The Guise of a Gentleman (Rogue Hearts)

by Hatch, Donna

  “Have I something stuck in my teeth?” He bared his teeth at her.

  That won him a startled look of puzzlement. Her eyes focused on his mouth before darting away. “No.”

  He hesitated, dismayed how much her opinion mattered and how her coolness left him bereft. In a hushed voice, he asked, “What have I done to offend you?”

  “Nothing.” She continued to pointedly keep her eyes off him, but an expression akin to distress flickered over her features.

  At a loss, Jared waited, but she made no further comment. Why this seemed so important to him, he could not begin to guess. “Would you tell me if I had?” he asked gently.

  Her eyes shot to him again, but this time her gaze lingered as if she tried to divine his character, but feared to truly see it. “You’re very candid.”

  “I am.” He stared unseeing over the landscape. “I was as a child, too. My father despaired of my impetuous nature and my unfashionable habit of speaking my mind.”

  Strange that he’d find a career which required that he speak more lies than truth when his nature begged to be forthright. But he had not exactly chosen his present career; rather it chose him. And he did take a certain delight in playing a role.

  Jared glanced at Mrs. Berkley. Something about her awoke a long-denied desire to express his thoughts. A desire to confide. A desire he’d smothered for years in order to stay alive.

  He added, “Perhaps you bring out the candid side of me. You were uncomfortably honest regarding your opinion of me the first time we met.”

  Her beguiling lips twitched in amusement. “Your actions demanded swift retribution.”

  “No doubt. But underneath your serene exterior is an articulate and intelligent woman who does not hesitate to express herself. I find that strangely refreshing.”

  “Most men find it strange and annoying.”

  He chuckled. “Men with small minds are threatened by intelligent women.”

  “And your mind is expansive?”

  “I’ve discovered intelligence does not only smile on one gender. In fact, women seem to have a certain intuition that often eludes men.”

  Mrs. Berkley turned her head and looked him fully in the eye. Speechless, he beheld her radiant beauty. For a fleeting moment, a haunted look entered her eyes, as if something caged begged for freedom. Perhaps she was trapped alone in her world of etiquette. Then she shut the expression behind a carefully constructed mask of serenity.

  “You have a most generous attitude, Mr. Amesbury.”

  He quirked a grin. “Does that mean you’ll fish with us?”

  She turned away, a smile touching her lips. “Perhaps.”

  “You aren’t speaking freely anymore.”

  A tiny frown creased her brow and she held her luscious lower lip between her teeth. He’d never wanted so badly to kiss a woman. Here. Now. In public.

  But that would scandalize her and he’d lose all chances of…

  Of what? He wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted, but stealing another kiss certainly wouldn’t attain it.

  Her serious grey eyes returned to him. “Will you give me an honest answer if I ask you a direct question?”

  “I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

  “Who were those men threatening you? And why?”

  He stilled. Anything but that.

  He’d distracted her the last two times she asked him that question, but he suspected she wouldn’t be satisfied until she had a believable answer.

  “Leandro and his right hand man, Santos, have been trying to kill me for years. Leandro blames me for the death of his half-brother, Macy. He also believes—erroneously—that I withheld some of the plunder our ship took during the war, and that I secretly hid it away instead of turning it over to the prize courts or dividing it up with the crew.”

  “Your ship? You were in the navy?”

  “A privateer.”

  She nodded, and her expression seemed to relax as if she’d feared a different answer. Had she expected him to tell her he’d really been a pirate, and, in a way, still was?

  He fidgeted with the reins. “When you came upon us, he was trying to force me to give up the coordinates of the island where he thinks the cache was hidden.”

  “You mean like pirate’s treasure?” She looked more intrigued than disapproving.

  He smiled disarmingly. “I wasn’t a pirate, I was a privateer. And there is no hidden treasure. I turned it all over to the government. The admiralty knows Leandro’s after me, but he’s so slippery, they can’t catch him.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t apprehend him when I had the opportunity.” Her brow creased into an endearing frown.

