Georges sipped his tea and smiled. "A legacy of last night's brandy, hors de doute. You were pouring it down your throat as if you thought the stuff would disappear forever with the dawn."
"I was trying not to think about what I was doing, Georges. Until yesterday, I sincerely believed that I had killed my conscience, but it has risen from its grave to haunt me over this business."
"Your conscience does not seem to have influenced you to a significant degree, mon ami. You have a king's ransom at your disposal this morning and your stolen bride lies upstairs asleep, exhausted, naturellement, by your ardor."
Robin savagely stabbed a hapless sausage with his fork. "That wench is dangerous!" he said. "It would be too damnably easy to fall under her spell. I should have taken the Saddewythe chit last night. I must have been drunk, or mad! Why didn't you stop me, Georges?"
De Valiére smiled and mumbled something unintelligible into his teacup.
***
Invading her darkened bedchamber through slightly parted curtains, a mischievous ray of sunshine danced across Lucia's face. She opened her eyes warily, then closed them tight against the blinding light, her head aching from all the brandy Robin had pressed upon her. Still exhausted, she was extremely sore in flesh and spirit. He had taken her again and again throughout the night until, his desire finally sated, he had fallen asleep, his body curled around hers, back to belly, his arms encircling her like iron bands, binding her to him lest she try to escape while he slept.
As the painful and humiliating memories of the night before flooded into her mind, she blushed, burying her face in her pillow. At the same time, the thought of her husband's touch caused her to shiver with a newly awakened sensuality. Ashamed of her body's treachery, she rolled onto her back and opened her eyes, determined to face the day. When she realized that she was alone in the bed and Robin was no longer holding her, she shrugged off a vague sense of disappointment.
A knock sounded at the door and Lucia pulled the covers to her chin before bidding the visitor enter. A young woman came in, curtsied, and said, "Good morning, Your Grace. My name is Anne Forster and His Grace said as how I was to be Your Grace's personal maid." She curtsied again and advanced into the room. "His Grace requests that you join him for breakfast as soon as possible. We are to leave for London in an hour."
"London? In an hour?" Lucia's eyes widened as she rose, throwing Robin's dressing robe around her. "What time is it?"
"Almost gone eleven, Your Grace," Anne said.
Half an hour later, having followed Carter to the breakfast room, Lucia smiled at the gentlemen who stood to greet her as she entered. She wore the same torn, soiled, grey dress she had worn the night before and the bodice strained against her breasts, now free of their bindings, but it was the only garment she possessed. Anne had braided and curled her hair into an intricate pattern, giving her a regal air despite her ragged gown.
"We are honored that you have finally deigned to join us, Your Grace," Robin sneered. "Already you have the manner of a duchess, lying abed all day."
"I apologize, Your -- " Noting the grim set of his mouth, she hastily amended, "Robin. 'Tis only that I got no sleep the night before last with Miss Honor and last night -- " She blushed.
"Miss Honor?" Robin raised a brow.
"She has the earache. Indeed, the children and I would never have been part of that dreadful remove to London if Lady Saddewythe had not insisted that Honor must have a mother's care during her illness."
Georges filled a plate for Lucia as she sat down at the table. "You must hurry!" Robin said. "I want to leave as soon as possible."
"Since I have only the clothes on my back, Your Grace, I shall delay you no longer than it takes to eat my breakfast." Lucia smiled at Georges as he set the food before her.
Unaccountably irritated by that smile, Robin turned to gaze out the window at Brackenwell's rolling green lawns. "It looks a fine day for traveling. We should arrive in London around dusk if we leave soon. I had better see to the final preparations for the journey." With a curt nod to his companions, he strode out of the room.
Drinking his tea, Georges watched Lucia fascinatedly while she ate. After encountering his gaze for the third time, she lowered her fork and lifted one dark brow. "Is something amiss, my lord?"
"How can you sit there, eating so calmly after -- after last night? You should be hystérique!"
"The duke does terrify me, my lord," Lucia said, "but hysterics will not save me from him." Fear knotted her stomach and her appetite deserted her as she contemplated the powderkeg that was her husband. Pushing her plate away, she rose and walked to the window, clasping her hands. "It looks a bit windy outside. I hope it isn't too cold. Since Honor was wrapped in my cloak, it was left behind when -- "
Her words trailed away as she thought of her modest belongings, worthless to others perhaps, but everything to her. All her treasures, all the precious mementos of her family were lost. Suddenly her soul ached with loneliness.
