The Rogue's Revenge

by Lucy E. Zahnle

  "Merci." Robin's eyes strayed back to the couple across the table.

  Discomfited to be sitting beside the man whom, for a decade, she had believed to be her abductor, Valeria looked down at her plate, trying to think of something else to say. If Tracy's new- found doubts about Robin's guilt proved true, she had been instrumental in the destruction of an innocent man's life, condemning him to ten years of exile. What words could make amends for that?

  Robin was still staring at Peter and Lucia, his mouth set in a hard line, his eyes smoldering and his fists clenched.

  Valeria glanced across the table at the laughing pair. Nothing more exceptional passed between them than a few pleasant gallantries courteously parried. Their behavior would not infuriate the most exacting spouse.

  Impulsively, she touched Robin's arm. He tore his gaze away from Lucia and glared at her. "They are only talking, Your Grace. Polite conversation is expected. They're doing no more than that."

  "Am I so transparent?" Robin said.

  "You look like you would dearly love to pounce on poor Norworth and tear him apart. Tracy acted just like that for nearly two years after -- after the abduction. Whenever any man -- a footman or a groom, even -- approached me, he growled like an old bear."

  "Like Tracy, I'm just trying to protect my own."

  The couple across the table reclaimed Robin's attention and Valeria shook her head. The duke was going to have a very uncomfortable evening if he intended to take exception to every man who admired his duchess.

  Further down the table, Lord Mountheathe and Lord Norworth were eagerly vying for Concordia's attention. Well, Mountheathe was vying anyway, she admitted to herself. The viscount seemed to be totally captivated by the duchess. Concordia pouted a little. Her grace was married and old, well past twenty. What could Norworth possibly see in her?

  Giles was going on about Concordia's likeness to some flower or other. She listened with half an ear while she peered around Peter to get a glimpse of the duchess. Old or not, her grace was lovely and Concordia's heart sank as she overheard Norworth offer to take her driving.

  "...servant forever, if you will only grant me the supper dance," Mountheathe pleaded.

  Giles truly seemed to care for her. He talked to her, spent time with her, courted her. She was lucky if Norworth greeted her in passing. And Giles had the most beautiful, beguiling, brown eyes, so much more pleasing than mocking black ones, always laughing at one.

  Mountheathe was obviously the better choice, so why did she live for Norworth's teasing glance, hunger for that quiet moment of conversation, revel in that long anticipated dance?

  She smiled at Giles and told him the supper dance was already bespoken, praying, as she glanced hopefully down the table at Peter, that Mountheathe would not discover the lie. She suggested that Giles stand up with her for another dance and dropped a heavy hint that she would like to go driving the next day. Mountheathe immediately offered to escort her.

  ***

  After dinner, Robin stood in the receiving line beside Lucia and greeted arriving guests, graciously accepting their good wishes and ignoring their snubs. A surprising number of old acquaintances sought to renew their ties with him. He also received quite a few cuts, of course. The Cothcourt family walked past him as if he were not there and Lady Saddewythe and her daughter were decidedly cool, but, overall, the smiles outnumbered the insults.

  Nevertheless, he could not forget that one breath of scandal had left him bereft of allies. In the old days, he would have greeted his friends with the hearty boisterousness of a man sure of his welcome. Now, amongst those same friends, he was cautious and reserved like an abandoned pet coaxed out of the wild. He had been an outcast too long.

  As the ball began, Robin sat down, propping his throbbing leg on an ottoman. Watching Lucia go down the first set with a frog- faced young buck adept at crushing her toes. Robin fumed at his helpless state; unable to dance with his wife; unable to protect her from unkind remarks; and unable to interrupt the steady stream of gallants eager to lead her onto the floor. No amount of glaring on his part had prevented Lady Malkent and Lady Blayne from introducing her to every fop who clamored to be presented.

  Robin grimly watched her smile at one new acquaintance after another. Until tonight, his notoriety had forced an isolated intimacy upon them. Fighting, laughing, or crying, they had needed each other. Now that Lucia had all these new friends, she would need him no longer. She might even feel strong enough to break his hold on her. What if she charmed some swaggering young puppy into helping her escape him? Or even worse, what if she fell in love with a handsome buck like Norworth? It was all too likely!

