"Because one female would not terrorize another in such a despicable manner!"
Norworth straightened, barely holding back a curse as he banged his head against a cabinet door on the way up. "We obviously have not met the same females!" he muttered, massaging his bruises.
Sitting in her bed, Lucia suddenly jumped up onto her knees. One hand at her rounded lips, the other pointing to a corner of the room, she bounced frenziedly, shouting, "There he is! Over there! No, wait! He's coming out! He's coming after me!" With a little shriek, she grabbed a pillow and thrust it in front of her as a shield.
His foot raised, Peter watched with a predator's smile as a small speck crawled erratically across the floor. With skill and precision, he slammed his foot down on the speck, the room resounding with his victory.
He lifted his foot, grimacing in disgust at the messy blotch of dead arachnid on the sole of his boot, and grinned at Lucia as she peeked over the top of the pillow. "There! I have killed your dragon for you, my dear, but I cannot fathom how a lady who has defended herself...to the death, mind you!...against bloodthirsty blackguards and murderous brigands can possibly be so terrified of one insignificant, little spider!"
***
After dinner that evening, Robin forced himself to visit Lucia for what he expected would be the last time. He had rehearsed his parting speech a dozen times in his mind, telling himself he was ready to cut all ties with her. Still, his heart was leaden and his palms were moist as he entered Lucia's room.
When she saw him, she smiled a bright, apparently unfeigned welcome and her falseness was a dagger thrust through his aching heart. "Good evening, Lucia. How are you feeling?" he said.
"Wonderful, Robin, aside from a few nagging aches and pains. The baby has been kicking like a mule."
She was a siren drawing him in with every look, smile, and word. Steeling himself against her charm, he turned away from her, struggling to remain detached. " Bon! Now that you are recovering, I have decided to return to Paris."
"Paris! It seems an age since I've been there."
"You are going to Lynkellyn Castle to await the birth of the child," he said dampingly.
She sensed a disturbing undercurrent in his tone. "When are you to return? You will want to be present when the babe is born, after all."
"Will I? No, I don't believe so."
Silence smothered the room. "Are you leaving me, Robin?"
Amberley focused his gaze on a bouquet of flowers in a vase by her bed. "Giles has confessed his duplicity and my good name has been restored. My legacy is secure, regardless of the outcome of our marriage so we need not continue this sham. Besides, you have become a devilish bore with your growing belly. I've an urge to bed a blonde; someone with Pamela Saddewythe's looks, I think, but with no pretense to virtue." He forced an unconvincing smile. "Be grateful that I shall no longer trouble you with my baser desires, ma chérie, and wish me bonne chance in my hunt for a golden trophy." Turning away from her, Robin missed the sudden despair in her eyes as she sank back into her pillows.
The happy, romantic dreams she had been weaving around him faded and she faced brutal reality as unflinchingly as always. He did not love her. Indeed, he had never claimed to love her. He had told her from the outset that he was using her; that she was... how had he put it? ...a means to an end. Now that he had achieved that end, he no longer wanted her.
"You needn't worry about how you and the babe will live, Lucia," he said, avoiding her eyes, lest his resolve soften. "You are still the Duchess of Lynkellyn, after all. Though we shall lead separate lives, you will not find me ungenerous. Gleason will dispense any moneys you desire and all my properties are at your disposal, naturellement. You will undoubtedly want to take lovers. I do not object as long as you are discreet and do not bring scandal down on the Amberley family. Giles and I have done enough of that to last for generations."
Robin's lashes lowered to hide the devastation in his heart. He wanted to take her into his arms and beg her to call off her assassin. He wanted to demand that she give him a second chance to prove his love. Instead, he stared out the window.
"I don't want any lovers, Robin!" Lucia fought to hold back bitter, disappointed tears. "Don't you even want to see your child?"
"Not particularly," he lied. "I've better things to do than stare at squalling infants."
They fell silent. Ostensibly watching the busy innyard, Robin cast furtive glances at Lucia's woebegone face, trying to freeze her loveliness forever in his memory. "Smile, ma chérie!" he said "I'm releasing you. You may go where you like, do what you wish, and see whom you please. Isn't that what you want?"