Georges cleared his throat. Awakened from her reverie, she turned bleak, blue eyes on him.
"I -- I should like to apologize for my part in last night's unfortunate adventure," he said. "It did not appeal to me, then, and already I am full of remorse over the entire sad affair."
"Then why did you do it?"
"Je ne sais pas, Your Grace. Perhaps because Robin needs my friendship. He really is very alone, vous comprenez, and he has un charme diabolique when he chooses to use it."
Carter entered and the pair turned. "His Grace requests that Your Grace and your lordship join him in the courtyard."
"Voyons! Does the man never rest?" Georges cried, exasperated. "très bien! We are coming!" Collecting his redingote, hat, and gloves from a footman, de Valiére escorted Lucia outside to join the impatient duke.
Chapter 7:
In Which His Grace Renews Old Acquaintances
As Lucia and Georges descended the stairs, the carriage arrived at the door. The packed baggage coach followed, surrounded by mounted guards. Cloaked and gloved, his tricorne tucked beneath his arm, Amberley stood in the courtyard waving a riding whip as he barked commands.
"There you are at last!" Robin said, striding toward them. "How will you travel, Georges?"
"I'll ride, s'il vous plâit, but first I would like to check my room for anything forgotten. Pardonnez moi?" Georges bowed and returned to the house.
Amberley ordered two riding mounts and glanced at Lucia as several grooms headed toward the stables. "You have eaten?" he asked, a cold breeze ruffling his red-gold curls.
Lucia nodded, hugging herself for warmth as the chill wind hit her unprotected arms. He beckoned a footman who stood in the doorway. "You will find a black driving cape hanging in my wardrobe. Bring it, s'il vous plâit!" The servant bowed and left.
Silence fell between the newlyweds. At last, Lucia said, "London will be most unpleasant for me, I fear. My family does not own me."
Robin frowned. "It won't be particularly enjoyable for me either, but my cousin Giles will want to see you and satisfy himself that I have complied with Grandpapa's will. Beware! Giles Bridland, Baron Mountheathe, is a scoundrel. He may try to destroy me through you. Never trust him."
"I gather that Lord Mountheathe will inherit if you do not fulfill your grandfather's wishes."
"Yes!" Robin's grip tightened on his riding whip. "But that is not going to happen. When our child is born, Mountheathe may go to the devil with my blessing!" Robin's teeth clenched, his eyes blazing with raw, rampant hatred.
De Valiére strode out of the house. ""Just as I suspected, mon ami! My valet neglected to pack my favorite snuffbox. I really must speak to the man. The quality of his services has fallen lamentably since we came to this wretched country. English servants are a bad influence, mon vieux! A bad influence!"
A footman appeared with a black cape laid across his arms. Robin placed the cloak around Lucia's shoulders. "I would not have my hundred thousand pounds per annum catching a chill
," he sneered, their moment of rapport forgotten.
"Nevertheless, I am grateful, Robin." She pulled the cloak close about her and fastened it at her throat.
Lynkellyn handed Lucia and her maid into the traveling carriage. The gentlemen mounted and the ducal entourage rolled out of the courtyard.
At noon, the Lynkellyn party stopped at an inn for food and fresh horses. Accepting Robin's arm, Lucia descended from the carriage. "Where are we?" she inquired, blinking in the sunlight.
"About to enter Epping Forest. Come! I have bespoken a private parlor and a meal. Once we enter the forest, we shall stop for nothing. The risk of meeting a highwayman, even during daylight, is too great," Robin said in all sincerity, his brow creased in a worried frown. Smiling at the irony of his words, Lucia allowed him to escort her into the inn.
The travelers made little conversation during luncheon and that of a very general nature. The marquis was still embarrassed by last night's episode and his part in it while Robin was enduring emotions he thought he had exorcised from his soul long ago.
Guilt and remorse stabbed his heart every time he looked at Lucia. Part of him wanted to say that the entire episode was a joke and that she could return to her quiet, respectable life, but the former was untrue and the latter no longer existed. Marriage with him was her only honorable course in any event. After her scandalous abduction, no proper matron would consider hiring her as governess, companion, or even scullery maid.