  Fingers taut on his chair arms, Robin silently blasted Lucia's latest swain as that worthy led her into the dance, then cursed the damned useless leg that prevented him from partnering her himself. When the despised limb retaliated with an agonizing throb, he cursed Giles Bridland and his hired assassin for putting him in this crippled state.

  The music ended and Norworth approached Lucia to claim his second dance of the evening. Robin's eyes widened, his body tense as he leaned forward.

  "It would seem your doxy's found a better prospect, Coz," Mountheathe drawled as he took a chair next to Robin. "Less impressive title, but deep pockets and a relatively untarnished reputation. What's more, he's a whole man with two good legs."

  Robin glared at Mountheathe. "I am not in the mood for your insults and calumnies this evening, Giles. Be gone with you."

  When the set ended, gentlemen thronged around Lucia, seeking an introduction or begging a dance. As he watched her laugh, it seemed to Robin that she had totally forgotten her marriage vows.

  "Look at her, Rogue!" Giles purred. "What a practiced Cyprian she is! Such enticing smiles! Such wanton glances! How she relishes the adulation of all those men! Which one shall she take into her bed, I wonder?"

  "Damn you, Giles! I've a mind to -- "

  "To what, Coz? To call me out?" Mountheathe's eyes danced as he raised his quizzing glass to inspect Robin's injured leg, propped up on a tapestried ottoman. "You should be more careful, Rogue. Brigands are everywhere these days! Especially in the parks!"

  "You seem to have no trouble finding them, certainement!" Robin snapped, his eyes still on Lucia.

  "You've lost me, Coz. I haven't the faintest idea what you are talking about. Ah, but then I know nothing of such matters." He waved his glass around airily. "I am convinced that you, with your vast experience, must be the family authority on thieves and cutthroats."

  Robin seethed silently, struggling to control his temper. It would not do to ruin Ryl's ball with petty squabbling. He must be patient. When the time was right, he would have Giles spitted on his sword like a roasting pig. He smiled at the thought.

  A strident whisper behind him drew Robin's eyes to Lady Clarissa Chalfont, in a heated conversation with Giles. "You seem to think I'm going to seduce him here and now!" she said. "I only want you to introduce me!"

  Robin's smile broadened. "By all means, Giles, introduce us. I would be delighted to meet so charming a lady." He pressed the tip of his cane against the floor and pushed himself to his feet. His eyes brazenly raked Clarissa and she fanned herself, simpering.

  Giles reluctantly introduced them and Robin bowed over her hand. As he rose, he surprised a hard, calculating look in a pair of hazel eyes as cold and corrupt as rusted iron, but when those eyes met his, they softened and her lips parted in sensual invitation. His smile became predatory.

  "I am thirsty, Giles. Would you be so kind as to bring me some wine?" Clarissa's request closely resembled a dismissal. As he reluctantly went off to procure the refreshment, she took the chair next to Robin's. Amberley lowered himself back into his seat with an anticipatory gleam in his eyes.

  "I know we are going to be fast friends, Your Grace. I'm certain we shall find we have a great deal in common," she said, leaning toward him at an angle calculated to show him a wide expanse of bosom. She patted his thigh with a s
mall, smug smile on her face that was already proprietary.

  "Mais oui, madame! We already have one mutual passion in the person of Lord Mountheathe." Robin's teeth glinted, shark- like, as she waved her creamy, white cleavage in his face like a red flag before a Spanish bull.

  Her hand still on his leg, she smiled back at him, pleased with her progress. A man was a man, she thought, whether he was a beardless youth of sixteen or a jaded man of the world like Lynkellyn. Just a little encouragement, just the unspoken suggestion that he might possess her abundant charms, and a man would give her anything she wanted; his fortune, his love, his soul.

  "Perhaps over supper at my house tomorrow night, we may discover another 'mutual passion'." Her tongue slid sensuously over her red lips as she caressed his thigh. "Say, about ten?"

  Suddenly Robin leaned forward, cursing under his breath as Lucia strolled into Blayne's garden, hanging on Norworth's arm. His hand tightened on his cane and he struggled to his feet. Beside him, Clarissa rose and tried to take his arm. He shook her off, hardly aware of her presence, and hobbled toward the garden.

  Across the room, William and Tracy watched Robin limp after Peter and Lucia, his face a thundercloud. "Trouble!" Tracy predicted succinctly. "We'd best head the Rogue off before he gives the ton more fodder for drawing room gossip."

