Rogue's Lady

by Julia Justiss

  One special English gentleman came immediately to mind—but that was impossible. Still, a tremor of anticipation fluttered in her stomach as she seized the card—then uttered a cry of pure joy.

  Will! Unbelievable as it seemed, it really was Will. Of course, she had invited him, so it wasn’t totally beyond credibility that he’d come, but it had only been a few weeks since she’d written…

  She took a deep breath and pulled her wits together. “Please escort him here immediately, Federico.”

  About to walk off, the footman stopped short. “Bring him here? Now? Are you sure, Duchessa?”

  “Yes. At once.”

  Looking mystified, the footman bowed and went off.

  Her heart commenced to pound and she could feel her cheeks flush. Suddenly nervous, Allegra smoothed her dress and patted her hair to make sure the chignon was still in place. If only this yellow morning gown wasn’t already rumpled and she perspiring from the heat!

  “You mean to receive the foreigner here?” Signora Bertrude walked to Allegra’s side, disapproval on her face. “Please, Duchessa, not in the seclusion of the garden! Let us go into the house, where I may summon a footman—”

  “Nonsense, signora,” Allegra interrupted impatiently. “’Tis beautiful here and cool enough beside the fountains. Lord Tavener is not going to ravish me. Not on this hot a morning,” she added, to the scandalized gasp of the duenna.

  She could still scarcely believe Will was here. As she could scarcely prevent herself from running in to meet him, so eager was she to verify it really was him. Her nerves in knots, she made herself resume strolling.

  What could have brought him here, almost as if the invitation in her letter had summoned him? Perhaps he was on his wedding trip…but no, he hadn’t sent in his wife’s card, which he surely would have done if he were married. He must have come alone.

  And why now? When she’d last seen him, he’d been utterly determined, as well he should be, to do what he must to obtain the funds he needed for Brookwillow. Though she’d written in the wistful hope he might eventually visit, she’d never dreamed it would be this soon.

  A sudden misgiving brought her pacing to a halt. Will depended on gaming for much of his income, she knew. Could he have suffered a run of losses so severe that he’d been forced to flee England to escape his creditors?

  It seemed the only logical explanation for his sudden appearance. Otherwise he ought to still be occupied in charming his heiress, or if already wed, have returned with his bride to Brookwillow to begin the work of restoration.

  Before she could puzzle it through, Will himself walked out onto the terrace, spotted her and smiled.

  Her heart skipped a beat. It might be only the heat, to which she was not yet fully accustomed, but as he approached, the fiery blue of his gaze fixed upon her, Allegra felt hot, then cold, then dizzy. She reached out to steady herself on a bench, telling herself she absolutely would not swoon, like some silly heroine in a Minerva Press novel.

  By the time he reached her side, every nerve was quivering. Somehow she managed to curtsey without falling over. “What a wonderful surprise, Will!” she said through the constriction in her throat. “But what brings you to San Gregillio?”

  He took her hand and kissed it. For a moment Allegra feared she would faint after all.

  “I seem to remember I received an invitation,” he replied, amusement in his tone.

  Her eyelashes drifted shut as she thrilled to the familiar sound of his voice. Which changed to a deeper, more intimate timbre as he continued, “Living at San Gregillio must agree with you, Allegra. You’ve never looked more beautiful. Ah, I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to see you again!”

  She looked back at him, knowing she must be grinning like a lunatic as she drank in every dearly remembered feature of his face—the waves of dark hair curling onto his forehead, the high cheekbones, patrician nose and purposeful chin, the sensuous, sculpted lips and mesmerizing eyes. Her gaze wandered downward over the powerful shoulders and muscled arms that could both threaten and protect, well displayed by his tight coat.

  She couldn’t seem to stop staring at him. Indeed, it was all she could do not to throw herself in his arms. How had she managed to exist so many months without him?

  A loud “harrump” startled her into realizing that her duenna was standing beside them, a reproving frown on her face. “Um, Lord Tavener, may I present my chaperone, Signora Bertrude?”

