A Rogue of My Own

by Johanna Lindsey

  “Well, old boy, I’m glad Rebecca Marshall gave you my note about the tailor,” Nigel had told him. “I think you’re ready for a few new coats.”

  That might have been something Julie would have said to him, not Nigel, and he was shocked at Nigel’s cavalier reaction to the report. “Did you even read my assessment?”

  “Course I did, I just think you’ve made too much about nothing. I’ll look into Lord Alberton again, but I very much doubt that Rebecca was being duplicitous. I was testing her with that note she gave you. I also told her to use you as a go-between for her and me, since I suspected I would be away from the palace for a while, so she wasn’t lying to you.”

  “You realize by doing that you gave her the opportunity to lead us astray?”

  “Only if she’s still on Sarah’s string, but I honestly don’t believe she is. My instincts tell me she’s trustworthy. I actually like the girl.”

  Rupert had snorted. “That’s how good she is, Nigel. She’s got you completely fooled.”

  “I disagree. If her behavior seems odd to you, perhaps it’s simply because she gets a little flustered around you. Don’t you realize the effect you have on women?”

  “This is different,” Rupert had insisted.

  Nigel had given him a questioning frown. “I’ve never seen you overreact like this before. I wonder why. And over this particular girl. You haven’t developed feelings for her, have you?”

  That hadn’t deserved a response. The one thing Rupert had left out of his report was the location Rebecca had chosen to deliver her information about Lord Alberton—his room, late at night—and what had occurred because of it. He’d nearly mentioned it at that meeting, but had held his tongue. Those details were too personal to share. But without doing so he couldn’t explain why his judgment had been so harsh.

  Rupert knew he’d been duped, royally. But never again. He’d warned Nigel that he was done with palace intrigues and he’d meant it. He’d left Nigel with no doubt about how angry he was when he’d added that if he was ever asked to do anything so ridiculously trivial again, they would be finished—for good. Which was possibly why Nigel hadn’t called on him for anything this last month, until now.

  Rupert was still furious over that whole affair with Rebecca and how easily she had manipulated him. He’d let himself get emotionally involved with this girl, and because of that she’d been able to ply her tricks on him. And now she had the gall to toy with him again? Had this been her plan all along, to trap him into marriage?

  Not for a moment did he believe there was a baby. If there was, she would have told him sooner and not waited to confront him until his ship was about to sail. Actually, she wouldn’t have told him at all. Her mother would be demanding that he marry Rebecca.

  Rupert sighed. He couldn’t take his eyes off Rebecca. He had to resist the urge to put his hand on her shoulder, had to tamp down all sympathy for her. She was faking! He bloody well needed to keep that uppermost in his mind.

  When she was done hacking up what looked like no more than spit, he said drily, “How unpleasant. Was that supposed to prove that you’re carrying my child?”

  “You’re still an insensitive bore, aren’t you?” she said, then wiped her mouth. “That was the sway of the ship. While I do suffer morning sickness, I’m pretty sure I got rid of most of it before I stepped aboard. The strong odors of the river brought it on.”

  He could say one thing about Rebecca: she was consistent in sounding plausible. If he didn’t know better, it would be so damned easy to believe her, that’s how good she was at deception. Dealing with her had been a challenge he’d actually enjoyed—until she’d won. Which was why he was also furious with himself. She’d exploited the one thing he couldn’t control—his desire for her.

  He still wanted her. He could deplore it, but he couldn’t deny it. She was the first woman he’d ever come across who was more adept at pulling the strings than he was.

  “I must apologize,” she said, setting the chamber pot back on its stand. “I wasn’t expecting that to happen. But I’ll leave now, since we really don’t have anything more to discuss.”

  He raised a brow. “You’re impressing me again. Walking on water is one of your amazing skills?”

  Her eyes widened briefly, but then the doubting look showed up. “That isn’t even remotely funny.”

