Mary Jo Putney

by Sometimes a Rogue

  In the middle of the hall stood a roughly dressed old man who seemed vaguely familiar. His hand locked on the arm of a scrawny girl child with a ragged too-short dress, he snarled with a thick country accent, “I’m stayin’ here until his bloody lordship returns! He’ll bloody well take her, because she’s his! Damned if I’ll keep the little bastard under my roof any longer.”

  The girl jerked free of his grip and spun around furiously. She was eleven or twelve, with a mass of tangled black hair falling to her waist. And blazing from her smudged face were light, clear blue eyes exactly like Rob’s.

  “Bryony!” he breathed.

  He had a daughter.

  Chapter 21

  The girl looked so much like a miniature Bryony that Rob could barely breathe. She was like an enraged kitten, gallant and frightened and unutterably brave even in a terrifying new place when the only family she knew was throwing her away.

  “He’s lying,” Lady Kellington snapped. “Don’t be a fool, boy, or you’ll have every bastard in Somerset landed on you!”

  “She’s my daughter.” Eyes narrowed, Rob studied the old man. “I didn’t recognize you at first. You’re Owens, the shepherd. Bryony’s father. Where is she?”

  “Dead,” the grizzled old man spat out. “Two years ago, and left me with her brat. She always claimed you were the father, but everyone thought you was dead so I was stuck with the little bastard. Since you’re here and alive, she’s yours. I wash my hands of her.” He stalked out the door and left with a window-rattling slam.

  The furious kitten glared at Rob. “You’re my bloody father?”

  Lady Kellington shuddered at the profanity, but Rob knelt on one knee in front of the girl, his gaze intense and his voice gentle, as if he was soothing a nervous horse.

  “I am,” he said. “I didn’t know you existed. I loved your mother and we planned to marry, but my family interfered.”

  “If you loved her so much, why didn’t you run off to Gretna Green when your bloody family disapproved?” she asked suspiciously.

  If anyone deserved the truth, it was his daughter. “My father gave your mother money to leave me. I was about to search for her when my brother sold me to a press gang,” Rob said flatly. “I was forced onto a ship bound for India and didn’t see England again for six long years.”

  Lady Kellington gasped. “Your brother would never do such an appalling thing!”

  “I was there, Grandmother. You weren’t.” Rob got to his feet. His daughter looked wary and ready to bolt, so he kept some distance between them. “We haven’t been properly introduced. What’s your name?”

  “Bree.” The girl’s eyes darted around the room as if seeking escape.

  “That’s pretty. You’re named Bryony for your mother?”

  Bree scowled and nodded. “Bryony is a useless weed, a clinging vine. That’s why my grandfather named my mother that.”

  Rob managed to control his surge of fury. Owens had treated Bryony abominably, and it sounded as if he’d been equally bad to Bree.

  “If you must acknowledge the brat,” Lady Kellington said with exasperation, “at least get her out of here quickly. Put her into service or find an apprenticeship.”

  It was what he expected of his grandmother. “No. With her mother gone, Bree belongs with me.”

  The old lady snorted. “You need to marry an heiress, and no decent woman will accept a man with bastards about the house.”

  Sarah spoke up, voice calm but eyes flashing. “Nonsense. What decent woman would want a man who won’t take responsibility for his own child?”

  Bree’s eyes slid back to Rob. “You want me to stay here?”

  “Of course.” His gaze held hers. “If I’d known about you, I would have found my way back to Somerset much sooner.”

  Sarah smiled warmly at the girl, who relaxed visibly. It was impossible to be frightened of Sarah. “You must be tired and hungry. With your father’s permission, I’ll find you a room and a bath and supper.”

  “Of course. Make her comfortable,” Rob said, relieved that Sarah had stepped forward to look out for the girl.

  His daughter. He’d had no idea that Bryony was with child when they were separated. She probably hadn’t known, either. But now that he knew they’d made a child, he felt fierce and utterly new emotions. Bree was his, and he’d protect her. “When Bree is settled for the night, come find me. I’ll be in the study, sorting through papers.”

