Rebels, Rakes & Rogues

by Cheryl Bolen

  Harry wasn't used to being turned down. Everyone had a price, but he knew this man would not bend. Not because he was honorable.

  Because he was scared. The last time Harry had seen such fear on a man's face was when he'd been prepared to run a sword through the man.

  Chapter 5

  The return journey to Grosvenor Square was solemn. Mrs. Phillips had obviously been as disappointed as he. Oddly, her sorrow disturbed Harry more than his own. Even if he never regained Wycliff House, his comfortable life would continue much the same. When Louisa Phillips left Wycliff House, a bleak future was all she could expect. Where would she live? What would she do for money?

  For Harry knew the contemptible scoundrel who had been Louisa Phillips's husband had left her nothing. How could a man be so dishonorable?

  Louisa's estrangement from her family, he had learned, was irrevocable. Her parent was as loathsome as her husband had been. How could they have played her so cruelly? What was a woman of gentle birth to do when thrust into London with neither money nor the protection of a husband? Other women in the same deplorable circumstance -- especially a woman as beautiful at the widow Phillips -- would seek to marry, but not Louisa Phillips. She was not like other women.

  She hated men.

  Harry spent the better part of the coach ride trying to determine how he could help the unfortunate widow. The problem was that she was too bloody proud. She would never accept his charity. He must think of a way to help her anonymously.

  He flicked a glance to her. And his heart could have bled for the somber desperation he saw on her troubled face. It was all he could do not to gather her into his arms and comfort her.

  God, but he wanted to!

  When he left her at the door to Wycliff House, he merely said, "We must think of some way to extricate you from this situation." His knuckle nudged under her chin as he lifted her face to meet his gaze. "Don't despair."

  * * *

  As foolish as it seemed, Lord Wycliff's words gave her hope. She felt less forlorn as she mounted the stairs to Godwin's chamber.

  Though it was late afternoon, his bedchamber was as dark as a cave. Louisa shivered as she entered it. The cold was only partly responsible for her shivers. She told herself the room was cold because there had been no fires in the room since he'd died. A chill slid along her spine as she crossed the room and opened the heavy red draperies. She disliked this room ever so much. As she had disliked the man who had inhabited it.

  Instead of experiencing exultation from her liberation, she cowered in fear, half expecting Godwin's corpulent presence to show itself.

  She had never remembered the room smelling so foul. It was a stale odor that reminded her of death. He had died here.

  Now that the room was flooded with daylight, she could expunge Godwin from her memory. The eight years with him had been but a bad dream. She would never again have to lie beneath him. He was dead. And she was free.

  She began to walk about his room, looking for things of value. There was his silver penknife. She took it up and placed it on the bed. Then she came across his ivory snuff box. It, too, went into the pile on the bed. She slid a gold band from her own finger and tossed it on the heap.

  When she finished gathering everything of value she could find, she pulled the bell rope, and when Williams answered, she gave him her instructions. She first pointed to the meager pile on the bed. "I desire that you undertake a mission for me," she said.

  "Anything you say, Mrs. Phillips."

  "I wish for you to sell my husband's things I've collected on the bed."

  He glanced at the bed.

  "Also, I would like for you to take all of Mr. Phillips's clothing and leather goods to a second-hand clothier and obtain for them as much money as you can. It appears your former master has left this earth with no settlements for you or for me, Williams."

  His lips folded. "A pity, ma'am. I'll do all I can to get a fair price for Mr. Phillips's goods. Ye can count on me."

  She smiled. "Thank you, Williams."

  * * *

  The following morning, while Ellie was still asleep, Louisa left the house with Williams as her escort. They went to a jewelers on Conduit Street. A very reputable jeweler from whom Godwin had purchased many of her jewels.

  Williams stayed outside as Louisa strolled confidently into the store and deposited a bag overflowing with jeweled necklaces and matching bracelets and earrings. She proceeded to dump the contents of the bag on the jeweler's counter.

  The jewelers' eyes rounded.

