The Rogue's Revenge

by Lucy E. Zahnle

  She prayed fervently that Viscount Norworth truly was a friend, for she had told him much more than she ever should have. During their outing, she had eventually poured into his willing ear all her sadness at her battered dreams, all her fury and unhappiness at her humiliating position, and all the wonder, joy, and fear in her treacherous, unruly heart. A kind and sympathetic soul, he had listened without appearing to judge her by the world's harsh standards. Although he could offer only compassion and commiseration, she had felt a great deal better at the end of her ride.

  Sighing, she stared at the rosy morning sky, a promising orange sun floating just above the trees, then let the curtain drop and turned away, wondering how she had become so naively trusting as to pour all her secret confidences and longings into a virtual stranger's ear and so foolishly vulnerable as to allow herself stirrings of sympathy...never love!...for a brigand like Amberley.

  The chamber door opened suddenly and Anne stood on the threshold, a tray in her hand. "Oh! You're awake, Your Grace! I've brought your chocolate."

  Masking her melancholy, Lucia smiled and accepted the chocolate. Sitting on the side of her bed, she sipped from the steaming cup as the maid threw open the curtains. "I daresay His Grace will not rise before noon," Lucia said. "I didn't hear him come in last night. He must have been out very late."

  Standing in front of an open wardrobe, Anne paused in the act of choosing a dress for her mistress. "Mr. Hercules says that His Grace hasn't returned home yet, Your Grace," was her carefully casual reply.

  "Oh." Lucia gazed dejectedly at the little brown bubbles swirling in her chocolate. When she looked up, Anne was holding a morning gown of blue poplin. "Oh, no! I'm sorry! I meant to tell you I'm going riding again this morning. I'll need my habit."

  Anne curtsied, suppressing an irritated sigh. "Very good, Your Grace."

  ***

  Constant, throbbing pain drummed through Robin's skull, relentlessly dragging him to wakefulness. He turned on his side and put a pillow over his head, shifting a little closer to the soft, warm body beside him in the bed.

  Gaining no benefit from his pillow, he shoved it away without opening his eyes, yearning for the caressing massages Lucia gave him when his head ached. Her gentle hands had never failed to soothe his suffering.

  "Lucia!" he murmured groggily. "Lucia, would you rub my temples, s'il vous plâit? My head feels like an exploding cannon."

  A muffled snore was his only answer. "Lucia!" he said a little louder, forcing his eyes open. Clarissa Chalfont's exquisite features, blanked in sleep, met his suddenly alert gaze.

  He sat up too quickly, wincing as another lance of pain split through his head. When he ran his hand through his hair, he discovered that it was sticky with brandy and grimly remembered that Clarissa had spilled half a bottle of the stuff all over him when she'd brought it to him in bed. Grimacing in distaste at this legacy of a misspent night, he fumbled beside the bed for his clothes.

  He donned them slowly, hampered by a crippled leg, a pounding head, an uneasy stomach, and fingers that refused to work. Lucia would not be pleased when he arrived at home in such a disreputable condition, but at the moment he could think of nowhere he would rather be.

  Dressed at last, he tried to rise. Pain stabbed through his injured leg. With a curse, he groped on the floor for his cane, found it, and pulled himself up to hobble over to a window.

  As he shoved a curtain back to let in the light, Clarissa rolled over in the bed. She smiled lazily at him, her seductive brown eyes heavy-lidded with the remnants of sleep. "Where are you going, love? It's early!" she purred.

  Robin glanced at the sun's position. "It's midday and I should have left hours ago."

  "Nonsense! Come back to bed. I promise to make it worth your while." She sat up in the bed, letting the covers fall from her pink and white breasts as she patted the spot beside her. Her eyes, suddenly wide and beckoning, looked startlingly like Mountheathe's.

  He limped to the mirror, her blatant invitation reminding him all too disgustingly of his years in Vienna. He thought of Lucia, bereft of harlot's tricks, and his heart ached for her. Clarissa Chalfont was a damned poor substitute for his lady wife, he concluded as he picked up a comb from a dressing table and ran it savagely through his matted hair, muttering an oath as it snagged.

  "What's the matter, Rogue? Come back to bed and let me..."