  “You’re quite right, it isn’t, especially because this is the only cabin available on this ship. This isn’t a passenger ship, you know. The captain keeps this single cabin empty for emergencies only and charges a ridiculously exorbitant price for its use. I’m afraid I gave him the idea of renting it out the first time I needed a fast trip abroad.”

  “I don’t believe a word you’re saying,” she replied huffily on her way to the door. “I don’t know why you’re trying to delay me, nor do I care, but it won’t work. Good-bye.”

  Rupert moved to the single stuffed chair to await her return. It was a comfortable chair. The captain had at least included some amenities that a nobleman would expect for the extortionate price he charged. The bed was a decent size and the sheets might not be as soft as the ones he was accustomed to, but they were clean. Even a small, round table and a chair were nailed to the floor for dining in case the trip across the Channel took longer than usual.

  Rebecca was in high dudgeon when she returned, to go by the virulent glare that she directed at him. “This is unacceptable! I left a hack driver back on that dock who hasn’t been paid yet! I assured him I wouldn’t be long.”

  Rupert shrugged indifferently. “Should have paid him.”

  “And have him hie off and leave me stranded? I wanted to be sure he’d still be—”

  “That’s the least of your worries, Becca, so stop going on about it.”

  “I know that! My maid is going to be out of her mind with worry when I don’t return to the palace. She’ll be forced to send for my mother!”

  He felt a twinge of discomfort over that predicament. He’d never had to deal with an outraged mother before—other than his own. But the discomfort warned him that he was starting to believe Rebecca’s performance, so he indulged his skepticism again.

  “I’m sure you’ll do just fine in explaining how you got stuck on a ship you shouldn’t have been on to begin with.”

  “You know something, Rupert?” she replied scathingly. “You give new meaning to the word dense.”

  “I suppose you’re going to tell me why you think so?” he said with a sigh.

  Much to his disappointment, she did. “I’m concerned about what my disappearance is going to put my mother through. She’s going to be told I’m missing! Do you know what that will do to her? I’m her only child, I’m all the family she’s got. You have to tell this ship to turn around!”

  He had a feeling she was serious, so he managed not to laugh. Well, he tried—and failed. “I’m sure the ‘ship’ won’t listen to reason. No, really, I’m positive it won’t.”

  “You know what I mean!” she shrieked at him.

  Course he did, but his answer was still the same. “The captain doesn’t listen to reason either, m’dear. If you want to apprise him of your presence on his ship, be prepared to pay him for it. But don’t expect a return trip until after he’s disposed of his cargo. This ship is a trader. The cargo on it comes first, passengers a very distant second.”

  “I’ll buy the cargo!”

  “Not unless you brought your bank with you, you won’t. I did mention the captain is a moneygrubbing bastard, didn’t I? He charges me fifty pounds just for a one-way trip. You realize how outlandish that is? But he doesn’t care if he rents the cabin. His cargo, however, is his lifeblood.”

  Her shoulders slumped and her lower lip quivered. She looked as if she was about to cry, which had Rupert shooting out of his chair. “Don’t you dare try to make me feel guilty over something you set in motion! If I’m stuck with you, so be it, but I won’t tolerate any more theatrics.”

  He slammed out of t
he room, determined to speak with Captain Overly himself. If there was any way to get the Merhammer turned around short of holding a gun to the man, he would do it.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  IT TOOK SEVERAL HOURS for Rebecca to calm down. Three more unpleasant dashes for the chamber pot helped her at least to stop thinking about her mother’s anguish when Rebecca could do nothing about it. She just hoped that Flora wouldn’t be too hasty in contacting Lilly. If Rebecca was really lucky, she might even be able to get back to England before Flora did so.

  Rebecca also felt a little better now that Rupert wasn’t making any more of his snide remarks. At one point he’d handed her a cold, wet cloth for her face and led her to the bed, where she’d curled up. That had been decent of him, though one act of decency didn’t erase such a long list of despicable behavior. Otherwise, he was ignoring her and hadn’t said anything to her after he’d made a few blistering remarks when he’d stormed back into the cabin.

