A Rogue of My Own

by Johanna Lindsey

  Being pulled in completely opposite directions was quite unsettling. Look at his ridiculous reaction at that ball to her wanting to keep their marriage under wraps. Where in the bloody hell did that anger and jealousy come from? It would be too easy for Rebecca to conclude from his own actions that he was getting proprietary over her. And by keeping his anger in hand for the most part, and telling her he was tired of fighting, regardless if it was true or not, he could well have given her the impression that she’d won the war. Which wasn’t the case a’tall.

  So he was rather glad when the missive arrived from Nigel requesting a meeting. Rupert was ready to sink his teeth into anything that would get him out of the house and away from Rebecca’s constant presence.

  He arrived at the palace at the appointed hour. Nigel only kept him waiting a few minutes.

  “Has Pearson been apprehended?” Rupert asked.

  “It wasn’t necessary,” Nigel said on his way to his liquor cabinet. “Brandy?”

  Rupert had stiffened. “No, and why wasn’t it necessary? The evidence I sent you wasn’t conclusive enough?”

  His own brandy in hand and wearing his usual inscrutable expression, Nigel took the chair next to him. “On the contrary, the evidence would have gotten him hung, but your bullet saved us the trouble. The wound you gave him was severe enough that he died a few days after you returned to England.”

  “What the hell, my aim is better than that and I wasn’t trying to kill him.”

  Nigel shrugged, unperturbed. “By your own account, you were being bounced about in a fleeing coach. Perfectly understandable to have your aim fly off the mark in such a case. So, we are satisfied that justice has been served. A job well done, dear boy.”

  Rupert didn’t care for unexpected endings like that. Annoyed, he broached his summons. “I hope you’re not sending me out of the country again. I’d prefer to remain close to home just now.”

  “Someone ill?”

  “No.”

  When Rupert didn’t elaborate, Nigel made a face and got directly to the business at hand. “Sarah is finally out of the palace for good.”

  “By choice?”

  “No.”

  When Nigel didn’t elaborate, Rupert almost laughed. Touché. But he knew Nigel wouldn’t leave it at that, and he didn’t.

  “By all accounts she has retired from intrigue as well, since she no longer has a horde of lackeys to do her bidding. She’s getting married, though, which is what leads me to believe she’s retired from intrigue.”

  Now that was a surprise. “Sarah married? But who would have her?”

  “Lord Alberton. Not a bad catch, though the young debutantes might not think so, him being in his late forties. But he’s titled, rich, and easy on the eye.”

  “While Sarah is exactly the opposite on all accounts. What’d she do, blackmail him into it?”

  Nigel shrugged. “He was one of her targets last year, so that would be my guess.”

  “Over the attempt on the queen?”

  “No, I have given up trying to associate Alberton with that foul deed. Mere coincidence is all that turned out to be, that he happened to be seen upbraiding the boy who shot at her. But during that investigation I did turn up another bit of sordid business where he risked a brief affair with a young married duchess.”

  “And you think that’s what Sarah has on him?”

  “That’s my guess. In fact, I’m almost inclined to believe that most of her scandal gathering was in the interest of her buying herself a husband. She may have lined her pockets a little along the way, but I have a feeling she’d prefer a prime catch over money.”

  “He’s not exactly a prime catch at his age.”

  “For a woman her age, he is. And those in the ton tend to put a great deal of stock in the criteria that Lord Alberton fills.”

  Rupert raised a brow. “Bragging rights?”

  “If you want to call it that.”

  “But if that’s the case, why did she wait so long?”

  “Shopping?” Nigel rolled his eyes over his own catty remark. “Who can ascertain the mind of a woman? But she could have merely wanted a decent-sized list of titles to choose from. Regardless, I’d just like to be absolutely sure that she’s done with ferreting out information that she had no business knowing about.”

  This was to be Rupert’s job? He couldn’t help groaning, “Not her again.”

  “You’re still friends with her, aren’t you?”