  "I must leave," Robin said curtly. Perhaps another high flyer would cure him of his addiction. He fervently hoped so because he had no idea how he could live with Lucia without touching her. Aware that he looked every bit the drunken, degenerate roue he was fabled to be, he smoothed down his tangled, brandy-soaked curls as best he could and started toward the door.

  Clarissa tumbled out of bed, struggling into a sheer wrapper that hid little as she ran toward him. "Wait! Why don't you stay for breakfast? You must be starved after last night. I'll just ring for food and after we have eaten." Glancing significantly at the bed, she purred, "Let me satisfy all your hungers, Robin."

  Robin glared at her and she quailed at the icy contempt in his eyes. He pulled a heavy pouch from his pocket, counted out ten guineas, and laid them with deliberate finality on her dressing table. "I believe that should compensate you for your time and...er...efforts. I will not require your services again." His mouth curling into an ugly sneer, he bowed, ignoring the murderous fury that shot from her eyes. As he slammed the door behind him, a crystal decanter shattered resoundingly against the woodwork.

  ***

  Arriving at Lynkellyn House, Robin limped tiredly into utter chaos. Laddock had apparently vanished, no footman greeted him in the entry-hall to take his hat and cloak, and a raucous cacophony permeated the house. Childish laughter and hysterical wailing mingled uneasily with male voices raised to be heard over the uproar. A dog's excited bark and the crash of falling porcelain added a clamoring descant to the commotion.

  "Lucia!" Robin shouted, tracking the noise to the Blue Salon. "Lucia, what the devil's going on?" he said, pausing on the threshold. A large, rambunctious sheepdog barked furiously at the colorful shards of a Dresden shepherdess on the floor. Four of the Saddewythe children giggled at some tale Giovanni was spinning for them, while Honor sat apart in a large chair, crying as if her heart would break. "I want my C-Cothy!" the child sobbed. "And I want Miss Twyll! And I want my Mama!"

  Viscount Norworth knelt beside her, endeavoring ineffectually to calm the tempest. Holding her hand, he patted it gingerly. "Your governess will be fine, little girl, I promise you. She won't like to see you crying." He dabbed at her eyes with a scrap of ivory linen. Looking up when he heard a thunderous voice from the doorway, the desperation in his eyes faded a bit. "Your Grace!"

  Robin's brows snapped together as he hobbled toward Norworth. "What the devil are you...are all these people...doing here? Where is my wife?"

  "You have no cause for alarm, Your Grace. The doctor is examining Her Grace now. Thank God he was here when-"

  "Doctor? What doctor? Has something happened to Lucia? Is it the babe? Where is she?" Robin's questions tumbled out without a trace of his usual drawl.

  "Calm yourself, Your Grace! Her Grace was injured-"

  Honor's horrified scream shook the room. She clung to Peter's leg, pointing accusingly at the duke, her eyes filled with terror. "It's the Monster Man!" She ran behind Peter and peeped around his coat-skirts. "Bella! Bella! It's the Monster Man! He's come to steal us away to the Bad Place! Just like he stole poor Cothy!" Sobbing and wailing, she buried her face in Peter's coat.

  Save for Honor's weeping and the dog's barking as he bounced enthusiastically around the duke, the room was absolutely silent. Everyone stared at Robin.

  Although Honor's distress at seeing him made him cringe inside, his face remained an impassive mask as he turned back to Peter, raising his voice to be heard over her sobs. "My wife?" he asked.

  "Upstairs!" Norworth said distractedly as he lifted Honor onto his lap to quiet her.

  Ro
bin limped up the stairs, traversing the endless corridor to Lucia's bedchamber with frustrating slowness. Opening her door, he paused to survey yet another chaotic scene. Laddock was shouting orders to frantic maids who rushed about with towels, blankets, and basins of water. Dr. Lindley and Anne hovered over the bed where Lucia, still dressed in her riding habit, lay on her side, her features twisted with pain.

  "What the devil's happened here?" Robin asked, hobbling over to the bed.

  Lindley glanced up. "Another attack in the park, Your Grace! Her Grace was lucky to escape with her life."

  Robin pushed Anne aside to take Lucia's cold, damp hand.

  "Robin?" she asked uncertainly, unable to turn her head toward him.

  "Je suis ici, ma chérie," he gently assured her. "Lay very still and it will not hurt so much."