  “How fortunate that I asked you to have rooms prepared for visitors, Hector. We’ll use one for Lord Kellington’s daughter,” Sarah said. “Order bathwater and send Francie to join us.”

  Looking relieved to be able to escape, Hector bowed. “Yes, miss. The Rose Room should be suitable for a . . . young lady.” He had some trouble referring to the new arrival as a young lady, but at least he was trying.

  As Sarah led Bree away, Rob thought how dramatically his life had changed in a day. But this change was one he welcomed. Something of Bryony had survived.

  As Sarah and Bree followed the butler up the stairs, the girl’s gaze darted around as she tried to absorb her new surroundings. She looked overwhelmed, and determined not to show it. Sarah guessed that Bree had learned to guard her emotions when living with her dreadful grandfather.

  The Rose Room was next to Sarah’s bedchamber. Though it was as worn as the rest of Kellington Castle, the room had been cleaned and a fire was laid. Right after they entered, a maid followed with sheets to make up the canopy bed. Rose brocade hangings and a thick, slightly shabby Belgian carpet with more roses created a welcoming warmth. Bree’s eyes widened when she entered.

  Hector lit the two lamps, then condescended to light the fire laid on the hearth himself rather than waiting for a lower servant to do the menial task. He bowed again. “I’ll send Francie and the bathwater up. Is there anything else, Miss Clarke-Townsend?”

  “Supper on a tray, please. Bree, is there anything particular you’d like?”

  The girl looked startled at having her wishes consulted. “Something hot. Mebbe a mutton stew? Or a meat pie?”

  “I’m sure that Mrs. Fulton will have something equally satisfying. Be sure there is also bread and cheese and sweets, Hector. And perhaps a pot of hot tea?” Sarah glanced over at Bree, who nodded numbly.

  Hector left and Bree drifted across the room to finger the brocade draperies on the bed. “I can really stay here tonight?”

  “Indeed you can, and rather longer than that. I don’t speak for Lord Kellington, but it sounds like he plans for you to make your home here.”

  Bree looked at her, the clear aquamarine eyes unnerving. “The butler didn’t call you Lady Kellington. Are you his lordship’s fancy piece?”

  Sarah blinked. “No, I’m a friend. I was abducted from my home and taken to Ireland. Lord Kellington rescued me and brought me back to England yesterday.” Was it really only yesterday they’d arrived here? It seemed much longer. “I’ll be going home in a few days.” Home was going to look very boring after a fortnight in Rob’s company. “You can call me Sarah.”

  Bree frowned, looking so much like Rob that Sarah wanted to laugh. “Why was he rescuing you? Lords don’t do anything useful.”

  “Rob wasn’t Lord Kellington then. He was a Bow Street Runner in London. His job was to catch criminals and find stolen people and property,” Sarah explained. “His family treated him so badly that he turned his back on them. It wasn’t until we washed up here that he learned his father and brother died recently, so Rob is the new earl.”

  “His folks sound almost as bad as bloody Owens.” Her face twisted into an expression that was not young at all. “I’m glad the old bugger is gone. Would have done nasty things to me if I’d let him.”

  Sarah winced. Thank God Bree had been able to defend herself, but it was regrettable that she’d picked up her grandfather’s vile language. “Did you and your mother live with him your whole life?”

  Bree shook her head. “Me mum had money from the old lord
, and she was a good seamstress, too. We had a cottage in a village just down the coast, Bendan. ’Twasn’t till she died and Owens came to get me that I met the old bugger. He took Mum’s money and sold the furnishings. Said it was due him for taking care of me.”

  “Perhaps it was. You and your mother lived comfortably?”

  “Oh, aye!” Bree looked wistful. “We had plenty to eat and Mum made me the prettiest dresses. She sent me to a dame school so I could learn reading and writing and numbers. I had friends.”

  Until she’d been hauled into the lonely hills by her grandfather. At least she’d had a decent life before that. “Did your mother ever talk about your father?”

