Rogue's Lady

by Robyn Carr

  Tyson had seen Lenore Fenton several times, and though the meetings were distasteful to him, the bawdy woman was convinced that Tyson needed her help and would reward her in the end with his everlasting love.

  Although she betrayed no knowledge of Charles Latimer, she displayed discomfort when questioned about how she came to be in London. Finally, she fell headlong into her own trap. “All right, you tease,” she laughed. “It was because of your letters.”

  Tyson had raised a brow in amusement. “You did receive them?”

  “I didn’t want to let on. You treated me so shabbily.”

  Avoiding her bed was delicate, for Lenore expected a great deal more clarification of feelings, but invariably she settled for what Tyson was willing, or not willing, to give.

  The day was the tenth of December, and the weather was cold. The warehouse building was going well since the snowfall had been light, and the Latimer family had been settled in their rich London house even before Tyson and Vieve had arrived. Doré used his time equally watching either the Latimer household or Lenore’s apartments. They slowly collected information whenever they could, building what they knew about Latimer, his dealings, and his associates.

  Tyson was a methodical man. He was well-organized and obsessive about the nature of his work; things were done perfectly according to a well-thought-out plan. He was only just discovering that he was the same in his personal life, for he had cautiously courted his wife for many weeks, each day moving closer to her. Soon he would voice his desires and invite her to share his bed. But he had set much awry with his impatience, at times pursuing her with such clumsiness or anger that he had hurt and frightened her. These actions, he knew, would be wise to correct. Where she struck good sense from his skull, he sought to restore it. He had rushed into her life with the force of a fire-breathing dragon, ultimately punishing her for his own mistakes. She was young and gentle, and he meant to win her not for a night, but forever. His courtship was patient, but inflexible, for he had his eye turned to many years with this woman close at his side.

  On this day he had made a special purchase, and he looked at the sky as he approached his house. It was approximately four o’clock in the afternoon. Vieve had developed a pattern of bathing in the late afternoon, before dinner. He smiled as he opened the front door of his house. He grinned broadly as he saw she was not in her usual afternoon seat in the parlor. He mounted the stairs to her bedroom and opened the door without knocking.

  So startled was Harriet at this interruption that she gasped in surprise and dropped the dress she was holding. In her tub, Vieve looked over her shoulder and frowned at him. But Tyson did not notice. He stared at Harriet for so long and with such intensity, that she retrieved the dress, spread it on the bed, and fled. He stepped aside as the hefty woman beat a hasty retreat and chuckled as the door was swiftly closed.

  He leisurely walked toward the fore end of his wife’s tub and smiled down at her. “You shouldn’t do such wicked things,” she said in a scolding tone. “Since you came into my life you have cost poor Harriet ten years of hers. She has no idea what goes on with us, and I know she worries constantly that you are cruel to me.”

  He raised a brow and smiled. “That again? Come, my dear, I have been on my very best behavior... for a damn long time.”

  “I think you send my woman off in a flutter purposely, so that she will think the worst.”

  He threw back his head and laughed in delighted glee. “Or the best, madam? Come, where is your spirit?”

  “I am at my bath, Tyson, and I know you think you should be allowed great liberties, but this is too much. Excuse yourself.”

  “You are such a spiteful wench when denied your pleasures,” he said teasingly. “Be easier on me. I’ve brought you a present.”

  “A present?”

  “Do you forget your own birthday? Today you mark eight and ten. A woman, some would say.”

  “That’s ridiculous. My birthday is...” She thought for a moment. “It is my birthday. How did you know?”

  “I did sign marriage contracts, madam, even though much about our marriage has not been customary. And look, you are wearing the same thing in which you were born.”

  She ruffled the water with her fingertips, attempting to splash him. “Can we not discuss my birthday another time, m’lord?”

  He pulled a chair from near the hearth to take his leisure, sitting down and propping his feet on the end of her tub. “Tell me, my sweet, if you could have anything you wished, what would you claim for your birthday present?”

