A Rogue's Surrender: Regency Novellas

by Lauren Smith

  I have to. She loves me, she just doesn’t know it’s me.

  That was probably the worst part of this plan, convincing Gemma the man she loved wasn’t James, so that she’d let him go on his merry way without her. James had decided to get married after all, despite being the jaded lover he’d become to many a woman in many a port. He’d settled on some chit with a vile temper and an odious manner, but she turned a pretty ankle. That was all James cared about now, a lady’s looks and her desire to have a bit of fun. Gemma was not the sort of girl James would have sought out for a bit of fun.

  Gambling hells and boxing matches, and other lower forms of entertainment weren’t something that would ever interest Gemma. She and James were so ill-suited it was a blessing the marriage between them would never happen, but it still wasn’t fair that Gemma was being treated so poorly. Of course that was still Jasper’s fault, he admitted that. It had been his letter writing that had left Gemma with hope of matrimony because he had every intention of marrying her, if she’d have him after what he’d done tonight.

  “I wrote your letters to her like you asked me to, but I couldn’t follow through with breaking her heart.” Jasper flung himself into the nearest chair and glared up at James.

  He knew they could have been mistaken for brothers, with their tall forms, dark hair and brown eyes. Each of them bore the fine proud features of the sons of English country gentry with sculpted chins, straight noses and strong jaw lines. The years spent toiling at sea had forged muscled gods of them and their newly won fortunes lent them both an air of recklessness that often resulted in trouble. More so for James than Jasper, of course.

  “It’s not my fault, Jas, that you couldn’t let her down easy.”

  James was the more dramatic and outgoing of the two men, but he was not the leader between them. His flair for drama drew women to him, and he rather enjoyed the benefits of the opportunities this gave him. Jasper knew James had cared for Gemma Haverford when he was a boy, and he wrote to her sporadically that first year they were away at sea.

  But by the time he’d reached seventeen, he’d fully immersed himself in womanizing like any decent rake, and no longer wanted to be burdened with the marital expectations of a dear, innocent little country girl like Gemma. James had therefore enlisted Jasper to pen a few letters to her pretending to be James and eventually break off the relationship.

  However, Jasper had found he enjoyed his correspondence with Gemma, she had a ready mind and a quick wit and whatever worldly knowledge she lacked could easily be remedied. He never would have imagined she would become something he dreamt about every night, that her letters would get him through storms and fierce battles… Gemma, forever a sweet young girl in his eyes; an innocent country child who would never grow up…had grown up. And now the depth of his deception had him fairly torn in two where his loyalties were concerned. He would do whatever James wanted without question, but Gemma? How strong was that sweet child’s hold on him, now that she was a sweet woman? Too strong. So much so that he wanted to marry her.

  “So, did you see to it then?” James asked, smiling crookedly at his friend.

  “You mean, did I lure her into the garden and compromise her?” Jasper’s words came out more acidic than they should have, but he couldn’t help it, he was not a fan of this whole wicked plot James had worked up, which, given their rather reckless youth and daring acts in the service of God, King and country, was saying something.

  “Well, did you?” James walked away from the fireplace and joined Jasper in the chair next to him.

  “Take comfort in this, James. She is completely and thoroughly compromised. The poor creature is so madly in love with you that it will crush her tomorrow when you call her out for being with another man.”

  Jasper’s loyalties were uncomfortably tight at the moment between his best friend of more than twenty years and the girl to whom he’d been writing love letters to for a decade. He wouldn’t have agreed to James’s scheme if Gemma would have been truly hurt. The worst of it would be a broken heart, and she’d recover soon enough, and then he would win her for himself. And James would be free to propose to Arabella Stevens, his current “heart’s delight,” and intended betrothed.