  “Mum said her Rob was a fine handsome fellow who asked her to marry him, but she knew his family would never allow it so she took money to go away. Later she heard that he’d disappeared. She thought his brother had murdered him.”

  Bryony sounded admirably direct. No wonder Rob had loved her. “Not murdered, but close enough. His family was horrified by the idea that he wanted to marry a shepherd’s daughter.”

  “What’s m’father like?” Bree regarded her with that unnerving gaze again.

  How best to describe Rob? “He’s strong and very brave. He rescued me from the middle of a group of Irish radicals.” Sarah thought of how Rob had handled Buckley. “He’s intelligent and honest and fair. He believes injustice, but he’s also kind.” Certainly he’d been kind to her. “He’ll make you a very good father, I’m sure.”

  “Does he really want me?” Bree sounded wistful again. “Or is he going to apprentice me to a milliner like that old bawd wanted?”

  Sarah wondered how the countess would react to being called a bawd. “Oh, he wants you,” she said softly. “When he realized you were his daughter, he looked like he’d been given a piece of heaven. It will take time for you to get to know each other, of course. Just remember that he’s nervous about you, just as you’re nervous about him.”

  Bree stroked the china washbasin. “I didn’t know I had a father.”

  The door opened and Francie entered, a smile on her face. “Such excitement! So his lordship has a daughter?”

  “Yes, isn’t it splendid?” Sarah made the introductions, then asked, “Can you find some clothing that will fit Bree?”

  “A nightgown is easy, and I can find a shift and morning dress. Shall I have the village seamstress come tomorrow to take her measurements for a basic wardrobe?”

  “Yes, and a shoemaker. Anything and everything a young lady will need.” There might not be much money, but there should be enough to outfit the new earl’s daughter.

  The door opened again and two servants entered with canisters of steaming water. As Bree stared at the luxury, Francie said in a conspiratorial voice, “I can get you lavender-scented soap if you’d like, Miss Bree.”

  “Oh, yes. A whole tub of hot water!” Bree looked dazed and very, very tired, but on the whole, she was managing well. By the time Francie returned with the lavender soap and other toiletries, the tub was filled and the footmen had withdrawn.

  Francie clucked her tongue. “Miss Sarah, you look almost as tired as Miss Bree. You run along and get some supper while I take care of the new member of the family.”

  Sarah hesitated. She was exhausted, but she didn’t want Rob’s daughter to feel abandoned. “Will you be all right, Bree? I can stay if you like.”

  “No need.” The girl smiled wearily. “A bath and a bite of supper and a bed are more than I dreamed of.”

  “I’ll see you in the morning then.” On impulse, Sarah gave Bree a quick hug. The girl’s arms went around her and Sarah realized she was shaking. How long had it been since Bree had known kindness? Probably not since her mother died.

  “You’re safe now,” she whispered. “Your new life has begun.”

  A life that would remind Rob every time he saw his daughter of the woman he’d loved and lost.

  Chapter 22

  Wearily Sarah made her way down to the study. She was still wearing the heavy velvet riding habit since she’d not had time to change.

  The dismal study hadn’t improved since Sarah saw it earlier, but Rob was always a pleasant sight, even when frowning at a column of figures. In the lamplight, his features were handsome and austere. In Ireland, she’d seen his physical strength and mastery. Here, she saw his intelligence and discipline.

  Then he looked up and smiled and she saw his warmth. “How is she?”

  “Settling in well, though this is all so strange for her. Bree is intelligent and adaptable, and she very much wants a home.” Sarah sat in a chair on the opposite side of the desk. “Have you found anything interesting in your father’s papers?”

  “It’s all routine information relating to the estate. Since he lived mostly in London, the more important papers would be kept there. Not that I expect to find much of anything except debts.” Rob sighed. “I suppose I must travel up to town and go through Kellington House before I put it on the market. When I attend Parliament, I can stay in my flat near Covent Garden.” He smiled a little. “I’ll be the only member of the House of Lords who lives over a pawnshop.”

  Sarah laughed, glad Rob was beginning to accept his fate with some humor. “I can see you intend to put your own mark on the earldom.”