Lucia sat across from him, sipping her tea, a sweetmeat in one hand. When she sensed his eyes upon her, she looked up. "Your Grace?"
"Nothing!" he muttered, tearing his gaze away. He had noticed that she was still wearing the ragged, stained, ill-fitting dress she had donned the day before. That, at least, he could rectify. She would have a whole room full of beautiful gowns when they reached London, he promised himself. Unwilling to be bribed, his conscience would not hold its tongue.
Lucia still watched him, worried that she had displeased him in some way. He was unlikely to do her any serious physical injury because he needed her to help him gain his legacy, but she was certain that life with him could be hellish if he chose to make it so. Fear tightened her chest as she thought how powerfully and completely this blackguard ruled her future.
Robin caught a glimpse of terror in her eyes before she lowered them to her teacup. He moved to stand behind her, one hand resting possessively on her shoulder. She stiffened, but he pretended not to notice. His long, graceful fingers caressed her throat as he said, "We must leave soon. As it is, we won't reach London until after dark and we'll still have to find an inn for the night."
"We're not staying at Lynkellyn House?" Georges asked, surprised.
"I don't believe Lynkellyn House has been opened since my parents died twenty years ago," Robin said. "I daresay the place is nearly unlivable now. 'Twill be your task, ma chérie, to restore our home to its former glory."
At sunset, Lynkellyn's coaches and outriders swept into the courtyard of the Pelican in London. The innkeeper was all obsequiousness as their graces stepped through his door and his wife hurried forward, curtsying deeply, to offer the duchess a room in which to rest and refresh before dinner. When she saw Lucia's ragged gown, her enthusiasm checked a little, but another glance at the gentlemen's finery reassured her.
Lucia started to follow the innkeeper's wife upstairs, but Robin pulled her aside. "You'll not run away?" he said in rapid French.
"Where could I go, Your Grace, without money or friends?" she replied in the same language, her gaze meeting his steadily.
"Nevertheless, if you try to escape me, I will hunt you down and drag you back in chains, my lady wife!" Still gripping her arm, Robin searched her eyes for any intention of betrayal. "très bien! Pray join us in our parlor when you are done." After Lucia disappeared with the innkeeper's wife, Robin went to the taproom to join the marquis.
Scanning the room, his eyes widened, lingering for a moment upon two men huddled over a table against the far wall. With a slight shrug, he strode over to de Valiére's table, took a chair and called for ale. "Lucia is upstairs resting from the journey, if she hasn't already bolted out the back door," he said, nodding to Georges, his face grim with worry. He barely acknowledged the barmaid who served him, but took a healthy draught of the ale.
"Robin! You cannot cage her forever! Especially once you settle into your new life in London. You'll have to give her some freedom or people will think you are mad, héin? You will have to trust her."
Amberley laughed. "She is hardly here of her own free will, mon ami. She is my prisoner, enfin. Were I in her place, I would run the instant I saw my chance."
"Where would she go? I doubt she knows London well enough to hide in the city, at least, not safely," de Valiére countered.
"She said as much, but I never underestimate my enemies, Georges, no matter how strong my position seems." He took another swig of ale.
"Ah, there is where we differ, mon ami. You have always approached her as if she were an adversary; a citadel to be stormed and taken by force."
"What would you suggest?"
"Use that devilish charm of yours, Robin! I've known you to steal a lady's heart in the space of an afternoon. Beguile your bride with gentle smiles and pretty words! Seduce rather than force her to your will and she'll do anything you ask!"
Robin stared at him with narrowed eyes. "She has seen me at my worst, Georges! You can't possibly believe she'd trust any lover's overtures from me after yesterday."
"Once I accidently killed a man when he stepped out in front of my carriage during a race. When I called on the man's family to apologize and met his sister, I found her enchanting! I immediately set out to seduce her. She spat in my face the first time I tried to kiss her, but I persisted. I fêted her, petted her, and treated her like a great lady. Within a month, she was my mistress! Charm won the day, mon ami!"
"And then?" Robin quirked a brow.
