Rogue's Reward

by Jean R. Ewing

  The major glanced around at Eleanor, then straightened and put away his blade.

  “No harm done, Campbell!” he said with bluff good humor, though it obviously cost him some effort to swallow his anger. “You gave me a damned fine workout, sir. Made me feel young again. Now what do you say to some refreshment?”

  Mr. Campbell sat up. The thin April sunshine caressed the planes of his face. Shadows danced in his disordered hair. He was smiling, but not as if with genuine satisfaction.

  “As you have noticed, we have female company to grace your drawing room, Major. No doubt the ladies would like some tea after witnessing our shocking display. Lady Eleanor is as pale as a ghost.”

  Sir Robert bowed to her. He was still breathing hard and there was a strange glitter in his eyes. Perhaps he still couldn’t be certain of his control over his emotions, for he did not offer to escort the ladies into the house. Instead, he merely called out that he would go in and have the servants prepare tea.

  Meanwhile, Walter had taken Diana’s hand and was leading her inside through the French windows.

  Eleanor faced Mr. Campbell alone on the grass. He met her gaze frankly enough, but the violet eyes were unreadable.

  “‘Why, what should be the fear?’” he quoted softly. “‘I do not set my life at a pin’s fee.’”

  Chapter 7

  “I am not afraid,” Eleanor said. “I am angry.”

  He stood up, then bent to catch up the saber and thrust it into his scabbard.

  “No, because you knew I was in no danger, didn’t you?”

  “I don’t give a tinker’s whistle whether you live or die, Mr. Campbell. Why were you baiting the poor major like that? I never saw such a mean, ungentlemanly display in all my life.”

  “You are right, of course. I have no excuse.”

  “But you must have had a reason.”

  He sighed. “If I did, it wasn’t good enough. I achieved precisely nothing and wish very fervently that ladies hadn’t had to witness it.”

  “Diana is extremely upset.”

  “She’ll no doubt forgive me.”

  “Yes, because she loves you. You trade on that a lot, don’t you? Other people’s love and honor. Like the major’s. In spite of his anger, he’d never have harmed you. He rescued you from the convent.”

  The violet eyes flashed. “And lives to regret it? Good God, Lady Eleanor, you are very quick to take sides, aren’t you? But then you think honor and loyalty are involved. I won’t deny it. I owe the major more than I can say. He did indeed bring me back from Ireland. He had no reason that I can fathom for so doing. When I was a boy, he even taught me to ride and shoot. I thought him the very model of a gentleman. There can be no reason at all for me to bait him, can there, except for my own perverse ingratitude?”

  “I don’t know,” Eleanor said desperately.

  She couldn’t account for her feelings when she faced Leander Campbell. She could easily build him up into a monster in her imagination, but when they were together it was as if a clamor of other voices jumbled together in her mind to confuse her judgment.

  It’s because he’s so beautiful, she told herself. That’s why he gets away with it. Because no one can believe that such a face and such a body could hide nefarious intent. Wasn’t the devil always supposed to be attractive? And to so abuse the poor major, after creating this predicament over her mother’s letters! It was unconscionable.

  “I wish it could be different,” Mr. Campbell said suddenly. Then he grinned, as if it cost him no effort at all. “Just don’t forget that I’m a bastard. You don’t need to find reasons for my behavior; they’re all bad ones. And I’m not even foxed this time.”

  As you were at the Three Feathers? She would not refer to it.

  “Nor were you yesterday when you pretended not to know that the roof was unsafe.”

  “Only a slight error of judgment,” he said. “I had ordered it repaired, but I had no idea it was in imminent danger of collapse.”

  “You must have done.”

  He shrugged. “‘Mad let us grant him, then,’” he quoted.

  “You must be mad,” Eleanor said. “Now I think I shall go in for tea.”

  She whirled away and dashed up to the house in a flurry of muslin. Lee watched her go. Then he lay back down on the grass and flung one hand over his eyes.

