Married to the Rogue

by Lancaster, Mary

  As he had approached the end of that fourth glass, he had finally realized that nowhere in these increasingly warm scenes of his imagination was the cool, complacent wife he had asked for, the hostess and housekeeper and turner of blind eyes to his love affairs.

  He had stared into his glass and finally understood that he didn’t want affairs. Not now and not in the future. He didn’t want Deborah, cool and civilized. He wanted her wild with love and tender with a wife’s affection. He wanted her true friendship. And worst of all, he wanted her to love him back.

  I love my wife. How can I have been so blind and stupid?

  He took one more drink, grinning with delight. He had thought of trying to win her before, just to see if he could, and if they would like it, but never had the desire been so strong, so desperate, and so relentless. This was recognition.

  He wanted to storm into her chamber and tell her all this, kiss her until she was dizzy, and beg her to love him in return.

  But the truth was, she didn’t. Or she would have given him some kind of sign of jealousy over Frederica. Besides, he had poured large measures of brandy, and he had swayed as he got to his feet. Not an ideal condition in which to convince any woman of one’s love, especially not one’s wife.

  And so he had stumbled up to bed, curiously happy despite his solitude.

  And he thoroughly deserved his thick head the following morning.

  Two cups of strong coffee, followed by immersing his head in the washbowl, helped considerably. He managed to shave without mishap and was mostly dressed and tying his cravat when an urgent knock heralded the arrival of his cousin Dudley.

  “She’s not here, and neither is Rupert,” Dudley burst out.

  “Deborah?” Christopher said, startled out of his reverie.

  Dudley scowled at him. “Of course, not Deborah! My wife!”

  “Well, they can’t have vanished into thin air,” Christopher said impatiently. “Try the breakfast parlor.”

  “Neither of them are in the breakfast parlor.”

  “Then ask the servants where they are,” Christopher said. “They always know,”

  Dudley sat down on the edge of Christopher’s bed and buried his head in his hands. “Rupert is gone,” he said indistinctly. “He has left nothing in his room, and he has taken my horse.”

  “He didn’t come with much to leave in his chamber. He has probably ridden out with Georgianna. I imagine they need to clear the air. Have you spoken to Deborah?”

  Dudley shook his head. “I haven’t seen her. But what worries me more than anything is that no one can find Marvin, either. She is Georgianna’s maid, and she never goes anywhere without her.”

  Christopher paused in the act of fastening his waistcoat buttons. “You really believe she has run away with Rupert?”

  “Don’t you?”

  “No,” Christopher said flatly. “She never showed the remotest signs of pining for Rupert, and if he pined for her longer than a week, I’ll eat my own coat.”

  “Perhaps they were carried away by seeing each other again.”

  “What, in twelve hours? During most of which, they were both asleep? Separately!” Leaving Dudley to digest that, he rang the bell and demanded Hunter’s presence.

  Dudley frowned at him, but with a hint of hope in his eyes. “You really believe I’m making a cake of myself?”

  “Completely. She didn’t just marry you because she couldn’t have Rupert, you know. There’s too much trouble attached to our family for anyone to think that would be an easy option. Ah, Hunter, close the door.”

  The butler entered and obeyed.

  “Hunter, is Lady Bilston aware that Mr. Rupert was here?”

  “Yes, sir, I believe Mrs. Dawson told her.”

  “Did they spend the evening together?”

  “No, sir. Mr. Rupert didn’t come downstairs after you left. He went to bed. Her ladyship ate a light supper and retired.”

  “Thank you, Hunter,” Christopher said, casting his cousin an I-told-you-so look that made him grin reluctantly. “And where are they now?”

  “I believe they went riding together, sir.”

  Dudley’s face fell, and Christopher groaned.

  Dismissing the butler, he said cajolingly, “There’s no reason they shouldn’t take a ride together.”

  “Taking Marvin? And clearing out Rupert’s chamber?”