  “You’re going to France and that’s the end of that discussion!” he’d informed her.

  “You asked—?”

  “I even took your suggestion and offered to buy his bloody cargo. He knows I’m good for it.”

  “The captain refused? Why, when he’d make the same profit either way?”

  “He refused because he could. He refused because he found it much more enjoyable to laugh in my face. I should have known better, when I am quite familiar with his type. He hates aristocrats. He’ll take my money, but once at sea he’ll grab any opportunity to lord it over me that he’s ‘god’ and I’m just a pissant under his feet.”

  Rupert was so furious about that he didn’t say another word, but she didn’t give him too much more thought when her own misery was uppermost in her mind. She was pretty sure now that her nausea wasn’t due to her morning sickness, but to the pitch of the ship. As she lay on the bed, she opened her eyes a few times to take note of where he was in the room.

  He’d paced for a while, but she’d merely heard that and hadn’t actually looked, too nauseated to open her eyes. When the pacing stopped, she did locate him in the one comfortable chair. He was sprawled out so much with a leg dangling over the arm that she thought he might be trying to take a nap there.

  It had to be approaching noon. Shouldn’t they have arrived in France already if the Merhammer was only crossing the Channel? She’d never sailed before, but even she knew how close the two countries were. At least she was feeling a little better, well enough to sit up and find out.

  “How soon before we can get off this ship?” she asked.

  “Not soon enough,” Rupert mumbled without opening his eyes. “France is a very big country. Were you thinking this was just a short hop across the Channel?”

  That’s exactly what she’d thought. “It’s not?” she asked with dread.

  “Not even close. The ship’s cargo is bound for Rouen, which is much farther down the coast and still another twenty to thirty miles along the river Seine. My own destination is inland, and farther south as well, so it didn’t matter to me which port she was headed to.”

  “How many days?”

  He opened his eyes now and looked at her. “If you were as desperate as you pretended to be, why didn’t you just jump ship while we were still in the Thames? So you would have returned to the palace a bedraggled mess, but at least you would have done so today and not next week.”

  “That was never an option,” she said in a small, horrified voice, her face completely blanched. Next week? “I never learned to swim.”

  “Wonderful. That had to be the one skill you don’t possess, didn’t it?”

  How could he be so sarcastic when her panic was soaring again? “When do we reach port?”

  “If the weather holds, probably sometime tomorrow.”

  She glared furiously at him. “You couldn’t say that instead of ‘next week’? Do you like seeing women faint?” she added scathingly.

  He raised a curious brow. “You’ve figured out how to fake that, too, without hurting yourself?”

  “Go to the devil!”

  “This room has already become hell, so I’d say I’m close enough.”

  “For once we agree.”

  She wasn’t going to say another word to the odious man. That decision lasted for all of ten minutes. She could wish it were otherwise, but he possessed information she needed.

  “I can expect a return trip sometime tomorrow then?” she asked hopefully.

  “On the Merhammer? No, it travels farther south before it heads back for the return trip. If you can afford the price to keep this cabin for that long, you’re looking at a minimum of six days.”

  “What about another ship in Rouen?”

  “You can try, but if it were that easy to travel by sea on the spur of the moment, I wouldn’t find it necessary to use cargo ships like the Merhammer. But who knows, you could get lucky.”

  “Then I’ll just have to get lucky, won’t I?” she replied with a determined nod.

  He actually chuckled. “We’ll see. I usually try the port in Calais myself, where ships offer that short Channel hop you were thinking of. If you can’t get a cabin, most of the ships leaving for Dover will rent you deck space because the trip is so short. Actually,” he amended, “they’ll do that for a man. I’m not so sure about an unchaperoned woman. But at any rate, renting deck space isn’t a good idea if it’s raining or snowing, which is often the case this time of year.”