  Malkent and Blayne intercepted Robin halfway across the room. "Rogue!" Tracy said, "Well met! A word, if you please!"

  "Out of my way, Tracy! "

  "But Will and I are trying to get up a game of cards, Robin."

  "Devil take your cards!" Robin pushed past the earl and lurched onward. Following, Will and Tracy caught up with him when he halted a few feet from the French doors.

  Leaning heavily on his cane, Robin stared at Lucia and Norworth as they strolled back into the ballroom. Her smiling face was turned up to Peter's as he gazed into her eyes, laughing softly. Her fingers curled around his arm and his hand covered hers. To Robin, they appeared too damned intimate by half.

  "Norworth!" Sir William cried. "A perfect fourth." He strode past Lynkellyn to invite the viscount to join the proposed game. Peter looked up at the sound of Blayne's voice and discovered the duke's stormy, steely eyes accusing him.

  Peter was amused. Having been gently, but firmly rebuffed in his one attempt to kiss her grace, he had, from that moment, behaved with a circumspection that would have stunned his intimates, indulging in nothing more than light flirtation with this delightful creature. For once, he was innocent of the slightest impropriety, yet he found himself facing a fire-breathing dragon of a husband who appeared to be inordinately jealous of a woman whom he supposedly married for convenience.

  "I say, Norworth! Are you up for a round of cards?" Sir William pleaded frantically at his elbow. Peter tore his eyes from Amberley's face and looked toward the duchess. Over her head, he could see Lady Winifred Saddewythe bearing down upon their tense little band. He bowed to Lucia, kissing her hand. "If Your Grace will excuse me?"

  "Yes. Of course. I think I see Lady Saddewythe hailing me, in any case," she smiled. From the moment she had entered the ballroom on Norworth's arm, she had avoided Robin's gaze. Although she had done nothing wrong, somehow she felt incredibly guilty.

  Peter left Lucia's side and Robin took his place with a proprietary air. "I hope you are enjoying yourself, ma chérie," he said in tender tones that belied the chill in his eyes.

  "Yes, indeed, Robin!" She forced herself to look at him.

  "Bon! Then I shall leave you to your amusements and adjourn to the cardroom." Robin cast a look of triumphant challenge at Norworth and, tipping Lucia's head up with two fingers beneath her chin, planted a swift, but passionate kiss full on her mouth, heedless of the crowded ballroom. He casually turned away from her, an unrepentant half-smile playing about his lips. "Lead on, gentlemen."

  "Well, that should give the tabbies something to purr about over their saucers of tea tomorrow!" Malkent murmured to Sir William as they strode toward the cardroom.

  Sir William grinned. "The man hasn't changed completely, has he? Still listens to his heart more often than he does to his head."

  Tracy nodded. "Once a Rogue, always a Rogue!"

  Lucia stood, stunned, as Robin hobbled away. She touched her mouth, shaking her head in disbelief. 'So much for respectability!' she thought angrily. Aware that people were staring, waiting for her reaction to such a public caress, she had no choice but to put a bold face on the whole incident. Her chin lifted and she strolled with apparent unconcern toward Lady Saddewythe who had stopped dead in her tracks upon seeing Lynkellyn's outrageous impropriety.

  "Well met, my lady," Lucia said.

  "Oh, my dear! Such a Dreadful Man! Thank Heaven his fancy didn't light on Pamela!" Lady Saddewythe fanned herself vigorously. "Ah, but I am saddened that you were sacrificed in her place, Miss Cothcourt. No! I must call you 'Your Grace' now, mustn't I?"

  The duchess shook her head. "'Lucia' will be fine. I feel we are old friends."

  Lady Winifred's face crinkled with pleasure at the familiarity her former governess was granting. "It must have been horrendous for you that awful night when -- I hope you were not hurt?"

  "No! His grace merely took me back to Brackenwell Hall where Reverend Stanfield was waiting and -- and we were married. It was rather business-like, really, with the duke's solicitor waiting with papers to sign and all," she said, aware that Lady Saddewythe wanted reassurance, not truth.

  "Well, thank heaven it's over! You did receive your portmanteau, did you not? I had to send it to Lynkellyn House when Saddewythe was from home. He was all for cutting the ties completely and tossing your things in the Thames, but I thought you had suffered enough already at the hands of that Dreadful Man!"

