The Rogue's Revenge

by Lucy E. Zahnle

  "You should be in bed, Robin," she said sternly, trying to ignore the tumult he was causing inside her. Suddenly remembering the brandy they had ordered, she added, "And no spirits! You know the doctor said..."

  "Damn the doctor! I refuse to lay abed in the middle of the afternoon unless you are with me." Robin pulled her closer. Lucia blushed, but tilted her face up to accept his kiss, her senses reeling delightfully as his lips touched hers. Happiness, strong and insistent, pulsed through her, and she did not pause to question it. The answers, she knew, were certain to be painful and unsettling. Better to enjoy what you can while you can, she told herself as her arms encircled his neck. Tomorrow it might all disappear.

  Chapter 18:

  In Which Their Graces Attend a Ball

  As Hercules, his valet, put the finishing touches on his toilette on the evening of Lady Blayne's ball, Robin tried to mentally prepare himself for the snubs that would fill his evening, assuming, of course, that anyone attended Ryl's party at all. She had assured him, however, that she had received dozens of acceptances. Society was eager to welcome him back, she crowed.

  "Oui! After all, a free meal is a free meal even if one must dine with a scoundrel," Robin sneered.

  "You are not a scoundrel, Robin! And I hate that drawl you've adopted! It makes you sound -- " Amaryllis hesitated, "wicked!" she said at last.

  "But I am wicked, Ryl! Lucia has told you, certainement, about the way I..."

  "She says you are very good to her. She certainly seems happy enough."

  Robin frowned into the mirror, remembering how much Lucia had feared him only a few months ago. That terror had slowly faded from her eyes and he prayed to God he would never see it again. He wanted her to be happy.

  "You are ready, Your Grace," Hercules announced. Robin inspected his reflection in the glass. Elegant in deep violet velvet, he selected an amethyst from his jewel case and centered it in the ivory lace foaming at his throat. Slipping a ring of amethysts and pearls on his finger, he cast a last glance at his hair, intricately curled, powdered, and gathered in a carved amethyst buckle at the nape of his neck, the queue caught in a black silk bag. He picked up an ebony cane bedecked with fluttering purple ribbons and hobbled out.

  In the Blue Salon, Lady Easterbury and Lucia waited for him in silence. Lucia paced the room, her silken gown altering its hue in the firelight with her slightest movement. The deep blue overdress, its hem and bodice embroidered in silver, dipped daringly across her bosom and draped gracefully over a chemise of pale lavender brocade. A mass of ringlets, coated with silver powder and studded with violets, crowned her head, cascading over her shoulders and down her back.

  Lucia frowned, her mind in turmoil. She tried to tell herself that she only pursued Robin's goals because she feared his retribution, but during their weeks together, she had come to view Robin as an ally of sorts, although not a completely trustworthy one. She enjoyed his company when he was not trying to dominate her and she relished their physical intimacy. After the nightmare of their wedding night, he had become a gentle and considerate lover, always catering to her pleasure.

  Their companionship, however, was leading to unforeseen consequences. When he was with her, she found herself struggling to hide emotions she had no desire to feel in the first place. She reacted to his lightest touch, his slightest smile, his mere presence with a giddy delight that had nothing to do with survival and went far beyond lust. Often, when he was out, she caught herself listening for sounds of his return, straining to hear his tapping footstep or his rich, resonant voice. Once he was home, she felt safe, comfortable, and happy.

  But she knew that this happiness was a one-sided illusion. If this was love, it was naught but a miserable cheat! Robin was contemptuous of everything she valued. By his own admission, he was a ruthless brigand who stole what he wanted without a qualm. He wouldn't hesitate to exploit any weakness he found in her and loving him would definitely be a weakness. Lucia's shoulders sagged a little.

  Clad in a gown of scarlet velvet over an underdress of gold brocade, Lady Corinna sat in a straight-backed chair by the fire, embroidery in hand. "It's growing late!" she said, glancing at the clock. "His Grace had better hurry."

  "Had I known what beauty awaited me, ladies, I would have sprouted wings to be here sooner." When Robin appeared in the doorway, Lucia's heart danced. Smiling calmly, she tried to quash the sudden tumult.

  Lady Easterbury tossed her embroidery aside. " The carriage is waiting. Shall we go?"