  He grinned at the thought of her prodding Leandro at gunpoint all the way to the magistrate. “No doubt you could have. Fear not. He’s probably gone back to sea in search of easier prey.”

  “I’m glad to hear you weren’t truly a pirate.”

  “Did you honestly believe me when I said that to Colin?”

  “I hadn’t quite decided.”

  He chuckled. “I do appreciate your honesty. Most women seem to think it unladylike to speak their mind.”

  “I’ve grown even more outspoken since Edward died.”

  “Oh? He didn’t appreciate your forthrightness?”

  “He had a calming influence upon me.” Her brow creased.

  “Calming or quelling?”

  She shot him a look of annoyance. “His presence was a soothing reminder of how I ought to comport myself.”

  “That wasn’t an answer.”

  “I wanted him to be happy, and I did what I could to be the kind of wife he deserved.” Her voice grew testy.

  “So for him you buried every desire of your heart?”

  She stared as if he’d just suggested a scandalous liaison.

  Druesdale maneuvered himself to the other side of Mrs. Berkley. He greeted Jared civilly and promptly turned his back on him to greet the lady. He turned on the charm so completely that Mrs. Berkley’s attention remained focused on him to the exclusion of anyone else, affording Jared only the view of the back of her head, and on occasion, her profile. With frustration chewing a hole through his insides, Jared silently cursed Druesdale.

  He chided himself. He cared nothing if the widow exchanged a few pleasantries with another man.

  Out of habit, Jared made a quick scan of everyone’s present location. As he eased Aries back, he tried to stop grinding his teeth. Surely the attention of the beautiful lady had nothing to do with his desire to run a blade through Druesdale.

  The riding party stopped in a grove of trees. An army of servants hastened to lay out a meal on tables and chairs already set up. Druesdale seated himself next to Mrs. Berkley and shot Jared a challenging grin. Refusing to rise to the bait, Jared seated himself nearer the circle of men and covertly eavesdropped on their conversations. Meanwhile, he dug into a truly superb luncheon; another benefit of polite company.

  “My shipping company lost another ship this week,” a male voice grumbled.

  Jared’s ears perked. He gazed out over the horizon as if enjoying the view of the rolling hills and then glanced at the direction of the speaker. Mr. Bradford, the young widower who’d been eyeing Mrs. Berkley, wore a mournful expression.

  “Perhaps shipping is no longer a lucrative investment,” Von Barondy suggested. “I’ve lost quite a few myself. Thinking of selling my shares.”

  Bradford raised his eyebrows. “Are you? Know anyone who might be interested in buying?”

  “Could be. I’ve discussed it with an investor. Merely preliminary, but I can ask him, if you wish. I’ve dealt mostly with his solicitor, but I’m convinced they are both honest men.”

  Something about the overly smooth way Von Barondy made the suggestion set Jared’s teeth on edge.

  “I’d be happy to contact him, if you’re serious,” Von Barondy added.

  Bradford thought for a moment. “If it’s a fair offer, I’d certainly consider it. I can’t
afford to lose much more. This is the third ship this year.”

  “Storms or pirates? Or both?” Von Barondy affected the expression of a concerned friend, but a greedy light briefly touched his eye.

  The hackles on the back of Jared’s neck rose.

  “Pirates, surprisingly enough,” Bradford said. “Thought they’d been eliminated.”

  “I don’t think that breed can be truly eradicated. They’ll probably plague humanity for as long as there are riches to be had,” Von Barondy said in an oily voice.

  Jared avoided looking in Von Barondy’s and Bradford’s direction lest he give himself away. He scanned the crowd and found Greymore seated with his wife. Greymore looked up, met his eyes, and gave an almost imperceptible nod of understanding.

  “Thank you, my lord,” Bradford said to Von Barondy. “I would like to hear what he has to offer.”

  Jared located Von Barondy’s wife, sitting in a circle of ladies showing off a new ring. The other ladies gushed about it, and the viscountess preened under their admiration.

  Elise Berkley murmured something polite, but the glitter of envy remained noticeably absent in her eyes until she glanced at Mrs. Greymore just as she gave her husband a look of worship. Then Mrs. Berkley’s face changed. A shadow of sadness and longing passed over her fair features as she watched husband and wife exchange smiles of affection. Mrs. Berkley looked away and visibly swallowed.

