When the Rogue Returns

by Sabrina Jeffries

  Turning to watch as Victor found the diamonds and removed them from Gerhart’s pocket, Amalie cocked her head to one side. “What’s my papa’s name?”

  “Victor Cale.”

  A troubled expression crossed her face. “Does that mean that I have to change my name, too?”

  “I honestly don’t know,” Isa said. It was the first time she’d thought of it. “I believe we christened you Amalie Franke, so I don’t know how that works. I’ll have to find out.”

  “I don’t want to change my name!”

  “Well, then. We’ll see.”

  Amalie looked unsure of how she felt about that answer. “Will he be coming to live with us?”

  “Either that, or we’ll be going to live with him.”

  “So . . . I’ll have a papa like other girls?”

  “Yes.”

  Amalie digested that in silence, obviously still unsettled by all of the information being thrown at her. But before she could ask any more questions, Isa heard Victor say, “This is for my wife.”

  Isa looked over in time to see him land his fist on Gerhart’s jaw.

  “And this is for my daughter, damn you!” Victor said as he punched Gerhart in the stomach until Gerhart doubled over.

  Gerhart started cursing, then straightened carefully. “You think you’ve won,” he choked out, “but if you accuse me of kidnapping, I’ll deny it. She’s my niece, and the school has a letter from your wife saying that we were to fetch her.” He wiped away the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. “I’ll say that you and your friends are just trying to separate your wife from her family.”

  “I know what you’ll say,” Victor growled. “And that’s why we’re not apprehending you for kidnapping, much as I want to. We’re apprehending you for theft.”

  “Ah, but Isa was the one to steal that necklace.” Gerhart smiled smugly. “Knowing her, she left a fake in its place, so the authorities will see that I speak the truth. And when I tell them that she helped you steal the royal diamonds in Amsterdam, you’ll both land in prison.”

  Rupert walked over to Gerhart. “Whatever are you talking about, sir? Mrs. Cale had nothing to do with any theft. You were seen stealing my diamonds just this afternoon. I have a whole raft of houseguests who witnessed your desperate act.”

  “What the hell? I didn’t steal a damned thing,” Gerhart spat. “And if you’re thinking of paying them all off to lie—”

  “No need to pay anyone off,” Victor said with a cold smile. “A burly man with dark hair and a beard was seen by several people—servants and guests—running from the manor house after the jewel case was broken into.” He glanced at Mr. Bonnaud. “That reminds me; I need your coat. Though I think your trousers look close enough to Gerhart’s to pass.”

  “Excellent,” Mr. Bonnaud said as he slipped off his overly large coat. “The trousers are mine. It’s only the coat that doesn’t fit me.”

  Victor flashed Gerhart a triumphant look. “But I daresay it fits my brother-in-law well enough.”

  It took a minute for Gerhart to realize that they were setting him up as the thief, but when he did, he began fighting them, to no avail. He could hardly withstand three men bent on forcibly removing his coat and replacing it with Mr. Bonnaud’s.

  And once they had the coat on, they tied him up so that no matter how much he struggled, he was well and truly caught. Then Mr. Bonnaud’s wide-brimmed beaver hat was clamped atop his head, and they were done.

  Amalie grabbed Isa’s hand. “What are they doing, Mama?”

  “Making sure that your Uncle Gerhart can never hurt you—or any of the rest of us—ever again, dearest.”

  Victor stepped back to view their handiwork. “He’ll do, don’t you think, Dom?”

  “Oh, excellent.” Mr. Manton cast Mr. Bonnaud a mocking glance. “You two could be twins.”

  “Don’t say that,” his brother grumbled. “I had a devil of a time getting that black junk off my face before we headed here.”

  Rupert cast Gerhart a hard look. “I’m absolutely certain that’s the man I saw riding away. And I’m sure Miss Gordon will confirm it. Besides, we found the stolen necklace on him, so there you are. All the proof we need.”

  “You won’t get away with this!” Gerhart cried as Mr. Bonnaud and Mr. Manton dragged him over to Mr. Manton’s horse. “I’ll tell everyone what I’ve seen and what you’re trying to do. And so will my wife, damn you all!”

