To Dare a Rogue

by Lana Williams

  She turned toward him, her brow puckering as she saw him, making him think she might have forgotten he was there. Then she moved toward him, wiping away a tear.

  He offered her his handkerchief which she took. “Perhaps it’s best if you go,” she said as she twisted the linen between her fingers.

  “I could wait here,” he began, not wanting to intrude but hoping to lend support in whatever way he could. “I want to help however I can.”

  “No need. Why don’t I send word if we require assistance?”

  Though he wanted to protest, he held back. “I am so very sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you.”

  Edward escorted his mother out of the room without looking at James, causing unease to curl through him. Did Edward blame James for his father’s death? Did Charlotte?

  “Charlotte, I—”

  She shook her head, her gaze focused on the floor. “Please go.”

  ~*~

  The days following that terrible moment passed in a blur for Charlotte. Her father’s body had been laid out for mourners to pay their respects for two days. Word spread quickly, and the visitors had been numerous.

  Margaret called on her, which Charlotte appreciated. But despite numerous messages from James, she held off seeing him. How could she when her selfish wish to spend her life with him had caused her father’s death?

  Her mother never said as much, but Edward nearly had. The three of them had gathered around her father while he still lay in his bed after her mother had spoken with the doctor—after Charlotte had asked James to leave.

  “I should’ve spoken to him privately,” Edward said as they stared down at him. “I never guessed this would happen.”

  “I’m the one to blame,” Charlotte insisted. “If I had only done as he told me, he’d still be here.”

  “Neither of you are to blame.” Her mother studied her husband for a long moment then reached out to briefly press his hand. “I will ask his valet to prepare his body.” She left the bedchamber, leaving Edward and Charlotte alone.

  “This morning was a terrible mistake,” Edward said. “One that can’t be undone.”

  Guilt warred with grief inside Charlotte, clogging her throat, causing more tears to fall. He was right. “I am so sorry.”

  “I don’t know what I was thinking,” Edward continued. “I should’ve realized how upset he’d be to have not only his plan for you changed but his debt revealed. And now it’s my debt.” He ran a hand through his hair then tipped back his head as if it were too much to endure. “All his problems, including the debt, are mine now.”

  That phrase had echoed through Charlotte’s mind more times than she could count as they worked their way through the numerous decisions to be made. What type of coffin should be used? What mourning attire should be ordered? What should the staff wear? What refreshments should be served to visitors?

  Charlotte wanted to shout that none of it mattered. Only the fact that she was clearly to blame for her father’s death mattered. But she couldn’t leave her mother to worry about such things by herself.

  Much to her surprise, her mother seemed to have discovered an inner strength since her father’s passing. Charlotte had expected her to seek solace in spirits or the laudanum the doctor offered to ease her grief and help her sleep, but she’d done neither. She’d made decisions after consulting both Edward and Charlotte. She greeted mourners with dignity and gratitude, especially Lady Devlin. Their renewed friendship warmed Charlotte.

  Now that Edward was the Earl of Wynn, he was busier than ever. He had one meeting after another with the barrister and the steward, preferring to hold the discussions elsewhere, with only brief hours at home.

  Each time she saw him, Charlotte wanted to ask if he’d seen James. Her heart ached at the loss of his presence in her life but guilt kept her from responding to his messages. How could she proceed with their plan to be together when it had cost her family so much?

  She watched Edward carefully when he was home, waiting for him to declare they’d been ruined. That her father had gambled away everything unentailed, leaving them nothing with which to pay his debts. Had there been other debts than the one to Lord Samuelson? Thus far he’d said nothing, but she knew from the tension in his expression that all was not as it should be. It would only be a matter of time before Edward told them the truth.

  With that in mind, she cautioned her mother from spending much on mourning attire. Instead, they’d taken several of their older gowns and dyed them black. The servants wore black armbands as well.

  When James called, she couldn’t bring herself to see him. Not when it meant telling him that she intended to marry Lord Samuelson to settle her father’s debt. She refused to allow her family to be ruined because of her.

  ~*~

  James stared at his desk and the paper and ink there, wondering if he should bother sending another message to Charlotte. She clearly didn’t wish to see him. Had he lost her forever?

  No doubt he was a reminder of her father’s death. He told himself to be patient, something his mother continued to remind him of during his frequent visits home. The holes he’d felt when he returned from the war were nothing compared to the holes he felt now. Especially in his heart—he’d left it with Charlotte at Wynn House.

  He attended Lord Wynn’s funeral, but Edward hadn’t lingered at the family tomb to speak with mourners. As was customary, neither Lady Wynn nor Charlotte had attended as women were considered to have too delicate of a constitution to endure them—something he thought ridiculous. James sent several messages to Edward as well but had yet to receive a reply from him either.

  He’d shared the events of that terrible day with his mother and father, including his guilt.

  “Obviously, he had a weak heart,” his mother insisted. “That fact has nothing to do with you.”

  “If he hadn’t acted so unreasonably to your request to court Charlotte, there wouldn’t have been a need for confrontation,” his father added. “What were you to do? Leave Lady Charlotte to marry a man against her will? What sort of gentleman would do such a thing?”

