A Rag-mannered Rogue

by Hayley A. Solomon

  “Nonsense, for I know perfectly well that you must have . . . vast experience of beautiful women.”

  “Yes, indeed.”

  Tessie’s heart sank at his careless agreement. He smiled.

  “All of them would be perfectly wild for the banker’s draft I’ve just promised you!”

  “You are being completely nonsensical. I wish you would be serious. I must take my leave.”

  “Not until you finish those cupcakes.”

  “There are a dozen on that plate!”

  “You need filling. What did you have for breakfast?”

  “Only chocolate. I was nervous. . . .”

  “Oh, nervous, were you?”

  “Yes. It is not every day I dun peers of the realm!”

  “Well, you are making a hash of it. Tell me, for goodness’ sake, what I owe!”

  “Ten thousand pounds!” Tessie glared at him, choked on her cupcake, and coughed.

  “Oh, is that all? What a pother over nothing. Here, I’ll make it over to you now. Doubtless my new man of business will be reminding me of it when I see him.”

  “Ten thousand pounds is not nothing, my lord!”

  “It is when considered in the light of a dowry.”

  “It is not a dowry, my lord! I will have you know, I intend to turn it to good use!”

  “Another of Madame Fanchon’s gloomy gowns?”

  “Don’t be absurd. I have an estate to maintain. I can do so for a six-month on that!”

  “And then?”

  “That is my business, my lord!”

  “And yet, curiously, my business, too.” Blue eyes searched her face.

  In a rush, Tessie defied him.

  “You are so certain you can coerce me into a marriage! Well, you shan’t. My reputation is not worth salvaging, my lord. I am never going to make a court appearance or appear in the ballrooms of the Duchess of Doncaster or Lady Aberfeldy or their like. Perhaps, if I were not penniless, wedding you might have made some marvelous difference. But I am penniless and I am unchaperoned, and I am having a private interview with you in a closed library in a most improper manner! Society cannot forgive that, they won’t.”

  “They shall if I send a note to The Gazette.”

  “Well, you won’t! I won’t have you acting the martyr when I am perfectly able to stand on my own two feet!”

  “You are not perfectly able to stand on your own two feet! I have seen you trip over your hems—”

  “Oh, how literal you choose to be, but you shall see!”

  “What shall I see?”

  “You shall see me make an honest living.”

  “As a companion? Governess?”

  “Good Lord, no! I would make a shocking companion—my terrible temper, you understand—and as for a governess! The very thought makes me laugh.”

  “I like to see you laugh. It brings the bloom back to your cheeks.”

  “Now you are saying I am like a washed-out rag, in the usual way.”

  “Well, you are, in all those drab gowns, and with your pale skin and dark lashes casting shadows across your countenance—”

  Tessie was indignant. “Well! If you want to trade insults. . .”

  “I do not. Tell me why you won’t make a good governess? Your answers intrigue me.”

  “Don’t you have someplace to go, my lord? I am sure all this must be a shocking bore.”

  “I will tell you swiftly when I am bored. Go on.”

  “I would make a nightmare of a governess because I would very likely encourage the pupils to play truant, like I did. And I would spill the watercolors, teach them to poach trout from the lakes. . . . I would never get the job. No references. I could forge them, but Grandfather always says these things come back to haunt you.”

  Nicholas’s mouth trembled, but he managed to retain a straight face through this tangled explanation. “How sage. And so?”

  “And so?”

  “Yes. Tell me what would be a preferable alternative to marriage with me.”

  “Oh! Well, not necessarily preferable, for it must be great good fun to have people bowing and scraping and kowtowing to your every word. . . .”

  “I do not notice you doing such!”

  “No, but then, Grandfather always says I am a contrary female. But you noted how the innkeeper jumped to your commands, where he merely turned up his nose at mine.”

  “Yes, well, you did look like you’d stepped backward from a hay cart!”

  “Unfair! I was wearing a perfectly respectable traveling gown before Oliver Dobbins mussed it up! And the innkeeper, whatever you may say, did treat you royally and ensure the fire was lit and the sheets aired. . . .”