  Rivulets of sweat coursed down her white face and she whimpered a little as Lindley cut through the bodice of her gown with scissors. When he pulled the cloth, saturated with drying blood, away from her skin, her hand crushed the duke's and she drew an agonized breath. Lindley carefully cleansed the wound to reveal a long, jagged scratch, bloody, but not very deep, down her side. "The wound is milder than I expected, Your Grace," he said.

  "The baby-" she muttered fitfully.

  "Will be perfectly fine if you follow my instructions where the baby is concerned. Your fall from the horse worries me more than this wound." Lindley searched the room with his eyes. "Where did I put the laudanum?"

  "Fall from the horse?!" Robin looked up, frowning as his eyes met Lindley's, but then his mind leaped upon the word 'laudanum'. "No! No opiates!"

  "But, Your Grace, I need to suture the wound. There is pain involved. With a dose of laudanum, Her Grace will be asleep and feel nothing."

  "I will not allow you to give her an opiate!"

  "It will ease the pain, Your Grace. I do know my profession!"

  "And I know opium! I've seen people 'ease' their lives away with it. I' faith, I almost lost my own and I know from experience that it becomes damnably hard to leave it alone once you've started! No laudanum! No opiate of any sort for Lucia!"

  "How, then, Your Grace, am I to-" Lindley bristled.

  "Perhaps some strong spirits will help her through it, doctor. Better good brandy than that poison of yours."

  Lindley arched a brow at Lucia and she nodded. "Very well, Your Grace," he capitulated, his mouth tight with disapproval, "but I don't like it."

  Robin sent Anne to fetch brandy. As the maid left the room, Lucia asked, "The children? Miss Twyll? Are they well?"

  Anne returned with a full decanter of brandy and a glass. Robin filled the glass, knelt beside Lucia, and cradled her shoulders to help her drink. When she emptied the goblet, he quickly refilled it.

  "Miss Twyll is in the Gold Salon, resting. I shall attend to her after I've seen to you," Lindley said, laying out his medical tools.

  "The Saddewythe children and their dog are in the Blue Salon with His Grace's fencing master and Lord Norworth, Your Grace," Anne volunteered.

  "And Andrew?" Lucia inquired between gulps of brandy.

  "Andrew took a blow on the head, Your Grace," Anne said. "Mr. Laddock and the housekeeper are tending him in the kitchen until Dr. Lindley can see him."

  Her fears for the others allayed, Lucia accepted draught after draught from the cup Robin pressed to her lips. An hour later, the doctor had finished his work and Robin carried her to her bed, leaving her to doze fitfully beneath warm covers while Anne mounted vigil.

  Then he followed Lindley to the Gold Salon where he was treating Miss Twyll. While the doctor dabbed at cuts around the governess's bruised and swollen eye, Robin pulled the story of the morning's events from the surprisingly calm and lucid lady. "Her Grace had agreed to meet us in the park again this morning, Your Grace, but just as we caught sight of her, a...a masked man with a dagger came hurtling out of the woods on a big, black horse."

  "Can you remember anything special about the horse, Miss Twyll? Any unusual markings?" Robin asked.

  "Well, it had a white tail." Miss Twyll flinched a little as Lindley touched a particularly tender spot. "I noticed it when the man galloped up behind Her Grace. Miss Honor screamed and Her Grace looked over her shoulder. When she saw this madman barreling down upon her, she tried to spur her horse forward, but the frightened animal reared just as the...the outlaw..." Becoming more agitated, Miss Twyll punctuated her words with harrowing sobs. "There was nothing I could do, Your Grace!" She shook her head mournfully. "Nothing at all!"

  Robin took her hands in his. "Miss Twyll, calm yourself, s'il vous plâit. It was not your place to protect Her Grace. That was her groom's job. Where was her groom?"

  "I don't know, Your Grace. I didn't see him anywhere until after it was all over."

  "très bien! What happened when Her Grace's horse reared?"

  "The brigand stabbed her with his dagger, then pulled away. She fell off her horse and-" the governess drew a deep breath "- and she lay deathly still. The villain dismounted and ran toward her. Certain he was going to murder her, I grabbed Her Grace's fallen riding whip and lashed the man with all my strength. That was when...when..." She shuddered.

  "Yes?" Robin urged.

