The Rogue's Revenge

by Lucy E. Zahnle

  Blayne sighed as he picked up the morning post. "Do what you think best, my love. I know you shall do so anyway, regardless of my feelings in the matter."

  Impulsively, Amaryllis jumped up and ran around the breakfast table to Sir William's side. "You are a dear, Will," she said with a dazzling smile as she hugged the seated gentleman to her bosom. Releasing him, she announced, "Well, I'm off to call at Lynkellyn House. I do hope you will count Robin among your friends again, William. It would be wonderful to have the duke and duchess at Blayne for Christmas!" She danced happily out of the room.

  In the act of sipping tea, Sir William choked, spluttering, "Entertain that blackguard! At Blayne! Never!"

  In yet a third household, conversation concerning the Duke of Lynkellyn dominated the morning meal. "I'm certain the man I met in the park the other day was Gustav Mohlenbruck. That red mane is unmistakable, German accent or not. The more I think about it, the more convinced I become!" Lord Bellefield said to his sister, Teresa.

  "Then why did he deny it?"

  "I don't know, Teresa. I suspect there is a great deal I don't know about the man." Tony sipped his coffee thoughtfully and bit into a blueberry muffin.

  "Perhaps he doesn't want you to know him, Tony. Maybe he was warning you to keep your distance. They do say the Duke of Lynkellyn abducts ladies and all sorts of wicked things. He is not received, you know." Teresa's eyes widened. "Even his own family disowns him!"

  "That doesn't matter! The man saved my life -- pulled me, wounded, out of battle while carrying a ball in his own body. Took another one saving me! He almost died. Devil take it, I almost died! Would have, too, if it hadn't been for Gustav! I owe the man!"

  "But, Tony! Think of the scandal if you were seen with him! Society would cut us. We would be ruined!" Teresa almost wailed.

  Lord Bellefield struck his fist into his palm. "Once I call a man 'friend', I don't turn away from him merely because Society disapproves. I'm going to call on him!"

  Her soft, golden curls bobbing, Teresa shook her head. Large, pearly tears gathered in her brown eyes. "No, Anthony! Please! I wish you would not."

  He eyed his sister with scorn. "Don't turn your tears on me, my girl. I'm not one of your lovesick beaus. I'm impervious, remember? Anyway, my mind is made up."

  ***

  Lady Malkent and Lady Blayne had the misfortune to meet each other face-to-face on the doorstep of Lynkellyn House. For the past eight years, since the night Amaryllis had vociferously defended her erring cousin at her debutante ball, the two women had studiously ignored each other at all social functions. Since neither lady could hit upon another approach in this singular instance, each turned pointedly away from the other to stare hard at his grace's door.

  When Laddock opened the door, Amaryllis said, "I am Lady Amaryllis Blayne. I would like to speak to Her Grace." She presented her card with a toss of her pale gold curls.

  Valeria also produced a card. "The Countess of Malkent to see Her Grace."

  "If you will step in, I will see if Her Grace is receiving." Laddock showed the callers into a small parlor to wait.

  After a long silence during which the ladies surveyed their surroundings in minute detail rather than look at each other, Amaryllis said a little self-consciously, "I must say, I've never seen this house looking so well!"

  "Indeed!" Valeria settled herself in a comfortable chair.

  "Yes. Grandpapa always said money was to enjoy and he didn't enjoy squandering it on a new roof when he could buy a fine hunter for half the price. This house was falling apart when I visited here as a child."

  "Obviously the present occupant has no qualms about spending his money lavishly on household improvements; doubtless, because it isn't his money to spend."

  Amaryllis turned wide, angry, eyes on her companion. "I find your insinuations detestable, particularly when you voice them in His Grace's own house!"

  "Oh, come now, my lady! Everyone knows the Amberley fortune should have gone to Lord Mountheathe! Robert Amberley usurped that legacy and if he thinks his inheritance is going to buy him forgiveness for his past and a renewed entree into Polite Society, he is sadly mistaken." Valeria smoothed a crease from her skirt, gazing smugly at a porcelain shepherdess on the mantelpiece.

  "If that is your attitude, whyever did you come here?" Amaryllis said.