  "I wish to inquire as to the worth of my jewels," Louisa said confidently.

  Without a reply, the jeweler popped a magnification device onto his left eye, then picked up the sapphire necklace. A moment later, he put it down. "I'm afraid, madam, that while these look quite lovely, they are comprised of very inferior stones. The sapphires I can give you no more than twenty pounds for."

  She snatched them from him and began to put all the jewels back into the bag. "I shall go to another jeweler for another opinion," she said.

  "I regret that they will give no more than I," he said. Now a shadow of some emotion -- was it sympathy? -- passed over his face. "Perhaps I could raise the amount to thirty pounds, Mrs. Phillips."

  She froze. "How did you know my name?" She had never been there before.

  "I remember your jewels, madam. And your husband." Another, less sympathetic, shadow crossed his face. "Your husband desired that I make a dazzling necklace from fake jewels. I refused. Then he asked that I make one of flawed jewels. He was adamant about wanting a necklace that gave the appearance of great wealth -- which he no doubt did not possess."

  She softened toward the jeweler, who was old enough to be her father. He wasn't trying to cheat her, after all. She knew the man was telling the truth. He knew Godwin well. "Your assumption was correct, sir. I am learning that my husband's wealth was all a sham. Now that he is dead I find myself quite penniless."

  He nodded sympathetically, putting the glass once again to his eye and examining the remainder of the jewels. When he finished, he removed the glass and looked at her with sadness in his eyes. "I will give you one-hundred pounds for all of them. I assure you no one else will do better. I know this because I am willing to give you exactly what they cost your late husband."

  She knew he was being more than generous. "I accept your offer."

  * * *

  Later that afternoon, as Louisa sat sewing in the upstairs study, Williams entered the chamber. Assured that he and Louisa were alone, he gave her a fistful of coins. "This is all I could get for the master's things," he told her as he counted out a little less than seventy-two pounds.

  She took the money and put it into her sewing bag. "I'm very grateful to you, Williams."

  "It's grateful to you I am, Mrs. Phillips, for not puttin' me out on the street."

  She smiled at him, hoping she could continue to put a roof over his head. If only she could find a nice little cottage that didn't cost so very much. Then perhaps she wouldn't have to dismiss Cook and Williams. Like her, they had nowhere to go.

  After he left the room, Louisa put away her sewing and took up her pen. She had best concentrate on her writing. Every shilling counted, and it looked as if she was going to have to earn her keep -- and Ellie's and Cook's and Williams' -- through her writing.

  But no sooner had she dipped her quill than Ellie moved into the room with a length of sarcenet. "I do believe I'll begin a new dress. Mr. Coke is sure to think I possess but two dresses."

  Louisa looked up at her lovely sister. "And what Mr. Coke thinks matters to you?"

  Ellie giggled. "Despite that he's a man, and you hate men, Mr. Coke is all that is amiable. Can you not agree?" She fixed her sister with a smile.

  "I know nothing bad about him," Louisa said, "though I must say I don't think of him as a man. He seems rather boyish to me."

  "He's four and twenty." Ellie said this as if she were saying he was a hundred.

&
nbsp; My own age, Louisa thought, realizing that she was not so very old after all. Actually, she would not be that age until her next birthday.

  Compared to his elder cousin, Edward Coke seemed neither manly nor mature. Thinking of Lord Wycliff, she imagined she heard his voice. A moment later, Williams confirmed that he and his cousin were downstairs.

  Ellie's hand flew to her hair. "I cannot go downstairs until I make myself more presentable."

  Louisa smiled as she rose and spoke to her sister. "I'll tell them you will be down in five minutes."

  "Five minutes! That's not nearly enough time," Ellie protested.

  Louisa attempted to sound firm. "That will be enough time, my pet." Then she strolled from the room and told herself that if that wretched Lord Wycliff were standing at the bottom of the stairs gazing admirably up at her again, she would completely ignore him. I will not let the man's attention rattle me.