  Jasper thought Arabella was nothing more than a fast little chit that James had met at Brighton. Unfortunately the girl had an uncle who lived only a few miles away from Midhurst. Jasper had no right to begrudge James his choice in women, he’d often sampled the pleasures of ladies of less than perfect reputation, but to marry one, when the likes of Gemma Haverford could be taken instead? It was nonsensical, completely, totally nonsensical. Of course now that he’d seen Gemma, well more than seen…he’d tasted her quite deeply…the thought of James standing at the altar with her made something in his gut churn uncomfortably. It was oddly reminiscent of when he’d been a lad out on the ship that first month, suffering from sea sickness.

  “Excellent.” James didn’t seem even remotely concerned about Gemma and what Jasper might have done to her in the garden. In fact, it had been his idea for Jasper to do “more” than just meet with her.

  “How was she? Our blushing country girl?” James smiled wickedly over the top of his brandy glass, brown eyes warm with mischief.

  Jasper’s brow furrowed as he debated on how to answer.

  “She was very sweet, but she’s completely green, poor thing. I barely touched her before she was shaking like a leaf. I didn’t dare go all the way with her,” Jasper said, a little wave of guilt rippled through him. He’d done a tad more than touch, but could anyone blame him? A ripe fruit hanging from a vine, he couldn’t resist…

  “A green girl? How is that possible at her age? No, wait, let me guess, she’s too plump, and not at all attractive? Is she an ugly freckled little thing? She must be, with all that ginger hair I remember she had as a child.” James chortled.

  Jasper grimaced at his friend. He didn’t like hearing Gemma talked about, especially in such a cruel manner. He didn’t love her, that would be nonsense, but he did care about her, deeply, the way one does a favorite spaniel and he didn’t like it when another man kicked his dog. He wanted to protect Gemma from the world, the way he would anything he cared about, even if it meant keeping James’s callous remarks away from her little ears.

  “You would be surprised, James. She’s quite a beauty.”

  “Oh? Then why didn’t you finish the deed, Jasper? We agreed…” James watched him curiously now.

  Jasper clenched his fists automatically, his body aching to suddenly throw a vicious right hook into James’s smug face. He forced his self-composure, uncoiling his tightened fists and relaxing again.

  “She was so…I’ve never made a woman shake before James. I didn’t like it, knowing that she was only letting me do those things to her because she thought I was you. She’s kept herself for you, and I couldn’t just rip that innocence from her in less than an hour.” Jasper rubbed his eyes, wearily, as he tried to erase that creeping guilt again. Her voice, crying out James’s name, echoed in his head and that nausea returned again. He wanted Gemma to love him, to know it was him and not James she’d kissed.

  I must bide my time. Wait until all of this is done, then I shall go after her.

  “How amusing…that she would affect you so. Perhaps you ought to have a go at her Jas, keep yourself entertained until I can secure Arabella,” James mused and rubbed his chin.

  “No, I’ve already damaged her enough. Almost making love to her while pretending to be you was bad enough. I won’t do more than that.”

  “Aww, come on Jas, do a friend a favor. We both know what Gemma is like. She won’t let our engagement drop without putting up a fight. I need you to entice her away and offer her something…sweeter.” James looked at him pleadingly and Jasper huffed loudly.

  “Sweeter? Good God, James, you want me to act the libertine to distract her away from you?” What a wretched notion, but he owed James.

  “Jas, please. You know I can’t mar
ry Gemma. She’s not what I want out of life. Not anymore.” James met him with an even stare, and Jasper knew what his friend said was true. He didn’t want love, didn’t want that vulnerability it could give a man. They’d both seen men driven mad by love and James had made it clear years ago he wanted nothing to do with loving a sweet country girl like Gemma. Better to wed and bed a viper like Arabella and have no expectations of heartbreak. At least that was James’s thinking, as far as Jasper knew and he knew his friend well.