  “Un grande onore, Signora,” Will said, bowing. “How gracious of you to receive me on such short notice, Duchessa. The garden is magnificent. Might you do me the honor of strolling with me?” He offered his arm.

  Though Signora Bertrude would probably scold her for a week for not inviting him back into the coolness of the house—where a bevy of maids and footmen would watch their every move—Allegra couldn’t make herself do it. Seizing this excuse to be with him, listen to his voice and feast her eyes upon his handsome face, she ignored the duenna’s negative shake of the head.

  “It shall have to be a brief walk,” she said, “for ’tis almost one, when the afternoon rest begins.” She placed her hand on his arm, reveling in the warmth and strength of it beneath her fingertips. “So, tell me all the London news!”

  They set off at a leisurely pace, Allegra’s disgruntled duenna reluctantly following. “I haven’t much news, actually. I’ve…not been in London.”

  When he didn’t add that he’d come from Brookwillow, a frisson of concern stirred within her. So he must be fleeing from gaming debts, then. Well, she’d insure that he found a safe haven here.

  “I see,” she said after a moment. “I hope you can make a lengthy visit. ’Tis expected here. One of grandfather’s cousins arrived the same day I did and he is still with us. Oh, there’s so much I want to show you!”

  His smile turned tender. “Everything I want to see is before my eyes right now,” he said softly.

  Voice catching in her throat, Allegra felt heat suffuse her already flushed cheeks. Heavens, she felt as flustered as a schoolroom chit at her first ball.

  “I see I shall have to continue my lessons on deportment, my lord, since you still manage so easily to put me to the blush. I must warn you, the rules are very strict here! You shall have to be on your best behavior.”

  “Lest your grandfather show me the door? Then I shall do my best to be perfectly conventional.”

  Allegra doubted he could manage that, but it was reassuring that he meant to try. “You must meet my cousin Alessandro, the duke’s grandson and heir. He will be delighted to have a British guest, as he loves to practice his English. And Grandfather will be honored to host the gentleman who treated me with such kindness in London.”

  “I look forward to meeting them. Should I describe to the duke how impressed and honored I was to attend one of your father’s concerts—or is his musical career not to be mentioned?”

  “Grandfather will love hearing about it. He never tires of asking me details about Papa’s life in England. But…though of course I don’t wish you to prevaricate, it might be best if you don’t tell Grandfather about your losses. I shall avoid mentioning them to him as well.”

  “Losses?” Will repeated.

  Allegra cast a quick glance at the duenna plodding behind them. She didn’t think Signora understood much English, but ’twas better to be safe. Lowering her voice, she said softly, “Your gaming losses. ’Tis why you came to Italy now, isn’t it, to avoid your creditors? It must have been most distressing to have to put off your plans for restoring Brookwillow.”

  Will opened his lips to reply, then closed them. Realizing she must have embarrassed him, Allegra went on quickly, “No matter. You must stay here until your fortunes are on the mend. The house is always full of guests, and many of the gentlemen play cards in the evenings, sometimes for quite high stakes. Once you’ve observed them and learned the rules, you could join their games and perhaps win enough to be able to return home. As long as he never suspects you
r financial straits, Grandfather will be happy to have a titled English gentleman staying with us. I’m sure you will charm him as you do everyone else.”

  By now they’d made a full circuit of the inner garden and were approaching the house. “We must go in now, Duchessa,” Signora Bertrude said, giving Will a ferocious glance, as if daring him to contradict her. “’Tis late and you need your rest.”

  More likely, the signora needed hers. But much as Allegra would have preferred walking the garden the whole afternoon, keeping Will’s company all to herself, she replied, “Very well, Signora. Escort me in, won’t you, Lord Tavener? Gorgio, Grandfather’s majordomo, will prepare a room and provide you a valet if you need one.”

  “Barrows accompanied me. By the way, he asked that I convey to you his congratulations.”

  Allegra felt a measure of relief. Things must not be quite so grim if Will had been able to bring his rascal of a servant with him. “Give him my thanks—but pray, don’t let anyone see you hobnobbing with him. Such a thing is never done here! Now, I must go in.”