  “Will she?” Victor snapped. “I doubt that.” He turned to Jacoba, who was staring after Gerhart with a heartsick expression. “It’s time you consider yourself, sister,” he said coldly. “Your husband is lost to you. He will almost certainly hang for the theft of those diamonds; it’s a capital crime. Right now you’re only guilty of being his accomplice to the diamond theft. But if we haul you back to Amsterdam and start building a case against you two for those thefts, you’re likely to find yourself on the gallows with him. Unless . . .”

  “Unless?” Jacoba whispered.

  “You speak the truth about what happened to those diamonds in Amsterdam. If you testify that Isa and I had nothing to do with it, I will make sure that your sentence is commuted to transportation. I have enough influence to keep you from the gallows.”

  Jacoba cast Isa a pleading glance, but Isa could barely stand to look at her.

  “It’s your choice, Jacoba,” Victor said. “Transportation or the gallows. If you take your chances on a trial, I will use all the influence I have to see you both prosecuted equally for stealing. And you will hang with him.”

  “Don’t be a fool, Jacoba,” Isa said. “He’s not worth it.”

  With a sigh, Jacoba looked at Victor. “All right. I’ll tell the truth.”

  And for the first time in ten years, Isa finally felt free.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  THE NEXT FEW hours tried Victor’s patience. He hated having to put Isa into Lochlaw’s care even temporarily when they left the clearing, but he and Dom had been seen setting out to capture Gerhart, and now they had to be seen bringing him and Jacoba in. But only after Lochlaw had whisked Isa back into the manor through the garden door by which she’d left.

  Meanwhile, Tristan was keeping Amalie under wraps at the hunting cottage until Victor and Isa could head back to Edinburgh with Dom, ostensibly so that they could consult with lawyers about her wretched family caught in this horrible crime. Along the way, Tristan and Dr. Worth would join them, driving the phaeton while Dom drove Isa and Victor and Amalie in Dom’s coach.

  They had no choice in that, either. If Amalie made a miraculous appearance at the house party, it would destroy their plan to undermine Gerhart’s claims.

  Well into the evening, Victor had to lie about the capture while Isa had to pretend to be shocked by the fact that her brother-in-law was a thief. She had to act horrified by the nasty claims he was making against her. Her bruises contributed to Victor’s and Isa’s story of Gerhart’s desperation for money, especially with Dr. Worth there to speak of the damage done to her throat. And her presence among the other guests during the theft vindicated her of stealing.

  Everyone played his part to perfection. Victor had a moment’s worry when Lady Zoe came into the room, but she kept quiet as she’d promised, and the moment passed.

  Now he was relieved to finally be in the carriage on his way back to Edinburgh with Isa. Traveling at night was never ideal, but the moon was full and the weather was fine.

  The only problem was that Amalie had just joined them, and he had no idea how to deal with her. What did one say to a nine-year-old girl who’d just discovered that her mother had been living a lie, her father wasn’t dead, and her relations were decidedly corrupt?

  He only wished he could see her better. She sat curled up against her mother on the opposite side of the coach, her golden hair limned with moonlight. What was she thinking?

  “So,” he said, feeling the weight of this moment, “your mother tells me that you do very well with your studies.”


  “Yes, sir,” she murmured.

  “Do you like your school?”

  She glanced up at her mother, who nodded. “Yes, sir,” she mumbled. “It’s very nice.”

  “But surely you would like to live at home with your mother while you go to school, if it could be arranged.”

  “That would be fabulous!” she exclaimed, then caught herself. “I mean, yes, sir, I would.”

  The word fabulous grabbed his attention. Isa had described their daughter as flamboyant, but this was the first glimpse he’d had of that side of her. Perhaps it was time he ventured into uncharted waters and pried a bit more of the flamboyant out of her.

  “Of course, you might not like living in London.” Remembering what Isa had told him over the past few days about Amalie’s interests, Victor added, “All those fancy ladies prancing about in the latest fashions from Paris. I’m sure that would bore you.”

