Rogue's Lady

by Julia Justiss

  “’Tis I who decide how the funds of this estate should be managed,” he flashed back, clearly as angry as she was. “I’ll hear nothing more of Tavener, Allegra! I may have held the title only two months, but I know enough not to listen to a silly chit whose head has been turned by a skilled seducer. Much less to let her talk me into squandering the assets bequeathed me by furnishing a dowry for the benefit of a rogue who would abandon her as soon as he’d run through it!”

  She’d opened her lips to utter a spirited rejoinder when suddenly the import of his words struck her. “I thought Uncle Robert had bequeathed those funds to me, to use as I see fit,” she said slowly. “As a member of the family, someone he valued for having nursed him devotedly his last few months. Did he not do so?”

  Rob opened his mouth, then closed it. “I’m sure he’d approve my arranging something,” he began again, “though giving you money outright would hardly be appropriate.”

  Allegra felt suddenly chilled, then fever-hot. “He didn’t leave me a bequest?” she asked again.

  She must have looked as stricken as she felt, for Rob patted her hand. “I assure you, he truly appreciated—”

  “Why did you let me believe he had done so?” she interrupted, pulling her hand back.

  “What difference does it make? When we first discussed it and you assumed ’twas his idea, there seemed no reason to disabuse you of that notion.”

  “So sponsoring my Season,” she said slowly, wanting to make sure she understood clearly this time, “offering me a dowry, that was all your idea?”

  “A Season is necessary—”

  “Why?” she interrupted again.

  “I should think that would be obvious!” he retorted, running a distracted hand through his hair. “Surely you realized how desperate your situation was, your parents dying unexpectedly and leaving you with no near relations, no dowry, no recourse but to throw yourself upon Sapphira’s uncertain mercy. You are blood kin, regardless of your mother’s regrettable choice of husband. I thought the family owed you a chance to mingle with society and find a kind, forbearing gentleman perceptive enough to recognize you for the fine lady you’ve become in spite of your unfortunate connections. Of course, no gentleman could afford to do so unless you brought him at least a respectable dowry.”

  Her “unfortunate connections.” So agonized was she by that punch to the gut that it took her a moment to realize the even more awful truth that must logically follow. For an instant she feared she might disgrace herself by becoming ill right there in the library.

  Mastering the nausea with an effort, she forced herself to ask the question that would confirm the humiliating conclusion beyond any possibility of doubt. “So you never considered that you and I…” Unable to voice the rest, she let the sentence trail off.

  “You and I?” he repeated, a perplexed look on his face. The several seconds it took before he comprehended her meaning spoke volumes about just how unimaginable that eventuality seemed to him.

  “Why, n-no!” he stammered, his face flushing. “I’ve always seen you as my little cousin. It wouldn’t have been seemly for me to…to have that sort of interest in you.”

  His flush deepened, and Allegra realized wretchedly that though she might have misjudged the depth of his attachment to her, she had not been mistaken in thinking he found her attractive—on a base physical level.

  So hearts really do break, she thought numbly. Or was the shattered feeling within her caused by the razor-edged shards of her splintering dream?

  “In any event,” he continued hurriedly, “last year I received permission from the father of an exceptional young lady that, should I return from the army intact, I might begin to court. Indeed, had Evangeline’s papa not unfortunately passed away just a month ago, she would have come to London for the Season and we might even now be announcing our engagement—but enough of that.”

  Her misery complete, all Allegra wished to do was quit Rob’s presence and seek the refuge of her chamber where she might in solitude consider the implications of what she’d just learned. Intending to flee before the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes slid down her cheeks to complete her humiliation, she rose unsteadily from her chair.

  Rob seized her hand, preventing her escape. “Just because my affections are already engaged does not mean you should despair of finding a respectable husband! But I simply will not countenance offers from out-and-out rogues like Tavener. I always thought dear Mama displayed amazing tolerance, receiving Papa’s beautiful but feckless cousin whenever she chose to descend upon the house. If, as I fondly hope, Evangeline and I marry, I don’t intend to force my wife to exercise similar restraint. I refuse to let you wed a ne’er-do-well who’s likely to leave you alone and penniless, as dependent upon my charity as your mother was upon Papa’s.”

  Allegra flinched at the words assaulting her ears. It was not like that with Mama! she wanted to shriek back at him. But ’twould serve no purpose; she doubted she would have any more luck changing his view of her mother than she’d had trying to sway his opinion of Will’s character.

  The pretty phrases he’d fed her about having a Season, everything she’d believed about herself, her mother and the Lyntons, had been a lie. Rob saw her as no more than a tedious obligation to be discharged so he might get on with his life—and his marriage.

  All she had ever wanted was his love and acceptance. Instead, he offered her money to go away. Anger, pride and the devastation of a bludgeoned heart warred with humiliation as she struggled for words.

  “If you wished to be rid of me,” she said at last, “you need only have said so. You didn’t have to buy me a husband.” Yanking her hand free, she made for the door.

  “Now, Allegra, don’t go off in a pet!” Rob called from behind her. Not bothering to acknowledge him, she wrenched open the library door and fled to her room.

