The Rogue Is Back in Town

by Anna Bennett

  Griff choked, then blinked. “You want to work?”

  “I do.” He needed to work. And not just for the money, but for the satisfaction. “I’ll do whatever you need me to. I haven’t much experience in the business world, but—”

  “It’s not much different from the gaming tables. You try to figure out the other fellow’s hand and place your bet accordingly.”

  Arching a brow, Sam smiled. “I’m sure there’s more to it than that, but I’m willing to learn, and I’m a quick study.”

  Griff leaned his elbows on his knees. “Is that why you came here this morning?”

  Sam nodded, then said, “I also need a place to stay.”

  “You’re welcome to stay with me. But beware, my mother lives with me as well. She’s almost given up on trying to marry me off. She may take you on as her next project.”

  Snorting, Sam said, “And the job?”

  “You’re savvy, shrewd, and so affable that few realize the extent of your business acumen—that’s an asset. With a minimum of guidance, I could easily see you running half my company within a few years. Here’s the hard cold truth, Sam. You don’t need to sell me on your raw abilities. You need to sell me on your dedication.”

  “I will.” Sam extended a hand and shook Griff’s. “Just give me the chance, and I’ll prove my commitment to you and your company. One day, week, and month at a time.”

  “As it happens, I may soon have a shirt factory to manage. But there are countless other projects in the works too.”

  The more work, the better, as far as Sam was concerned. Anything to keep his mind off Juliette and the ache in his chest from missing her. “When can we start?”

  Chapter THIRTY

  Julie emerged from the attic for the third straight day. After hours of meticulously sorting through brittle papers, moth-eaten clothes, and precious mementos, she had nothing to show for her efforts—except a thick coating of dust on her dress and hair.

  She’d found no documents related to Uncle Alistair’s house, and she was acutely aware that time was ticking by. In just three days she would have to face Nigel and reply to his ultimatum.

  And she still didn’t know what she’d say to him.

  Her heart belonged to Sam, but it wasn’t as though he’d offered marriage. Even if he did wish to propose, he was a second son, dependent on his brother’s generosity, and Nigel was unlikely to welcome Sam and her under his roof.

  Julie had tried to keep busy in the days since Sam left, and yet she still found herself looking for him when she walked into her uncle’s study. Still half-expected to see him sitting in his chair across from her at the dining room table.

  She’d thought perhaps he’d send another note. Or that their paths would cross during her walks in the park or on her outings to Bond Street. But it was as though he’d vanished into thin air.

  At least there was always a chance—however remote—that she’d see him tonight. She and Uncle Alistair were attending a soiree hosted by Lord Torrington, Charlotte’s employer, and her governess friend was sure to be there. Buoyed by the thought, she dashed to the kitchen to request hot water for a bath, then stopped by Uncle Alistair’s study to remind him of their plans.

  He sat at his desk and stared out the window, forlorn. She almost wished he was standing on his chair again, swinging his cane like a mad cricket player. Sam had wrought a change in him, but now that he was gone, her uncle seemed to have aged a couple of decades.

  “It’s a beautiful day outside,” she said brightly in a valiant effort to convince both Uncle Alistair and herself.

  “Indeed it is, my dear.” Facing her, he offered a weak smile. “Did you discover anything of interest in the attic?” he asked, hopeful.

  “Not yet. But I’m sure I shall,” she added quickly. “I’m going to wash off the dust and dress for this evening’s outing. You haven’t forgotten about the soiree, have you?”

  “Pshaw. When I have the honor of escorting the loveliest girl in all of London? Never.”

  “Will you rest before we go? I don’t want you to overtax yourself.”

  “I feel as though I’ve done little but rest since Samuel left. I am glad that he’s perusing his own passions, but I must admit that I miss him.”

  Julie swallowed the lump in her throat. “I do too.”

  “I received a brief note from him today.” Her uncle held up a small folded paper, and Julie barely resisted the urge to snatch it from his hands. “He gave the address where he’s staying, in St. James Square.”