  “You’re a damned idiot, Leander Campbell,” he said to himself after a moment. “Let her hate you! You can never have her and it’s far kinder this way.” He dropped his hand and looked up at the sky. His voice dropped to a whisper, but it was still full of self-mockery. “Damn it all! You’ve enough debts of honor. What’s one more you owe to yourself and to her, you fool? For God’s sake, she’s entirely, irrevocably, and always beyond you. And she’s just a schoolgirl, remember?”

  His pain so distracted him that he thought no more about what he might have discovered from Major Crabtree. He had intended to get the major angry enough that he would let down his guard and allow something, anything, to slip. It hadn’t happened. Or had it?

  There must be something that had made the major so very angry when Lee had mentioned Manton Barnes, but God knew what!

  He sprang up and walked deliberately back to the house. He carefully put away the saber, and washed his face in cold water. When he finally joined the company in the drawing room, he was as charming, as wickedly inventive, and as impossible as ever.

  Eleanor refused to notice him. If she did, she would never maintain her hard-won indifference, nor her determination to believe the worst of him. Instead, she glanced around the room. The drawing room gave onto a hallway. Where was the library?

  “Do you love books, Sir Robert?” she asked as soon as the chance presented itself. “Is that something else Mr. Campbell has learned from you?”

  “I have a fine collection, Lady Eleanor. But it doesn’t match Mr. Campbell’s. His London library is famous.”

  She allowed herself to sparkle just a little. “Oh, I do love libraries! Is there a large one here at Deerfield?”

  “Let me show you,” the major said instantly. “It’s on the other side of the hall.”

  Eleanor was delighted that it was so easy to be a detective, but it was a great deal more difficult to act like a spy. There was the paneling, just as Frank Garth had described it, with rows of bosses shaped like Tudor roses. Yet she could think of no earthly reason why she should be left alone in Major Crabtree’s library. In fact, Walter and Diana had followed her and were also admiring the books. Mr. Campbell lounged carelessly in the doorway and watched them.

  “Did you ever find a copy of that Latin bestiary we were hunting for, Sir Robert?” he asked after a while.

  The major turned and smiled at the younger man. He seemed to have entirely forgotten the episode in the park. It just goes to show what a thorough gentleman he is, Eleanor thought. No wonder Mama made him a special friend.

  “Indeed, sir!” he said. “In fact, the bookseller in Red Lion Street in Norwich has a copy, and I believe I have almost persuaded him to part with it for something less than the fortune it’s worth.”

  “Then let’s go there,” Mr. Campbell said instantly.

  “If you wish it.” The major smiled. “We’ll show your friend Mr. Downe our fine city.”

  “Norwich?” Diana said in dismay. “But won’t you be gone overnight? Norwich is too far to go there and back in a day, surely?”

  “Indeed, Lady Diana,” the major said. “But that’s no matter. What do you say, Mr. Downe?”

  “Well, if Lee wishes it—” Walter began.

  “I can’t wait,” Mr. Campbell said. “If it’s a fine enough copy of the bestiary, I’ll get it out of the man if I have to hang him by his toes.”

  “No doubt you would,” Eleanor said archly.

  His violet gaze seemed only to mock her. “I’d even roast him alive, Lady Eleanor.”

  Diana giggled. “Lee! How can you say such things?”

  “No doubt your purse
will be sufficient inducement, Mr. Campbell, without having to revert to savagery,” Eleanor said.

  Indeed, if her suspicions were correct, his purse would soon be overflowing with her mother’s money.

  “You say so only because you’re not a collector,” he replied. “You may have an interest in libraries, but you can have no idea of the passions of the chase felt by the true fanatic on the scent of a rare volume.”

  “Then when do we leave?” Walter asked.

  Eleanor moved away, nonchalantly counting the roses. Poor Mr. Downe, who was far too polite to demur when a plan so important to his friend was proposed for his entertainment, even if it would take him away from Diana!

  But Mr. Campbell smiled at his friend as if he cared nothing for his reluctance. “What about tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow it shall be, then,” the major said. “I can put things here on hold for two days. Now, ladies, may I call out my carriage for you?”