  "Thank you, my lady, for your compassion," Lucia said with heartfelt gratitude. "Can we not find a quiet place to sit? I feel very -- er -- conspicuous here." Lucia glanced around at the other guests, their eyes still on her as they whispered their shock and outrage at Robin's reprehensibly public kiss.

  The women soon discovered a deserted corner and seated themselves. "How are the children?" Lucia asked.

  "They are doing very well, only -- " Winifred hesitated, then straightened her shoulders determinedly. "Lucia, I have a favor to ask. Could you visit with Honor?"

  "Honor? Is something wrong? Has she gotten over the ear- ache?"

  "Yes, but ever since that horrible night, she has refused to ride in a carriage! At night, she wakes up screaming or in tears, convinced that you are dead, murdered by that Dreadful Man! Derrick put that notion into her head, I suspect. She won't believe any of us when we tell her you are alive. If you could just see her, talk to her a little, put her fears to rest -- " Winifred twisted the end of her shawl.

  Lucia rested her hand on Winifred's arm. "I would be glad to visit you, my lady..."

  "No!" Winifred almost jumped out of her chair, her eyes bulging. "No!" she repeated more calmly. "You mustn't do that, my dear. Nigel would have kittens if you called at Saddewythe House. When Pamela and I left this evening, I had to lie and say we were going to Lady Whitforth's musicale. Nigel doesn't want us to have anything to do with the duke or-or-"

  "Or with me," Lucia finished for her.

  "I am sorry, my dear." Winifred stared at her hands, embarrassed. At last she said, "The children stroll in Hyde Park with their new governess, Miss Twyll, every morning at eight o'clock. Perhaps -- perhaps you could meet them there. I can't accompany them or Nigel might become suspicious, but I shall alert Miss Twyll to watch for you."

  Lucia shook her head. "Robin would never allow..."

  "Please, Your Grace! I came here expressly to see you. No matter what Nigel may think, we need your help! Honor won't eat! She can't sleep! She never laughs or plays anymore. She's heartbroken at losing you! I'm at my wits' end!" A tear trickled down Winifred's cheek. "Please!"

  "I -- Very well. If I can get away, I shall see the children in the park tomorrow. Perhaps I can say that I wish for
an early ride..."

  "Oh, thank you! Thank you, Lucia!" Winifred gushed. "This means so much to me! You are too kind!"

  Engrossed in their conversation, the ladies took no notice of the uninvited Sir Winston Rochedale. Having slipped quietly past the busy servants into the house, he stood on the threshold of the ballroom, scanning the crowd in search of Mountheathe. As Lucia and Winifred strolled away, the movement caught his attention. He blinked, then stared hard at Lucia, examining her thoroughly.

  The ladies stopped gratifyingly within Rochedale's hearing. "Thank you once more, Lucia! I shall not forget your generosity."

  "Nonsense, my lady! I am looking forward to seeing the children again, especially Honor. Hyde Park tomorrow morning at eight o'clock. I shall be there!"

  "Oh dear!" Winifred groaned. "Here is Pamela about to stand up with Lord Farmont for the third time this evening as if neither of them knew better! That child never gives me a moment's peace! I pray you will excuse me, Your Grace." Curtsying, Winifred gave Lucia a look of martyred long-suffering, and hurried away.

  Stifled in the hot, stuffy ballroom, Lucia strolled out onto the veranda overlooking the garden, her mind and heart in turmoil. Dealing with Robin wearied her spirit.

  Three months ago, she would have said the duke was incapable of loving anyone. He had regarded her as nothing more than a weapon against Lord Mountheathe.

  At that time, she had had a healthy and intense fear of Robin and he -- what? What had he felt for her? Apathy? Pity? Contempt? Desire had burned in his eyes when he looked at her, 'twas true, but she knew that often a man's lust, once sated, became indifference.

  Robin was not indifferent. Indeed, he was growing more possessive every day, glaring at any man who approached her as if he wanted to savage the poor unsuspecting soul.

  Nevertheless, he had begged for the mysterious Angelina from his sickbed, not her. Although the lady must have hurt him deeply, Lucia was certain he must still love her. With such a great passion in his past, how could he possibly feel any affection for his wife?

  Since Robin could not love her, his jealousy, if one could call it that, must spring from the fear that she might betray him and cause him to lose his grandfather's fortune. Her heart ached a little. She wished he was as protective of her as he was of his legacy.