Rogue's Reward

by Jean R. Ewing

  “At night? Through three miles of dark lanes?”

  “You think I shall ravish you under a bush? Alas, I like my creature comforts too much for anything so gothic. Now, let’s go.”

  He went to the door and opened it. There was nothing Eleanor could do except walk through.

  She pulled her cloak tight to her chin and held up her head in the most superior manner taught by Miss Able. Mr. Campbell followed. He pulled back the bolts and chains that secured the front door and they stepped out onto the driveway. He made no attempt to take her arm or touch her again.

  With Eleanor walking stiffly at his side, the true Earl of Hawksley strode away toward his rejected inheritance in silence. When the house loomed up before them, she marched around to the window she had left open. They had just walked three miles without exchanging a word.

  She turned to him and tossed back the hood of her cloak.

  “What are you going to do about my mother?” she asked bluntly.

  The moonlight shadowed his face in shades of gray, but his smile seemed perfectly relaxed. “What would you like me to do?”

  “Return the letters to her, of course.”

  “The letters will be returned.”

  “Is that a promise?”

  “Let’s just say it’s an intent.”

  “Because your word means nothing and you have no honor at all, have you? I despise you.”

  Lady Eleanor Acton climbed in through the window before she should change her mind.

  For she didn’t despise him. She didn’t really know what she felt, except misery.

  In spite of everything, Leander Campbell entranced her. Her blood burned as if his lips still moved on hers and his lithe strength flexed beneath her palms. The way he laughed. The way his throat flexed as he turned his head. The way he rode, and walked, and tossed his defiance at the world.

  His energies might be devoted to mischief and destruction, but his mind was brilliant, his diffidence fascinating—and his beauty haunted her dreams.

  How humiliating to feel a misplaced schoolgirl crush when you knew that the object of your infatuation was a wicked, unmitigated rogue!

  * * *

  Lee knew he was close to the edge.

  Moira Campbell, his mother, had married the future Earl of Hawksley in the kirk at Strathbrae. He wasn’t—had never been—a bastard. His father had behaved unforgivably, but perhaps he wasn’t entirely wicked. Lee had never thought it mattered what kind of man his father had been, but it did, of course.

  When Gerald Hart went to Scotland, he had been young and foolish, and Ian Campbell must have been a formidable opponent. There may even have been threats. Between them, Moira had been crushed like a shell beneath the surf. Yet it hadn’t been a casual seduction. They had married, with witnesses and with the blessing of the church.

  Yet tragedy compounds on itself. Butcher Cumberland had rampaged viciously through the Highlands after Culloden, leaving ruined homes and shattered lives in his wake. As a child Ian Campbell had suffered the loss of everything he knew and been trapped ever afterward in bitterness and hatred for England.

  So he had torn his legitimate grandson from his own daughter’s arms and sent the baby to Ireland.

  Lee choked back a storm of emotion. The knowledge hammered at his defenses. He must hold on for Diana’s sake. Yet as Earl of Hawksley he could claim rank, fortune, privilege—and court Lady Eleanor Acton with honor—but only at the cost of ruin for his sister and stepmother.

  He could never do it.

  Was anyone hurt by his sacrifice? Only himself. Lady Eleanor Acton actively despised him—he had made sure of that. There was nothing else he could do under the circumstances than see that she continued to feel that way, and in time she would forget him.

  With ruthless self-discipline, Lee studied and accepted every consequence of his decision. Then he strode back to Deerfield through the shattered remains of the night.

  Only one purpose had brought him to Norfolk in the first place—blackmail.

  In finding out about his mother’s marriage he had almost forgotten that. For someone who prided himself so much on clear thinking and competence, he hadn’t managed very well tonight.

  Yet as he had guessed when he first saw them together, Lady Acton had come to Norfolk to pursue an affair with the major. Now he knew also that she had written love letters, which had been stolen. And so she was being blackmailed, which was what linked Manton Barnes and Lady Acton. It was up to him to discover who the blackmailer was.

  There was only one clue, though it seemed too unlikely.

  Dawn was creeping up the sky like a blush when he reached the major’s home and strode into the library. He walked up and down for several minutes, before he threw himself onto the sofa.

