Deborah Simmons

by The Last Rogue

  “And the working, why I have never seen the like in my life! I vow she could do anything! However, I would humbly request that you hire some servants today, as I cannot bear to be pressed into service as a footman or worse. My delicate constitution was most adversely affected,” he pronounced.

  Raleigh grinned, and the valet immediately seized his good humor as encouragement. “Shall I go with you?” he suggested hopefully. “We could all travel to the village, for I would not leave the viscountess alone with that vile housekeeper.”

  Raleigh shook his head. Although he understood his valet’s desire to escape Craven Hall, he suspected that Jane would much rather remain. “No, I’ll go. I have to check the solicitor’s office again. But I’ll bring someone back if I have to drag them by the hair—or offer to pay them with my father’s money.” He paused and spread his arms as he slowly turned, a daily ritual. “How do I look?”

  “Wonderful, my lord,” Antoine said. “And do you think to conclude this…visit soon? As interesting as I find our sojourn among the natives, I was wondering—”

  Raleigh cut him off with a languid wave of his hand. “We cannot leave until I’ve seen the solicitor.”

  “Mayhap he ran off with the fortune himself,” Antoine suggested, obviously displeased at the delay.

  Raleigh laughed. “I doubt if there was a farthing for him to take, but if so, he’s welcome to it, as long as he reappears long enough for me to conclude this business and be gone.” He paused to admire his reflection in the large mirror Antoine had found for him. Perfectly turned out, as usual. Now, if only his wife thought so…

  “Very well, my lord,” Antoine said, with a slight bow that did little to hide his disgruntlement. “I shall eagerly await your return. In the meantime, I shall endeavor to prevent her ladyship from attempting any further renovations until reinforcements arrive.”

  Raleigh laughed again. “Then I wish you good luck,” he said, for he knew Jane to be a bit…obstinate. Should Antoine succeed in his mission, she would only change her venue to the garden, attempting to coax blooms from the weeds. His wife was not the type to sit and simper. Indeed, she was far more active than he had realized. The thought gave him pause, and he sighed, regretful that none of that energy was directed toward himself.

  “Just have her be careful,” Raleigh said, heading for the door. “I think half the roof caved in last night.”

  “Did it? I heard nothing,” Antoine said.

  “That is because you were snoring too loudly to notice,” Raleigh said wryly, his hand on the latch.

  “Surely not!” Antoine protested. “And if I were, I should be excused because of my extreme exhaustion. I am not a furniture mover or a carrier of buckets, and yet I served her ladyship in any manner that she required.”

  Pausing in the doorway, Raleigh turned to eye his valet speculatively. “Just make sure you do not usurp any of my duties.” The words, meant as a humorous barb, came out more sharply than he intended, startling both Antoine and himself.

  Lud, was he becoming jealous of his own valet? Shuddering at the thought, Raleigh smoothed his gloves and made haste for the village, where a delightful repast would do much to ease his sudden discomfort.

  Ignoring Antoine’s pleas, Jane worked furiously all day. In no mood for company, she had finally sent him to inspect the servants’ quarters, for how were they to house this staff Raleigh had gone to hire? If that was his errand. Jane’s suspicions had been roused during the night, and she found that she could not lay them to rest with the morning.

  She had asked him not to leave her in London or at Westfield Park, so Raleigh, ever obliging, had brought her with him. Now did he hope to change her mind, so that she would beg to go? Jane only knew one thing for certain—that Raleigh despised Craven Hall—yet here they remained because she had requested it Was he too spineless to simply say nay? Or had he other reasons for his charade?

  Try as she might, Jane could not understand her thoughtless husband or his motives, and the frustration she felt at being subject to his whims mounted as the afternoon wore on. The arrival of several trunks of gowns, underclothes and such, sent by the countess, did little to improve her frame of mind, for Jane saw them not as gifts, but as more attempts at manipulation. By the time Raleigh arrived, hours later, from his sojourn, Jane was in no mood for his banalities.