  "When he hit me in the eye! Then he ran toward Her Grace again. I caught up with him as he knelt beside her and raised his dagger. I brought the whip down across his face as sharply as I could. He screamed and turned toward me. I shall never forget his eyes! Such venom! He had lifted his dagger to stab me when Lord Norworth drove up in his carriage, shouting at us. When he saw Lord Norworth, the attacker mounted his horse and rode away. Lord Norworth arranged for our transport and led us all here. I don't know how I would have contrived without him," Miss Twyll concluded as Lindley finished and put his supplies into a bag.

  "I believe you would have managed very well, Miss Twyll," Robin said, impressed by the governess's courage. "I am grateful to you for saving Her Grace's life."

  A new commotion erupted downstairs. Grabbing his cane, Robin hobbled into the corridor and down the stairs, Miss Twyll following close behind. The doctor went down the backstairs to tend the groom.

  Lord and Lady Saddewythe stood in the foyer, Lord Nigel arguing hotly with Laddock, who had resumed his customary duties. "Look you, my good man! I want my children, my dog, and my governess and if I don't get them immediately, I will personally collar that cur you call a master and horsewhip him in the street!"

  "That will be all, Laddock," Robin said calmly from the staircase. "I will speak to his lordship."

  "Where are my children -- Miss Twyll!" Taking one look at the governess's face, Saddewythe turned to snarl at Lynkellyn. "So you've taken to assaulting governesses as well as abducting them!"

  Robin ignored the insult. "Your family is in the Blue Salon, my lord. I will be happy to guide you there."

  "But what happened here?" Saddewythe spluttered. "Miss Twyll, your eye...?"

  She pushed past Robin to greet the Saddewythes. "We were attacked in the park, my lord. The brigand hit me in the eye and that is how I come to be so bruised. He almost killed Her Grace!"

  "What the devil was 'Her Grace' doing there?" Nigel thundered.

  "She was visiting with the children. They were so thrilled to see her yesterday and Honor's spirits were so much improved last night that Lady Saddewythe and I thought another outing with Her Grace would be beneficial," the governess said in a nervous tumult. Her eyes met Lady Saddewythe's and she suddenly realized that she had given away a secret.

  "You had an assignation with the Duchess of Lynkellyn!" Saddewythe glared at Miss Twyll, then rounded on his wife. "Wini, this was your idea! And after I particularly told you-"

  "But, Nigel, Honor is eating again and sleeping without nightmares! Yesterday afternoon, she laughed!"

  "And today she was almost murdered! And you-" He whirled back to Miss Twyll. "You are discharged, miss, as of this moment. Do not trouble to ask for a reference, for you shan't get one."
<
br />   Miss Twyll paled. "I was only following her ladyship's orders!"

  Ignoring her, Saddewythe turned to Lynkellyn. "Take me to my children, sirrah!"

  Robin led him into the Blue Salon where the Saddewythe children sat, still enthralled by Giovanni's tales. Honor was asleep in Norworth's arms and he looked distinctly uncomfortable in the role of nursery maid. Following his young mistress's example, the sheepdog was curled up on the viscount's feet, emitting gentle snores. Surveying this domestic tableau, Robin leaned on his cane and grinned at Peter's discomfiture.

  "It isn't enough that you leave my children in the care of a...a damned foreigner!" Saddewythe growled, staring at Giovanni. "You must needs appoint the most notorious rake in Town, excepting your august self, of course, to guard them!" Glaring at Norworth, Saddewythe snatched Honor from the viscount's arms. "If you've dared to harm my precious-"

  Peter rose with offended dignity. "Acquit me, my lord," he drawled, his gaze cold. "I am not a fiend. Your children are safe with me."

  Roused by Peter's movement, the dog barked and circled Saddewythe as he shepherded his family toward the door. Cradled in her father's arms, Honor slept on as the other children passed into the foyer, staring at Robin in silent, frightened awe.

  Awaiting Saddewythe in the hall, Miss Twyll begged him to reconsider his dismissal. Lady Saddewythe added her own pleas, but his lordship was adamant. "I gave instructions to the effect that my household was not to fraternize with any member of the Amberley family. You disobeyed my command, Miss Twyll, and I have no choice but to sack you." He handed Honor over to her mother, then pulled his purse from his coat pocket and opened it. Pouring a few guineas into his hand, he gave them to her. "I believe you will find this amount more than sufficient to cover your time with us."