was, it appears to have stopped now,” Jane said, eyeing the ceiling dubiously. Raleigh caught the thread of disapproval in her voice and winced. Lud, did she think he had conjured the whole thing as an excuse to enter her boudoir? He had never been reduced to ruse in order to woo a woman! He had his pride, after all, and his bride had pricked it, yet again.

  “Yes, all’s quiet now, so I’ll be off,” he said, bowing slightly. Let the ceiling cave in on her, the ungrateful wretch. But even as he departed, Raleigh made sure the door was still propped open a bit, just in case.

  “You can shut that. I’m sure I’ll be fine.” Jane’s soft admonition brought him up short Gad, she must find him more repugnant than the mysterious rattling chains, if she could not even bear to allow him access to her room! Did she think he would rape her? A fine day it would be when he would be so desperate as to force himself on Plain Jane!

  “As you say!” he snapped, slamming the idiotic panel behind him. Back in his own chamber, Raleigh tried to throw off the unusual spark of anger that was overcoming his normally agreeable temperament. He lifted a hand to rub over his eyes. Lud, his wife, alone of anyone of his acquaintance, had the ability to provoke him.

  Grinning, he wondered what his friends would say at the thought of anyone provoking Raleigh. He was notoriously unprovokable, avoiding with equal ease both the meanest drunkards who attempted to call him out and the power plays among the ton. Wycliffe would certainly never believe that his unassuming sister-in-law had managed where the most obnoxious of losing gamesters had failed.

  Startled by the thought, Raleigh dropped his hand abruptly. Gad, this strange adversarial relationship with his wife didn’t have deeper connotations, did it? Having watched more than one romance progress fitfully, Raleigh was perhaps more aware than others of the foibles of human nature when it came to matters of the heart.

  But this? He shook his head ruefully. Certainly, he was becoming more attracted to his wife; it was only natural, considering their close confinement. He was a man with healthy appetites that had not been assuaged in a while, and he had a normal interest in people, but that was as far as it went.

  Raleigh laughed shakily, discarding any lingering doubts with good humor. But, considering his recent agitation, the thought of his empty bed was less than appealing. Instead of returning to it, he lit a lantern he had cadged from the kitchen and searched the room for his copy of the Ravenscars’ new book. The virtual isolation of Craven Hall provided for little in the way of amusement except reading, and he had been doing so earlier. But the volume was not on the chair where he thought he had left it, nor was it to be found anywhere in the room.

  Perhaps he had left it in the dining hall, the only other reasonably inhabitable space at Craven Hall. Grinning, Raleigh realized that he had also left there a bottle of that exceptional burgundy brought from the Four Posts in one of the hampers. Maybe he would go look for both, he thought, sliding his bare feet into some slippers. He had no intention of ringing for Mrs. Graves; the thought of her appearance at this hour was wholly terrifying. Nor did he wish to wake poor Antoine, who had worked like a slave and was now snoring loudly in the dressing room.

  Opening the door quietly, Raleigh struck out for the main part of the house. He was simply unused to these country hours. In London, he would still be flitting from one ball to the next or dropping in at his club or, if he had money, playing at one of the gambling dens. Why, it was prodigiously amazing that he was not bored to death out here at the ends of the earth!

  Yet, when he tried to imagine someplace he would rather be, Raleigh did not think of London, whose joys had turned wearisome. He considered one of his friends’ homes, but even the prospect of a cozy fortnight at Casterleigh no longer pleased him. Oddly enough, he could not place himself anywhere else at present.

  The notion drew him up short but he supposed the unusual circumstances enlivened things a bit, as did the constant search for sustenance and creature comforts of any sort The necessity of survival was certainly enough to keep a man on his toes.

  And if the particularly strange company of an unexpected wife had something to do with his lack of ennui, in his present mood Raleigh did not care to acknowledge it.

  Chapter Ten

  Jane sank back against the pillows, relieved to be rid of Raleigh at last. Although she suspected it was unseemly, she kicked off her blanket and lay atop her bed in only her nightrail, something she had done only upon the hottest of nights at home. But she was so warm that she would have liked to strip off her only remaining garment, too.

  She drew in a sharp breath, appalled at her wayward thoughts. Ever since she had awoken to find Raleigh in her room in the middle of the night, she had fought them—strange, inappropriate feelings. As shocked as she had been by his presence, Jane was even more shocked to discover that some small, secret part of her had been excited.

  It was unprecedented. Unbelievable. Unexplainable.

  In contrast to her rather wild older sister, Jane had always been a model of decorum. She had never chased after the boys, as Charlotte had, or pined away for one of them. She had never even been kissed! Nor had she ever the desire to be, Jane told herself sternly.