  “I’ve let that peter out, so she might not see it that way.”

  “Well, now that she’s out of the palace, it might not hurt to simply be honest with her—and ask her directly. They are having a party tonight at Alberton’s house to announce their engagement. I’ve obtained an invitation for you and a companion.”

  Rupert sighed and accepted the folded invitation Nigel handed him. “I suppose my wife can be considered a companion.”

  “That isn’t funny.”

  “What part of it do you consider a joke?”

  “You’ve married?”

  “Too busy digging deep to notice what’s floating on the surface in plain sight? It’s the current on-dit making the rounds.”

  Nigel didn’t merely look shocked, he looked devastated. And it certainly wasn’t because he was the last to know. But for once, Rupert didn’t fly off the handle over this obvious reminder of how Nigel felt about him. He even understood a little better, now that he was having feelings of his own that were quite out of his control.

  Nigel recovered somewhat after draining his brandy. At least he managed to get his expression under control.

  His voice, however, was still shaky when he said, “I…suppose congratulations are in order.”

  Rupert kept his own voice toneless. “Not really. It may just be a temporary arrangement. We won’t know for a few more months.”

  “So it’s like that? But I thought you stayed away from young virgins.”

  “I do—did. But having one show up in my room at the palace late at night was a bit more’n I could resist. The very audacity of that suggested she wasn’t virginal, but she was.” Rupert sighed.

  “Who is she?”

  “Our last maid of honor, Rebecca Marshall, who is no longer a maid.”

  Nigel looked appalled now. “Good God, I hope this wasn’t my fault!”

  Rupert’s eyes narrowed slightly as he said, “Rest easy. You merely supplied her with an excuse to enact her own agenda, which was to get into my family one way or another.”

  Did he really believe that now? Doubts. There were too many where she was concerned. Yet to find her innocent on all counts was to admit that he’d gone beyond the pale himself. With any other supposed innocent showing up in his room looking and sounding so sexy, he would have been leaping out the bloody window in a panic to escape such an obvious trap. So the truth was, he hadn’t wanted to resist Rebecca.

  Nigel broke into his thoughts, observing, “She didn’t strike me as mercenary.”

  Rupert choked back a laugh as he stood up to leave. “It’s a fallacy of ours to think most women are empty-headed and in need of our guidance because of it. It’s only what they want you to think, you know.”

  “They aren’t all as intelligent as this girl.”

  “Of course not, no more than all men are created equal. But you’d be surprised just how many are smarter than they let on.”

  Rupert made his way to the door. Behind him, Nigel remarked, “I find myself surprised to say, she’s well suited to you.”

  Rupert stopped and swung around angrily. “You are not going to try to enlist her again.”

  “No, wouldn’t dream of it. I was sorry when she decided not to work for me. They may not all be empty-headed chits, as you say, but it’s still quite rare to find a girl that young with the intelligence to improvise as needed. I merely recalled that you’d found her to be a challenge, even remarked on it. I think in a wife, with anything less than that sort of challenge, you’d find yourself bored very
quickly. At least she’ll keep you on your toes.”

  That didn’t deserve a reply. Challenge indeed. The woman was nothing but a challenge. He didn’t want to stand that bloody high on his toes!

  Chapter Forty-eight

  THEY HAD ATTENDED SEVERAL more parties as chaperones for Amanda, but this was the first time Rupert was taking Rebecca to a party himself. He hadn’t told her much about it, merely what time to be ready, and to wear something fetchingly wifely, whatever the deuce that meant. She couldn’t say exactly what got her so excited about it.

  Amanda was pouting upstairs because Julie had scolded her for trying to intrude on a private affair when Amanda had asked to join them. That could be what had triggered Rebecca’s excitement. It sounded so personal, “private affair.” And with so little information volunteered, this evening’s party had the feel of a surprise to it.