  Christopher waved one disparaging hand. “You are making too much of that. Go and have breakfast. I’ll speak to Deborah.” What a fool love makes of us, he thought ruefully as Dudley left all but wringing his hands. For example, his heart should not be trying to jump into his throat just because he was going to talk to his wife in her bedchamber.

  He made a point of sauntering there, though he could not help thinking that this was the first time he had ever called on her in her own rooms. It felt a little like a diplomatic visit to a foreign potentate whose friendship was not assured. Laughing at himself, he knocked on her door. Receiving no response—after all, he was her husband—he walked in.

  She was not in her rooms. He knew that before he looked, by a sense of emptiness, an absence of Deborah.

  No doubt she was in the library or working on some other apartments. She was an industrious little… His thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a crumpled piece of paper on the dressing table.

  He hesitated, for they had agreed to respect each other’s privacy. And if he was going to change the rules of their marriage, he would have to do so with her agreement. Only…only despite his dismissive words to Dudley, there really was something ominous about all these people vanishing so early in the morning.

  He picked up the crumpled ball and smoothed it out. My thanks for everything. I find it necessary to return to the ship at once. Hope you understand. R.

  Rupert had gone. Foolish with his arm not yet fully healed.

  And if he had gone back to his ship, where was Georgianna? Unease twisted through him.

  Five minutes later, he entered the breakfast parlor where Dudley breakfasted alone and morose.

  “Rupert has gone back to his ship,” he said abruptly. “He left a note. But Dudley, because they left together, does not mean they are together.”

  Dudley let his knife and fork fall with a clatter. He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them to stare up at Christopher. “This is my fault. He was right, you know. I never told you about his claims after the duel, that he had never fired his pistol. I didn’t believe him, didn’t want to, and I made no effort to find out because I thought if he was innocent and came back, she would marry him. And then that he could still come back and ruin my life. I salved my conscience by keeping my eye on him, meeting him occasionally on these free-trading adventures. He actually seemed happy enough, and I convinced myself it was all for the best.”

  He drew in a shuddering breath. “But in my heart, I knew why I did it. So did Rupert.”

  “But Rupert would not run off with your wife,” Christopher insisted. “And she would not go!”

  Dudley’s mouth twisted. “Wouldn’t he? In a temper? You saw how he was yesterday—quite rightly angry with me as I tried to get rid of him yet again. In that mood, he could do anything, even if he regretted it the next day, the next hour.”

  Christopher had to admit this was true. That damned temper, inherited from their grandfather, was a family failing he and Rupert shared.

  He said reluctantly, “I think Deborah must have suspected the same thing and gone after them. I’m going to see if I can pick up their trail.”

  Dudley jumped to his feet. “I’ll come with you! We need to go now.”

  As he spoke, the door opened quietly, and a beautiful woman walked in. “Oh, where are you going now, Dudley? I have only just got here!”

  Dudley’s mouth fell open.

  Christopher suspected his was in much the same state, so he hastily pressed his lips together and swallowed. “Georgianna. How good to see you here. You have no idea how welcome you are.”


  Dudley stumbled forward and swept his wife into a bear hug that made her laugh and protest together, although Christopher noticed she still returned the embrace with enthusiasm, even while she talked.

  “Oh, Dudley, I am glad you missed me! Chris, this is a beautiful house, and I can’t wait to meet your wife. Oh, and I met Rupert this morning! Off on some mysterious adventure, but I’m so glad we met and talked, for I wouldn’t like him to hate me.”

  After the initial relief of her arrival and the knowledge that Rupert’s temper hadn’t led him into elopement or, worse, abduction, Christopher began to realize that her presence left too many other mysteries.

  “Was your maid not with you?” he asked as Dudley ushered her into the place next to him and went off to fill her a plate from the sideboard.

  “Marvin?” she asked, amused. “Why would I take Marvin riding? I don’t think she can ride!”

  “Then you don’t know where she is? Georgianna, where exactly have you been?”