  ***

  The elegant rooms at Blayne House echoed with laughter and happy voices as the dinner guests arrived. Tracy and Sir William stood in a corner of the drawing room, watching the glittering crowd swirl and undulate. "Will it answer, do you think?" Blayne asked. "I don't relish the thought of finding myself an outcast."

  Tracy shrugged. "Society is so easily swayed; who can tell? The ton may cut the Rogue dead or make him the rage."

  "The second possibility would certainly make life uncomfortable for you."

  "Perhaps I deserve to be uncomfortable, Will. Over the past few weeks, I've begun to fear that a massive miscarriage of justice has occurred." Tracy gazed toward the door as a late guest arrived. "Damn! Mountheathe! What the devil is he doing here?"

  As Tracy watched Amaryllis greet Giles, Blayne replied, "Ryl thought that if Mountheathe and the Rogue met on neutral ground, they might settle their differences."

  "Aye! With teeth and claws!" Tracy snorted. "What the devil was in her mind? Beg your pardon, Will! It is merely that..."

  "That Ryl is a meddlesome, well-meaning widgeon. I'm the first to admit it! But I love her and my life would be damned bleak without her, so here I am!" Sir William grinned.

  Mountheathe crossed the room and greeted his host. Sir William returned the courtesy, but Tracy gave Giles only a curt, distant nod. After Giles made his bow, he strolled toward Concordia and Tracy stiffened. Excusing himself to Sir William, he started to follow. Blayne laid a restraining hand on his sleeve. "Regardless of what Giles may or may not have done, Tracy, he is a guest in my house."

  "He had better be a gentleman with my niece," Tracy said after a tense moment.

  "Viscount Norworth," the butler announced. As Peter sauntered in, dozens of female eyes locked upon him. Tall and graceful, he sported a finely tailored coat of burgundy brocade over striped satin smallclothes. Lace dripped from his wrists and floated at his throat, the delicate material subdued by a single blood ruby, its twin glinting against the paleness of his right hand. His hair was powdered with care so that no hint of its true color showed, but his brows were dark and his eyes, gleaming with amusement and good humor, were so brown as to be almost black.

  "Norworth, too! Does Amaryllis extend her hospitality to every notorious profligate in London?" Tracy grumbled.

  "Come now, Tracy! Norworth isn't so bad. I rather enjoy his company."

  "So do I when I don't have to guard my female kin from him. If ever there was a wolf in sheep's clothing -- "

  Sir William laughed. "You are certainly in a foul mood tonight, my lord. I hope our little entertainment will cheer you."

  "With the guests she's invited, your good lady has set the stage for an explosive scandal that will cause people to rake up every sordid detail of Val's abduction. There is bound to be a confrontation either between Norworth and me over Concordia or between Giles and the Rogue over the past!"

  "Nonsense! This ball is for Robin's benefit. Why would he jeopardize his chance to rejoin Society?"

  "When Amberley's temper flares, he forgets logic. Forgets everything but his fury! And as for Norworth..."

  "Ryl invited Norworth because he reminds her of the Rogue before the scandal. Remember Robin's easy laughter? His joie de vivre? And that unexpected streak of gallantry? You have to admit that Tallant, beneath all his wildness, is very like that. Ryl is hoping that they will become friends. Perhaps Norworth's jaunty attitude toward life might bring back the old, lighthearted Robin she remembers."


  "Hare-brained! Amberley's been through too much to ever be the devil-may-care boy he was when he left. The Rogue has changed. Profoundly!"

  "So I've heard. Do you know, Tracy, that he's not in debt to anyone? The lad was constantly outrunning the duns in the old days. And now -- why I've heard he's even bought all his family's mortgages!"

  "That's true enough. He told me so himself."

  "Furthermore, no one's seen him at a gaming hell since his return to London. He's not made a single wager of any sort. You know how it always was with him! He could never pass up a bet!"

  "Perhaps he's been busy, Will. After all, he has a new wife, a large inheritance, and a difficult social situation to manage."

  "That could be. Shall we offer him a hand of cards this evening if we can find a fourth?"

  "Yes! The very thing to keep him occupied and thus keep the peace!"