  So she took special care with her appearance that night and ignored that her pink and violet, laced evening gown was yet another dress from her wardrobe that was fitting her far too snugly now. An amethyst pendant was attached to the velvet choker around her neck; thin, wispy golden curls dangled at her temples; an actual spark of blue was in her dark eyes, so rarely seen. Because the excitement was building to an uncontainable level?

  She fairly flew downstairs the moment Flora pronounced her ready. Of course Rupert wasn’t anywhere to be seen yet. So with a sigh she joined Julie and Owen in the parlor. They paused in their card game to chat with her and remark on how fetching she looked.

  Though Julie did whisper in an aside to her, “It’s time for you to get a new wardrobe, gel, that gives you a little room to breath. I’ll take you shopping next week.”

  Rebecca was still blushing a little over that when Rupert walked in and Julie said in complete disgruntlement, “Rebecca, why haven’t you burned his wardrobe yet?”

  Rebecca turned to see what had provoked that question, then just stared. Her husband was wearing one of those horribly bright satin coats better suited to a costume ball, this one in a ghastly orange, with excessive lace at the wrists and the throat. With his long black hair and his soft cheeks so smoothly shaved, it made him look somewhat effeminate when she knew he was anything but.

  But he actually looked to be trying not to laugh when he said to his mother, “She’ll do nothing of the sort. She likes my taste in clothes. It reminds her of when we first met.”

  Rebecca continued to just stare, her mind in a whirl. It sounded as if he was just teasing, but she couldn’t be sure. To imply that she had fond memories of their first meeting wasn’t even remotely amusing. She had nothing of the sort.

  “You can’t seriously intend to take your wife out wearing something like that?” Julie continued.

  “What’s wrong with what she’s wearing?”

  “Not her, you fool. You! You’re married now. Your old taste in clothes—”

  “Marriage has nothing to do with taste, Mother,” Rupert cut in. “Well, perhaps a little, at least in women, but nothing a’tall to do with one’s wardrobe. Shall we go, m’dear?”

  The last was added for Rebecca as he put an arm around her to lead her out of the room. His hand on her hip was all she could think about.

  But his mother refused to be dismissed so easily. Julie actually shouted after him, “Find a new tailor! You’re mortifying your wife!”

  Rebecca refrained from glancing at him to see how he took that remark. Perhaps this was a costume ball they were headed to and he hadn’t mentioned it because he didn’t want to risk his wife’s showing up in a man’s garb again. He could just have said so. She did have a number of costumes now that didn’t include breeches.

  His crested coach was waiting outside for them, Matthew on the driver’s box. Once they were inside it with the door closed, seated on opposite benches, she watched incredulously as Rupert performed an immediate transformation.

  He shrugged out of his bright satin coat first and laid it on the seat beside him. The long stream of lace at his cuffs wasn’t actually a part of his white lawn shirt after all, was merely tied to his wrists to make it seem so, and he untied those now and tossed them on top of the coat. The flowing cravat came off next, to reveal a thin, fashionable one beneath it. Finally he stood up—well, not really, he was too tall for that, but he got off his seat so he could lift it up to put the discarded items away and take out another coat that had been stashed there, a quite tasteful one in dark navy blue with a thin trim of black satin on the lapels.

  She understood now, or thought she did. His apparel had been a ruse to tease his mother with? Julie was the only one who made a fuss about it. But why go to such extremes? Yet she’d seen it quite often during the week, how gruff and mulish Julie got when he said something she disapproved of, and he did it so often! All in jest? Julie didn’t seem to take it that way.

  He finally looked over at her and asked pointedly, “Were you mortified?”

  Confused was what she’d been, but she wasn’t going to say so. “Um, not really, though I confess I suspected we were going to a costume ball and you simply forgot to mention it. Why do you tease your mother so mercilessly?”

  “Out of the goodness of my heart.” That made not a jot of sense to her until he added, “It gives her purpose, to think she still needs to whip me into shape. Although I suppose I could tone it down for a while. It’s getting quite hard to get a spark out of her while she’s so bloody delighted with me.”