  Their friendship ran deep. James had risked his life more than once to save Jasper and he’d done the same in return. Over the boom of canons and through the fog of war, they’d stayed together, been wounded together. Their blood had run in twin rivers, mixing upon the floor of a cabin after a cannon ball had torn through the hull of their ship. That wasn’t something easily dismissed when it came to a question of loyalty. But he did not want James to know how much he cared about Gemma. He didn’t want his closest friend to make things difficult for him when he pursued Gemma.

  “Fine, I’ll keep her occupied so you can have your damned Arabella,” Jasper said, watching his friend’s pleading face turn to ecstatic excitement.

  “Wonderful! I must write Arabella and tell her to be at the garden party tomorrow.” James finished his brandy, and Jasper got to his feet.

  “I’d best be going, before it gets too late,” Jasper said and both men clasped hands. He left Randolph Hall, with the strange sensation he’d just made a pact with the devil to steal poor Gemma’s innocence. He didn’t like how that made his stomach churn. But promises were promises. With any luck, however, he would be able to make it up to Gemma by marrying her.

  Chapter Three

  It was nearly impossible to keep a secret. Especially one involving a relationship with a man. Gemma found that out in the most difficult way possible the morning following her meeting with James in the garden the night before. Only Mary, her lady’s maid, had known she’d met with him in the maze-like sprawl of her father’s country estate gardens. Still, it hadn’t escaped her notice this morning that her mother hummed while they broke their fast and watched her with a devious twinkle in her eye.

  “James arrived in town last evening, did you know that Gemma, dear?” her mother asked while she spread some orange marmalade over a slice of toast.

  Good heavens, is nothing secret here? Gemma bit her lip before replying.

  “He did? How wonderful! I take it he’ll be sure to attend Lady Greenley’s party today then.”

  The white painted door to their small breakfast room opened and Gemma’s father, John Haverford strode in, a newspaper under one arm and a stack of letters in the other.

  “Morning, my heart.” He bustled over to her mother and kissed her cheek before he winked at Gemma. “Get a good night’s sleep, Gemma?”

  “Yes, papa, and you?”

  “Oh yes. I almost went for a walk in the gardens, but thought better of it. The weather was nice though, wasn’t it?”

  She swallowed hard, choking on the bit of egg she’d just slipped in her mouth. Her father had almost come cross her and James in the gardens?

  “Gemma, you’re flushed, too much time in the sun this morning?” Her mother’s concern was sweet, but Gemma knew she’d faint flat out if she guessed the real source of Gemma’s high color.

  “No, I just walked through the fields to the village and back, and not too fast.” It was a lie, but not a bad one. She’d actually run through the fields for a bit before coming back home. She loved to run, there was something wicked and wild about dropping one’s silly bonnet and just sprinting through the grass with only the wind as her companion. Last night had left her in such a wonderful mood that she hadn’t been able to resist running most of the way back from Midhurst to her home this morning.

  “I think it will be interesting to attend Lady Greenley’s party today. I suspect there will be much to talk about Mr. Randolph and Mr. Holland’s glorious return from the high seas.” Her father laughed and settled down at the table across from her mother. He retrieved a pair of silver rimmed spectacles and perched them on the tip of his nose so he could read the paper he’d spread out beside his plate.

  “Indeed,” her mother agreed. “This town does know how to gossip, doesn’t it?” Her mother chuckled.

  The small market town of Midhurst barely held seven hundred people, and so naturally everyone knew everything about everyone else. From seventy-five year old Lady Edith Greenley, the highest level of Midhurst’s society, right down to the poorest farmer’s family, there were few, if any, secrets. Gemma knew this better than anyone, so she resolved to keep her mouth shut like James asked her to. She was excited to see him today at the Garden Party.

  Every year Lady Greenley held a garden party, inviting all the local gentry and some of the better off merchant families to attend. Gossip was shared, tea drank, crumpets and scones devoured and engagements announced. There was an unmistakable stirring of pride in her breast that she would finally be able to count herself among the lucky women who had earned engagements. Of course, the secret of her soon-to-be-engaged state had left her rather more excited than was perhaps wise. She nearly bounced on her heels like an eager spaniel while she finished breakfast. After that, she dashed back upstairs where Mary helped her dress.