  “We rode west along the long, winding path that skirts the hill. And then I left Rupert to his adventure and rode back, although I’m afraid I got a little lost, but it was a lovely ride and—”

  “Excuse me,” Christopher said abruptly and walked out of the room.

  Another devastating possibility was clawing at his mind. A ridiculous idea born of jealousy and shame at his own selfish behavior in tying Deborah to this stifling marriage. She was doomed to give all and be uncomfortable while he followed his heart in politics, educational experiments, and love. He hadn’t expected love to lead to her, and neither had she.

  But they had been married little more than a week. He must not be like Dudley and assume the worst before discovering any evidence.

  Still, as he strode out of the house toward the stables, he could feel the pressure building behind his eyes. He clenched his hands and stretched his fingers as though that could catch and dissipate the swelling emotion.

  He found Matthew closing one of the horses into the paddock behind the stables. “Matthew, has Mrs. Halland ridden out?”

  Matthew looked uneasy, which made Christopher flex his fingers again. “Yes, sir.”

  “When?”

  “About an hour ago.”

  “Alone?” Christopher snapped, hating himself and yet unable not to ask.

  “No, sir, I accompanied her.”

  “But, she isn’t back.”

  “No, sir,” Matthew agreed unhappily. “She sent me back at the hill.”

  “Why?”

  Matthew swallowed. “She told me not to say.”

  The weight behind his eyes pressed harder. Curiously, it felt more like pain than anger, but it had the same effect on his boiling blood.

  “Did she meet someone?”

  Matthew hesitated, then nodded once.

  “Who?”

  “I couldn’t see, sir,” Matthew said miserably. “He joined her on the path after she told me to go back. I only saw him from behind—tall man.”

  Rupert. He felt his whole being would explode with betrayal and fury. And care for Deborah, that too, although it was so buried in his own shame and rage with Rupert that he barely recognized it. He had totally misunderstood the friendly camaraderie he had sensed between Deborah and his cousin. Each smile, each laugh they had shared, was now a fresh tear in his heart. And Rupert’s mischievous words took on a much more sinister meaning. Don’t hang back too long. Or someone else might just step in and win her from under your nose. I might be tempted to cut you out myself.

  No wonder Rupert had written, Hope you understand. The letter had not been for Deborah but for him. Perhaps he hated Christopher, too, for failing to follow up his claim of innocence in Harlow’s death.

  “Do you know where they went?” he demanded.

  Again Matthew hesitated. “I think…Branwell.”

  “Saddle Nightshade,” he barked.

  *

  It was a longer and much more grueling ride than Deborah had imagined. Joshua was anxious to make up time after sleeping in, and Deborah was determined to get to Rupert and Georgianna as soon as humanly possible. But this had to be balanced against the difficult country and the need to rest the horses.

  During one of their rests, Deborah actually found herself envying the horses, cropping grass and leaves where they found it, for she had had no breakfast, and her stomach was rumbling.

  As though he heard it, Joshua took a roughly wrapped parcel from his saddlebag and opened it to reveal a large hunk of bread, half a chicken, and an apple. Deborah was delighted to share this feast, although conscious of the fact she had inflicted her company upon him, she was careful to leave him more than half of everything. Especially the flask of ale he offered her.

  “Is there really something urgent happening at the ship?” she asked him.

  Joshua’s eyes slid away. “’Course there is.”

  Which might mean he didn’t want to discuss it with her. Or that the only emergency was escaping with Dudley’s wife. She jumped to her feet. “Then we’d better get on.”

  It was late afternoon before Joshua led her by a maze of paths that barely seemed to be tracks, to an inn that looked both deserted and in a state of severe disrepair.

  “I thought we were going to Branwell?” Deborah said as her body sighed with relief and she slid from the saddle.

  “We are, The Branwell Arms.”

  “This is where you were to meet Rupert?” she exclaimed. “But Marvin’s bound to go to the town!”

  Joshua didn’t seem terribly interested. He handed both their horses to a grubby, silent ostler who led them away to a tumble-down stable building adjoining the inn. At least Rupert was here, for he strode out of the front door, scowling.