  “Thank you, Major, but there’s no need, really,” Diana replied with a pretty smile. “Eleanor and I like to walk, and maybe the young gentlemen may escort us back?”

  “With pleasure—” Walter began, but Mr. Campbell interrupted him.

  “No, take the carriage, dear Di. Major Crabtree is drowning in urgent business, and Mr. Downe and I must prepare for our venture to Norwich. We’ll see you when we return. It won’t be more than a few days.”

  He gave her a small wink and left the room.

  Eleanor turned to the major, who stood at her elbow. “You are very forbearing, Sir Robert. It would seem that Mr. Campbell takes flagrant advantage of your goodwill. Does he always have his way, even when it inconveniences everybody else?”

  “He means no harm at all,” the major said with a small sigh. “I admit it’s not easy to see a lad that you’ve led on his first pony take pleasure in being headstrong and irresponsible, but there you are. He likes to goad.”

  “But he owes you everything,” Eleanor said.

  “And so I must find forgiveness in my heart for the excesses of youth.”

  Not five minutes later, Eleanor and Diana were seated in Sir Robert’s carriage and his coachman was driving them back to Hawksley. She had no desire whatsoever to be escorted on so long a walk by the infuriating and wicked Leander Campbell. So she had no real excuse for her annoyance.

  Besides, events were falling out more perfectly than she ever could have planned. All three gentlemen were leaving for Norwich and would be gone for several days. No one would be left at Deerfield except servants. Such a chance might never come again.

  * * *

  Eleanor had never been out alone after dark before. The walk was all of three miles, but it was a fine night with a bright spring moon shining above the treetops. As she marched bravely up the lane toward Deerfield, she felt nothing but the thrill of adventure. Occasionally a bat flitted by overhead or something rustled in the undergrowth, but she had no fear of either country creatures or country folk.

  It had been absurdly simple to slip unnoticed from Hawksley. She had taken one of her plainest cloaks and left it under the cushion on the settle. Once everyone else was abed, she had slipped downstairs, retrieved the cloak, and climbed out of the window. The walk should take her less than an hour, so by midnight she expected to be back in her bed.

  With any luck, she would have her mother’s letters with her.

  Yet as Deerfield loomed up in the darkness, she stopped to stare up at the house. Perhaps there were dogs? But if so, they would probably be kept near the stables.

  She had made careful note of the layout of the place, so she gave the stables a wide berth and walked quietly up to the side of the house. She tried one of the doors. It was locked.

  Surely there must be a window cracked somewhere? She crept on around the house, trying all the sashes. To her amazement, there was one slightly open window—and it led directly into the library. The sash slid up silently in well-waxed tracks and Eleanor was inside.

  Now for the first time, she felt afraid. Her heart pounded heavily in her breast and she could feel her skin getting cold.

  Fiddlesticks! she said to herself. There’s no one here but servants. Even if they catch you they can’t do anything.

  She stumbled up to the mantel to find the tinderbox she had noticed when she inspected the room the previous day. Fingers shaking a little, she lit a single candle. Yellow light flickered over the room. Instantly the corners sank into even deeper shadow.

  For a moment she stood still, listening hard. Silence streamed and flowed about her ears, enveloping her in absolute solitude.

  Gathering her courage, Eleanor began to try the Tudor roses. There were scores of them, running around the chair rail, accenting the sides of the fireplace, even gracing the plaster ceiling far above her head.

  Those parts of the wall actually occupied by bookcases had no roses, so it took less time than she feared. At last, as she tugged and turned at one of the carvings beside the fireplace, a piece of the paneling slid aside to reveal a dark cavity in the wall. Bless Frank Garth and his carpenter brother!

  Heart beating wildly, she held up the candle and peered into the hole. A bundle of papers lay inside, tied up in a ribbon. Her mother’s letters! It had been so easy.