  Just then Signora bent down to remove a pebble from her shoe. Deciding on impulse to take advantage of the moment, Allegra went up on tiptoe and kissed Will’s cheek.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said again. Then, reluctantly releasing his arm, she entered the house and proceeded up to her room.

  Giddy, Allegra danced around her chamber, her perplexed maid following behind her, trying to remove her half-unfastened gown. It was as if her life had been suspended since she’d come to Italy, frozen into timeless immobility while she waited for something or someone to set it back in motion.

  It seemed that something, that someone was Will. She couldn’t wait to talk with him again, to walk with her hand on his arm, to share with him all her experiences. Then she’d try to tactfully discover the true state of his affairs, so she might figure out how best to help him.

  Guilty as it ought to make her feel, she rejoiced at the ill fortune that had forced him to leave England unwed and had brought him here. The sun had seemed brighter, the sky bluer, the birdsong more melodious because he’d walked beside her along the garden path.

  The beauty of her grandfather’s estate had soothed and delighted her since the moment she’d first seen it. But the prospect of sharing its wonders with Will multiplied that delight until her joy overflowed. Though it had brought her a deep satisfaction to discover she was not alone in the world after all, that she had a family, there had still been something missing.

  Having Will here made her happiness complete.

  By now her maid had finally succeeded in removing her gown and helping her into the light robe she wore over her chemise while she took her afternoon rest. After wishing her a good nap, the girl withdrew.

  Hot as it was, Allegra wasn’t drowsy. How could she sleep knowing Will was here in this very house? After months without him, it maddened her to know ’twas impossible to seek him out, that she must wait until evening to see him again, though he must even now be only a few rooms away.

  Was he chatting with Barrows while the valet unpacked his belongings? Admiring the symmetry of the gardens outside his window? Or preparing, as she’d just done, to take an afternoon rest?

  Ah, she thought with a wicked grin, that she might act his valet. She imagined removing his jacket, plucking open the buttons of his waistcoat, freeing his neck from the starched prison of his neckcloth…kissing the hollow of his naked throat, the pulse throbbing against her lips.

  Like the throbbing that pulsed deep within her. Lips and breasts tingling, she remembered the kiss they’d shared in Hyde Park the night she’d said goodbye before leaving London. How she hungered to kiss him again under the stars—and this time, not have to stop.

  Sighing with frustrated desire, she threw herself on the sofa and gazed out at the garden, shimmering with heat and shadow in the afternoon sun. How would she manage more than the quick peck on the cheek she’d just stolen, as encumbered as she was with duennas, maids and footmen? But manage it she would.

  She intended to lick every droplet of pleasure she could savor from his visit. Indeed, if she could have her way, he would never leave again.

  Suddenly the truth struck her with such blinding clarity, she sat bolt upright. How could she have been too dull-witted not to have realized it long ago?

  It wasn’t Rob she loved—and never had been. She was in love with Will. Once she admitted that, all the pieces of her emotional puzzle fell into perfect place.

  That explained why his wit so amused her and his observations so intrigued her, why she wanted to share all her thoughts and experiences with him, why she felt so safe and at ease with him, why she preferred his company to anyone else’s. ’Twas much more than the “friendship” she’d termed it that made her miss him so keenly, yearn for his company and ache for his touch.

  How could she have thought she loved Lynton, when even as she contemplated marrying her cousin, her whole being had stirred at Will’s presence and burned for his caress?

  But how did Will feel about her? When he’d offered for her—it seemed a lifetime ago now—he’d assured her of his respect and affection. But did he love her? Was that why he’d come to Italy so quickly after receiving her invitation?

  Allegra frowned, worrying her lip between her front teeth. If he loved her, she could imagine nothing more wonderful than spending the rest of her life with him. Except…though he’d not flirted with her comely young maid in the garden—who, she’d noticed, had watched Will with appreciative eyes—how could she determine if he’d given up his rogue’s ways?