  Had she loved her husband and missed him? Or did she wish such affection had existed between her and her late husband? Beauty such as hers should not be wasted on widowhood.

  Too bad Jared was in no position to remedy that difficulty just yet.

  Jared blinked. Where had that thought come from? He had no desire to marry anytime soon. He already faced the prospect of giving up his ship and therefore whatever sense of freedom he enjoyed. He’d seen how his married friends spent less time in their favorite pursuits, and more time in those of their wives’ choosing. Moreover, shackling himself with a wife would not only give his enemies a weakness where they could strike him, but he’d lose whatever freedom he’d gained by ridding himself of his obligation to the Secret Service.

  Once he finished working for the government, he would enjoy whatever liberties became available to him as a private citizen, not give them up for a woman.

  After giving himself that reminder, he squared his shoulders and refocused upon Von Barondy and Bradford, but their conversation turned to other matters. Neither of them made further mention of shipping.

  After luncheon, servants set up equipment for an archery tournament. Most of the gentlemen, and half of the ladies, clamored to take part.

  Druesdale approached with a forced smile. “Amesbury? Care to join in as well?”

  Jared smiled darkly and wished he could aim an arrow at Druesdale. “You’d just love to see me humiliated, wouldn’t you?”

  Druesdale lifted his shoulder. “You humiliated me at fencing.”

  “That was years ago.”

  “I’ve a long memory. I’d love to see you lose at something.”

  Jared snorted. “If I were to lose at something, archery would be it. I haven’t held a bow and arrow since I was a lad.”

  “Glad to hear it!”

  “Your camaraderie is most heart-warming,” Jared said dryly as he got to his feet.

  Mrs. Carson sidled up to him and actually fluttered her eyelashes. “I knew you’d be participating, Mr. Amesbury. One has only to look at you to know that you excel in any athletic pursuit.”

  He grinned wryly. “I believe you are about to be disabused of that opinion, Mrs. Carson, as archery has never been a strength of mine. And I am rather out of practice, as well.”

  “I’m certain your areas of expertise are vast. I have no doubt such a virile man is exceedingly skilled in all other manly pastimes,” she cooed.

  Amused, Jared raised a brow at her obvious innuendo. “Some more than others.”

  “Modest besides?”

  “Not modest, merely honest.” He almost added ‘for a change.’

  “You are a treasure.”

  Jared couldn’t deny a certain pleasure in being openly pursued, but a woman such as she failed to capture his interest. Heaven only knew how many other beds she warmed. He wondered if Mrs. Carson’s husband knew how thoroughly he’d been cuckolded.

  “The others await me.” He inclined his head in a bow and left the huntress.

  Jared’s aim lasted through the first three archery rounds, but failed on the fourth. He good-naturedly accepted the spectators’ jeers, deftly extracted himself from Mrs. Hogan who sprinkled her praise with obvious glances at her daughter, sidestepped Mrs. Carson and her come-hither smile, and dropped down next to Charlotte Greymore near the others who cheered or heckled the remaining contenders. Mr. Greymore remained among those in the tournament.

  “You’ve attracted some attention, I see.” Mrs. Greymore smiled at Jared and pointedly looked at Mrs. Carson who continued to send him open smiles.

  Jared shrugged.

  “Not even tempted?”

  “She’s comely. But no.”

  “Ah. You prefer more discreet women?”

  “I prefer more principled women.” He bit his lip before he said, ‘like Elise Berkley.’ “Moreover, I’ve no wish to give her husband reason to call me out.”

  Charlotte Greymore tilted her head and studied him. Jared returned her frank stare. Greymore had done well for himself. His wife had a sweet face and a disposition to match. Her china-blue eyes watched him unblinkingly.

  “I believe I’ve misjudged you, Mr. Amesbury.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’m sorry to say that I found you something of a rake when I first met you.”

  Jared let out a huff of amusement. “I seem to give that impression.”