  “I should like to see your face, Mr. Campbell,” she said softly to herself, “when you discover these are gone.”

  “If you like,” an amused whisper replied, “you may see it now.”

  Eleanor screamed. It wasn’t a particularly loud or piercing scream, more of a sudden gasp of breath, but the papers slipped from her hand to scatter over the floor.

  “Shall we have more candles?” he said. “It’s so uncomfortable to converse in the dark.”

  “You didn’t think so at the Three Feathers,” Eleanor shot back.

  “Alas, now I am starkly sober. Far less entertaining, but it puts you more closely in touch with reality.”

  He took her one candle from her hand and in moments the flame from several candelabra warmed the room.

  Eleanor knelt and frantically gathered up the papers. She clutched them to her breast.

  “What are you doing here? You were supposed to be in Norwich.”

  He stood with his back to the hearth, arms crossed, making no attempt to approach her.

  “Yes, I’m a disgracefully unreliable person. We did start out, the major and Mr. Downe and myself, but then I made a simple excuse to return. I said I would rejoin them there on the morrow.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I wanted to find out what so interested you here in the library, Lady Eleanor, and you’d never have told me if I’d asked, would you?”

  She blushed. “How did you know I would come here?”

  But she could remember how those violet eyes had watched her when she had made her excuses to admire the library. He had seen right through her. She must be the most dreadful actress imaginable.

  “No, you did very well,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. “The major and Mr. Downe suspect nothing. It is only my devious mind that wondered at your sudden interest in the paneling at Deerfield. Meanwhile, you seem to have found what you wanted. May I see?”

  “No, you may not! How can you be so despicable? You know perfectly well that these are my mother’s letters to Major Crabtree. If you try to take them from me, I’ll scream in earnest and wake the servants.”

  “My dear Lady Eleanor, I shouldn’t dream of taking those papers. If they are what you say, they’re no earthly business of mine.”

  Eleanor dropped onto the sofa, for she found that her legs would no longer hold her. He didn’t seem surprised that her mother had been writing to Major Crabtree. That confirmed everything, didn’t it?

  “You’re a liar, sir,” she said. “You stole them and are trying to blackmail the major and my mother. When he told her in the church at Little Tanning that her letters were missing and in the hands of a rogue, she almost fainted away. You know very well that if you published these letters,
it would ruin her. What has she ever done to you? For God’s sake, how could you be so cruel?”

  His eyes closed for a moment, as if in pain. “Lady Acton is being blackmailed?” he asked at last, very deliberately.

  “You mean to stand there and tell me that you didn’t know, when I know it’s your doing?”

  He spun about and strode away. Eleanor watched him with a terrible dread. Why did he have to be so very lovely? So lovely, yet so damned?

  “It is like the punishment of Prometheus to be blackmailed,” he said suddenly. “You stand chained by Zeus to a rock, while vultures tear at your liver. Yet the next day you are still alive and they come, still hungry, again. Day after day, forever—all because you wished to steal fire.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

  He spun on his heel to face her. “You may believe what you will, Lady Eleanor. I shan’t gainsay it.”

  She stared at him, her heart in her mouth. There was nothing he could have said that was more likely to make her doubt her suspicions. Had he spluttered denials, that would have confirmed his guilt as surely as a confession.

  Confused, she looked down at her lap. “You knew the major and my mother were in love, didn’t you?”

  “That’s not quite the language I would have used,” he said dryly. “But, yes, I had guessed it.”

  “And you knew about the secret cupboards. Frank Garth told me.”

  His voice held genuine, sharp curiosity. “Frank Garth?”

  “His brother made them.”

  “I see. But as it happens I had not known. That’s why I came back and waited here for you.”

  She glanced up. “Then it was you who left the window open? I thought it seemed too convenient.”

  “I wondered how you planned to get in otherwise.”

  “I didn’t have a plan. I just hoped I’d be lucky.”

  He smiled. “And you were. Now you had better take those letters back to Lady Acton, hadn’t you?”

  “You’re going to let me win, just like that?”