  “I haven’t spent my life in a pampered cocoon like most lords. They’re stuck with me.” He rose and moved to a cabinet. “Would you like something to drink? There’s a good variety here. Brandy, port, claret, sherry . . .”

  “Claret would be lovely. Anything stronger and I’ll fall asleep on your desk.”

  Rob poured a generous amount of wine in two goblets and offered one to Sarah. “Shall we drink to our survival? When I have time to think about it, I’m impressed that we didn’t drown.”

  “To survival.” They clinked glasses. After they drank, Sarah added, “And to a future for you that is better than what you’re expecting now.”

  They both drank to that. Rob swallowed half the glass of claret, then topped it up and sat down. “Did you find out anything about Bree’s earlier life? About her mother?”

  “She said they lived in a cottage down the coast and were happy. Bryony sent her to a dame school so she should have the basics of reading and writing.” Sarah smiled ruefully. “But she’ll need a tutor to correct the accent and language she learned from her horrid grandfather. She called your grandmother an old bawd.”

  Rob laughed out loud. “I wish I dared tell the dowager that! I’m glad the money my father paid Bryony to go away was enough to keep them in comfort.”

  “Bree said her mother knew your family wouldn’t permit marriage, which was why she took the money. When you disappeared, Bryony suspected that your brother had murdered you.”

  Rob closed his eyes for a long moment. “I’m glad Bryony didn’t think I’d betrayed her. Knowing she might believe that haunted me.”

  Sarah could imagine. “Bryony must have been very beautiful to have such a beautiful daughter.”

  “They look very alike, except for the eyes. To see her is to know what Bryony was like at that age.” Rob’s expression softened. “Sarah, it’s a miracle. I never guessed what it would be like to discover I have a child. It’s . . . life changing.” He swirled his goblet, studying the ruby red wine. “Bree gives me a reason to look forward to the future with hope, not fatigue.”

  His words gave Sarah a better understanding of just how deeply he’d loved Bryony. Though she was gone, the child they’d conceived in love meant that Bryony wasn’t completely lost. Bree gave him a reason to carry on.

  “I’m glad for you both,” she said simply. “Though Lady Kellington has a point. You do need to marry an heiress, and you’ll have to find one who is tolerant of having an illegitimate stepdaughter in the household. But that’s not an insurmountable problem. You’re handsome and honorable and there’s the title. A sufficiently dowered merchant’s daughter will go a long way to repairing the Kellington fortunes.”

 
“No!” Rob’s exclamation was explosive.

  “Surely you’re not a snob!” Sarah said, startled. “Your chances of securing an heiress are far better if you look to the merchant class rather than the beau monde.”

  His face tightened. “I’m not rejecting merchants’ daughters. I’m rejecting the whole idea of becoming a fortune hunter. I’m losing the life I built for myself. I’m not going to give up my right to choose my own bedmates.”

  Sarah blinked. “Plural? That will not sit well with most potential wives.”

  His expression eased. “I’ve never wanted a harem. One woman at a time is more than enough. But I want to choose a wife because I like her.”

  Like, not love. No woman could ever hold the place in his heart where Bryony lived. “Surely you can find a woman who is like that good companion you lost, only with money.”

  “It’s true that I no longer need a woman who is adept at spying and can take down a man twice her size in a fight,” he said dryly. “But I haven’t had a chance to think much about a potential countess.”

  “Maybe it’s time,” Sarah said briskly. “Because the right wife could save Kellington and make your life much easier.”

  “I know you’re right,” he said with a sigh. He poured himself more claret. “I suppose my ideal countess would be a capable woman who can run a large household and move comfortably in society. Someone with a generous heart, but not extravagant tastes. And someone I like, of course.”

  “It should be possible to find a woman like that who comes with a fortune.” Sarah sipped more of her own wine. Useful things, drinks, for covering up emotions. “You have much to offer.”

  He snorted. “I can’t imagine why an heiress would want me apart from the title. I have a shabby imitation castle, an illegitimate daughter, and horrendous and possibly insoluble financial problems. Any sensible female would run screaming.”