"You are abandoning me to face childbed alone in a house full of strangers. How fortunate you are to escape your responsibilities so easily, Your Grace!"
Spots of angry, embarrassed color splashed across Robin's cheeks at so contrary an interpretation of his magnanimity. "You need not be lonely, Lucia," he said. I'm certain there are any number of men who..."
"I don't want any lovers!" she repeated with an angry toss of her head. "I...I only want you...to go away! Your ladybirds are waiting for you in Paris! I daresay you are champing at the bit to be gone!" Turning her back to him, she curled up on her side, watching her dreams die in the flickering, candlelit shadows as she waited for him to leave.
When Robin finally spoke, his tones were clipped and formal. "Lady Easterbury and Lord Norworth have agreed to accompany you to Lynkellyn Castle in the morning.. Farewell, Your Grace." He bowed to her back with crisp precision and strode out of the room.
Fleeing to the private parlor, he lingered over his brandy long into the night, endeavoring to drown the devastation of his evening's work in the golden drug. Once, he had believed that Angelina had shattered his heart, but that pain paled beside the hollow, ever-present agony that coiled within him now, striking like a snake each time he thought of Lucia.
The devil of it was, she was all he could think of and his wretched soul grieved hard for the loss of her, throbbing with a physical torment. He drained the last of his brandy and refilled the glass, telling himself again that he had done the right thing by setting Lucia free. She was better off with Norworth.
Tracy took a chair across from him at the table. "Well, Rogue, did you speak to Lucia? Shall I wish you happy?"
"It's not love if she wants me dead, Tracy."
"What is all this nonsense, Rogue?"
"She wants Norworth to murder me so that they can be together. I overheard them plotting." Robin swirled the brandy in his glass, avoiding Tracy's eyes.
"Norworth's going to murder you? Preposterous! Never heard such a faradiddle in all my life!"
"I know what I heard, Tracy!"
Malkent shook his head in disbelief and left Robin to his brandy until Lady Easterbury stormed into the room. "You!" she said awfully. "You are a worthless, unprincipled rapscallion, sirrah! You have fulfilled all my worst expectations. If I could force you to stay here and attend to your obligations, you'd forget about Paris soon enough!"
He stared at her drunkenly and she changed her tack. "How can you hurt my poor lamb like this? She is devastated inside, though she will not weep. She loves you!" Silent, Robin nursed his drink and tried not to hear. "Please! You must go to her!" Lady Corinna said. "She won't eat! She can't sleep..." In spite of himself, Robin's damaged heart softened at her petition. He was about to say that he would speak to Lucia when the dowager fatally added, "Not even Lord Norworth can make her smile."
Robin swigged his brandy and slammed the goblet down. "I'm certain her 'dear Lord Peter' will comfort her far better than I ever could," he snarled, an odd mixture of despair and venom in his voice.
"Won't you at least talk to her, Your Grace?"
"Not I!" He refilled the goblet, his hands unsteady as he aligned the lip of the decanter with the rim of the glass. Sipping his drink, he propped his feet on the table, leaned back and closed his eyes.
Lady Easterbury bade him a frosty good night
and left. He kept his eyes closed, wishing that she hadn't come. He did not want to know that Lucia was unhappy. He did not want to know that Norworth was consoling her. He did not want to feel his heart cracking again. He only wanted to feel numb in mind, body, and soul. He called for more brandy.
***
Giles's dilapidated coach lurched out of the innyard the next morning, its squeaking wheels shattering the dawn stillness. The sudden jerk jolted his wound and he winced with pain, swearing beneath his breath.
Staring out the window, he brooded over his situation. He was destitute; his reputation was blackened beyond repair and his health was broken. Worst of all, he would never see his beloved Valeria again. All these disasters could be laid at the Rogue's door and someday, somehow he would make Robert Amberley pay!
Chapter 32:
In Which Cupid Rides to the Rescue
Mid-morning sunshine slanted across the stable yard of the Crown and Thistle as a large old carriage bearing the Amberley crest arrived from Lynkellyn Castle to convey the duchess to her new home. Lucia and her aunt were at breakfast while Tracy and Peter supervised preparations for the journey.