  “Do you pretend that you will bequeath your affection as a birthday present? That is rather arrogant, is it not?”

  His eyes gleamed with mischief. “Tell the truth, woman. Is that what you want most?”

  She groaned and slid down into the water. “You are the most insufferable man in the world. Did no woman leave your bed disappointed in your talents?”

  “Never,” he insisted. “But think of something less wonderful for your present.” He pulled a long, slender box from inside his jacket and watched with amusement as her eyes took light. He opened it and looked inside.

  “Diamonds,” she said, the corners of her mouth turning upward.

  “Diamonds?” he laughed. “But I have given all my money to your father. You remind me on purpose. You are a vindictive wench.”

  “Ha. I do not interfere with your bath. Rubies and emeralds then,” she said, rather enjoying the game.

  Out of the box he drew upward a long string of pearls, gleaming in satiny brilliance, and dangled them before her eyes. “Oh, Tyson,” she said breathlessly. “You really did bring me a present. I thought you had come only to taunt me.”

  “Madam,” he said sincerely, rising to lean over and fasten them around her neck. “I assure you, the torment is more mine. I am not naked.”

  “Tyson, please, let me dry off,” she protested.

  “The water is their natural habitat. They will be at home. Let me...I have thought of this sight all day long.”

  He closed the clasp and pulled away. His eyes were drawn to the sight of the pearls, dropping to the top of her milky breasts. He smiled roguishly. “I am too selfish and cannot deny myself the sight of the woman I wed.” He stood back, looking down at her. She reached out of her tub to gather her towel. “Please, madam, do not rise. My control is strained enough, and I forget my promises. If you stand now in all your naked glory, I shall be forced to do my part as a husband and end your miserable wanting.”

  She laughed at his misery. “Oh, please, Captain,” she said, lifting the pearls with a finger. “You have been generous enough.” She grabbed the towel without exposing any more of herself. “Turn your back then, Tyson.”

  He turned away as she stepped out of the tub, wrapping the towel about her. “Dress,” he instructed, moving toward the door. “Monsieur Gastión and I will take you out. Wear something that will draw attention to the pearls.”

  “Doré goes with us?” she asked brightly.

  He turned back to notice the towel wrapped about her, making her resemble a Greek goddess. “Does that please you, my dear?”

  “Greatly,” she said. “Should you become brutish, I can trust him to protect me.”

  He raised both brows in question. “And if I am mannerly?”

  “Why, then, Doré will excuse himself. No one knows discretion better than a Parisian.”

  “Madam, if I did not know better, I would swear you’ve schemed all this from the very beginning and have the rest of my life laid out in some neat little plan.”

  “Don’t be silly,” she laughed.

  With a nod of his head, he left her to dress. The moment the door was closed, her lips turned up in a sly smile. “I cannot see my plan for longer than the next ten or twenty years.”

  Elizabeth Latimer took her morning tea in the breakfast parlor of the London house that was once her father’s. She was alone and relished the solitude. Her son, Robert, had already left the house,
and her daughters were still abed. Charles, she suspected, was in his study. The only sounds on this morning were those of the servants, quietly performing their duties. The sky was a murky gray, the air was wet and cold, and Elizabeth’s mood was equally dour. Ten days would bring Christmas.

  Because Elizabeth was quiet by nature and strictly obedient to her husband, everyone tended to believe that she was unaware of what was going on around her. If any unscrupulous dealings existed in her house, she concealed her knowledge behind the mien of a dutiful wife. When she was upset, frightened, or angry, she simply withdrew until the disruptive feelings passed and she felt her quiet control again. This demure and shy posture not only caused people to think she was innocent of any conspiracy, but allowed her a much closer look at the same. Charles, most especially, doubted her capable of passionate feelings, opinions, or actions of any kind.