  "To help the wretched creature who is his latest victim, surely. The child will be desperately in need of aid and solace after being at the mercy of that -- that -- " The countess shuddered. "That blackguard!"

  Amaryllis clenched her fists at her sides, angry color suffusing her cheeks as she tried to form a polite reply. Valeria quirked an eyebrow, awaiting her response.

  At that fortuitous moment, Laddock opened the door and bowed. "If you will be so kind as to follow me, ladies." Both women came to a sense of their surroundings and the tension was broken. Amaryllis turned her back pointedly on her companion and flounced out of the room. Valeria followed at a statelier pace.

  Laddock stopped at a set of polished oak doors and threw them open, announcing, "The Countess of Malkent! Lady Blayne!"

  The ladies were thrust into chaos. Everywhere, servants scoured, scrubbed, swept, and polished. Two men were measuring some windows for draperies and others were holding up samples of silk, velvet, and brocade for the inspection of a young woman standing on a stool in the middle of the room, her back to the door.

  In a muslin blouse, a blue cotton skirt, and a white apron, all of which were smudged and dirty, the duchess was hardly any better dressed than her toiling servant girls. Contrary to the duke's wishes, her hair was hidden completely beneath a lacy linen cap.

  "No! No! No!" She shook her head distractedly. "I want blue for this room. That color is decidedly green! Don't you have anything else?"

  "Your Grace!" A footman called frantically from a far corner. Two men, balanced precariously on footladders, were endeavoring to hang a huge tapestry depicting medieval battles and hunting scenes. The panorama covered the entire wall.

  "It still is not straight," her grace opined. "Perhaps if you raised your side a little higher, Fletcher?"

  Lucia's maid, Anne, hurried over to Laddock. She glanced at the ladies and whispered, "You were supposed to show them to the Gold Salon!"

  "This is the Gold Salon!" the butler hissed back.

  "No! No! This is the Blue Salon. Her Grace is changing the color. The Gold Salon is upstairs. It's the one which used to be green!"

  Laddock raised his eyes to heaven. "What do you suggest we do?"

  Anne glanced again at the bewildered ladies huddled just inside the room and shrugged. "I shall inform Her Grace and let her deal with them."

  Relief flooded Laddock's eyes as Anne threaded her way through the busy servants to the duchess's side. "Your Grace!" she said urgently.

  "One moment, Anne!" Lucia's attention was wholly taken up with the tradesmen. "Yes! That is the design I want, but perhaps a shade darker?"

  The draper held up another sample. "That is it exactly." She turned to the footman. "Fletcher, that is perfect. We'll never get it any straighter. I'll leave the hanging to you. Please be careful with the tapestry and do try to work quietly. His Grace is but two doors away in the library." Lady Malkent and Lady Blayne exchanged startled glances.

  Lucia finished her business with the draper. As he and his assistants began to gather their samples, Anne became more impatient. "Your Grace! The ladies..."

  "Yes! Yes! I have not forgotten them! They are waiting in the Gold Salon. I shall need but a minute to change into a suitable gown."

  "Your Grace, Laddock made a mistake! He thought this room was still the Gold Salon and he showed them in here. They are standing by the door."

  Lucia turned toward the door, her eyes widening as she saw the two stylishly dressed women standing there. Taking a deep breath, she stepped off the stool and walked over to her guests. "Ladies," she curtsied, smiling nervously. "I fear you find me at a disadvantage. If you will all
ow Laddock to escort you to another salon, I shall join you presently. I do sincerely apologize for receiving you in this manner. I hope you will forgive me?"

  Amaryllis smiled. "Yes, of course! One must allow for a bit of confusion in a new household." Still staring at the pandemonium, Valeria nodded.

  "Laddock, please show the ladies to the Gold Salon. It is upstairs," Lucia said. Heightened color suffused the butler's otherwise impassive countenance as he led the visitors from the room.

  When the door closed behind them, Lucia sagged against it.

  "Your Grace! Are you ill?" Anne cried in alarm.

  "I can't believe! Callers! Robin said no one would acknowledge us!" Lucia sprang up. "I must change into something suitable! But what? Anne, you must help me dress! And ask the cook to send up a pot of tea and some of those wonderful cakes I smelled baking this morning."