  “Unfounded?”

  Jared paused. “I have not been a paragon but I think ‘rake’ takes it too far.”

  “Yes,” she said slowly. “I can see that. There is more to you than meets the eye, Mr. Amesbury. And my husband thinks very highly of you. Few men earn his good opinion.”

  “He’s certainly one of the finest men I’ve ever known. His opinion matters much to me,” Jared replied in all sincerity.

  The fourth round ended, and Greymore returned amid the jests. He grinned at Jared and sat on his wife’s other side.

  “You made a respectable showing, Mr. Greymore,” she said lovingly.

  He kissed her hand. “Why, thank you, Mrs. Greymore. I live to impress you.”

  The final round had only two archers; Lord Druesdale and Mr. Bradford. Jared glanced at Elise Berkley, but she did not appear to be raptly watching the competition; she merely observed with polite interest. Both competitors pointedly looked her way and glared at one another.

  Ah. A pair of contenders competing for the favor of the lovely widow. Lord Druesdale, stocky, greying at the temples, still presented a pleasing form. Moreover, he was wealthy and titled. Mr. Bradford, younger and fair of complexion, taller and leaner, also possessing of a respectable estate. All social circles welcomed the polite young widower. Either gentleman would be considered a smart match.

  He glanced at Elise again, but she only watched the proceedings with calm reserve, her hands folded in her lap. He felt a certain satisfaction knowing she favored neither potential suitor.

  Mr. Bradford nocked his arrow, took careful aim, and let it fly. It hit almost in the middle of the bull’s-eye. He accepted congratulations with a modest smile and tilted his chin toward Lord Druesdale in challenge. Then he glanced at Elise for her approval. Her expression remained passive.

  A feral glint touched Lord Druesdale’s eyes as he glanced at his opponent. He, too, took careful aim. His arrow landed in a perfect bull’s-eye, winning the tournament. Members of the riding party encircled Druesdale to offer congratulations.

  Elise applauded politely, but appeared slightly removed from it all; not bored, just not entirely a part of the group. He wondered why.
She’d been with these people all her life, and she should be perfectly comfortable with them.

  To his surprise, she arose and strolled to the edge of the clearing. She climbed upon a cluster of boulders, and stood precariously on the highest one. With her face lifted toward the sun, and her arms straight at her side and slightly behind her, she looked poised for flight.

  Charlotte Greymore stood, shaking him out of his musings, and went to offer her congratulations to the competitors.

  Greymore glanced at Jared and raised his brows. “Learn something?” he asked quietly.

  “Von Barondy.”

  Greymore nodded. Jared knew he would contact the Central Office. Another operative in the organization would discreetly investigate the viscount and send Jared word. He’d know where to go from there.

  He redirected his attention to Elise Berkley on the rocks. She turned with a sigh and leaped lightly down from the boulder. She joined Mrs. Greymore and was soon encircled by Mr. Bradford and Lord Druesdale, who alternately glared at one another and smiled at Elise. Druesdale said something to Elise, and her clear laugh rang out.

  Jared stilled. When had he taken to calling her Elise? He almost groaned. Not a good sign. Smiling, she glanced his way, and the sight nearly undid him.

  Definitely a very bad sign.

  CHAPTER 7

  Elise stood at the window and watched her son stroll to the lake next to Jared Amesbury; a small boy with gangly limbs and blond hair that never quite allowed a comb to tame it, and a tall, broad-shouldered man who walked with unusual athletic grace. They stopped, turned, and faced each other. Mr. Amesbury crouched down to Colin’s eye level.

  From this distance, she could not see their expressions, but Colin waved his hands about in his usual animated fashion. She could only speculate on their topic of discussion, or what the earl’s son must be thinking about Colin’s eager discourse. A moment later, Mr. Amesbury arose and resumed walking. Colin slipped his hand into Mr. Amesbury’s.

  The gesture of affection made a lump rise in her throat. Turning away, she firmly shunned any thoughts that her son might need a father-figure. She liked her orderly life overseeing her son’s inheritance and managing the estate and the people upon it. She had no time for foolishness that included a man