  Fortunately, he was in the morning room, not at the bottom of the stairs. Unfortunately, he stood when she entered the room, and as always his eyes lingered admiringly over her from the top of her head to the tip of her satin shoes.

  She tried to ignore him. This she did by addressing his cousin first. "Mr. Coke, how good it is to see you and your cousin." An almost imperceptive nod was directed at Lord Wycliff.

  Not to be ignored, Lord Wycliff stepped forward, swept into a bow, then took Louisa's hand and pressed his lips to it. For a bit longer than necessary.

  Curse him! She chose to address Mr. Coke again. "My sister will be down in a moment."

  "Capital!" he said. "'Tis a lovely day. I thought to persuade her to do me the honor of accompanying me on another walk in the square."

  "Which is an excellent plan," Lord Wycliff added, looking at Louisa, "for I have business of a very personal nature to discuss with you, Mrs. Phillips."

  Good lord! He's looking at me again with those dangerously dark eyes. The way he said 'personal' brought color to her cheeks. Now she was acting more the schoolgirl than Ellie.

  Soon Ellie was in the room, and then she wasn't. And no one was there except for Lord Wycliff and his wretched eyes. Louisa got up and walked to the window and watched her sister, who was dressed in light blue, as Ellie put their key into the lock on the gate to the park in the center of Grosvenor Square.

  Louisa turned back and faced Lord Wycliff. "What is it you wish to discuss with me, my lord?"

  "First," he said, "I wish to discuss the most brilliant piece of writing -- of philosophy -- I've ever read."

  "Pray, of what author do you speak?" she asked as she moved toward him, her brows lifted.

  "Jeremy Bentham. I've just read his Classification of Offenses. You had told me about it, but this was the first time I had actually read it."

  Now her eyes alighted as she went to sit on the settee. "He presents it all so logically and with such ease, one is instantly baffled as to why no one ever proposed so simple a solution to imprisonment before." Lord Wycliff suddenly saw the light.

  He smiled as he came to sit on the settee across from her. "My feelings exactly. Classifications have been commonplace since the days of Plato's dialogues. That it has taken us hundreds of years to apply classification to punishable acts is incomprehensible.”

  "I agree completely!" she shrieked. "It should have been as obvious to us as the noses on our faces."

  "If Mr. Bentham never wrote another word, his Classification of Offenses would have been enough to secure his position as one of the world's greatest thinkers."

  Louisa beamed at Lord Wycliff. "I am so very happy you understand."

  "And I am so thankful to you."

  She faced him, her brow hitching. Had he not said he wished to speak to her of something personal? "You said first you wished to discuss Mr. Bentham. Pray, what else did you wish to discuss?"

  "My lack of success with your solicitor yesterday."

  She sank back into the settee. "Then you were unable to coerce him into giving you the information you desired?"

  "The man was impervious to my money."

  "How novel, my lord."

  "Come and sit beside me, Mrs. Phillips. I dislike shouting across the room."

  For reasons she would never understand, she obeyed the arrogant man and sat on the settee next to him. "I am here, my lord. Are you happy?"

  His eyes looked black today. And they sparkled with mirth. "My, but you are a saucy vixen."

  "Do I take that for a compliment?"

  He could not seem to repress his smile. He settled back and pinned her with a knowing stare. "How much did the late Mr. Phillips's things fetch?"

  A flash of anger swept over her face, and she stiffened. "How do you know so much about my affairs?"

  "Because I need all the leverage I can get."

  "And your vast amounts of money cannot buy that?"

  "I don't know. I'm prepared to settle a handsome sum on you for the information I failed to obtain from Mr. Twining."

  "The identity of my husband's benefactor?"

  He nodded, a morose expression on his handsome face.

  "That I cannot give you. I honestly do not know the man's identity."

  * * *

  He gave her a long look. Gone was her flippancy. And her anger. She was telling the truth.

  His face was grim, his voice low when he spoke. "You really don't know, do you?"

  She shook her head.

  "Did your husband never discuss the man?" God but he hated to call the despicable man her husband.