  “Good luck, miss.” Mary winked. “And don’t be getting into too much trouble you hear? I’m afraid your hair won’t stand for much mussing with this style.”

  “Thank you, Mary.” Gemma giggled. James would have to behave whilst they were at the party, no sneaking off, however much she might want to do just that if he tried. It wouldn’t do to come back to the party looking thoroughly compromised, even if the engagement was announced today.

  “Will Mr. Randolph be speaking to your father?” Mary asked and handed Gemma a bonnet with lovely blue ribbons dangling down in silk tendrils.

  “I…” She honestly didn’t know. He’d have to, wouldn’t he? But it would need to be done before the announcement so unless James met with her father at the party early, she might not have her engagement announced there. The thought was a depressing one.

  Mary touched her arm gently. “There now, Miss, no need to worry. I’m sure your young man will have it all planned and proper.”

  “I hope so,” Gemma whispered and then left her room to meet her mother at the entrance of the house to wait for their carriage to take them to Lady Greenley’s. So much depended on how this party would go and she hated how excited she was to see James again. Eleven years was a long time to wait for a man to come home, a man she loved fiercely, with every part of her body and soul.

  Her mother placed a calming hand on her arm to indicate she stop fidgeting. “Calm down dear, today will be a good day, I just know it.”

  Shooting a glance at her mother, she tried to smile. Her mother was the sort of woman who saw silver threading to every dark shadowed cloud, and could take any pie that was too tart, and find a way to sweeten its taste. Gemma had a tad more of her father’s sardonic nature in her. In other words, she tended to fret, not too much of course, but enough every now and then that her mother would have to remind her not to be so restless with her worries.

  “Mama, do you think James will…” She glanced down at herself, trying to see how she might look from his point of view.

  Her mother’s eyes twinkled. “He will.” She didn’t have to say anything more. Mothers had an uncanny way of doing that sometimes, seeing right through to their child’s innermost thoughts.

  “I hope so,” she replied more to herself than to her mother and once more studied her appearance. She wore her best sprigged muslin gown and had her hair tamed into a respectable Hellenic fashion. But she had to heed Mary’s warning and not let James muss her hair too much.

  The carriage pulled up in front of the entrance and her father appeared just in time to assist her and Mama inside. As she settled into her seat, she clutched her reticle. Inside it she kept the blindfold cloth. It was a toke
n of the passion she and James had shared. She felt a little foolish, but she’d never been so happy, so in love before. Without the presence of James there, Gemma pushed her mind to other thoughts, more specifically to thoughts of the letters James had written her.

  For the first few years of his absence, his replies had been scattered and brief in subject matter, which she had attributed to his chaotic life at sea. But for the last several years his pace and length had changed. His penmanship had improved, as did his ability to express himself. She had begun to look forward to his monthly letters, hearing amusing anecdotes about his fellow sailors and harrowing adventures of foreign lands. His prose had often been poetic and deeply romantic toward the most recent few years of her letters. It had been such a dramatic change from the ill-expressed thoughts of a boy starting his life’s journey to a man who’d lived a full exciting life and had learned much about himself and his fellow man. Life at sea had matured James greatly and she was never more ready to give herself to him in every way.

  She hoped he would see marriage as the next great adventure. That love and someday children, could fill a void he’d not yet satisfied in his life. It was something she longed for, but only with him, not with any other man. No one else understood her the way he did, listened to her when she spoke of things, and when he agreed or disagreed, the discussion was always intelligent, frank and completely unguarded by fears of what the other would think. Of course, this had only been through letters, but she knew deep inside her bones that the man in the letters would be just as wonderful in reality. They had become partners in their thoughts, and now she wished more than anything to become partners fully in life.