  “True. So tell me this plan that is not preferable to marriage with me.” Nicholas Cathgar’s eyes twinkled.

  Tessie refused to look at them. Rather, she fiddled with her fingers.

  “Not preferable, but a good deal more sensible. I may not be able to draw or dance, but I can sew. I am remarkably good at it, actually, though Grandfather always used my samplers to clean his guns.”

  “I am amazed you did not shoot him!”

  “No, for they are silly kickshaws, but the finer work, the beading on poplins and gauzes, even on jaconets, I always hid up in the attics. I would have been as mad as fire if he had used those.”

  “Oh, undoubtedly. So what are you going to do? Set up shop?”

  Tessie eyed him suspiciously. “You are funning me! I daresay you think I don’t know what sort of sum I would need for such an enterprise!”

  “Oh, no, you sadly underestimate me, madam! Nothing, you know—especially in the more manly line—would astonish me!”

  Tessie grinned. “Grandfather always said I had a good head for finances and a perfectly rotten one for the softer arts.”

  “I delight in hearing the viscount’s utterances—always so judicious—but I suppose it is your pleasure that I die of suspense?”

  Tessie looked severe. She did not want to smile at his sarcasm—it might encourage such frivolous behavior in the future. She closed her mind to the fact that there was no future.

  “Now you are talking nonsense again. But I did think I could put my skills to good use. . . .”

  “Undoubtedly. There must be a way. . . .” Nicholas murmured this quietly, and the wicked gleam returned to a sapphire-blue eye. He took Tessie’s hand and kissed her palm, but she withdrew it immediately, a troubled frown upon her brow.

  “If you do not behave with decorum, I shall be forced to leave.”

  “You have vanished once without trace. Do not, I pray you, do so a second time. I shall, with reluctance, forbear to kiss you.”

  “Good. For if you compromise me any further, you might get all noble again. Very inconvenient.”

  “I apologize. Now, are you going to tell me your plan, or am I going to shake you till your teeth rattle?”

  “They will not rattle. All my teeth, thankfully, are my own. But I will satisfy your curiosity and tell you what I mean to do. I am going to—no, don’t look shocked—I am going to trim ladies’ bonnets. You know, create subtle effects with ermine and gauze and peacock feathers. . . . Don’t gape, my lord, it is very bad form.”

  “Yes, added to my undoubted crime, I am going to supplement my income by becoming a milliner’s model! My abigail once told me—she is frightfully chatty, you know—that you can make a fortune on Bond Street selling hats.”

  Tessie took a breath and smiled radiantly at Nicholas. The notion had only just crystallized in her mind, but it seemed to her to be rather perfect. Her ten thousand pounds could be sent home to make improvements on the estate and supply the tenants. With any luck, the land could be self-sufficient, carefully managed, in six months.

  He smiled as he scribbled his note of hand. “Novel, if idiotic. I look forward to viewing your progress.”

  “You shan’t, for gentlemen are not permitted to such establishments.”

  “And a very good thing too.”

&nbs
p; Tessie did not raise her brows at this cryptic comment. She merely reviewed his note and remarked that the sum was incorrect.

  “No, for if you compound it with interest, you will find I have made the calculation perfectly.”

  “It is apparently an extortionate interest rate.”

  “Your grandfather was as shrewd as they come.”

  “Very well, I shall accept your word. And your note. You have been most obliging over this matter, my lord.”

  “I am always most obliging.”

  Tessie chuckled. Now that the interview she’d dreaded was over, she felt singularly relieved. Tomorrow’s worries—that of finding an employer—were not upon her today. Today she held in her hand a sum that would satisfy her bankers and buy her a sherbet at Gunthers. She could not, she supposed, ask for more.

  “Will you come to me for help if you need it?”

  “No, for we have no claim of kinship. Are the Luddites arrested?”

  “All but one. But they have Grange—he went up before the magistrate at Stipend and is currently awaiting trial. If we have stopped his activities, it was worth the wound. I fear I might have another scar, though, to mar my comely countenance.”