  As if all his resolution meant nothing, he was enveloped in the memory of Eleanor’s soft skin and sweet scent, and felt stunned once again by the passion and honesty of her response to his lovemaking.

  He dropped his face into his hands and began to curse, very deliberately and very thoroughly. She was also lovely, and brave, and clever, and honorable to the core. The one catastrophe he could never have planned for had struck him down like a thunderbolt: He was in love.

  Immediately he straightened up and laughed.

  “For God’s sake, Leander Campbell,” he said aloud. “You’re no better than a smitten miss. If your gambling cronies could see you now, it would be the end of all bets on your skill.”

  * * *

  It was a very long time before Eleanor could get to sleep. She was privy to information that could destroy Lady Augusta and Diana. Even if she hadn’t given her word to keep it secret forever, she would never have revealed it.

  But what about Leander Campbell? Could he really be trusted? Mr. Campbell might have destroyed a critical part of the evidence, but the marriage had still taken place. Once his first shock had worn off, would he regret his impulsive action? Or had he enacted that entire little drama just to impress her?

  She wished fervently that she had never gone to Deerfield and found those papers. For now she had put them all into the hands of a man who was quite ruthless. Meanwhile, her mother’s letters were still missing, leaving Lady Acton and Major Crabtree at the mercy of the blackmailer.

  So how could she still yearn for Mr. Campbell’s company? Why couldn’t she control her feelings for him? Because she was young and inexperienced and he, quite simply, was not.

  With determination, she turned over and closed her eyes. What she had discovered didn’t change a thing. True earl or not, Leander Campbell was beneath contempt. If he decided to claim his birthright, she couldn’t prevent it. But whatever happened, Diana would never learn the truth from her.

  * * *

  Lee left for Norwich before the sun rose much further. None of the major’s servants had any idea that their guest had returned, only to go without sleep for a night, and was now leaving without breakfast.

  Frank Garth looked up in surprise when Mr. Campbell’s black horse came trotting into Little Tanning. Even the farm laborers were mostly still abed. The sound of the horse’s hooves rang in counterpoint to the voices of birds greeting the dawn.

  “Good morning, Mr. Garth,” he said, saluting the old man with his whip. “You’re up very early. How do you and your wife do this morning?”

  “Well enough, sir, and all the better for seeing you.”

  “I’m glad to hear it, Mr. Garth, for I have some questions for you.”

  Frank Garth set aside the blade he was sharpening and gazed up at the young man. He was shrewd enough to know that something was wrong, though the handsome features were schooled into indifference. Mr. Garth quietly refrained from letting his own face shown any concern. Leander Campbell had been a proud and private individual even as a lad. Frank Garth would only know what the matter was if the young gentleman chose to tell him.

  “Fire away, Mr. Campbell,” he said.

  Lee stepped down off his horse and sat down o
n a stone bench in front of the cottage. He leaned back and closed his eyes, allowing the weak sunlight to play across his eyelids.

  “I would like to know,” he said after a moment, “about your brother. I am given to understand that he was a famous carpenter?”

  * * *

  When Lee reached Norwich it was well past noon. He strode into the dining room of the Dog Inn and ordered a substantial meal. For someone who had apparently done no more than hack up from Deerfield, he seemed to have taken a profligate amount of time, and the state of his horse had caused the ostler some complaint. The black was hot and lathered. It would have to be walked out before it could be put away.

  The landlord had already cleared away the remains of the roast beef and left Mr. Campbell idly sipping at his claret, when Major Crabtree came in and joined him at the table.

  “I’m glad to see you’re here at last, sir,” he said with only a trace of reproach. “Mr. Feveril Downe has already been to the bookseller’s several times in hopes of finding you there. Now he has walked to the market and is showing an honest antiquary’s curiosity in the old flint guildhall. I didn’t think we could interest him in anything besides Lady Diana Hart, but there you are.”

  “He is being polite,” Lee said. “But others’ affairs of the heart are not our concern, are they?”

  The major’s bluff face colored slightly. “I stand corrected. Meanwhile the bookseller in Red Lion Street awaits your offer.”