  Anne wrung her hands "Your Grace! She can't! One of the kitchen maids knocked the tray with all the freshly baked cakes on the floor, so Laddock says, and the cat ate them!"

  Lucia wanted to cry. "All of them?" she asked faintly.

  "Yes, Your Grace. That is, what the cat didn't eat, Flossie -- that's the kitchen maid -- stepped on, trying to shoo away the cat. The cook set about making more right off, but I believe it will be another hour..."

  "Do you know the pastry shop in the next block?"

  "Yes, Your Grace."

  "Good. Have Laddock send someone for two-no, make it three dozen cakes. Then come help me dress. Tell Laddock I wish tea to be served as soon as possible. Is that clear?"

  "Yes, Your Grace. It shall be as you say."

  ***

  Fifteen minutes later, Lucia entered the newly christened 'Gold Salon', prepared to entertain her callers. She wore a simple morning gown of blue damask embroidered in gold at the neck, sleeves, and hem. The soft folds of silk caressed her body, giving her a sensual allure while the quiet simplicity of the gown's design lent an air of gentility and innocence.

  Her gleaming tresses, no longer hidden beneath a cap, were woven in an intricate design of heavy, black braids, his grace having delivered a thunderous "No!" to the suggestion that her hair be cut to a stylish length.

  To the ladies who watched her enter the room, she was calm, confident, and regal. They could not know that fear and embarrassment had put the roses in her cheeks nor that her palms were moist with anxiety.

  "Good day, ladies!" She curtsied before sitting opposite her guests on a divan newly upholstered in a gleaming gold brocade. She hesitated, uncertain as to how to begin a conversation. "I -- I understand that you are His Grace's cousin," she said after an uncomfortable silence, focusing her eyes on a spot somewhere between the two women.

  "Oh, yes! Robin and I used to play together as children when he visited my home on holiday," the blonde effused. "Those were glorious days!"

  Lucia silently congratulated herself on having discovered which of her guests was Lady Blayne. Her other caller, therefore, must be Lady Malkent. Her heart sank a little as she surveyed the woman who had so captivated Robin in his youth.

  The lady was lovely. Huge brown eyes glowed in a perfect oval face framed by vibrant chestnut curls. A pixie nose and delicately sculptured lips coupled with a creamy white complexion and a willowy, seductive shape made Lucia wonder that only three gentlemen had been in serious competition for her hand a decade ago.

  Valeria's voice was crisp and cool as she said, "I hope you are enjoying your stay in London, Your Grace."

  "Lucia! Please, both of you, call me Lucia. In truth, I find 'Your Grace' a little daunting."

  "I've come to welcome you into the family, Lucia!" Amaryllis smiled. "I am certain we shall be like sisters. It will be such fun! We can take tea together and go shopping together and I would love to help you when you have little ones! Robin is such a dear that I know the woman he loves must be someone truly special."

  The countess cleared her throat and glared at Lady Blayne. Lucia stared uncomfortably down at her hands, at a loss for words. Amaryllis looked from one to the other of them, confused, then shook her head vigorously. "Oh, but what they're saying about an abduction can't be true! It was a moonlight elopement, was it not? So romantic!" Ryl clasped her hands together and smiled dreamily. "I can't believe my dear Cousin Robin could ever do those terrible, wicked things. He is a good man! He is!"

  Exasperated at Amaryllis's naivete, Valeria impulsively reached out to touch Lucia's arm. "You must forgive Lady Blayne. She is forever misguidedly defending that scoundrel."

  Lucia squared her shoulders and lied for the duke in a clear, steady voice. "But she is right, my lady. Robin is a fine man and I love him very much. There was no abduction. It was an elopement."

  Valeria stared at Lucia, patently incredulous, and even Amaryllis's confidence wavered at such a forthright, rehearsed speech.

  "Nevertheless," Amaryllis said suddenly, "my cousin has a fierce temper. I well remember how cruel and unthinking he could be when he was crossed. If you... if my cousin should make you uncomfortable or unhappy in...in any way, you have only to tell me. I can provide a...a change of scenery, perhaps, or whatever you may require. In the strictest confidence, of course."

  Valeria searched Lucia's eyes. "We both want to be your friends, Lucia. You may rely upon us if you are in trouble. If His Grace is cruel, as Lady Blayne says, then..."