  Tessie wanted to ask how he acquired the other, but for once she was silent. He was staring at her strangely, so that her pulses raced again, and she nearly—very nearly—disgraced herself by flinging herself into his arms.

  “The Prince of Wales wishes to convey his compliments to you.”

  “Pardon?”

  “He has been apprised of your no small role in the affair.”

  “It was a foolish role! Oh, you should not have said a thing!”

  “I did not, though it seems the same could not be said of Lord Christopher Lambert. It appears, dear delight, that you have stolen his heart, too.”

  “I have not stolen your heart, my lord.”

  “No?” Nick looked whimsical for a moment but did not pursue or contradict the matter. Tessie, holding her breath again, told herself not to be such a clodpole. Of course she had not stolen his heart. How could she, when she had acted foolishly, churlishly, hoydenishly . . . oh, she could think of dozens of uncomplimentary phrases!

  “He is holding a ball at Carlton House. He would like you to attend.”

  “I cannot, my lord, I am not yet out.”

  “Perhaps the occasion can rectify that. Queen Charlotte will be attending. His highness might present you to her himself.”

  “No! I have not a thing to wear and I doubt that he—or the queen—could wish to consort with milliners’ models.”

  Nick’s eyes twinkled. “Au contraire, but I shall spare your blushes. Further, I have a mind to have you safely wed before you make any curtsies to his highness. His reputation, sadly, is more ruinous than your own.”

  “Let us not argue the matter again, my lord. You have had my answer.”

  “But, sadly, I do not accept it. I always get my own way, Tessie.”

  “Not with me, you don’t!”

  Nick’s eyes narrowed. “Is that a challenge? I am singularly fond of challenges!”

  “You lost to Grandfather!”

  “All the more reason to repair my losses.”

  “You are bullying me!”

  “Nonsense! I am merely being forceful. I happen to want to wed you, Tessie, and I will.”

  “You can’t without my consent.”

  “I will make you consent.”

  “How?”

  “How?” Nicholas took two paces forward and pulled Tessie into his arms. He was too quick for her to struggle, and he pinned her hands against his chest so she could not move. Tessie opened her mouth to protest, though she was trembling so much she could hardly do more than murmur. Besides, his mouth was upon hers before she could think of anything sobering or witty to say. And, oh, it was so, so luxurious! He was gentle, but just firm enough to stop any nonsensical protest.

  Soon Tessie was not protesting in the least but losing herself deep in the jade green of his morning coat, until he pushed her from him so that he could kiss her lashes, her temple, her throat . . . but she wanted his warmth again, so she drew her fingers up his starched white shirt, silky thin against his skin.

  “You appear to convince rather easily.”

  The voice from above was lazy and amused. He pushed her from him, teasing.

  Tessie’s throat constricted. Oh! However could she have let matters get to such a stand? Now she could add “wanton” to her rapidly compounding list of sins, and what was more, if she did not extricate herself soon, she would lose all her resolve. She would simply melt and give in to Lord Cathgar’s very pleasurable demands. It would be no hardship marrying him, more like an absurd dream come true.

  She would do it, if only she were convinced that the dream would not turn into a nightmare for either of them. She rather thought it would when Nick finally did meet someone he wanted to marry . . . someone who was not troublesome and meddlesome, who was not inclined to be trigger happy, who behaved with fashionable decorum. . . who was beautiful . . . oh, the list went on, and Tessie’s hands flew to her mouth in horror at what she had done, was doing. . . . She could not permit a few moments of wicked pleasure to cloud her judgment.

  Grandfather Hampstead had always taught her to think with her head, not her silly, wayward heart. She must convince Nicholas to alter course. If she did not, he would live to regret his reckless chivalry. Tessie did not think she could ever live with herself—or him—if he did.

  But how in the world to convince him? After her enthusiastic response, he appeared more determined than ever, the arches of his brows testament to a certain smug satisfaction. He seemed so certain she was going to meekly do his bidding.