  “Excellent, Major,” Lee said. “But first, I rather think you owe me an explanation.”

  Chapter 9

  Diana was in such a delicious state of ravaged emotion that it took all of Eleanor’s energy to try to cheer up her friend.

  “You do see, don’t you,” Diana said dramatically, “that Mama will never let me marry Walter. No one was ever so unlucky in love.”

  “It’s what comes of being the daughters of earls,” Eleanor said with a reassuring smile. “There are only a handful of eligible bachelors in the realm. Never mind! Walter is charming and more than respectable, and at least you know what you want. It’ll only be a matter of time before you get it.”

  Diana smiled faintly and began to extol all of Mr. Downe’s many virtues in case Eleanor had missed them.

  Eleanor barely listened. She had no idea what she herself wanted, did she? Thoughts of Leander Campbell haunted her day and night, yet she couldn’t let herself be so weak as to have fallen for a despicable rogue just because he’d kissed her so skillfully.

  Meanwhile, Lady Acton laughed and talked as if nothing were wrong, but Eleanor knew that her mother had already sent a banker’s draft to an address in Red Lion Street in Norwich.

  The blackmail had begun.

  * * *

  The gentlemen from Deerfield had been gone three days when the butler summoned Eleanor into the blue drawing room at Hawksley. She raced through the hall and flung open the door, and ran straight into a tall gentleman with hair like gold and Lady Acton’s black eyes. He caught her around the waist and kissed her soundly on the cheek.

  “Richard!” Eleanor gasped as soon as she caught her breath. “Oh, you dear man! I’m so glad to see you. How is Helena? When did you arrive? How long can you stay?”

  “My sweet wife is well and growing large. We’re sure it’ll be a daughter, just to spite Father. He so longs for us to have a son. Helena sends her dearest love to her beloved sister-in-law, and though I have just arrived, I’m leaving right away since I can’t bear to be apart from her much longer.”

  They sat together on the chaise longue and began to exchange the family news. Richard had business in Norwich and would go on there before hurrying back to Acton Mead, his beautiful home by the Thames. Helena had made it a warm haven for the man who would one day become Earl of Acton himself. Eleanor felt a sudden pang of longing. Would any man ever love her like that and allow her to love him in return?

  “So much for me,” he said at last. “How are you, dear child? Don’t pretend everything is all right. I know you too well. You look as if something is eating you alive.”

  “Oh, fiddlesticks,” Eleanor said. “I’m fine. Have you seen Mother?”

  “The matchless Countess of Acton gave me a brief but eloquent greeting, then made some excuse that she must find Lady Augusta to inform our hostess of my untimely arrival. Our mother is playing some game, isn’t she?”

  Eleanor dropped her eyes away from his velvet gaze. What Leander Campbell was doing to Lady Acton was a secret she couldn’t share with anyone, not even Richard. In the next moment she looked up in astonishment, as Richard mentioned the very name that so haunted her thoughts.

  “Lee Campbell is down here, isn’t he?” he asked with a genuine smile. “I’d like to see him.”

  “He’s gone to Norwich with Major Crabtree and Mr. Downe,” Eleanor said instantly. “Do you have business with him?”

  Richard laughed. “Don’t say he’s been behaving badly! You mention him as if he’s some monster of iniquity.”

  “Well, he is!”

  “Now why, dear sister mine, do you think that?”

  Eleanor took a deep breath. The real reason had to stay secret, but there were enough other reasons, weren’t there?

  “Well, he’s a wastrel, for a start. What has he ever done with his life? He’s arrogant and conceited and irresponsible, and he’d steal Lady Diana’s inheritance if he could.”

  “Good God!” Richard threw back his head and roared with laughter. “He has been behaving badly. However did you get such an extraordinary idea of his character?”

  “From observation.”

  He smiled and leaned back against the curved arm of the chaise longue. “Lee has simply neglected to toot his own horn, I can see, but I would have thought his half-sister would have told you something about him.”

  “Diana?” Eleanor remembered how carefully she had avoided discussing Mr. Campbell with Diana. “Even if she had, it wouldn’t be an unbiased opinion. She’s so guileless she loves everyone. But the facts remain, don’t they? The man’s a worthless rake and a gambler. He doesn’t deny it.”