  Elizabeth was thirty-seven years old. For twenty years she had known of her husband’s single obsession to best his brother. She was amazed at Lord Ridgley’s uncommon longevity and had been convinced that by now the baron would be dead and Charles would be in control of the baron’s heirs. She had not foreseen that it would last so long and that her own existence and that of her children would be compromised.

  When she had met Charles Latimer, she had been very taken with him. Her father, Silas Markham, had been a wealthy master printer who owned both a rich London home and a country manor northeast of the city. Charles, at twenty-five, had owned his own iron forge and was part owner in a second shop. He was tall, lean, and handsome. Elizabeth, who was demure, plain, and small, adored him.

  She was an only child with a rich dowry, and when Charles asked for permission to marry her, Markham refused. He had worked hard and hoped to have had acquired enough to buy his daughter a titled marriage to a nobleman. Six months later, Elizabeth found herself pregnant by Charles Latimer, and the request for her hand was supported by Lord Ridgley. Markham changed his mind, but died before his first grandchild was born. And the passion that had consumed Charles before the wedding began to wane immediately.

  With the marriage Charles acquired Markham’s lucrative printing business and the deeds on two large houses left to Elizabeth, and this multiplied his wealth very quickly. By the time Charles was thirty years old he held half-interests in a dozen merchant operations. He used his profits to make loans, and when they were not repaid, he added to his acquisitions.

  Elizabeth loved him desperately in the early years, but as her devotion yielded to acceptance of a less than perfect marriage, she strived only to keep her family life somewhat stable. She knew about one or two mistresses Charles had kept, and his occasional dalliance with a housemaid, which seemed the route for successful marriage. So long as she and the children were well kept, she could look the other way. Charles was not patient and seldom kind, but he was rich and Elizabeth had almost everything she needed. She had learned to make do without devotion, but she would not live on a farthing less. Most of all, she was determined that her children would have a sound future.

  She felt there was little she could do to save Charles, but she would not allow her innocent children to be harmed in the course of their father’s obsession.

  Robert Latimer was already much aware of his father’s unscrupulous plans and chafed at the maltreatment of his mother. Elizabeth had long ago identified the sneer on her firstborn’s face when he looked askance at his father, and no amount of reassurance that she was as happy as she wished to be would dissuade Robert’s growing hatred. And Faye, at only fifteen, was suffering from a terrible melancholia because she thought herself deeply in love with Andrew Shelby. The happiness and future of two of her three children was already hanging in the balance of Charles’s schemes. She desperately wished to see this finally done.

  She meant to save herself and her children.

  She shook the small crystal bell beside her plate and asked for more tea. She thought her plans through once again in her mind before she asked a maid to see if her husband was at work in the study, and then, bolstering herself, she entered.

  “What is it?” he asked impatiently, not looking up from his work.

  “If you have time, I should like to speak to you about our daughter.”

  “Which daughter?”

  “Faye.”

  Charles sighed heavily. “Will it take long?”

  “It is important, my dear, but I doubt it is very complex.” Elizabeth stood calmly, determined in this request. He had only struck her a few times, and she was no longer afraid of him.

  “Very well,” he said. “You may sit down, but please be brief. I have a great deal to do.”

  Elizabeth took the chair he indicated. “When Andrew was visiting our house frequently,” she began, “Faye developed a very strong attraction to him. She fancies herself in love with him, and she is inconsolable now that he is gone. She is mature and it is time to secure a husband for her.”

  “Mature? I had not thought so.”

  “She has come sick every month for two years, Charles. Soon her body will move her if her heart does not. Have you anyone in mind?”

  “Perhaps I will let Shelby have her,” Charles said distractedly. “It would save me money. I could give him back his property as Faye’s dowry. Do you think that would please her?”

  “Yes, Charles. How soon do you think it can be done?”

  “A couple of months, as there are other, more pressing matters to which I must attend.”

  “Is it the American captain? I’ve heard you say he worries you.”