  All of their points were valid and gave him a small measure of comfort but none eased his aching heart.

  He couldn’t dismiss his role in Lord Wynn’s death. Nor could he change what had happened. But there was one thing he could do.

  It took several attempts to track down the whereabouts of Lord Samuelson. A last he found him at White’s. Part of him worried Charlotte had gone through with the betrothal—a dreadful need to fulfill her father’s last wish. Only a week had passed since his death. Surely she wouldn’t make a rash decision so soon. Would she?

  “Samuelson.” James pointed to the man’s half-empty glass. “May I buy you a drink?”

  The lord’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “That depends. What is it you want?”

  “A brief conversation.”

  “Very well.” He gestured toward the other chair at his table.

  James gestured for a waiter then took a seat, making idle conversation until the waiter arrived with their drinks.

  “How much?” James asked after the waiter departed.

  “How much what?”

  “How much did Lord Wynn owe you?”

  Samuelson’s brow lifted in surprise. “How do you know anything about that?”

  “How much?” James repeated.

  “What business is it of yours?” He glanced around as if looking for someone else. “Shouldn’t the new Earl of Wynn be asking that question?”

  James gritted his teeth at the lord’s stubbornness and waited.

  Samuelson scowled as he leaned forward. “Ten thousand two hundred and fifty pounds.”

  James’ stomach dropped. The number was much worse than he’d feared. Raising that amount would not be easy, especially considering James had only a little over half that much.

  He pushed aside his drink and stood. “Consider the debt se
ttled. I’ll pay you half on the morrow and the rest next week.”

  “Why would you pay the debt?” Samuelson asked.

  To assuage his guilt over Lord Wynn’s death? To convince Charlotte to give him another chance? To persuade Edward to forgive him? The reasons were numerous, but he didn’t intend to share any of them with Samuelson.

  He left without giving any reason at all.

  ~*~

  Charlotte waited several more days, hoping she was wrong. But when Edward continued to stalk about the house with little to nothing to say, she decided she had waited long enough.

  She rose early and dressed in a black crepe gown—a lightweight black silk that used to be a pleasant pale blue—determined to catch Edward before he left for the day.

  She raised her hand to knock on the study door, remembering all too well the last time she’d entered this room. Her father had been alive and James had been at her side. She pressed her hand against the ache in her chest.

  In truth, the pain was caused more by the loss of James than her father. She didn’t miss having to tip-toe about the house with the hope of avoiding his wrath. Even the servants appeared to be in better spirits than when he’d been alive. None of them seemed to mind wearing their black armbands.

  But she missed James with a deep ache. She reprimanded herself for allowing him to steal into her thoughts. Not now. Thinking of him wouldn’t make this any easier. Far from it, in fact. Perhaps after more time had passed, in two or three years, she would look back on their adventures with fondness instead of heartache.

  With a deep, steadying breath, she knocked on the study door. At her brother’s muted response, she opened it to find Edward staring out the window.

  She walked slowly forward, her fingers finding James’ handkerchief, which she kept tucked in her sleeve to comfort her. The faint scent of him still clung to the fine linen. She couldn’t bring herself to have it washed, despite the numerous tears she’d shed into it. Holding it was the closest she would ever come to holding James again.

  “Good morning, Edward.” She forced her lips into the semblance of a smile, worried that if she allowed her true feelings to show, her brother wouldn’t accept her plan.

  He turned to face her but didn’t return her smile. Shadows smudged his eyes and his face was pale.

  “How bad is it?” she asked with a glance at the papers strewn across the desk.

  “Bad.” Edward tugged at his cravat as if it were overly tight. “Worse than I could’ve imagined.” He waved at the papers. “If I had known— If Father had told me—” He shook his head, seemingly at a loss for words.

  “Have you advised Mother?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Good.” Her mother had suffered enough due to her father’s actions. At least Charlotte could take some pleasure in knowing she could spare both her mother and brother pain.

  “Good?” Edward scoffed. “I have to tell her soon. Later today, perhaps. The quicker action is taken, the better. We’ll have to let most of the servants go.”

  Charlotte nodded. That was one more reason for her to move forward with her plan. Many of them would be spared the effort of searching for new employment. She cleared her throat. “I have a suggestion.”

  “What might that be?”

  “I will marry Lord Samuelson as Father wished.” She swallowed against the lump in her throat, refusing to allow tears to fill her eyes.

  “No.”

  “Yes. It is what must be done.” She felt calmer for having said it. “Will you contact him or should I send him a message?”

  “After all we went through to see you spared from a match with him, I will not allow this.” Edward’s eyes flashed with temper.

  “I am very sorry for arguing with Father on the matter. If I could take back that day...” She didn’t bother to finish the thought as she stared at what she realized were a pile of bills on the desk. “I cannot undo the past, but I can do my part to aid our family.”

  “No. I am searching for an heiress. If I marry well, it will ease our problems considerably. I have to marry soon anyway.”

