The Distinguished Rogues Bundle

by Heather Boyd

  “The boys were quite curious about you the other day. They peppered me with all manner of questions. You’ve become quite the novelty. But I think boys learn a great deal from their fathers, too, without ever realizing it. It is such a pity they will be forever without one.”

  “I won’t always be a novelty for them.” Oscar took a hasty swallow of his claret. “With luck they will get quite sick of me.”

  Agatha grinned. “It won’t happen. It is good that the boys have your influence at this stage of their life. I have noticed an increased attention to their appearance by the older ones, but I must arrange a tailor for some of them. They have quite outgrown their things. Simon’s arms are very long now.”

  “How did Simon come to be in the orphanage?” Oscar adjusted his chair so they were an inch closer together. “There is very little noted about him in the records.”

  “We know little more. He was found waiting on the front steps one morning, a sack of clothes at his side and a handful of coins clutched in his fist. There was a note—a piece of much folded parchment with our address and my grandfather’s name.”

  “Did your grandfather recognize him?”

  She shook her head sadly. “Not at all. And since Simon will never speak about the past, we have little else to go on. He’s a good influence on the younger boys though.”

  “How so?”

  Agatha’s smile returned. “He can read. His penmanship is quite superior to what was first expected. He’s even started helping the little ones learn their letters.”

  Now that was surprising. “Well, perhaps his skills will set him up for a career when he grows older. I’ll be sure to visit with him tomorrow.”

  Agatha’s smiled dimmed. “That may prove difficult. He’s not fond of gentlemen, by and large, and does his best to remain unseen. It’s quite vexing to be always searching for him.”

  “He obviously does not take after Miss Mabel then,” Oscar laughed loudly and all eyes turned toward them again. He forced his attention to the delicacies being placed before him with considerable reluctance. He liked discussing the children’s needs with Agatha. And he was incredibly curious about this Simon boy. Reading and writing so well as to impress at the age of ten was quite an achievement for an orphan. Perhaps his circumstances now were far removed from where they had begun. He’d question the boy carefully so as not to frighten him and then see what might be done for his future.

  At the end of the meal, once the ladies had departed for the drawing room, Oscar sprawled untidily in his chair. He had no wish to converse much at all; his thoughts lingered with the orphans, and with making Agatha his wife.

  “You’ve got a fine handful there.”

  Oscar glanced at Lord Prewitt and frowned. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Don’t deny it. You practically made love to her over the table.”

  Oscar got to his feet. “Miss Birkenstock and I were speaking of the orphanage, actually. I suggest you keep your base accusations to yourself.”

  “Just remember, you’re to marry Lady Penelope this month. She’ll not tolerate you publicly embarrassing her by flirting with your light-skirt before her very eyes again.”

  Oscar ignored the revelation that the date he would marry Penelope was set for this month. He wouldn’t stand for Prewitt’s slander of Agatha. “Tomorrow . . .”

  Daventry set his hand to Oscar’s shoulder and nudged him back. “Here now. If there is a disparaging word to be said against my wife’s closest friend, then I shall be the one calling him out. After all, this is my house and if a guest has imbibed too freely of spirits and ceases to speak as a gentleman should, then I shall be more than happy to take him to task.”

  Prewitt glanced between them, weighing up Daventry’s threat. Eventually, he offered a lopsided smile. “Perhaps you are right. You do set a fine table, my lord. I should call it a night.”

  Daventry’s smile was cold. “Perhaps you should.”

  Lord Prewitt collected his father-in-law and, with one last smirk, departed the room.

  Daventry pulled Oscar away from his guests. “Have you lost your mind?”

  “He insulted Aggie.”

  “And now he will be more curious about her place in your affections, given that you were about to threaten him with a duel. You could have handled that better.”

  Oscar shrugged. “Hardly matters now.”

  “Why? What’s going on?”

  Oscar clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Change is good for the soul, they say. I’m sick of playing by society’s rules.”