  Julie pretended she was only mildly interested. “Who is he staying with?”

  “He only mentioned it was a friend.”

  “Did Sam have anything else to say?” About missing her or calling on her soon …

  “Just that I should send word if we need anything.” Her uncle’s gaze swept across the long line of jars beneath the window.

  Julie tamped down her own acute disappointment. “I’m sorry that I’ve left you to your own devices for the last few days. Tomorrow we shall devote some time to working together on your research, if you like.”

  “I suppose we should,” he said, unenthused.

  “And if you’re not inclined to work, we can play chess instead. Of course, I shall win resoundingly,” she teased.

  He grinned. “I wouldn’t be so sure. Samuel taught me some new moves.”

  “Then perhaps I’ve reason to worry after all.” Winking, she added, “I shall see you at dinner. Be sure to wear your best coat.”

  A half hour later, Julie drew the curtains in her bedchamber, lit a lamp, and sank into a steaming tub. Once she’d scrubbed her skin, washed her hair, and rinsed it well, she laid back and closed her eyes, letting the warm water lap around her and ease the tension from her body.

  Her sisters had only left town a few weeks ago, and Julie had already managed to make a royal mess of things. Admittedly, she’d had help from Sam.

  She shouldn’t have made love with him. And she certainly shouldn’t have fallen in love with him.

  If her sisters learned of her recklessness, they’d be beyond furious.

  And yet, Julie couldn’t quite regret anything with Sam—except letting him go.

  The hollowness was keenest at night. She imagined his strong arms around her or the comforting weight of his leg resting on hers … but it was the cruelest form of torture, for it only made her ache for him more.

  She lingered in the bath until the water grew tepid and the sky outside turned dark. When she could delay no longer, she climbed out of the tub and wrapped herself in a large, soft towel. While she was rubbing her hair dry, a knock sounded.

  From the other side of the door, Lucy called, “Forgive the interruption, Miss Julie, but a package just arrived for you.”

  “Come in.”

  The maid entered, holding a small, neatly wrapped box.

  “Who is it from?” Julie asked.

  “A messenger delivered it, miss. He didn’t say who it was from. Shall I leave it on the bed?”

  Hope warmed Julie’s chest. She should have known Sam hadn’t forgotten her. He’d written to her uncle, and now he’d sent her something too. “Yes, please.”

  “Would you like me to finish drying your hair?”

  “No thank you, Lucy. But would you please return in a quarter of an hour to help me dress?”

  “Certainly,” the maid said demurely, but her eyes gleamed as though she was already planning an elaborate coiffure for Julie’s evening out.

  As soon as Lucy left, Julie sat on the edge of the bed and examined the package. About the size of her fist, it was wrapped in indigo-colored paper and tied with twine.

  She didn’t give a fig what was inside, as long as it was from Sam. It could be a pretty pebble or a simple ribbon or a silly sketch—any sign that he missed her as much as she missed him. That he still thought of her.

  That he still cared.

  Tingling with anticipation, she slid off the twine, removed the paper, and lift
ed the lid off the box.

  Nestled inside was a pair of earrings so extravagant, they took her breath away. Round aquamarines surrounded by smaller diamonds dangled from tiny studs. Even in the dim light of her bedchamber, the gemstones twinkled and shined.

  They were more ostentatious than she preferred, but all that mattered was they were from Sam.

  She rushed to her dressing table, clipped them on, and sat before the mirror, admiring the way they sparkled when she moved. If only Sam were with her now, to brush aside her hair and kiss her neck …

  But surely he’d sent a note with the gift. She retrieved the discarded wrapping and discovered a small note tucked inside the lid of the box. Jubilant, she unfolded it.

  You did not care for the moon. Perhaps the stars are more to your liking. —N.

  No. They should have been from Sam.

  Moaning, she crumpled the paper in her fist and flopped back onto the bed, all of her earlier joy gone. Sam had penned a note to her uncle. Could he not have spared a moment to write to her as well?