  “As do I. Send a message to Lord Samuelson. Today.”

  “But Charlotte, James—”

  She jerked at the mention of his name and held up a hand to stop whatever Edward intended to say. “This is the least I can do for causing all this.”

  “You didn’t cause it. Father did. The selfish bastard,” Edward muttered, the anger in his tone shocking.

  “Do not speak ill of him now. He’s gone. What’s done is done. Let us move forward. Today.” She lifted her chin. “Please advise me as to whether Lord Samuelson is still agreeable to a match. An extended betrothal will be necessary because of mourning, but surely he won’t protest that requirement.”

  She turned and walked out, retrieving the handkerchief from her sleeve to hold against her cheeks as her tears fell. Only then did she realize the linen had lost his scent after all.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “What have you done?”

  James glanced up, dismayed to see an angry Edward, chest heaving, standing at his side where he sat at a card game at Madame Gaston’s.

  “I’ve just played an ace as you can clearly see.” James gestured toward the center of the table where his card sat, exposed, much like he felt at the moment.

  “Stand up. Now.”

  James hesitated a moment, not looking forward to resolving this before interested onlookers. The afternoon had yet to give way to evening and only a few others were playing. He stood and glanced about the room then looked again at Edward. “Why don’t we discuss this outside?”

  He turned to walk toward the door but was jerked back by Edward.

  “How dare you!” Edward’s fist clenched, a sure sign he was about to throw a punch.

  James sighed. He hadn’t meant to hurt his friend’s pride by paying the debt. He had wanted to help. To make up for what he’d done, though he knew the effort had been paltry at best.

  Nothing he could do would bring back Lord Wynn.

  James had been through much—fought in battles, witnessed death, and struggled against his inner demons. But he didn’t want to lose another friend. Nor did he wish to lose Charlotte. Did he allow Edward to hit him with the hope it calmed him, and then try to explain?

  Edward swung, and James braced himself, leaving his hands at his sides. This moment wasn’t about him or what he wanted. But that didn’t mean the blow wouldn’t hurt.

  To James’ surprise, Edward drew back at the last moment, an indignant look on his face. “Defend yourself.”

  “I’m not going to fight you.”

  Edward spun away, muttering curses before facing James again. “Then explain what you did.”

  “Over a drink?” James gestured toward the bar where they had the hope of speaking privately rather than airing the issue before the others who looked on with interest.

  “Damn right. And you’re buying with those deep pockets of yours.”

  James nearly snorted as he led the way out of the card room and into the bar. “They’re empty now. I was just about to win some blunt so I could pay my valet’s wages for the week.”

  “No one’s fault other than your own.” Edward’s tone held no sympathy as they moved toward a quiet table in the back corner.

  “True,” James admitted.

  “Why did you do it?” The emotion in Edward’s expression caught James, tugging at his sympathy. Edward ran a hand over his face. “Never mind. I already know. I’m still trying to wade through the mess my father left.”

  They ordered drinks, each lost in thought while the waiter served them.

  “Edward, please accept my apology for that day.” James studied him, noting that it didn’t look as if he’d slept in days. “I never intended to cause harm with my request to court Charlotte.”

  Edward held his gaze. “You don’t owe me or my family an apology. What happened was no one�
��s fault but his own and his foolish pride. As is the mess he left behind.” He shook his head as he stared into his glass. “Why didn’t he tell me? We could’ve found a way to pay the debts.”

  “I’m still sorry. If I had spoken with him alone again, he might not have become overly upset.”

  “I was there as well and feel equally to blame. But if it hadn’t been that, something else would’ve angered him and pushed him over the edge. The doctor mentioned he had seen him a few days before with complaints of chest pains. My father’s temper always got the better of him. Apparently, it got the better of his heart as well.”

  “My deepest condolences.” James didn’t forget for a moment that Edward’s life had been forever changed by that moment. Nor could he release his lingering guilt.

  “Thank you.” Edward dipped his head in acknowledgement. “I have to hope he’s happier where he is now. I will admit the house is more peaceful without his presence.”

  “To the new Earl of Wynn.” James raised his glass. “May you not follow in your father’s footsteps.”

  “If I’m ever as bull-headed as he was, I hope you’ll knock some sense into me.” Edward smiled, and they both took a drink. “Inheriting is more work than I imagined.”

  “That is what I am afraid of.” James smiled, appreciating Edward’s attempt to lighten the mood.

  “Misery loves company.”

  “I don’t think I’ll be inheriting any time soon based on the good health and spirits of my father,” James replied.

  “Tell me why you did it.” Edward held James’ gaze.

  “It seemed the least I could do, considering my part in what happened.”

  “I’m going to repay you.”

  James shook his head. “No, you aren’t.”

  “I am.” Edward drew a deep breath as he sat back in his chair. “It may take some time. But I insist on it.”

  “That isn’t necessary. However, there is one more issue we need to resolve.” Nerves caused his palms to dampen. He hoped he wasn’t refused, though it wouldn’t be a complete surprise after everything that had occurred. “I want to ask for Charlotte’s hand in marriage.”