  Daventry set his hands to his hip. “If you’re about to elope, then for God’s sake keep your voice down.”

  Oscar grinned. “Not eloping. Not yet at any rate.”

  “Good.” Daventry raked his fingers through his hair. “Lilly is planning to host your wedding breakfast. Don’t disappoint her.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it. Did you speak to my mother?”

  “Yes, thank you. She was a great comfort.” Daventry stirred restlessly. “We should rejoin the ladies. My wife will be wondering where we’ve gotten ourselves to.”

  Daventry moved off with the other men, but Oscar dawdled. He fell into step with Thomas Birkenstock. Birkenstock gave him an odd look then quickly crossed to his granddaughter’s side, spoiling his chance to flirt with Agatha again that night.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  AGATHA POURED THE very last cup of tea for herself then sank into the nearest chair. Keeping her emotions under control tonight was proving more than a little difficult. She’d thought she could stand the strain of socializing with Oscar’s betrothed, but quite honestly her thoughts were becoming a touch violent. The elegant, dark beauty and her equally admired elder sister were holding court a little to the side of Lilly.

  They both seemed determined, by accident or design, to make Lilly appear a visitor to their social whirl. Not that Lilly, sweet but slightly naive Lilly, had the remotest inkling of their contempt. But Lady Carrington had noticed. The viscountess had taken up a post beside the new bride and was steering the conversation back into calmer waters where Lilly would feel at ease.

  The main doors creaked open, and the gentlemen joined them not a moment too soon. Both Lady Prewitt and Penelope descended on Lord Prewitt, ignoring the rest of the male company as they returned. Agatha couldn’t understand their fascination with Lord Prewitt. He wasn’t even that handsome to look at. Perhaps he had hidden qualities that lent to his appeal.

  “Ah, there you are, child,” her grandfather gasped as he sat.

  Agatha studied his face. He seemed more tired than when he’d first returned home. “Are you unwell?”

  “No, no,” her grandfather replied as he mopped his brow. “Just a spot of indigestion. Lord Daventry sets a fine table. I’ll be right in a moment.”

  Relieved, Agatha patted his arm. “That he does. Lilly claims all his teeth are sweet, not just one.”

  Her grandfather gave her a shrewd look and nodded his head. “You are very much enamored of Lady Daventry, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, sir. She is my very good friend.”

  “And the seating arrangement tonight?” Her grandfather raised his eyes to the doorway and caught Oscar staring at them.

  “I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

  Beside her, her grandfather slumped a little. “I had an inkling once upon a time, but when nothing came of it I dismissed the notion. I was quite wrong to do so, wasn’t I?”

  Agatha’s cheeks heated. Dash it. She had tried so hard to seem indifferent, but Oscar’s attentive conversation tonight had ruined it all. Now she had to lie. “The viscount is an engaging man as a dinner companion. It would have been rude of me to ignore his conversation.”

  “Was he in any way forward with his speech? If he was, I’ll have his head.”

  Agatha placed a restraining hand on her grandfather’s arm, alarmed by the high color in his cheeks. “He was very proper in his speech, sir. There is no cause for concern.”<
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  Her grandfather subsided, but his high color remained. It wouldn’t do him any good to become vexed over a simple seating arrangement. She hoped he wouldn’t become equally distressed, should Oscar come to call tomorrow. Given Oscar was already engaged to be married, Agatha wondered how distressed her grandfather could become over the potential scandal. But if Oscar could convince him that they were in love, wouldn’t that smooth things over with him?

  To her relief, the Prewitt’s and Lady Penelope departed early.

  Good riddance. Now they could all be easy again.

  “Agatha, would you mind finding a servant to fetch me a drink. They’re not looking in this direction,” her grandfather huffed, mopping his brow once more.

  Agatha rose. “Of course, sir. I shall be back directly.”

  As she crossed the room, Agatha had to pass directly beside Oscar. He caught the trailing ribbons on her gown and tugged. Agatha ignored him. What else could she do? But she did hope her grandfather had not noticed. He was worrying her enough as it was, without getting into a temper over Oscar. He would understand everything tomorrow, once Oscar had spoken with him.