  “He is less of a worry every day,” he said abruptly. “I have managed to learn a few things about the captain. It seems that before he came here, he killed an Englishman.”

  “Murder?” she asked.

  Charles cleared his throat. “I have made the acquaintance of a very good witness who says that the captain used every advantage. Perhaps in America it would not be conceived as murder, but here?”

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened in sudden worry. “Does Lord Ridgley know?”

  “Even you are smart enough to understand, my dear, that the captain has obviously not told my brother. I will tell Boris when it suits me.”

  “Does Andrew know?” she asked.

  “Andrew does not seem inclined to pay much attention... but perhaps he knows. It is unimportant.”

  “But if Andrew is truly interested in marrying Vieve, would he await the possibility that Vieve would be available for...?”

  “By the time Captain Gervais has paid for his crime, it will be too late for Boris to save his fortune through his daughter’s hand. And I do not require Andrew’s poverty to further disable him.”

  Elizabeth swallowed hard. She was unconcerned about the baron’s estate. It was Faye’s happiness she wished to secure. Charles’s threat carried the implication, of some drastic and costly move against the captain. “Whom...did he kill?”

  “A British visitor to the Virginia colony. By summer I shall have obtained the captain’s warehouse shares and he will be facing punishment for the killing.”

  “And Andrew?” she asked weakly.

  “Andrew cannot serve me any further. I will let him take Faye to get his property back.”

  “Charles, Vieve has wed this American. Why do you ignore the heir? What of Paul?”

  “I long ago took control of the country farmlands surrounding the estates of Dumere and Ridgley. The properties are poor. The money the captain has brought is the only thing that delays me from going to my brother to show him that without my help he will lose everything. When I relieve the captain of his share in the warehouses and the commission on my brother’s ships, Boris will have no choice but to meet my terms.”

  “But how, Charles?”

  “I have a plan. It needn’t concern you.”

  “I only want my children settled, my dear,” she said confidently. “I do not want Faye’s marriage interrupted or Robert’s inheritance diminished.”

  “I have told you, whe
n I have finally finished with my brother, our children will all be better off.”

  Elizabeth sighed. “Charles, can we secure the betrothal between Andrew and Faye with due haste? The girl is so upset.”

  “I’ll see to it as soon as I can. Is that all?”

  “May I tell Faye that you approve?”

  “I don’t care, madam. Just so long as you leave me to my work.”

  “Thank you, Charles. She will be happy, I know.”

  Elizabeth quickly left her husband’s study and went to Faye’s room. Although it was nearly noon, Faye was just rising. She had not felt well these past few days. When she found her sad, sorry daughter, she embraced her fondly. “Darling,” Elizabeth cooed. “I’ve spoken to your father, and he plans to bring Andrew Shelby to an offer for your hand.”

  “And if he is not interested, Mother?” Faye asked lethargically.

  “Oh, sweetheart, your father is rich and powerful. How can Andrew refuse?”

  Faye’s eyes grew brighter. “Then Father will make it worth his while?”

  “He promises, darling. Are you happy?”

  “Andrew is all I want. How long must I wait?”

  “It will be arranged within two months. Will that do?”

  Faye frowned as she considered the length of time, and then she slowly smiled. “Yes, that should do nicely. Thank you, Mama.”

  Tyson had his coat over his arm and was ready to leave the house when Doré entered. They spoke quietly in the front hall. “How did it go?” he asked.

  “I found the man’s favorite servant. I must tell you, Tyson, it is possible that this Latimer has good taste in women. Perhaps he has some Parisian...”

  “Did she agree to leave the Latimer house?” Tyson asked, cutting him off.

  “Yes, she was eager to leave him. He has bothered her for intimate favors, and she does not like the affectionate merchant. He is not a generous man. So, the household is short by one servant.” He shrugged and smiled. “I do not think the remaining staff will have trouble doing her work, but the master will be disappointed.”