  And Nigel surely knew that the gift was highly improper. She’d rejected the necklace he’d offered; he must have known she would refuse the earrings. True, she’d loved them when she’d thought they were from Sam, but that was different.

  She and Sam … they cared for each other. And while he hadn’t made her any promises about the future, she had faith in him. At least, she was trying to believe in him.

  The bedchamber door opened, and Lucy angled her way through. “I’ve brought extra pins,” she announced. “I thought we would sweep all your hair to one side and let the curls cascade over your—” The maid paused and narrowed her eyes at Julie. “Those earrings,” she said, almost reverent. “They’re magnificent. They were in the package?”

  Julie fingered one of the dangling stars. “Yes.”

  “What a precious gift. Who are they from?”

  Good heavens. Julie couldn’t very well admit the truth, so she said the first lie that popped into her head. “Meg and Will. I was just about to take them off.”

  “Don’t you dare,” Lucy protested. She’d never been the meek sort. “They’ll complement your sapphire ball gown perfectly. The gentlemen won’t be able to take their eyes off you.”

  “Very well.” It was no use arguing with Lucy once she’d made up her mind. Besides, the earrings were lovely, and if they were truly from Meg, Julie would have been thrilled to wear them. She’d simply sneak them off later, before she left or even after she was in the coach.

  The maid tapped her foot impatiently. “We haven’t time to spare. Come, let’s put on your shift and corset.”

  Julie dutifully submitted to Lucy’s ministrations, and after nearly an hour of brushing, pinning, lacing, and powdering, she was ready for the evening.

  Lucy looked over Julie’s shoulder at her reflection in the mirror. “You look beautiful, Miss Julie.”

  “If I do, it’s all thanks to you.” She plucked the shawl from the back of her chair and draped it over her arm. “Now I’d better be off before Uncle Alistair falls asleep in his chair.”

  But she found him downstairs, looking dapper and alert. Lucy and Mr. Finch helped bustle them out the door and into the carriage, and soon they were on their way to Lord Torrington’s soiree.

  She sat across from her uncle as the coach rumbled down the street. “You look quite dashing, Uncle.”

  “As long as you are in the ballroom, I can assure you no one will be looking at me.” His eyes crinkled affectionately.

  “Nonsense. You have plenty of admirers—not the least of which is the Dowager Duchess of Blackshire. I’ve heard the way she laughs at your wit. I’d wager she’s more than a little charmed by you.” Nothing would make Julie happier than if her uncle found another love. He deserved to spend the rest of his years with someone who was as kind and big-hearted as he. Julie’s sister Beth had once been the duchess’s companion, but now she was the duchess’s daughter-in-law. Fortunately, they adored each other.

  “The duchess and I are old friends. Nothing more.” His words held a note of wistfulness, and Julie quickly sought to change the subject.

  “Charlotte tells me that the earl invited Lord Vane to the soiree, and he happens to be a member of the Royal Society. I’ll make certain the two of you are introduced. You’ll have plenty to discuss, no doubt.” Julie hoped that the gentleman would offer some guidance to her uncle, and perhaps even smooth the way for him to join the society. The more connections he established, the better. Julie resolutely believed in her uncle and his scientific mind, but he didn’t always make the best first impression.

  She hoped he wouldn’t make too many social blunders this evening—and if he did, that the earl’s guests would not judge him harshly. The coach lurched to a stop, and her uncle’s white hair waved wildly. She checked the urge to smooth the wayward tufts like a mother hen.

  “You spend far too much time worrying about me when you should be thinking about which gentlemen you wish to dance with. You shall surely have your pick, my dear. Do not forget—you made me a promise.”

  “I like worrying about you. It keeps me out of mischief.” Most of the time. “And I haven’t forgotten my promise. I’m working on it.”

  A footman opened the door of the cab and helped them alight. She took Uncle Alistair’s arm as they strolled up the pavement. “Does that mean that you have set your sights on someone?” he prodded. “If so, I expect the gentleman will call on me and ask for your hand any day now.”

  If only it were so. “When I find the right gentleman, you will be the first to know, I assure you.”