  “No, it wouldn’t!” she cried. “I like fancy ladies. Do they wear big hats?”

  He bit back a smile. “The biggest. It’s a problem for us gentlemen; we get poked in the eye with oyster feathers whenever we help ladies into their carriages.”

  She snorted. “They’re not oyster feathers, sir. They’re ostrich feathers.”

  “Are you sure? I could have sworn that they grew out of pearls. That’s why they’re white, isn’t it?”

  This time he got a giggle out of her. “Pearls don’t grow things. That’s ridiculous.”

  “Your father enjoys teasing sometimes,” Isa put in, “but only if he really, really likes you. I think he must like you a great deal.”

  Victor’s throat tightened. “Yes. I do. And I hope that one day you can like me, too. Even if I don’t know a damn—” He winced. “A single thing about female fashions.” Or not cursing in front of young ladies.

  Amalie sat quiet for so long that he began to despair. Then she said in a small voice, “I could teach you. About female fashions, I mean.”

  “I would enjoy that immensely.” Right now, he would enjoy anything that got his daughter to feel more comfortable with him. “And in exchange, I will teach you how to swim. If you’d like.”

  She cocked her head, and he could almost imagine her searching his face. “I would rather learn how to shoot a gun.”

  “All right,” he said, willing to do anything to gain her favor.

  “Victor!” Isa cried. “You are not going to teach our daughter how to shoot!”

  “Fine,” he said, then uttered a dramatic sigh. “It’s probably just as well. I’m told that guns are hopelessly out of fashion in Paris, and you can’t really wear one on your big hat. Oyster feathers work much better.”

  “Papa!” Amalie cried, half laughing. “They’re ostrich feathers!”

  His heart flipped over in his chest. She’d called him “papa.” He’d never heard anything so sweet. “Right,” he said. “So, what’s the name of those long lacy things that the ladies wear around their necks?”

  For the next hour she regaled him with explanations and descriptions of every “fabulous” gown and hat and pair of slippers she’d ever seen, while he showed his ignorance about all things “fashionable.” After a bit, he thought perhaps she’d begun to catch on that he wasn’t quite as ignorant as he pretended, but by then she apparently didn’t care, either.

  Because by then, she’d started asking questions about the past and the future. About how they would go on. He and Isa answered as best they could, until her head began to nod and she began to yawn.

  After she fell asleep, Isa laid her down on the seat and crossed to sit beside him. Victor slid his arm about her shoulders. “She’s as wonderful as her mother,” he murmured, feeling a painful tightness in his chest as he gazed on his daughter. Their daughter. “You did well with her.”

  Isa leaned her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry for the years you lost with her, sorry that—”

  “No more apologies.” He stared down at the wife he was only beginning to know; the woman he would cherish until death closed his eyes and stopped his breath. “We both made mistakes, but we both paid for them in spades. Fate has given us a second chance, so it’s time we let our mistakes go. We love each other, and we love her. That should be all we need to start our new life, don’t you think?”

  Isa stretched up to brush a kiss to his lips, and her smile made his blood heat and his heart swell. “I think that sounds perfectly fabulous.”

  EPILOGUE

  London

  December 1828

  WHEN ISA ARRIVED at the Duke of Lyons’s town house to join the duke and duchess and Victor for dinner there, she was feeling rather blue. But she didn’t wish to put a damper on the evening, so she pasted a smile to her lips as she knocked.

  To her surprise, her husband opened the door and he was alone. Usually the place swarmed with footmen and maids.

  When he greeted her with a kiss, then took her coat, she teased, “Do tell me you haven’t left Manton’s Investigations to take a position as Max’s footman.”

  “I doubt Max would approve of footmen who kissed the guests. I just wanted a moment alone with you.” He searched her face. “How was Jacoba?”

  She should have known her husband would see through her determined good cheer. “How do you think? Her husband is dead, and she’s off to the Australian colonies in a few weeks.”

  “You’re not regretting that we held firm on seeing her prosecuted.”

  “Absolutely not. She helped her evil husband take our daughter! I can never forgive that, and she knows it. But seeing her there in Newgate, with the other women, and knowing that she would soon be half a world away . . .”