  It was clear, despite her note of hand, that he did not take her plans seriously. If she became a milliner’s model, heaven and earth would not then allow her to become a countess. He was not so stupid not to realize this, yet still he persisted with the confounded notion that she was to be his wife.

  Something had to be done to shatter his composure once and for all. He needed to know, as she did, that a marriage between them could not take place. Tessie bit her lip at the irony of finally loving when it was quite impossible. She would be viewed by the world—viewed by him, with time—as no more than a fortune hunter. She could not, somehow, bear that.

  She swallowed, and lunged a sword into his heart. It hurt more surely than as if it had been her own. “You are not the only eligible offer I have had, my lord.”

  “But the only one you are going to accept.” The words were faintly possessive. Tessie ignored the sudden hope that he really did want to marry her—for herself, not simply as a means out of an impossible scrape. She took a deep breath and threw caution to the winds.

  “My lord, your offer was kind but misguided. Understand that I am grateful for the ten thousand pounds, but I shall not wed you. You hardly know me, nor I you.”

  “That can be rectified.”

  “No, it cannot. You forget the other offer.”

  Nicholas’s eyes narrowed, his mind suddenly keen and alert. “Good God, if I didn’t know any better, I would say that that puppy Christopher Lambert beat me to the post!”

  “This is not a race, my lord! And I doubt whether the dose of cod liver oil endeared me to him quite as much as you think! No, indeed . . .”

  “Then, who . . .”

  “Another peer of the realm, Nick. Someone kind . . . and gentle . . .” Tessie guiltily ignored poor Lord Alberkirky’s stammer, and his patent relief at being freed from her obvious clutches. She suspected, though, that nothing would deter Nick from his course but this. He was used, sadly, to getting his own way. Several sisters had not cured him of this fault. If he decided for whatever insane reasons—all of them hopelessly wrong, of course—to marry her, then marry her he would, unless he had very strong provocation to the contrary.

  It appeared the absent Lord Alberkirky was provocation enough. Tessie felt a great pain at her triump
h.

  Lord Cathgar turned his back and picked up his drink. Tessie waited in silence.

  “So! I am a fool. You did not need all my knight-errant behavior.” A wry, self-deprecating smile as some of the Madeira was tossed from his glass into the fire. It blazed dangerously for a moment, then settled.

  He continued, his voice light but unmistakably brittle.

  “Doubtless your reputation shall be spared by someone far more suitable than myself. I am relieved. You have spared me much trouble, though I rather wish, when I asked you upon two occasions earlier whether your heart was engaged, you had told me the truth.”

  The lightness in his tone changed, suddenly, to become as hard as granite, and though an elegant back was turned to the window, Tessie could hear the grinding of clenched teeth, see the smooth lines of his gloves fold into a tight white ball. She would have run to him then but for the fact that it was not his heart but his ego that was engaged. He would recover, and one day he would—might, if ever their paths crossed again—thank her for it.

  Tessie wondered if they would ever meet again. The cupcakes looked miserable on their silver dish.

  “Good-bye Nick. You have been very, very kind.”

  If her heart ached more than she either liked or owned, it was her own silly fault.

  Nicholas strode back to her and tilted her chin in his hand. For an instant—for a glorious instant—she thought she might be kissed again. But she was not. The Earl of Cathgar merely touched her cheek, and regretfully rang for Amesbury.

  Amesbury, closing the door behind the earl, did not seem to notice Miss Hampstead’s tear-filled eyes or hesitant walk as she followed him through the maze of passages and hallways. He could not know that she was memorizing every last feature of the gracious establishment, or reflecting on the unlikelihood of ever seeing good Lord Nick again. The sunshine, when the second footman opened the great oak door, flooded across the steps and into her eyes.

  Thirteen

  “Nicholas Cathgar, did I hear you right?”

  “Yes, you did, Mama.”

  “Then you are a fool.”

  “Yes, for falling in love with a scheming little hussy!”

  “Did she tell you she was betrothed before or after you persisted in your bullying?”