  Writhing at Rob’s axe blow to the heart, Allegra slammed shut and locked the door to her chamber, then fell upon her bed and let the storm of agony overwhelm her. Ignoring the occasional knock and later Lizzie’s entreating voice begging entry, she wept until she was swollen-eyed and spent, then pulled herself up and stumbled to her desk.

  Enough useless tears. She must examine all she had learned and decide dispassionately what to do next.

  Humiliation swept through her again as she forced herself to acknowledge that Rob must never have had any inclination to wed her, that the partiality she’d tried to ascribe to him had been the product of her own hopeful imagination. Just as gut-wrenchingly painful—and more dire in its implications for her future—was the realization that Uncle Robert had not, out of love and appreciation for her presence, left her a bequest.

  She possessed no assets at all. Certainly not the funds to purchase the small country estate she’d thought to acquire should she fail to win Rob’s heart. There could be no home of her own, no safe place of refuge. She choked down another spasm of pain at relinquishing that dream.

  The dowry she’d thought she owned actually belonged to Rob, a gift to be presented at his discretion should she marry a ton gentleman of whom he approved. A gift she would never earn, since from the beginning the only ton gentleman she’d wished to marry was Rob himself.

  She’d not really expected a bequest from Uncle Robert. But Rob was wrong about her family, she thought fiercely, her anger reviving. She and Mama had never been “penniless” or “abandoned” by Papa; they had visited Uncle Robert between Papa’s performances, when he was preoccupied composing a new work or rehearsing a new orchestra.

  Far from “feckless,” Mama was the most responsible and resourceful person Allegra had ever known. She had brought her daughter to visit her favorite cousin because she enjoyed his company—not to hang upon his charity.

  And how dare Rob disparage her father! He, who had obtained his wealth by an accident of birth rather than by the exercise of his own talent and effort! She supposed being a competent army officer during a time of war meant he pos
sessed abilities as well, but he had no right to look down upon a man as learned and accomplished as her father simply because he trod a different path in life. Whatever else she might be forced to admit, she would never concede that Mama’s choice of Papa had been a mistake.

  ’Twas an error only by the standards of the ton—a society she disdained even more than Rob had her father. A society, she realized, she could not imagine joining.

  She recalled Sapphira’s beautiful, deceitful face, the fawning gallantry of the gentlemen who vied for Lady Lynton’s favors. The condescending looks down long noses cast her way by overdressed, plume-headdressed matrons, the haughty glances of their richly gowned and bejeweled daughters. Anger flamed hotter, burning away some of her misery.

  Only her delusions of a future with Rob had made tolerating that world possible. Though later, when it didn’t hurt so much, she might give Rob credit for at least wanting to see her respectably settled, right now all she wanted was to escape both the ton and the Lyntons.

  She was truly alone in the world now. But not entirely, she told herself, stemming the panicky feeling the thought engendered. Will would stand her friend.

  That was it, she thought, a bubble of excitement rising. She could marry Will, have her country manor, help him rebuild Brookwillow and never visit London again.

  But no, she couldn’t. Will needed a bride with a dowry he could apply toward his estate’s restoration. Rob had just confirmed beyond doubt that he would never give her funds to which Will might gain access. She must release Will from their agreement so he could pursue someone who really was an heiress.

  Then what was she to do?

  Another wave of anguish and fear threatened, but she pushed it back. “The fierceness of an Antinori,” she reminded herself, imagining her father beside her, encouraging her with his pride and utter confidence in her ability to prevail.

  Angrily she wiped away a tear. Time to muster up the “courage and intelligence” for which he’d praised her. She would simply do what she had planned, before Rob came home and dangled before her the illusion of a future that had proven no more real than a magician’s trick.

  Rob thought she was without talent or prospects, destined to become a permanent burden unless he contrived to marry her off to some gullible gentleman. She would show him she was not a helpless chattel, like a horse or a dog whose feed and maintenance he was obligated to provide.

  She would show them all.

  At her desk she pulled out pen, paper and ink.

  She didn’t wish to remain an hour longer than absolutely necessary under Rob’s roof, nor could she bring herself to consider speaking with him again, lest she rant at him like the undisciplined child he sometimes accused her of being. She would leave him a note thanking him for his courtesy in trying to see her settled, but informing him she considered that he had fully discharged his responsibilities toward her. Nor did he need fear she would apply to him for assistance ever again.

  However, she must gird herself to terminate her bargain with Will face-to-face. No matter how painful and humiliating it was going to be to reveal the truth to him.

  After scribbling two other missives, she steeled herself to pen Will a brief note asking that he meet her in the park in an hour on a matter of utmost urgency, though ’twas already almost dusk.

  Fortunately, she need no longer concern herself with society’s rules about where she went and when. Pleasant to discover one cheering thought in the midst of this debacle.

  Ringing for a footman, she unlocked her chamber door to give him the folded notes with a coin and a command that he deliver them without delay.

  After his departure, she went to the wardrobe and pulled her battered trunk from its depths. Swiftly she packed the most simple and serviceable of her new gowns.