  Knowing she loved him, she’d be even less able to endure infidelity than when he’d offered for her. Dare she risk marrying him?

  But if he truly loved her…

  If he truly loved her, if he burned for her as she did for him, if like her, he could imagine letting no one else share his bed and his life, it would be worth the risk. Especially if they spent their lives at Brookwillow, far from the blandishments of bored London matrons.

  She knew he was as attracted to her as she was to him. When they visited London, she’d just have to be so alluring and indefatigable that he was kept too busy—and satisfied—to have time or energy to respond to the lures cast his way by the aforementioned matrons.

  Having gotten the idea of wedding Will into her head, she now seemed unable to pry it back out. She knew Grandfather would prefer her to marry an Italian. Though amenable to hosting her English gentleman, he would almost certainly forbid a marriage between them, especially if he learned of Will’s financial difficulties.

  But grateful as she was to her grandfather, this was her life and her happiness. Living in a pampered cocoon of wealth had been pleasant, but wealth alone, as she’d found these last three months, brought but a hollow satisfaction. Besides, she’d spent so little of her life in luxury that she’d not grown accustomed enough to miss it.

  Not nearly as much as she would miss Will if she lost him again. More than she’d ever wanted anything, she realized with a wistful pang, she wanted to marry Will, return with him to Brookwillow and spend the rest of her life helping him restore it.

  Which was probably the time it would require, since if Grandfather disapproved their match, he would not be disposed to settle any dowry on a granddaughter who, like his son, planned to abandon him and live in a foreign land.

  She would regret disappointing him and would always be grateful for his loving welcome here. But she would not give up Will, no matter how much Grandfather objected.

  But that was putting the cart in front of the horse. First, she needed to determine if Will returned her love.

  Lounging back on the sofa, Allegra gazed out at the azure sky, pondering how best to proceed. Somehow she was going to have to figure out how a lady determined the depth of a gentleman’s regard without asking him directly.

  And no less than her entire future happiness depended upon succeeding.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

>   IN THE ROOM to which the butler conducted him, Will stood before the glass, touching the cheek her lips had brushed. The skin seemed to burn against his fingers, as if still smoldering from her imprint.

  At that proof of her gladness at seeing him again, he’d been tempted to wrap her in his arms and hug the breath from her, despite the presence of that disapproving dragon of a duenna.

  How she’d dazzled him, walking in the blinding noon light in that pale yellow gown! So must the denizens of the ark of yore have felt when, after forty days of storm, they finally saw the sun crowning the heavens. His needy soul soaked up her radiance and thirsted for more.

  Until he’d seen her today, he thought he’d been getting on with his life at Brookwillow. Now he realized he’d only been existing, marking time until he came again into the light of her presence.

  Though the ducal palazzo of the Antinoris was even more opulent than he’d envisioned, making starker the contrast between what her family possessed and what he could offer her, seeing her again made his determination to win her all the stronger. And yet…

  Sighing, he walked from the mirror to gaze out his window at the geometric precision of the formal flower gardens. The debate within him erupted again between whether to declare himself and ask for her hand, or simply drink in the pleasure of her company one last time before leaving her to a wealth and luxury far beyond what he could ever provide for her.

  But he needn’t make that decision now. He could take time to watch her, listen closely and determine if she seemed happy in her new life, or if beneath the pretty gowns and milling servants lay a reservoir of yearning.

  For England…and for him?

  At that moment, Barrows strolled in. “We’ve certainly landed in opulent surroundings this time, m’lord.”

  “Opulent indeed.”

  “I suppose you’re already thinking it impossible to press your suit on so rich and privileged a lady.”

  Will sighed. “She would be coming down in the world.”

  “Depends on your outlook, my good sir. If I were of a philosophical turn of mind, I’d say that wealth alone is empty, that one’s existence means nothing without love and purpose. Not, mind you, that I’ve ever possessed enough wealth to test the theory. I can affirm, however, that friendship ameliorates the despair of poverty and makes want bearable.”