  Why, then, had some wicked portion of her brain been thrilled to find Raleigh there in the darkness, wearing nothing but his banyan? Although an improvement over his nakednes
s, the long garment still was decidedly indecent. Intoxicatingly indecent. And Jane had felt an unreasoning impulse to call him closer in the darkness.

  Forcing her suddenly unsteady limbs to move, Jane had managed to light the candle and don her spectacles. But the soft glow only flattered her husband’s tall form and aggravated her sensibilities. Like all of Raleigh’s clothes, the garment looked incredibly smooth to the touch, and Jane felt her eyes drawn to the clasps down the front. Farther down, she saw muscled calves and bare feet, arched and fine-boned.

  Only Raleigh would have attractive feet, Jane had thought sourly as she slid her own appendages deeper under the blanket. Forcing her gaze upward, she had stared at the skin exposed at his throat, and, to her dismay, found herself seized by an urge to push the silk damask from his shoulders for one more look at his chest. For one more furtive glance at the muscles she had not expected him to have. For some kind—any kind—of contact with her husband.

  Although she had tried her best to be outraged, Jane had become increasingly titillated by the sight of him. Casually relaxed, as usual, and oblivious to her scrutiny, Raleigh somehow incited a longing in her that was almost physical in its intensity. Although she had suffered yearnings—to be prettier or wittier or more like Charlotte—she had beaten them into submission many years ago.

  And she had never known such feelings in connection with a man! Although Jane felt the niggling of a memory, long buried and not easily captured, she steadfastly fought it, for she was certain that she had never had such fierce desires as those that assailed her when she lay in bed watching her husband. And the longer she suffered them, the angrier she became. She blamed Raleigh for inciting them, and herself—for ignoring a vow not to succumb to his charm.

  Finally, faint from the effort restraining them cost her, Jane had practically tossed him out. And she had made him shut the door, too, for the simple reason that she no longer trusted her judgment Even now she felt a maddening urge to follow him into his own room.

  And do what? Jane wasn’t exactly sure. She only knew that a bead of perspiration had broken out on her brow at the very thought. Hands clenched tightly in the sheets, she fidgeted, cursing Raleigh’s inopportune entrance. Had he really heard something? She had no reason to disbelieve him, but she knew that he was not always entirely truthful.

  And Raleigh had been acting strangely ever since his return from the village. She had caught him eyeing her speculatively more than once, in a manner totally inconsistent with his usual treatment of her. And he had refrained from complaining too volubly about the accommodations, though they must be far inferior to anything he could have experienced.

  She knew there was nothing to keep him here at Craven Hall, and yet for some reason he had remained. Perhaps he was simply too indolent to move, she told herself, trying to concentrate on everything about her husband that she found repellant. But her nerves remained taut, her body strangely tight and hot, until her musings were interrupted by an odd noise, above and beyond the usual creaking of the house and rattling of the windows. Since the candle still cast a wavering light about the bed, Jane was not alarmed, but she cocked her head to listen more closely.

  It was not chains, she decided with relief, but more of a howling. Had a door blown open? Her window was cracked to let in a nice breeze, but no gusts rushed through her room. Then she heard it again, a high, eerie moaning sound, like wailing.

  Jane sat up abruptly. None of the walls moved, nor was a man in her room, so she refrained from adding her own shriek to the din. Instead, she rose and slipped on her plain dressing gown. It was nothing like Raleigh’s luxurious garment, and she knew a moment’s envy that surprised her. Hadn’t she always refused Charlotte’s offers of elegant clothing as unnecessary?

  Drawing a deep breath, Jane moved toward the mural and found the latch easily, but her fingers shook at the prospect of seeing her husband in bed. Naked. Suddenly more afraid of what lay ahead than behind, Jane hesitated, until disgust at her wayward thoughts made her peek inside.

  Darkness met her, and although Jane had always been a sensible sort, she felt uneasy. The memory of younger brothers jumping out of the shadows with Indian war whoops made her pause before continuing on slowly, yet no one leapt toward her and she frowned at her foolishness. Propping the portal open with the nearby chair, she walked into the chamber, but her resolve faltered when she realized that Raleigh must be asleep. In bed. Presumably naked in the darkness.

  Her steps unsteady, Jane forced herself forward, even though her heart was hammering so loudly that she no longer heard the wailing. When she reached the massive piece of gothic furniture, the blankets were thrown back, and she closed her eyes, afraid of what she might see—or do—should her husband be lying open to her view. A maddening urge to crawl in beside him made a bead of sweat form on her brow, and she blinked wildly, but she could not see anything except sheets and covers. Reaching out, Jane lifted a blanket and let it fall until it became obvious, even to her agitated brain, that the bed had no occupant.