  “Made you remember when times were good.”

  She nodded. “When I was little, she was the one who coddled me, warmed chocolate for me to drink, and took care of my sore throats. I hate that Gerhart twisted her into someone I no longer recognized.”

  “So do I, for your sake.”

  Taking in a deep breath, she forced her frown from her brow. “Well, enough about that. I shall try to put it behind me for the evening. I don’t want to make Max and Lisette gloomy, too.”

  A strange expression passed over his face. “I’m sure they’ll understand if your spirits are low.”

  They walked down the hall toward the drawing room, arm in arm. It had taken a while for her to grow accustomed to the palatial mansion that was the duke’s town house, but after two months in London, having put Amalie into school and settled into her new home with Victor, she’d begun to feel very comfortable.

  Soon she would have to decide whether to set up a new jeweler’s shop in London, now that she’d sold her share of the Edinburgh shop to Mr. Gordon. But at the moment she was content to get to know her husband and his new family, to spend time mending the past.

  They entered the drawing room and she halted. This was no intimate family dinner with Max and Lisette. Dom and Tristan were both here, along with Mr. Gordon, Dr. Worth, Mary Grace, and Rupert.

  Barreling out of the crowd came Amalie, dressed in her latest and most fashionable gown. “Mama, Mama, you’ve come at last!”

  Amalie was supposed to be having dinner with a little friend from school! “How did you get here?” Isa exclaimed, then glanced at Victor. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s the tenth anniversary of our wedding, my love,” Victor said softly.

  Flummoxed, she swiftly dredged her memory and realized he was right. “Oh, dear—I’m so sorry, Victor. I utterly forgot.”

  “What with the trial and Jacoba, it’s a wonder you even remember your own name. But I couldn’t let it pass without a celebration.” He nodded to where the duke and duchess stood smiling. “And since we wouldn’t be together again if not for my relations and the Duke’s Men, I thought you wouldn’t mind if they were included.”

  As everyone crowded round her, she somehow managed, “Thank you. You’re all so kind,” and then promptly burst into tears. When Victor looked a little alarmed, she choked
out, “This is the loveliest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

  His face cleared. “That’s all right then,” he said gruffly, clearly a little choked up himself.

  As he offered her his handkerchief, Amalie pushed her way through to the front. “You haven’t even seen the cake yet, Mama. It has fleurs-de-lis all over it!”

  “Spiders, you mean,” Rupert teased her as he came up to kiss Isa on the cheek, then murmured, “I do hope you’ll be at our wedding anniversary celebration in a little more than ten years.”

  As Mary Grace slid up beside him, blushing as always, Isa broke into a broad smile. “You’re engaged?” Not that she was terribly surprised, though she had expected Lady Lochlaw to make more of a fuss about it.

  “Miss Gordon has made me the happiest of men,” Rupert said as he took the young woman’s hand. “I hope you’ll all three be at the wedding.”

  “Of course!” Isa hugged them both. “We wouldn’t miss it!”

  After they moved aside, Tristan pushed in to grab her hand and kiss it with a little flourish. When Victor scowled at him, he laughed. “Your husband neglected to tell you the real reason he’s having this celebration—so you won’t be angry when he informs you that he has a case in Devonshire next week, and will be gone for at least two weeks.”

  Isa laughed. “He already told me.”

  “Nice try,” Victor said smugly. “But a clever husband never pulls the wool over his wife’s eyes—not unless he wants to have it shoved down his throat. Just a bit of advice for when you are married.”

  Tristan’s smile looked forced. “Why should I marry, when there are plenty of ripe peaches waiting to be plucked in the drawing rooms of London?”

  “Better be careful,” Victor said. “Peaches have stones, and you might just find yourself choking on them.”

  “Excellent advice,” Dr. Worth said as he came up to shake her hand. “A pity that Bonnaud is unlikely to pay it any mind.”

  When Tristan laughed, Dom moved up beside him. “Yes, Victor, good luck with trying to knock any sense into my younger brother. He likes to live dangerously.”