  “I don’t suppose he does,” Richard replied with obvious delight. “Yet he hasn’t had much time for this shameless career. We were together in the Peninsula until last summer. You must allow a man a little latitude, Eleanor, after he’s been through a war. I was crazy enough myself when I came back.”

  Eleanor was incredulous. Surely Leander Campbell hadn’t been a soldier? He must have been some kind of profiteer.

  “He was in the Peninsula?”

  “Most of the last five years. He’s been back on leave on and off, of course, but hardly long enough to establish himself as a wastrel. When we finally triumphed over Boney, Lee sold up like the rest of us and came home. He may be going to the dogs, but he’s only had one winter in which to do it.”

  “What was he doing there? Hiding in the safety of the port while you and your men risked your lives?”

  Richard was suddenly serious. “Leander Campbell was one of us: one of Wellington’s secret scouts, working with the partisans behind the French lines. It was dangerous and dirty and demanding. His life was forfeit on a daily basis. I can’t tell you the number of times we hid together in a ditch, or were both saved by his quick wit and matchless courage. He’s also, unlike me, an outrageously good marksman, which helped.”

  The gentleman in the locket? Richard, Lord Lenwood, eldest son to the Earl of Acton; he’s not actually a terribly good shot.

  Mr. Campbell had told her in the Three Feathers when they’d first met that he knew Richard. Eleanor had forgotten all about it. She had never imagined for a moment that he and her brother were comrades in the Peninsular Campaign.

  “So does being good with a gun make a man honorable?”

  “Lee is above reproach, Eleanor. I know him as well as any man could. You don’t go through the things we experienced together without revealing your true nature. Good God, if his situation were different, I can think of no m
an I’d rather have—” He stopped.

  “Have do what?”

  Richard laughed. “Have marry one of my sisters, I was going to say. But it’s out of the question, of course.”

  “Bastards don’t marry earl’s daughters,” Eleanor said, looking down.

  “Indeed, they don’t. But where on earth did you get the idea that he’s after Lady Diana’s inheritance?”

  “Because he wants her to elope with Mr. Feveril Downe. They’re in love.”

  “I see. I gather Lady Augusta wouldn’t approve of Mr. Downe. Mother took great delight in filling me in. But that wouldn’t do Lee any good, my dear. The estate is entailed. It will pass to Diana, because she’s Lord Hawksley’s only legitimate heir. Lady Augusta could tie up her daughter’s inheritance until she’s five-and-twenty, but under no circumstances would any of it go to Lee.”

  Eleanor stood up and walked across the room. Why was it so difficult to think clearly when it came to the impossible Leander Campbell? Of course it made no sense that he was trying to cheat Diana out of her inheritance. She had witnessed him burn the paper that would have delivered him Hawksley, lock, stock, and barrel.

  She turned back to face her brother.

  “Then why tell them to run away together?”

  “Because if they took his advice, Lady Augusta would capitulate instantly to save her daughter’s reputation. What else could she do?”

  “That’s what Mr. Campbell said.”

  “And it’s the truth. No, I think your friend Diana may be enjoying the drama of forbidden love a little too much, or perhaps she’s just scared to cross her mama.”

  Both of which observations were true.

  “Well, then, I was wrong about that part. But he’s no plans for the future other than gaming and vice.”

  “Eleanor, I can hardly believe what I’m hearing. Lee gambles, of course. We all do. He’s so damn good, in fact, that I hear he’s made a rich living these last six months and he fleeced us all regularly in Spain. God knows what he does with the money. He certainly doesn’t live in any luxury. His plans, however, are quite simple. When we sold out, we all thought Bonaparte defeated and safely imprisoned on Elba, but the Corsican Monster’s already escaped. He arrived back in Paris in March and the European Powers have outlawed him. There will be another terrible battle, I’m afraid, and when it happens, Lee Campbell will be there. He stays in England meanwhile because there’s nothing else he can do. We’re neither at peace nor at war with France right now, but Lee’s a professional soldier.”