  She accepted a glass of champagne and started back toward her grandfather. But the crowd had shifted and Agatha became trapped with Oscar in her way. He grinned down impishly at her and set his hand to her arm.

  “Excuse me, my lord. May I pass?”

  “Not just yet. I need to tell you something.”

  Agatha shook off his grip, afraid of how much she wanted to step into his arms and be held. “Now?”

  “It can wait till tomorrow, but it is very important.”

  His face held a serious cast and Agatha was suddenly afraid he’d changed his mind about flouting convention and marrying her. Panicked, she glanced around him, but her grandfather had moved from his seat. “Do you see Mr. Birkenstock, my lord?”

  “No.” Oscar acquired her fingers to ease her through the cluster of gentlemen. “But we shall find him together if you like.”

  Lord Daventry approached. “Forgive me, Miss Birkenstock, I was just coming to find you. Your grandfather wishes to leave and requests your presence in the front hall.”

  With another squeeze, Oscar released her fingers. Agatha made her way to Lilly, wished her a good night then turned to find Lord Daventry waiting patiently. He held out his arm to lead her across the crowded room.

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  Lord Daventry leaned close. “I wondered if I might have a word before we rejoin your grandfather. I didn’t think he looked particularly well just now. Do not hesitate to send word if he sickens.”

  Agatha’s heart began to thump wildly. So it was not just her imagination. She’d thought he had begun to seem older, weaker of late. Yet she’d stubbornly refused to consider the implications fully. He couldn’t leave her. But he was nearing four and sixty. He wouldn’t live forever, no matter how much she wished otherwise.

  Agatha forced a reassuring smile to her lips, but inside she quaked. “I’m sure it is nothing serious. Good night, my lord. Thank you for a wonderful evening.”

  The earl frowned again, but then signaled for the footmen to open the doors without another word. She looked about her, but couldn’t see her grandfather. The butler stood at the door ready with her wrap then escorted her outside and helped her embark. Inside, her grandfather appeared to be resting with his eyes closed. The carriage lurched and for a brief moment his eyes flickered open, but quickly shut again.

  Unsure what to make of his reticence, Agatha watched the steady rise and fall of his chest. He was just tired. Tomorrow she would force him to remain in the house until he regained his stamina.

  As the carriage rattled through the dark London streets, Agatha mulled over her evening. Until the later part, she had enjoyed herself. Dining at Oscar’s side was a feat she’d never managed before. He was an engaging conversationalist. But for the first time, she appreciated being in his orbit. Although he had barely touched her all night, he had made her feel treasured and special. Would it be the same when she was his wife?

  Or would he stray, as so many men did?

  Although the future still held many unknown problems, she would set her worries aside for tonight. Tomorrow, she would send Lilly the largest bag of sweets she could find as a thank you for seating them together.

  The carriage rumbled to a stop before her house. Her grandfather roused himself and exited the carriage. Eventually, just when she had begun to suspect he’d left her already, his hand extended to help her from the carriage. Agatha slipped her hand into his, the clamminess of her grandfather’s grip was noticeable immediately.

  “Sir?”

  He slipped his arm about her shoulders and she almost buckled under his weight. Their butler, George, hurried forward to assist and looped his arm around her grandfather’s back, taking most of his weight. Together they climbed the endless stairs and got her grandfather into the foyer. With the greater light, the shine of his sweat-soaked skin and the unnaturally light color of his eyes worried her.

  “Wallace!” George shouted, struggling to take more of her grandfather’s weight from her shoulders. The footman hurried to them and helped George support their master up the long flight of stairs. At the bottom, Agatha watched their unsteady progress, dread rising in a steady wave. Her grandfather’s head lolled forward, his gaze fixed on moving his feet. But his movements were clumsy, and when they reached the top, both servants hefted him between them to carry him into his room.