  Viscount Norworth, having presented his personal compliments to all the ladies of his acquaintance in the room, bowed to Tracy and Sir William. "Gentlemen," he drawled, "I daresay this will prove a most enlivening evening," then the drawl disappeared and an impish grin lit his eyes, "and I'd not miss the fireworks for the world."

  "I'm certain it will be interesting," Tracy allowed frostily.

  The butler announced, "Lord Bellefield. Miss Bellefield."

  Norworth turned, bringing his quizzing glass into play. He let his warm, brown gaze roam lazily over Miss Bellefield from top to toe, then turned back to his companions. "I take it the guests of honor have not yet arrived?" he asked as if there had been no break in the conversation.

  "They are rather late," Sir William said. "Perhaps the Rogue's leg is paining him."

  "Indeed? What happened to his leg?" Peter asked. After listening with interest to Tracy's tale of the duke's duel, the viscount made his bow and sauntered over to speak to Bellefield.

  Some fifteen minutes later, after the butler had left his post by the door, the Lynkellyn party quietly slipped into Lady Blayne's salon. As Lucia entered the room on Robin's arm, Peter raised his quizzing glass to his eye. "Faith, but there's a beauty!" He leered wolfishly at the duchess. "I've never seen her before. Who is she?"

  "That, my friend, is the Duchess of Lynkellyn. Damned pretty woman, but I'd not get too close, if you take my meaning," Tony said.

  "Then the limping gallant escorting her is the infamous Rogue Robin!" Peter said. "A firebrand?"

  "Aye!"

  "How does a scoundrel like that rate such a magnificent creature? She is not the Saddewythes' governess, surely?"

  Tony nodded and both gentlemen watched their graces as they greeted Amaryllis. "Well, well," Norworth murmured, "I shall have to visit all my married friends and haunt their schoolrooms. Governesses have improved vastly since I was a boy. Fancy old Saddewythe keeping that prime bit of fluff hidden away all these years! Crafty devil!"

  Bellefield cleared his throat, embarrassed. "Appreciate it if you wouldn't speak of Her Grace in that manner, Peter. Granted, she's in a questionable situation, but she's a lady, for all that."

  Peter excused himself to seek out Lady Blayne and secure introductions to the Amberleys. When Amaryllis made them all known to each other, Robin favored the viscount with a distant bow, steeled for the cut-direct, but Peter greeted him with a smile. When the bowing viscount brought Lucia's hand to his lips, however, Robin's answering smile vanished.

  Later, at the dinner table, Viscount Norworth was pleased to find the duchess on his left and Miss Lannington on his right. On Concordia's right, Giles seethed silently. The last event he wanted to attend was a party honoring Amberley. He feared, however, that should he not appear and show his complete contempt for the duke, Robin might sway the ton just as he had won Tracy to his side. Besides, Ryl's ball might tell him whether Society intended to welcome the Rogue's return or cut him dead.

  The ball also gave Giles another chance to court the beautiful Miss Lannington and her equally enchanting dowry. He could not afford to waste his opportunities. He suspected that Norworth was trying to steal a march on him and he refused to let a second fortune fall into enemy hands.

  His fawnish brown eyes devoured Concordia with passionate intensity. "It seems an age since last we met, Miss Lannington," he murmured, "but then, every day we are apart feels like a century to me."

  Gazing at him from beneath silken lashes, Concordia smiled and waved her fan. "Truly, sir, it has only been three days and I daresay I've not spent above three minutes in your thoughts."

  "Three days? Three centuries, belike! But I am content to grow grey waiting for your favor so long as I may bask in your sweet presence. One small sign of your partiality, a single token of your affection, and I shall be young again."

  On Concordia's left, the conversation was comparatively prosaic. "Is this your first visit to London, Your Grace?" Norworth asked.

  "Yes," Lucia said, "but I hazard a guess that you have been here many times."

  "I must confess that I tend to live in Town and visit my estates instead of the other way 'round, much to the consternation of my parents. When I do go home, my mother parades a stream of prospective brides before me and my father glowers at me without saying a word. Between us, Your Grace, my mother is much the worse of the two. Imagine me caught in parson's mousetrap!" He shuddered eloquently. "Respectability! A horrible fate!"

  Lucia laughed. "The very future you wish to avoid is all my husband yearns for, my lord."