  Raleigh was not here.

  Where could he possibly be at this hour? Astonished, Jane stood there, staring into the shadows until the wailing began again with renewed vigor. Looking upward, she knew a sharp bite of anxiety. Had Raleigh heard the noise, too, and gone up to investigate? Jane whirled, fear for him making her head toward the door, but then she stopped abruptly, halted by a new suspicion.

  Suddenly, she was aware that she never heard any of these strange sounds when her husband was about Although her body trembled with denial, Jane remembered a time when her father had read aloud from one of those horrid novels, something about a skeleton, much to the boys’ delight. And for weeks afterward, she and the younger children had found a variety of bones in their beds, boots and clothes. Her father, although a model of patience, had grown tired of the business, and that had been the last gothic read in their household.

  Although she had glanced at a few other novels of that type, strictly out of curiosity, of course, Jane had kept their ghoulishness to herself. And she had swiftly rejected the genre because of the ridiculous romance inherent in them, which was so far removed from her reality as to be painful.

  Pushing aside that truth, Jane frowned at the recollection of her brothers’ antics. The boys had regaled them with howling, then, too, although it had not sounded as convincing as the Craven Hall version. She stood poised between the door to the passage and that to her own chamber, torn and uncertain, even as the moaning began softly and roused to a crescendo.

  Surely even Raleigh was not so juvenile as to resort to that kind of trick. Or was he? Unfortunately, Jane found that she could not exonerate him so easily. Forcing herself to ignore her own foolish weakening toward him, she knew she must examine the evidence with a cool head. And his absence from his room at this hour was most suspicious.

  Stiffening, Jane wondered if indolent Raleigh would really tramp about Craven Hall lamenting and rattling chains throughout the night for his own amusement? She felt heat flood her face at the thought of being the butt of his humor, but why else would he go to such lengths? He was not so cruel as to try to scare her, was he? Uneasily, Jane found that she would put nothing past him. Did he expect her to run screaming to his side—or from it? Did he want her to vacate Craven Hall or her position as his wife?

  The thought settled around her heart, squeezing it so tightly and so unexpectedly that she cried out softly in denial. Putting a fist to her mouth, Jane turned determinedly away from the passage and headed back to her own room, shutting the door tightly behind her. As she climbed into bed, she wondered if she ought to flee homeward as Madeleine had done, but the thought of the gossip she would face made her stiffen once more. Poor Jane could not even hold a husband forced upon her.

  She had heard worse, of course, but now Jane felt a surge of extraordinary rebellion. Suddenly, she did not want to ignore the whispered comments or turn the other cheek. Nor did she want to leave Craven Hall. It had become important to her
in ways even she could not explain.

  Seized by a new resolve, Jane was momentarily distracted when the incessant wailing abruptly ended with a loud thump above her. In the utter silence that followed, she lay back against the pillows and contemplated the entirely pleasurable prospect of her husband breaking one of his perfect limbs overhead.

  After a fine bottle of burgundy and a good night’s sleep, Raleigh was in a much better mood upon waking. The presence of his valet, who plied exceptional skills upon his neck cloth, cheered him even further. If only he could count upon concluding his business with Felix Fairman and departing his great-uncle’s Hall, then his life surely would be complete. Barring that, a good breakfast would satisfy him. Unfortunately, there was little prospect of it.

  “I think I’ll eat in the village,” Raleigh said, shaking out his cuffs with one elegant gesture.

  “Are you warning me off the food here?” Antoine asked, leaning forward to straighten his master’s coat.

  Raleigh made a face. “Not unless you dislike runny eggs and burned toast.”

  Antoine clicked his tongue in disapproval. “You should rid the household of that creature!”

  “Mrs. Graves? Excellent suggestion, but I don’t think the viscountess would approve. Charity to our fellow men and all that.”

  Antoine paused, as if considering his usually hasty comments. “She is quite…unusual, is she not, my lord?”

  “Lud, yes, a horrific being, but we must only put up with her for a few days at best. Then it shall be up to the next owner to manage the staff.” And Raleigh could hardly wait for the day.

  Antoine’s mustache twitched. “I meant Lady Raleigh, my lord. You should have seen her going up against the housekeeper.”

  “Oh, quite! Her ladyship has a backbone, make no mistake.” Indeed, his wife was turning out to be far more interesting than he had ever suspected…