  Did he have to add yet another obstacle? “When will you be returning?”

  “Not as soon as I’d like to. I’m going to have to waste a couple days finding an…acceptable…wife.”

  Her eyes widened. “You’re going to France to get married?”

  He didn’t answer immediately; he was in fact giving her such a thoughtful look that it began to make her distinctly uncomfortable.

  But he finally answered, “Not a’tall. While that might delight my mother, I think even she would prefer an English daughter-in-law. Fortunately, I’m in no hurry to delight her. It’s not a real wife I need, just a woman to play the role for a few days.”

  “A fake wife?”

  He smiled enigmatically.

  “Exactly.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “If you’re offering to play the part, we can discuss it further. Otherwise, it’s none of your business.”

  She snorted and had to wrestle with her curiosity a bit before she could tell him, “Real or fake, I find marriage to you so detestable that my answer isn’t just no, it’s a resounding no.”

  He shrugged, closed his eyes, and made another attempt at that nap.

  Rebecca lay back on the bed, closing her eyes as well. It really was none of her business what he was up to. But she simply couldn’t imagine why anyone would need a fake wife, and her frustration was rising by the minute. Curiosity of this sort was overwhelming—no, she refused to ask him again and that was that.

  At least an hour passed. She’d almost gotten it out of her mind when she heard him say, “You’d probably get back to London quicker with me than on your own. There is the possibility that none of the merchant captains will deal with you simply because they don’t want unmarried women on their ships. It wasn’t so long ago when sailors considered women aboard their vessels bad luck, you know.”

  She’d never heard anything so silly, but she knew exactly what he was up to and said drily, “Did I not say no? Yes, I’m sure I did.”

  “I’m not joking, Becca. If I had a woman posing as my wife with me, I could probably be in and out of my destination city in a day. Even if I’m delayed trying to find an appropriate partner, I have a feeling I’ll still beat you to Calais and be home long before you are.”

  “Nonsense. If I must make that trip, I’ll do so in all haste.”

  “If you can find a coach willing to take you that far, you might. But my guess is you’ll be stuck using the public coaches, and they offer one delay after another. They don’t travel unless they�
�re full, you know. Are you going to wait for them to fill up at every town you pass through? Come to think of it, weeks instead of days is a more reasonable guess.”

  “All right!” she shouted to end his dire predictions. “If you can guarantee that I’ll be back in London in three days, then I’ll do it. If you can’t, then I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

  “Done,” he said.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  REBECCA WAS UNABLE TO eat lunch that day at sea, despite being hungry. The smell of food in the cabin had made her break out in a cold sweat and had put her back in front of the chamber pot until the sharp aromas were gone. Sailing was smoother later in the day, and by dinner she was able to sit at the tiny table with its one nailed-down chair, which Rupert had offered to her while he sat with plate in hand in the stuffed chair.

  “Enjoy every bite of that meal,” he told her. “It cost me five bloody pounds.”

  She nearly choked hearing that, but she continued to eat anyway, she was so famished. “He’s a thief,” she said of the captain with a nod of commiseration. “But I had no idea you were so low on funds that you’d feel the pinch of five pounds. I will certainly reimburse you.”

  She wasn’t being flippant. He’d complained so much about the cost of this trip, naturally she’d concluded that he was light in the pockets even though she probably should have kept it to herself.

  He gave her a hard look. “It has nothing to do being able to afford it or not. No one likes to be robbed, plain and simple. But it wasn’t the captain in this case, it was the cook. He didn’t like being inconvenienced when I asked for bland food because of your onboard malady, since he had a splendidly rich meal already prepared.”

  She felt horrible after that. It was the second thoughtful thing he’d done for her that day, neither of them expected. “I’m sorry.”

  He didn’t even acknowledge her apology with a simple nod, leading her to think she might have hurt his feelings. So while she hadn’t satisfied her curiosity yet over why he needed her to pose as his wife, she couldn’t bring herself to question him further.