As Malkent watched a groom load a small trunk atop the coach, he cast a sidelong glance at his future nephew-in-law. "The Rogue said something dashed odd to me last night, Peter. He seems to be under the impression that you intend to murder him and elope with Lucia."
Peter's eyes riveted on Malkent's face and widened. "Where the devil did he get such a hare-brained notion?"
"He said he overheard you talking with her," Tracy said.
Peter shook his head. "He's mad! I'm happily betrothed to Concordia and even if I weren't, I don't go about killing men and stealing their wives! I do have some honor!"
Tracy grinned at that, reassured. "Told him it was poppycock!"
Some time later, Robin watched from his bedchamber window as Lucia's drooping figure entered the yard. She said her farewells to the others and followed Lady Corinna into the coach, suddenly glancing up at his window as if she sensed his presence. He drew back behind the curtains, but not before glimpsing a pale, pinched little face framing eyes brimming with sadness and pain.
He shook his head, confused. He had given Lucia her freedom. He had provided the means for her to live in luxury and pursue the promptings of her heart. He had done everything he could to secure her happiness, yet she seemed to grow more miserable each time he saw her. Knowing he could never banish that misery, he deemed it best for her if he disappeared from her life completely.
The coach was loaded and its' passengers comfortably settled. Mrs. Tulley placed a hamper of food aboard while the Blaynes and the Malkents called more farewells amidst tears and hugs through the windows. Peter mounted his horse and the coach lumbered out onto the road.
Lucia slumped into the worn velvet seat, aware of nothing but the dull, endless ache in her heart. Robin hadn't even come down to say goodbye, she mourned.
As the miles passed, Norworth trotted beside the coach, searching his mind without success for a topic that might bring a smile to Lucia's shadowed eyes. When he saw her surreptitiously wipe a tear from her cheek, it tore at his heart. 'What a ridiculous situation!' he thought as they passed a small hostelry. 'It's time somebody ended it!' With sudden decision, he called the entourage to a halt in the innyard and dismounted. Walking up to the coach window, he peered in at the perplexed women and asked, "Your Grace, would you like to return to the Crown and Thistle and talk to your husband?"
"There is nothing to say, Peter. He doesn't want me!" She glanced ruefully down at her full, round belly. "I cannot compete with Parisian Cyprians."
Peter grimaced. In his experience, men did not leave their wives for demi-mondaines when it was easy enough to enjoy the advantages of both arrangements. Robin must have some other reason for abandoning his marriage and Peter was determined to discover it.
"I believe I can win His Grace back for you," he said with more confidence than he felt. "Would you be willing to wait here while I try my hand at it?"
Lucia agreed and, as Peter rode away, Corinna escorted her into the inn, calling for a private room and a pot of tea.
***
Norworth arrived at the Crown and Thistle just as Amberley swung into the saddle. Halting his mount, Peter slid off and rushed over to the duke. Robin's eyes flew to Peter's face and he dismounted. "What is it? Has something happened to Lucia?"
"No. She is safe enough at an inn down the road. I've come back for a private word with you, Your Grace." Anger glinted in Peter's dark eyes.
Robin had the unhealthy pallor of a man who had spent an evening courting the brandy decanter. Weariness and unhappiness clouded the intelligent gleam in his usually animated gaze, but at the belligerent challenge in Peter's voice, fire flashed anew beneath his lashes. "Whatever you have to say..." he began.
"Will best be said in private. The stables, perhaps?"
"Do you honestly think I'd be foolish enough to go off alone with a man who is plotting my death? I know all about your little scheme to murder me for Lucia's sake."
Peter blinked. "Murder you? What the devil are you talking about?"
"You know very well what I'm talking about and if you wish to speak to me, my lord, you'll have to do it right here," Robin said.
"Very well, then, if the prospect of an audience doesn't daunt you. I have returned, Your Grace, to inform you that you are three kinds of a fool!"
"I beg your pardon?" Robin lifted a brow.
"First of all, any man who cavalierly crushes a lady's heart, especially when the lady has given that heart wholly into his keeping, is a blind, cruel, and despicable fool. Many a man would kill to have a woman love him as much as Lucia loves you!"
"And you're one of them, no doubt!"