"She was only a bourgeoise," Georges shrugged. "I tired of her. The conquest was exciting, but once she was mine, I found her clinging ways and her family's animosity tedious."
"And after you cut the connection?"
"Je ne sais pas. Suicide, I think."
"And you were outraged at my behavior?"
"But, Robin! 'Tis not the same at all. My girl was only a bourgeoise! You committed a crime against a lady!" Shaking his head, Robin leaned forward, tankard in hand, to debate the point in earnest.
At a table on the other side of the room, the gentlemen who had momentarily captured Robin's attention sat talking. "When are you expecting Lady Malkent to arrive, Tracy?" Sir William Blayne asked.
"Soon, I hope," Malkent sighed. "The children are ill, mumps, of all things, and she wants to see that they are comfortable at Malkent Park with Nurse before she comes up to London for the Season."
"I would have thought that you would open your house in Grosvenor Square."
"I've become too dependent on Valeria, Will. I would rather stay at an inn than face the house without her."
"You are the most devoted husband I know, Tracy. Careful or you will bring married love back into fashion. 'Tis especially remarkable, considering -- " Blayne paused, suddenly embarrassed.
"Considering the inauspicious beginning of my marriage? Well, I was ready to put my sword through Amberley's foul heart at the time and I would have, too, if the blackguard had not fled the country in disgrace. 'Twas wicked enough to abduct Valeria in the first place, but to lie about it over and over afterward, trying to fix the blame on poor Giles! I never met such a cowardly cur as was Rogue Robin."
"I've heard rumors he's returned home to assume his title and legacy." Sir William sipped ale from a tankard at his elbow.
"That money won't last! The fellow always was a wastrel." Malkent snorted "Why? Has someone seen him in England?"
"Nigel Saddewythe." Blayne took another swig of ale. "The man arrived in London yesterday night, livid with rage. Seems his coach had been held up i
n Epping Forest."
"And so?" Malkent lifted a brow.
"The highwaymen didn't take anything of value, but one of them forced his attentions on Pamela Saddewythe, then abducted the children's governess. 'Tis rather comical, really. Ignoring Saddewythe's purse, but stealing his governess? Most original."
"Yes. It is odd, but what does it have to do with Amberley?" Sudden laughter floated across the taproom. Malkent looked up, then stiffened.
"Well, it seems the Rogue had the effrontery to offer for Miss Saddewythe. Nigel refused him, of course. Saddewythe said Amberley was in a hurry to marry and thinks, though he has no proof, you understand, that the duke was one of the highwaymen. What Nigel doesn't fathom, if it was the Rogue, is why he took the wrong girl."
Malkent had gone pale. "Speak of the devil! Rogue Robin is sitting right over there as shameless as you please. Damn his impudence!"
Blayne's gaze followed Tracy's and he raised a quizzing glass to his eye. "Looks like a damned Frenchman! Acts like one, too!" he said, noting Amberley's expansive gestures and quick smiles.
"Probably decked himself out with the money Giles should have had," Malkent said.
"Who is that with him?"
"The Marquis de Valiére. I met him in Paris a couple of months ago. I saw the Rogue there as well, riding brazenly through the Bois de Boulogne." Tracy's lips thinned to an angry line. "Georges de Couvrelle belongs to one of the finest families in France. A likable fellow! I cannot imagine how he comes to know Rogue Robin."
Across the room, Lynkellyn was still shaking his coppery head. "I cannot disagree with you more, mon ami. We are talking about people here, not possessions. I've lived among the lower orders and..." Through the open taproom door, Robin saw the duchess descend the stairs. "There is Lucia! Shall we retire to supper, mon vieux?"
As Malkent and Blayne watched the ducal party's departure, Sir William turned to the earl. "May we surmise that the lady on the staircase is the Saddewythe's governess?"
***
Conversation over supper in the duke's private parlor was livelier than it had been during luncheon. No longer pressured to secure his legacy, Robin was relaxed and disposed to talk. He told Lucia and Georges about Lynkellyn Castle in Cumbria, regaling them with happy childhood tales of favorite dogs, silly pranks, and fishing expeditions. De Valiére countered with stories of his Gascon youth, modestly assuring his listeners that he had been the terror of the countryside.
The Rogue's Revenge Page 8