  A nurse would have been paid a certain salary, she reasoned, a welcome numbness overtaking her raw emotions as she worked. She didn’t think Uncle Robert would begrudge her the gowns she was taking as recompense for her labors.

  That task complete, she fished out the letter from Mr. Waters at the employment agency, slipped through the door and trod silently down the hall to the service stairs.

  FROWNING, WILL READ through the note in his hand one more time. Allegra urgently requested a brief meeting with him in Hyde Park—he glanced at the mantel clock—almost immediately. Setting down the card, he called for Barrows to have his horse saddled and put on his coat.

  Obviously Allegra—how he loved the sound of her name, as lyrical and graceful as the lady herself—must have had her meeting with Lynton. She’d wasted no time. He’d not even had the chance to call on her and try to talk her out of confronting her guardian before he did.

  Had she requested this sudden, almost clandestine meeting so she might tell him Lynton had granted him permission to pay his addresses? Or would she announce that she’d received the offer for which she longed?

  If she had, he must be happy for her. Even though his first and strongest impulse would be to beg her to cry off.

  He didn’t want to let her go to Lynton, even though he knew ’twas what she wanted. His mind still clung to the image of her at Brookwillow, praising the peeling marquetry work of the entry ceiling and the beautiful prospect from the flower garden. He wanted to take her there, to the place he most felt he belonged, and recreate from the ruins the house of loveliness and refinement she envisioned.

  He wanted her.

  Well, he wasn’t going to get her. The woman he loved wanted something—and someone—else. Had his life not been full of such moments?

  Enough whining. He would smile and wish her well and return to his rooms to polish off the brandy he would send Barrows to procure. Then once his head, if not his heart, stopped aching, he would present himself to Lucilla, ask her pardon for having abandoned her for two weeks and beg her to select a new lady for him to pursue.

  It mattered little to him now which damsel she chose, he thought as he turned his horse toward the park. In return for the funds to bring Brookwillow back to life, he would pledge to make some as yet unnamed heiress a kind and faithful husband, throw himself into the work at Brookwillow and try to forget he had ever hoped for more.

  By the time he reached the appointed meeting place, he was frowning anew. What was Lynton thinking, allowing Allegra to set off through London in near-darkness? He was even more appalled when he spotted her descending from a hackney without even a maid to lend her countenance.

  He loped toward her at a trot, anxious to reach her before some rascal lurking in the shrubbery noticed her unprotected state and tried to make off with her.

  She hurried up to greet him. “Lord Tavener—Will! Thank you for meeting me on such short notice.”

  Bowing, he said, “I am yours to command. But, Allegra, what in heaven’s name do you mean by taking a hackney at this time of day without even a maid to protect you? Lynton should be shot for treating your safety so lightly!”

  He thought she flinched at the mention of her guardian’s name, though it might have only been a trick of the fading light. But he was not imagining the trembling of her lips as she opened and closed them, nor her nervousness as she twisted her hands together.

  Dread gathered in his gut as he grasped her hands, the fingers icy under his touch. “What’s wrong, Allegra?”

  She attempted a smile that didn’t quite succeed. “As you may have guessed, I talked with Lynton. The results…weren’t exactly what either of us had predicted.”

  “I can see he distressed you. What did he say?”

  “You see, it seems there never was a legacy from the late Lord Lynton. Wishing to discharge what he perceived was his responsibility to me—despite my deplorable connections,” she added, her voice bitter, “Rob took it upon himself to have me introduced and to provide me a dowry, as long as I married a man of whom he approved, who could be trusted to permanently relieve him of the burden of my care. I’ll spare you the rest of his disparaging remarks, but he didn’t consider yo
u a credible candidate.”

  The enormity of it was too much to take in. “So—there is no dowry?” he repeated.

  “Not if I choose to marry you. Of course, I release you from your pledge to do so. I wanted to tell you immediately, so you could redirect your efforts at once into charming a maiden who actually possesses a dowry.”

  Will shook his head, still trying to sort out all the implications. “Then Lynton did not ask—”

  “No!” she cried out, wrenching her hands free and walking a few paces away. “That was all a s-silly illusion on m-my part. Lynton’s affections are engaged elsewhere. In fact, he expects soon to be married.”

  Will could only imagine what a humiliating blow that must have been. “Allegra, I’m so sorry,” he said softly.

  “Oh, you needn’t be!” she said brightly, looking back at him. In the dim light he could see the glitter of tears on her lashes. “I know by now that I’m entirely unsuited for life in the ton, so ’tis for the best. Now I must go—but here, I nearly forgot the most important thing.”

  She rummaged in her reticule and drew out a folded sheet of paper. Holding it out, she said, “I’ve made you a list of those damsels whom I thought, from my limited time in London society, might be promising candidates for you to pursue. ’Twas the least I could do, after having you waste so much time in what turned out to be a fruitless effort.”

  She wrapped his fingers around the list. “Thank you for your friendship. ’Tis the only thing in the ton I shall regret leaving.”

  Then, before he had a hint of what she meant to do, she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him close. “Goodbye, Will,” she whispered, and kissed him.

  He might not yet have figured out what to do about the surprise she’d just sprung on him, but it took him no more than an instant to respond to the feel of her in his arms.