"Aye, so I might be, if I hadn't lost my heart to Concordia, but we are discussing you."
"I've heard enough!" Robin turned to walk away, but Peter grabbed his arm and whirled him around.
"I'm not finished with you yet, my friend!"
"Nom de nom, but I am finished with you!" Robin's fist swung toward Peter's face.
Norworth ducked and planted a vicious uppercut on Robin's chin that sent the taller man sprawling backwards to the ground. Excited shouts brought hostlers from the stables and patrons from the inn to form a frenzied circle around the sparring pair.
Panting, Peter returned to his discourse as he stood over Robin and waited for him to rise. "Second, Your Grace, any man who does not realize how lucky he is to have a loving wife and a sweet babe on the way..." On his feet again, Robin threw a second punch that connected with Norworth's jaw and slammed him to the ground . He struggled to his feet, wiping a trickle of blood from his lip, and doggedly continued his lecture. "Any man, I say, who can contemptuously abandon such a warm, little family is an irresponsible fool."
"You, sir, are the fool! You are wasting your time here. This is none of your business."
Peter bent over, hands on his knees, as he gasped for breath. "You have made it my business by insisting in every way, save a direct command, that I become your lady wife's protector. I do not covet the position, Your Grace, but I will be forced to assume it if you abandon her, so I might as well begin looking after her best interests now!"
"I do not perceive how engaging in fisticuffs with me can further Lucia's interests," Robin panted.
"It will do a great deal to secure her comfort and happiness if I can knock some sense into that thick skull of yours!"
Robin's eyes gleamed with fury anew and he smashed his fist once more into Norworth's jaw. Peter staggered back into the arms of the jeering, cheering crowd and Tracy stopped his fall. "What the devil are you doing, Peter? Why are you even here?"
"Don't worry, Tracy. I know what I'm about...I think!"
Peter stumbled back into the ring and Robin closed with him. They grappled, dragging each other to the ground. Robin landed on top of Peter, his fingers curling around the viscount's throat. Forcing Robin's
hand up and away from his neck, Norworth groaned. "Finally, Your Grace," he gasped, "any man who has waited as long and fought as hard to clear his name as you have..." With a shout from deep within him, Peter threw Robin off, then leaped on top of him "...is an incomprehensible imbécile to walk away from honor only just regained. You are forsaking love, family, and honor, Your Grace! I've never seen a greater fool!"
Robin slammed his knee into Peter's belly and groin. Norworth rolled off him with a scream of pain and Robin was astride his adversary in a split second, his long, white fingers once more squeezing Peter's throat. "Now, my lord, you shall hear a few truths from me. Any man who plots a husband's murder so that he may claim his wife has no right to judge another's code of honor. You are a hypocrite, my lord, and a damned philanderer!" Robin loosened his grip so that Peter might answer the charge.
"Plot your murder? Do you actually believe I'm planning to kill you?!" Norworth rasped.
"I overheard you and Lucia discussing my demise yesterday. She has every reason to want me dead, but you, Norworth! I took you for a saner man! très bien! I've left the field open for you so you won't be obliged to kill anyone. I only ask that the pair of you are discreet during your liaison. Go to her! She'll be happy with you!" Robin released his hold and rolled off Peter.
The two men sat panting in the dirt while the crowd dispersed, sensing that the excitement was over. Tracy and Sir William started toward them, but Peter warned his friends away with a shake of his head.
"You are the most obtuse man I've ever met, Your Grace. I've told you repeatedly that I love Concordia Lannington. We are betrothed and nothing except friendship has ever existed between Lucia and myself. She merely turned to me for comfort when it seemed you had abandoned her for the demimonde. It is natural, of course, for a breaking heart to seek consolation, but I am a gentleman, sir. I did not take advantage of your lady's grief and confusion to steal her from you."
"I know what I heard, sirrah!" Robin said. Peter raised a brow, waiting. "I overheard the pair of you yesterday afternoon, talking in her room. She told you she could no longer bear my presence and you told her to be patient; that you would dispose of me without leaving a trace. Then she began to rant about how brave and gallant you are. A pretty tale, héin?"
The Rogue's Revenge Page 45