  She was tired, hot, sweaty and short-tempered, and the sight of her husband’s perfect form, encased in his narrow-waisted coat and tight trousers and looking smooth and impeccable to the tips of his chicken-skin gloves, made her grit her teeth.

  “Hello, Jane, love,” he said, reducing the endearment to a trifle. And then, as if that was not bad enough, he had the effrontery to lift his quizzing glass and peer through it around the room where she had been working.

  “I say, you haven’t seen my book, have you? I laid it down somewhere and now it’s come up missing.”

  For a moment Jane was speechless. All around her were mountains of papers and volumes and everything from an old embroidery frame to some kind of telescope, and Raleigh wanted her to find his novel? Jane felt like taking her broom to his perfect backside.

  Her murderous intent must have shown because the quizzing glass suddenly dropped from his fingers. “Eh, no, I suppose not,” he muttered before clearing his throat. “The solicitor was not in, so we’ll have to make do here again, I suppose,” he added, looking a bit queasy about the idea.

  “Are you certain that’s what you want?” Jane asked.

  Raleigh had the gall to appear surprised at the question. “I, uh, well, dash it all, I thought it was what you wanted!”

  Jane put her hands on her hips. “Yes, I was interested in staying here, but not if I’m to be put through childish displays every night.”

  His puzzled expression made her sigh loudly in irritation. “Good heavens, Raleigh, if you wish to be rid of me, simply say so. I will return to the vicarage or to Charlotte. There is no need to go to the trouble of trying to run me off by skulking around in the dark, making odious noises!”

  Raleigh sputtered. “I was not ‘skulking,’ but simply watching over my wife, to make sure she was not murdered in her bed by a housekeeper she is too kindhearted to dismiss! As for those sounds, I certainly had nothing to do with them, last night or any other!”

  But Jane was too overwrought to accept this denial without question. “Then where were you when all that howling was going on? Rattling chains and moaning! How unoriginal. It’s like something right out of a gothic novel!” she said, throwing up her hands in disgust. “What will be next—a giant, a plumed hat and a moving portrait?”

  To Jane’s everlasting shock, Raleigh did not take umbrage at her words, but grinned wickedly, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Jane, you imp, you have read some of those horrid novels, after all!”

  And instead of marching off in high dudgeon and leaving him forever, as she had contemplated doing all day, Jane found herself standing motionless as he approached her with more purpose than she had ever seen before. For a moment she simply stared at him warily, then, recovering slightly, she backed away, only to find herself up against one of the stacks of the old London Times that reached well above her head.

  He descended on her with the look of a satyr, his eyes heavy lidded, his smile at once both beguiling and dangerous. Leaning forward, he rested one hand on either side of her head, trapping her between them, and Jane felt a startling rush of excitement. She had always thought of Raleigh as a vain, useless sort, but gradually she was coming to realize that he possessed a power than went beyond his charm.

  And now he looked positively lethal. Jane watched breathlessly as his lashes drifted shut and he bent his head so close she could feel the touch of his breath against her cheek. His heat enveloped her, his scent intoxicating, his beauty so familiar and yet so new that all her thoughts fled except for the sudden, thundering yearning that filled her.

  Jane waited, anticipation seizing her until his lips, warm and soft
, brushed hers. It was exquisitely sweet and tender, and she could not help but lift her arms to wrap them around his neck and pull him closer. Unfortunately, her movement dislodged the mountain of print behind her, and it creaked ominously. She blinked as Raleigh, oblivious to the tottering pile, leaned near to kiss her again.

  Jane opened her mouth to warn him, but just then his lips met her own, and she felt totally disoriented. Heat swept through her, crackling like sparks from her head to her toes even as papers began raining down upon them. Raleigh gave a yelp and stepped backward, taking her with him, and the stack behind her crashed into them, sending them both falling to the floor.

  They landed with a thud on the worn carpeting and although Raleigh took the brunt of it, Jane groaned as a load struck her. All around them the old bundles crashed and thudded until finally only a few sheets drifted around them like yellowed snowflakes.

  “Are you all right?” Jane whispered. She lay atop her husband, his prone form still and silent beneath her, and her recent bliss was replaced by anxiety. “Raleigh?”