  A hand touched her arm. Nell watched the proceedings with tears in her eyes. Agatha’s maid expected the worst. But it couldn’t be. He was still too young, too vital for the cold of the earth to swallow him up. Agatha rushed up the stairs and turned for her grandfather’s room. The servants had maneuvered him onto the bed and were removing his shoes and untying his cravat. Her grandfather lay silent, allowing the servants to fuss without comment. She glanced at his chest. It still rose and fell in a steady rhythm, but then she heard the loud rasp of his breath as the room fell silent.

  Everyone turned toward the bed, perhaps counting the labored breathing. Agatha moved forward and clutched her grandfather’s arm, then slipped her fingers over his broad hand. His hand was slack of strength and unnaturally cold.

  George moved a chair close behind her and she lowered herself blindly. He was dying before her very eyes.

  Agatha drew in great gasping breaths as her heart raced in fear. “Fetch a doctor. Now.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “I’M AFRAID THERE is nothing to be done, Miss Birkenstock.”

  Those words kept bouncing around inside Agatha’s head until she thought it might explode from the anguish. Nothing. Not one single thing. Agatha stroked her fingers over her grandfather’s unresponsive hand, feeling a chill seep into her bones. It might not be long, it might take all night, but either way this would be her last moments with family.

  After that—vast loneliness awaited her.

  No family, no husband yet, and no children.

  No one to give a damn if she lived or died.

  A rustle at the door alerted Agatha to her midnight visitor. After the doctor had made his pronouncement an hour earlier, Agatha had sent two letters: one to her cousin in Winchester and one to Lady Estella Carrington here in Town. It was far too soon for Arthur to arrive, but not too soon for her grandfather’s closest friend. Although she shouldn’t know of the affair between them, Agatha was observant and had made the connection long ago.

  Despite any possible awkwardness, sending the letter was a kindness.

  Estella Carrington rushed to the bedside and cupped her hands around her grandfather’s face. Her expression, so full of anguish and worry, convinced Agatha she’d made the right decision to inform the viscountess, even at the risk a deathbed vigil could bring scandal upon the Carrington name.

  Agatha dropped her gaze to her hands, waiting for the lady to absorb the change to come, to compose herself for the end. She ignored the sniff
ing tears Lady Carrington couldn’t contain and tried to think of what she would have to do. Her cousin Arthur would own the house. Foolishly, she had never discussed what would become of her if her grandfather died before she married. And he’d been so adamant she marry soon. Yet he’d never live to meet with Oscar, if he should still want to marry her.

  The cold hand beneath hers twitched and she glanced at her grandfather’s face. His eyes were open. Agatha climbed to her feet to stand closer to his head.

  “My angels.”

  Agatha hastily swiped a falling tear from her cheek and clutched his hand tightly. She couldn’t think of what to say, but feared these moments would be her last. A glance at Lady Carrington showed she wasn’t alone in her grief. Tears ran thick down the older woman’s cheeks, casting her face in palpable grief.

  “Oh, my Thomas. Don’t leave us.”

  But there was no response to her words. His eyes widened as he drew breath and never let it out again.

  The sudden silence was stifling.

  Estella Carrington threw herself across Agatha’s grandfather’s unmoving chest and wept bitter tears of loss. Agatha watched, numb, unable to comprehend why he would allow such a display of emotion in his presence. And then she remembered. He was gone. He wouldn’t tell anyone to leave him be again.

  The hand in her grip slipped away. She stared at it, waiting for a movement that would prove this night was but a nightmare dredged from her deepest dreams. Yet it didn’t move the slightest inch.

  A sniff at the door caught her attention. She moved, turning to see who was crying.

  Nell stood at the door, tears pouring down her cheeks, grieving for her employer with more emotion than Agatha felt. He couldn’t be gone. Any moment now, he would rise up and tell them all to end their feminine wailing. He’d claim it hurt his ears and head for his study to bury himself in his papers. But when she noticed the butler’s pained attempts not to shed a tear himself, Agatha had to face the future.