  "Only to tell me to stay abovestairs when a lone man came two or three times a year. A man -- I think he's a lord -- whom my husband addressed with great reverence -- and great secrecy."

  That would fit, Harry thought. "Did you ever get a glimpse of the man?"

  "Actually I did, once, from a very great distance."

  Before she could say more, Ellie and Mr. Coke burst into the room. "You will never believe it!" Ellie squealed. "Even though the sun is shining, it has begun to rain!"

  Ellie and Edward were not so wet that they could not sit down and join in the conversation, which soon turned to Jeremy Bentham's impending visit for a speaking engagement in London.

  "I cannot believe that I will actually get to hear the great man in the flesh," Ellie exclaimed.

  Edward cast a bemused glance at his cousin while Harry made every effort to show the proper respect toward the ladies' pontificating idol. That deuced Edward had better not betray him. It was imperative that the widow believe he enthusiastically shared her political views.

  "When will we have the pleasure to hear Mr. Bentham's address?" Harry asked.

  "He comes next week."

  Hopefully he would be spared the boredom of hearing Bentham. Hopefully, by next week he would have the information he sought.

  Chapter 6

  Louisa was grateful for the opportunity to stay home this evening. She really must put pen to paper to turn out another essay. In the past her essays were the result of strong feelings she wanted to express about the rights of man -- and of women. Now, though, she sought to write merely for the money. She felt guilty writing for the wrong reasons, writing solely for the money.

  She had been sitting here for the past hour trying to decide upon a topic. With no vituperative feelings begging to come forward, her pen was stilled. She could write about the franchise, but she had already done that. Child labor, prison reform, and birth control were subjects that also had been addressed by her.

  She looked up at her sister, who sat across from her sewing on her new dress. Ellie's face lifted, and she caught Louisa's stare, taking it as permission to speak. "Are your writing one of your famous essays, Mr. Lewis?" A cocky expression lighted her youthful face, and she giggled.

  Louisa sighed. "If only my muse would return." She put down her pen. "What are you sewing?"

  Ellie's voice became animated. "A promenade dress for one of my wonderful walks with Mr. Coke."

  "Whatever do the two of you find to talk about
during these walks?"

  A far-away look in her eyes, a satisfied countenance on her face, Ellie answered. "Mr. Coke and I have a great deal in common. First of all, he is as enamored of his cousin as I am of my elder sister. Then there is the fact that we were both tutored at home. We are both country bred. And he is just so very amusing.

  "There is more to him than that," Ellie went on. "He allows me to expound endlessly on the merits of Mr. Bentham and on the wisdom imparted in Mr. Lewis's essays, and I believe I'm converting him to our way of thinking -- which is rather a coup, given that he hails from a noble family."

  "You must not be impressed by the circumstances of his birth. Remember that his class has done nothing to earn respect."

  "He tells me Lord Wycliff built his fortune by his own cunning after his father squandered away their lands and possessions. Do you not find that commendable?"

  "I would find it far more commendable were Lord Wycliff to give his fortune to the poor," Louisa said.

  "As much as I want to agree with you, I find that notion most unrealistic."

  Louisa sighed. "You are, of course, right. I suppose the most I can hope for is that Lord Wycliff and others like him use their influence in Parliament to enact laws beneficial to the less fortunate."

  Ellie's gaze flitted to the pen and paper before her sister. "You cannot believe how difficult it is for me to withhold your authorship from Mr. Coke. I am so very proud of you, and so close to him that it is quite an accomplishment for me not to confide in him."

  Louisa's face clouded. "I beg that you never even consider revealing my identity to the gentleman – or to anyone. It's imperative that no one ever suspect I am a female – I mean, that Mr. Lewis is a female. If his gender were to become known, my work would never again have the opportunity to be widely distributed."

  "Don't fear, Louisa. I shall never reveal that you are Philip Lewis."

  "Labor unification!" Louisa shrieked, picking up her pen and beginning to write furiously.