  Her words must have reached him, for slowly he opened one eye and gave her a jaundiced look. “That was not exactly what I had in mind,” he said dryly.

  At the subtle reminder of their previous activity, Jane blushed furiously. Suddenly, she was acutely aware of the solid feel of her husband’s body, warm and muscular, under her own. Shocked at the position and, worse yet, at an odd, secret yearning to remain just where she was, Jane wiggled, but Raleigh’s hands came up to still her, and she gasped, staring down at him in astonishment.

  His palms rested on her derriere with outrageous familiarity, sending heat and shock dancing along every nerve. It was the most extraordinary sensation Jane had ever experienced, at once both frightening and provocative. As she gaped at him, his lashes drifted lower, giving his eyes that lazy, yet determined gleam she had seen just a few moments before. His heady appeal pulled her in, threatening to drag her toward him as if she had no will of her own, and some small, secret part of her rejoiced.

  Her heart pounding wildly, her breath catching, Jane remained poised over him, her breasts pillowed against his elegant waistcoat, her limbs tangled with his. Part of her hair had fallen from its knot, and her spectacles slipped down her nose, but she was caught up in something new and amazing and could not move.

  When Jane felt his hands tighten on her behind, as if urging her closer, she realized, with a jolt, just exactly what was pressed against her belly, and something reminiscent of the night’s noises issued from her throat.

  “Sacre bleu!” The sound of Antoine’s voice over her own rather desperate whimper made Jane struggle to her feet, and she stood, running her hands over her skirts in frantic repetition as if to rid herself of Raleigh’s lingering warmth.

  “I heard such a crash, I thought the ceiling had fallen in!” the valet exclaimed. He stepped toward his master, but Raleigh rose, without assistance, in his usual graceful manner. His utter ease made Jane feel even more foolish and embarrassed.

  Although she heard the sound of her husband conversing with Antoine, Jane was too agitated to listen. She had been lying on the floor, pressed against Raleigh, and she was so discomposed by it that she could not bear to remain in the same room with them. Making a hurried excuse she slipped away, ignoring Raleigh’s call after her.

  He had kissed her. Her. But why? Jane had no idea, nor could she understand why it had been the most wonderful experience she had ever known. Putting a hand to her throat, she tried to slow her frantic heartbeat, but it continued thundering so loudly that she felt dizzy. She wanted to turn around and rush back into Raleigh’s arms, as if only he could supply the necessary breath and heat she craved. Instead, she sat down, gripping the arms of a heavy chair, until reason prevailed.

  She had been kissed, but she could not, should not, desire another kiss. Despite the pleasurable feelings—or perhaps because of them—Jane knew she must not seek out Raleigh’s attentions. Her husband was a rogue, a careless creature of the moment, who had only been seized by a whim.

  She had known him to lie, too, but was he being truthful about his involvement in the Hall’s ghostly doings? Somehow, Jane thought so. He had seemed so sincere. And in all truth, she could not imagine her fastidious husband wandering through the clutter of the darkened building just to moan. He would be likely to soil his coat or stub his perfect toes, and that would not do at all.

  No, however silly he might be, Raleigh was not the type to engage in such antics, Jane decided. Which meant that he was not trying to scare her away! The realization gave her a treacherous thrill that she firmly quelled as other, more serious matters demanded her study.

  For if Raleigh was not rattling and howling, then who was?

  Chapter Eleven

  Raleigh had brought with him a brother and sister who were eager to escape, however briefly, from their overcrowded family farm, and a strapping girl who was visiting relatives from a neighboring village. Although they numbered only three, he was glad to have them, for he could coax no one from Chistleside itself, all his inquiries having been met with wary glances and mumbled excuses. Since he was growing rapidly accustomed to the strangeness associated with Craven Hall and its environs, Raleigh could only shrug in response.

  Although Antoine appeared less than pleased with the rawboned country youths, Jane was delighted. She immediately put them at ease in a way that brought a smile to Raleigh’s lips as he watched. Had he ever seen this side of her, hospitable and considerate, or had he simply failed to notice her among her more flamboyant relatives? Raleigh felt a twinge of something alien. Surely not guilt?