  "I am quite content here with my husband, thank you, although I appreciate your concern," Lucia rushed to say. Amaryllis and Valeria regarded her intently, skepticism writ large upon their faces. "Indeed, His Grace is very good to me!" she insisted.

  ***

  Sir William Blayne entered White's in a brown study, the scowl that played about his mouth lending menace to his normally warm hazel eyes. With a sigh, he flung himself into a chair next to the Earl of Malkent.

  Tracy lowered his newspaper. "What's got you so blue- deviled, Will? Your morning can't have been as disastrous as mine."

  "'Tis that damned Lynkellyn rogue!" Sir William snarled. "There was nothing for it, but Ryl must needs call at his house this morning. I daresay he's seducing her even now while I kick my heels here, a cuckolded fool!" Fuming, he picked up Tracy's paper, glanced at it without seeing it, and tossed it down.

  "Then it must be a veritable orgy, for Val is over there too, intent on rescuing the duchess from her husband's clutches. When I think of that animal's paws on my wife! 'Tis not to be borne!" Tracy sprang out of his chair to pace furiously.

  Sir William twisted in his seat. "We should go over there and confront him before he does our ladies any damage. I'll put a ball through the bloody villain if I have to!"

  "Yes, you're right, Will! We can't just sit here and let it happen! Let us be off! If our wives have been harmed in any way, the Rogue shall pay with his life!"

  Half an hour later, the knocker at Lynkellyn House sounded imperatively as the gentlemen prepared to confront the duke. The door swung open and a very proper butler faced them.

  "Announce the Earl of Malkent and Sir William Blayne," Tracy challenged him, ready to demand that Valeria be brought forth at once.

  "Very good, my lord." Laddock acquiesced without the slightest struggle. "If you will follow me, please." The gentlemen entered, surprised at the butler's lack of hesitation.

  Just as Laddock was about to close the door, another man climbed the stairs, saying, "Lord Bellefield to see His Grace, please."

  "Very good. This way, please." Laddock led the party up to the Gold Salon and threw open the doors, announcing in stentorian tones, "The Earl of Malkent, Lord Bellefield, Sir William Blayne."

  Lucia rose to greet the new arrivals with a beaming smile that totally belied the cold panic at the pit of her stomach. She did not know how many more covert offers of sanctuary she could face.

  The belligerent husbands swaggered into the room and Lucia invited them to be seated They exchanged sheepish glances, realizing that their wives were in no danger from the wicked duke. Indeed, he seemed to be in no h
urry to put in an appearance at all.

  Having reached the same conclusion, Lord Bellefield was disappointed. He wanted a closer look at Lynkellyn. He had listened to all the gossip about the duke and it had only confirmed his suspicions that Amberley was indeed his old comrade, Gustav.

  Despite Lucia's efforts to amuse her guests while steering politely around all the topics they most wanted to discuss, the conversation returned again and again to her past, her family, her courtship, and her marriage. She endeavored to answer their courteous, but persistent questions with as little of the truth as possible while not telling an obvious lie. It was not easy. Lord Saddewythe's account of her abduction had passed like an Olympic torch from one gossip to the next until there was no one in London who had not heard the tale.

  "I must say, Your Grace, that, according to Lord Saddewythe, at least, your marriage was extremely sudden and-er- unexpected," Valeria remarked, inquiry in her tone.

  "His Grace was anxious to marry. His -- ardor -- would not be denied," Lucia blushed, all the while wishing herself back in the schoolroom at Saddewythe Manor.

  Tracy leaned toward Sir William, his lip curling as he muttered, "I wonder which spurred the Rogue more, his passion for his bride or his lust for Giles's fortune?" Sir William grinned.

  The flustered duchess, who had been near enough to overhear Malkent's disdainful quip, was saved from a totally embarrassing moment by the timely arrival of Laddock with the tea tray. The recently purchased cakes were heaped on a delicate china platter. Dainty little cups and saucers, matching the platter's pattern, awaited her grace's pleasure and an exquisitely engraved silver tea service completed the set. Lucia's puzzled gaze fell upon the unfamiliar dishes then flew inquiringly to the butler's face. "Family heirlooms, unearthed yesterday, Your Grace," Laddock whispered as he set the tray before her.