  “Where the devil have you been, Josh? I—” He broke off, goggling at Deborah. “Cousin Deb? What the d… Dear God, what is wrong?”

  “Wrong?” she repeated. “You dare ask me that? Oh, Rupert, how could you?”

  “How could I what?” he asked, apparently bewildered. “Didn’t you get the note I left? Is something wrong at Gosmere?”

  “Of course it is! What did you expect when you ran off with your brother’s wife?”

  “Ran off with my…” He stared at her, unblinking, and then swung away. “If that doesn’t take the cake! You made Joshua bring you halfway across the county because you thought I’d run away with Georgianna? Or have I abducted her?”

  “I was hoping for the former,” Deborah admitted. “Although I would have preferred neither.” She moved to peer into his face, a growing relief mingling with several other new fears. “I was wrong, wasn’t I? But if she isn’t with you, where is she?”

  “I left her at the hill. She claimed she knew the way back, but she has no sense of direction, so the chances are she got lost. Still, even Georgianna couldn’t stay lost in Gosmere for this length of time. So my best guess is that at this moment, she’s having tea at the hall with everyone but you.”

  Deborah felt her shoulders droop. She rubbed tiredly at her forehead. “I knew I was too tired to think. I should have stayed at home.”

  “Yes, you should.” Relenting, Rupert took her hand and drew it through his arm. “Come inside and sit. I’m sure Old Peg can conjure you a cup of tea and something to eat.”

  “Can I change horses here?” she asked hopefully, accompanying him into the gloomy inn. Joshua lumbered in behind them.

  “Not really that kind of an inn.” Rupert led her into a tiny room with a table and bench. It smelled unpleasantly of stale ale and tobacco. “Peg!”

  A thin woman in a mob cap with very few teeth shuffled into the room as Deborah sank onto a bench. “What you shouting about now?” she demanded. “Don’t want you here when the law comes nosing around.”

  “I know that. Bring my cousin some tea and whatever you have that’s edible. In fact, fetch Joshua some, too, he’s always starving.”

  “I ate his breakfast,” Deborah confessed while the old woman left muttering something
that sounded like, “Cousin, my foot!”

  Rupert grinned. “Left yourself open to that one.”

  “And worse,” she said ruefully. “You’d think one major scandal in a month would be enough for anyone, but I seem to keep creating more.”

  “Never mind. Christopher will see the funny side. I hope.”

  “Please tell me that Joshua brought me the long way to preserve secrecy and that there is a quicker way back to Gosmere.”

  “Not much quicker, I’m afraid.”

  “The mare will be exhausted. Do you think if I give her an hour’s rest, she will be fit to carry me home?”

  “No. Besides, I can’t take you just now or spare anyone else.”

  “I don’t need you to take me,” she said with dignity, “just give me directions.”

  “Don’t be silly. You can’t go yourself. Christopher would string me up. Besides, you won’t get home before nightfall. You’d better stay here. Not where I’d choose for you, but all we can do.”

  “What about Branwell?” she asked, brightening.

  “You could get there in an hour. And from there, you could probably hire a chaise back to Gosmere, only I can’t take you there now either! We have to shake the excisemen.”

  “What excisemen?” she asked, trying to keep up with the changing subjects.

  “The ones who’re watching the ship for me to return. They searched it and found nothing, but someone’s told them I’m the captain, and I’m still wanted for murder, so they’re waiting for me to try and get aboard to capture me. They probably mean to persuade me to tell them about our free trading activities in return for—I don’t know—leniency? Escape? Avoidance of brutality? In any case, I’d rather not walk into their trap, so we have a plan to move the ship from under their noses.”

  He sat back as Old Peg brought in a teapot and a chipped cup with a matching cream jug. “Don’t worry, Coz. You’ll easily find your way back into Christopher’s good graces. In fact, if you ask me, it will do him good to worry for a bit. He takes you for granted.”