  He pushed away from the wall and went wandering through the rooms, pausing at the entrance to the salon where he had greeted his wife. And kissed her. And held her to that part of him that responded so eagerly to her closeness. Demned foolishness, he thought, cursing his unruly nether regions, for Jane had fled from him as if she were going to cast up her accounts.

  Was she so disgusted by him? With a sigh, Raleigh walked back toward his wife, as if to assure himself of her continued health. Although she avoided looking at him, she seemed in decent enough spirits as she managed to infuse the new servants with some of her unbridled enthusiasm for the wreck that was Craven Hall. Raleigh crossed his arms and lounged against a doorway, watching her direct them with her quiet energy.

  He sought, vainly at first, for a word to describe her, and then he smiled. Purposeful Jane was different from his own rootless restlessness as night from day, and yet, somehow he was fascinated by his opposite, by her dainty sturdiness, her practicality, her steadiness. Jane would not flirt and flit away, on to her next beau, with barely a backward glance. Jane was forever.

  The thought, coming from someone who rarely considered anything past the next few hours, was startling, but with uncommon insight Raleigh recognized his reaction. Some of those similar qualities drew him to his friend Wycliffe, although he did not feel at all the same about Jane as he did his watch-minding companion.

  No, there was definitely a prurient interest mixed in with his admiration for his wife, and, unfortunately, it made itself known at the oddest times. Like now—when she tucked a stray lock that had escaped her coil behind her ear. Her hair had come down a bit after their tumble beneath the newspapers and Raleigh would have run his fingers through it, had his hands not been so pleasurably engaged elsewhere. The remembered feel of her soft little bottom made him groan and push away from the wall once more.

  Lud, he had better get control of his body or he would scare her away from Craven Hall the way no ghostly noises could. The thought immediately sobered him, bringing his mind back to concerns unrelated to the sudden tight fit of his breeches. Whatever the sounds that plagued them nightly, Raleigh did not think they were caused by any human hand—or inhuman either.

  So he had rightly taken it amiss when Jane had accused him of haunting her, and in no way romantically. Hopefully, they had settled that matter, at least, for he did n
ot really care to have her thinking so little of him. Or less of him than she already did, Raleigh thought with a sigh. His wife’s disdain for him was starting to grate on him, and he wished for a resolution to the differences between them. Indeed, he had more on his mind than such a simple truce. Much more.

  Unfortunately, Jane was no ordinary miss to be wooed with flattery and light jests. She was not impressed with fine clothes or elegant manners or wit. Nor did she seem to care a fig for society or those who ruled it. She liked servants who were earthy rather than well-educated highsteppers, and she preferred Craven Hall to Westfield Park. The knowledge gave Raleigh an odd thrill, for he certainly harbored no love for his family seat.

  Jane was different. Though caught in a loveless marriage, she would not take a lover on a whim or even to further her own interests. She was honest and forthright; her values were worlds away from those of his contemporaries, and the discovery was both exhilarating and disquieting. Although Raleigh was intrigued by his wife, his fitful perception told him that to pursue her, he would have to earn her respect.

  And therein lay the rub, for just how the devil was he going to do that?

  That evening, Jane was less than sanguine about retiring to her room, especially since she was certain that Raleigh was not behind the nightly noises. Although she still suspected the sounds were man-made, she was loath to tender this theory to her husband. He would either laugh until she flushed crimson, or he might insist upon firing Mrs. Graves and Jane could not, in all good conscience, allow it. As strange as the housekeeper was, Jane did not think she was responsible for the disturbances.

  And so she kept her worries to herself as she climbed into bed alone. Although it was a dreadful waste, Jane left a lamp burning and felt guilty for it because she had no idea just how strapped Raleigh was or how much longer they would be staying. The solicitor was still missing, and though she felt selfish for it, Jane was glad. She hoped to make some real headway on the hall with the help of the new servants, sturdy, hardworking youths all.