  He seemed exasperated and annoyed at the last part of his remark and got back to making sure he now looked presentable, smoothing out his sleeves, jerking down his lapels to make sure they were straight. She finally understood Amanda’s remark to her earlier in the week, when she’d tried to explain her aunt’s bullish demeanor wasn’t natural at all.

  “It’s a trait she’s developed,” Amanda had told Rebecca. “She felt she had to make the sacrifice, to give up her softer side so she could take on the role of both parents for her sons while they were so young. An extreme transformation that mostly amused the family after she couldn’t be talked out of it. Stubbornness runs in our family, you know.”

  Amused now, and feeling an odd sort of tenderness for the eldest son who was still trying to make sure his mother didn’t feel she’d wasted the effort, Rebecca said, “At least you didn’t need to change your breeches.”

  He glanced up again instantly, pinning her eyes with his, his own suddenly gone lambent. “Now why didn’t I think of that? Would it inspire you to ravish me?”

  She wasn’t going to answer that! Yet an image was now branded in her mind of him sitting there with no breeches. Her blush was acute.

  He took pity on her though and took his overly sensual gaze off her to say, “You needn’t worry in that regard—at least until spring. I draw the line at freezing my arse during the winter months.”

  He wouldn’t have been cold. The weather was quite chilly, but certainly not that extreme yet so early in December. And besides, a brazier was heating the enclosed space nicely so they didn’t need to bundle up in coats just to go from coach to party and back. But she appreciated his attempt to diffuse her discomfort over her thoughtless humor.

  She managed to keep her eyes off him for the remainder of that short ride. No matter what he wore, the man was still far too handsome not to affect her in unwanted ways. Still thinking about him with no pants on, she got so uncomfortably hot by the time they reached their destination, she wished she’d brought a fan with her. In the winter.

  But all heat left her when she recognized the house they alighted in front of. Lord Alberton’s residence on Wigmore Street.

  Good God, she’d been set up, was her first thought. Did Rupert want some kind of closure on what she’d told him so long ago? Was he trying to prove her excuse for showing up in his room in the palace that night had been a lie?

  Chapter Forty-nine

  TIGHT-LIPPED AND GROWING ANGRIER by the minute, Rebecca made no remark as Rupert escorted her to the door Flora had knocked on fo
r Constance so many weeks ago. It was opened as they approached by the butler, stationed there, who ushered them inside quickly to make sure as little cold as possible got into the house.

  The sound of many people talking and laughing drew them to the parlor. Rebecca began to relax slightly. It really was a party, though why Rupert would want to come to one at this particular house she still found suspicious. He could at least have warned her. That he hadn’t done so was why she wasn’t letting down her guard completely.

  Before they were greeted by anyone, she asked him, “Why are we here?”

  “It’s an engagement party I couldn’t decline.”

  “Anyone I know?”

  “Yes” was all he said before their host arrived to welcome them.

  Rebecca hadn’t really got a good look at Lord Alberton that day she’d helped Constance. She hadn’t been interested enough to try. He was quite a handsome man, though, probably in his late forties, jet-black hair, clear green eyes, an athletic physique that would have done a younger man proud. He had an odd air about him, however, that she couldn’t quite place until his expression changed as he moved away from them to speak with someone else.

  “Is he the groom?” she asked. At Rupert’s nod she added, “He doesn’t seem too happy.”

  She immediately wished she had kept that observation to herself. It was a distinct reminder of how Rupert had come to the altar, not that they’d had an altar. A brisk wind, a gloomy sky, a rocking ship, their brief ceremony wasn’t worth remembering. And Lord Alberton had that same sort of mood that Rupert had had. Still, Lord Alberton had been gracious in welcoming them, though he seemed not to know Rupert other than by name, which was not surprising as there was probably a twenty-year age difference between them.

  Rupert led her farther into the room to a couple he was acquainted with. After a few moments of conversation that she was easily able to participate in, he left her there to fetch them refreshments, obviously thinking he was leaving her in good hands.