  "Does he, indeed?" Peter glanced across the table at the duke. When their eyes met, he was startled by the intense anger flashing beneath Lynkellyn's half-closed lids. He quickly turned back to the duchess.

  "He is tired of being vilified and longs for a taste of the family life you take for granted," she said.

  "Wait until his mother comes to visit! He'll change his mind then! Mine has been in residence with me at Sandhaven House for a month! She questions my every move and thinks I'm about to betroth myself to every young lady I dance with! She's sweet and I love her, but -- " Peter shook his head ruefully. "Thank God my father stayed in the country instead of coming with her. Those glowers, you know!"

  "Robin's parents are dead. Lady Blayne and Lord Mountheathe are the only close family he has."

  "And you, of course."

  "Yes. And me." She sighed. "I fear Robin's reputation is so damaged that he will never achieve his dream of respectability."

  "Aye, he did sow his wild oats rather deeper than most of us. Abducting a lady of quality," Norworth glanced at Lucia and corrected himself. "No, two ladies! The man has more hair than wit!"

  Lucia bristled. "I beg your pardon, sir, but Robin did not abduct anyone. We eloped and, as for Lady Malkent, it was Lord Mountheathe who tried to force her to Gretna Green."

  Peter was admiring the icy sparkle in Lucia's eyes when her accusations against Giles caught his attention. "What's this about Mountheathe?"

  "I said that Lord Mountheathe carried off Lady Val," Lucia repeated impatiently. "Robin rode to her rescue and fell into a trap of his cousin's devising."

  "I thought Mountheathe saved Lady Malkent. So the on-dit runs."

  Lucia shrugged angrily. "Believe what you will, my lord!" She turned to speak to Malkent on her other side.

  "Your Grace!" Peter touched her arm and she looked around. " You seem very sure of your facts. Where did you hear them?"

  "From Robin, of course. Why?"

  "All of Mountheathe's antics fascinate me. I have my own grievance against the man." Peter frowned, then brightened. "Surely we can find something more pleasant than Giles Bridland to discuss? You've seen all the sights in Town, I suppose?"

  "I have been to the theater."

  "What? Not to Westminster Abbey or the Bloody Tower?" Peter feigned shock.

  Lucia laughed. "Setting up a new household takes time, my lord. No doubt your marvels will still await me next week or next month."

  "Or tomorrow!" Norworth grinned.

  "Tomorrow?" she countered, suddenly br
eathless as she gazed into his beguiling black eyes.

  "If you would like to go driving with me tomorrow, say ten o'clock, I will engage to show you all the beauties and oddities of London." He smiled at her and her heart beat like a hummingbird's wings. Was this how the serpent enchanted Mother Eve?

  Quelling the tumult within her, she focused her mind firmly on Robin. She could not allow the viscount's dangerous charm to lead her into foolishness. Schooling herself to smile calmly, she said, "I'm honored by your invitation, my lord, but I really don't think I can accept. His Grace has been injured and requires a great deal of care." She glanced almost furtively across the table at her husband, flushing guiltily as her eyes met his. Then Amberley turned a countenance so full of poison upon Peter that he paled slightly and looked away.

  As Norworth watched the pair, Lucia's blush faded. Her chin rose defiantly and an angry challenge lit her eyes. An answering fury glinted in Lynkellyn's granite gaze and his smile mocked her. He brought a silver flask from his coat pocket, silently and impudently saluted her, then drank deeply, his eyes never leaving her face.

  With an angry shrug, Lucia smiled brightly at Peter. "I find that I would quite enjoy driving out with you tomorrow, my lord." Looking into Lucia's triumphant eyes, Peter realized that the newlyweds had just had a fierce argument in absolute silence and that the duke had apparently lost this little skirmish. Smiling archly, he began to flirt with the duchess while Lynkellyn glared daggers at them across the table.

  "I trust the refurbishing of Lynkellyn House is going well, Your Grace." Valeria's soft voice did not at first penetrate Robin's mind, focused, as it was, upon Lucia and her swain. When he realized that Valeria had summoned the courage to speak to him, he swallowed his anger and forced himself to be civil.

  "It has halted for the present, my lady. In her delicate condition, Lucia must rest."

  Val smiled. "Ryl told me you're expecting a 'blessed event'. Congratulations!"