  “Excellent.” He paused halfway to the earl’s front door and tilted his head as he looked at her. “I’ve never seen those earrings before—they’re stunning.”

  Drat—she’d been so preoccupied, she’d forgotten to take them off. Feeling the need to explain, she said, “Meg sent them as a gift.”

  His eyes shone and he blinked away tears. “All those years that you girls had to go without fashionable gowns and pretty slippers, much less jewels. I wish I could have taken better care of you.”

  “Don’t say that.” Her own eyes burned. “You treated us like princesses. And we’ve always known we were loved.”

  “Never doubt that, my dear.” He clasped her hand over his arm. “Your beauty—yours and your sisters’—always shone through. And now, Margaret is married to an earl and Elizabeth to a duke. It’s difficult to believe, isn’t it?”

  Julie sighed. “Yes. Like a fairytale—except it’s true.”

  “And when I see the evidence before me—like your pretty new earrings—I’m reminded just how much our family’s changed.”

  “We have changed in some ways, but not in the most important,” Julie said. “We’re no longer wearing cast-off gowns or all living under the same roof, but we’re still as close as ever.” Julie wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince him or herself. Patting his hand, she said, “Meg, Beth, and I would do anything for each other … and for you.”

  “All that I want is for you—the apple of my eye—to find the same happiness your sisters have found.” He tilted his head back and gazed up at the inky sky.

  “What are you doing, Uncle?” she asked, bemused.

  “Looking for a comet or a falling star, so that I might wish on it.”

  Julie chuckled and pulled him along the pavement. “More carriages are pulling up, and we’ve stood out here long enough. We wouldn’t want to miss the entire soiree.”

  But as they ambled into Lord Torrington’s elegant townhouse, Julie looked for a shooting star herself. It couldn’t hurt, and she’d need at least a dozen or so wishes if she were to have any hope of receiving her own happy ever after, for she’d botched things horribly.

  She’d willingly—nay, eagerly—given herself to London’s greatest rogue.

  To make matters worse, she now wore earrings his brother had given her in order to coax her into some sort of clandestine arrangement that s
eemed very much like an affair. And if she refused Nigel, he would toss Uncle Alistair out of his beloved home.

  Given the circumstances, her chances of making a good match were remote. And even if there was an honorable gentleman left somewhere in London who’d have her …

  Julie didn’t want him.

  She wanted the rogue.

  Chapter THIRTY-ONE

  When Julie and Uncle Alistair entered the magnificent ballroom, Lord Torrington greeted them warmly. “I’m so pleased you could join us this evening,” he said. “And I’m sure Charlotte, er, Miss Winters, will be delighted as well.” To Julie, he said, “She is so fond of you and your sisters.”

  Julie attempted a demure smile but struggled to hide her amusement. The earl and his governess seemed to be rather cozy. Julie only hoped that her friend was more fortunate in love than she.

  Charlotte found Julie and her uncle near the entrance and drew them in, introducing them to other guests along the way. The governess’s pretty green gown matched her eyes, and her cheeks were pink with excitement. “Lord Torrington has arranged for a variety of diversions,” she explained. “Everyone is welcome to dance, of course,”—she waved a gloved hand at the four-piece orchestra in one corner of the room—“but there are whist tables in the adjoining tea room, charades and other parlor games in the drawing room, and a garden walk past the terrace lit with lanterns.”

  “Did you say charades?” A boyish grin lit Uncle Alistair’s face.

  “He adores the game,” Julie said with a mock groan. “Once he begins playing, it will be nigh impossible to lure him away.”

  “Nonsense. I shall not ignore my duties as your chaperone, my dear.” To Charlotte, he said, “I profess I’m curious, however. Are there a fair number of people playing? And do they seem to be adhering to the traditional rules of the game?”

  At Charlotte’s questioning glance, Julie said, “My uncle cannot abide sloppy play. He is a purist when it comes to charades.”

  The governess smiled and raised a brow. “I’m impressed. We must take you to the parlor without delay so that you may join the next round.”