A Rogue's Reputation (The Rogue Chronicles Book 2)

by Lana Williams

  “You will soon enough.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To obtain his address from someone who knows it.” He turned to face her. “We wouldn’t want to start gossip by leaving together. Can you make your excuses and meet me outside? I’ll leave through the garden entrance and wait with my carriage down the street.”

  “Of course.” She glanced about, nearly having forgotten about the other guests. “I’ll tell the host I’m not feeling well.”

  He squeezed her hand. “I’ll see you soon.” Before she could say anything more, he disappeared among the guests.

  “Louisa, is anything wrong?” Annabelle asked as she approached.

  She forced a smile. Though tempted to share her dilemma, she hesitated. If the evening ended as badly as Benjamin seemed to be concerned it would, the fewer people who knew, the better. Louisa trusted her cousins, but she also knew her mother would prefer not to share her impulsive choices with anyone. Louisa had little doubt that in a few days’ time, her mother would regret her actions this evening.

  “I’m not feeling quite myself. I think I’ll return home.”

  Annabelle laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Good idea. Do you want me to find your mother to tell her?”

  “She’s already requesting the carriage. Thank you.” Lying to her cousin on her mother’s behalf annoyed Louisa. How could her mother act so thoughtlessly at times yet so lovingly at others?

  “I hope you feel better soon.”

  Louisa thanked her then made her way toward the entrance, pausing one last time to glance over the guests, but she didn’t see Benjamin. He must’ve already departed. She thanked Lady Portland, shared her excuse for leaving early, and donned her cloak, anxious to proceed. A sense of urgency filled her, and she hurried out the door and down the steps, grateful few others were nearby.

  The night had turned cool with fog looming in the shadows and along the ground. She pulled her cloak tighter, dismayed at the depth of the darkness once she moved away from the house. Several carriages lined the street. Without any idea which one might be Benjamin’s, she could only hope he watched for her and would alert her as she passed.

  “Louisa. Here.” The deep timbre of his voice had never sounded better.

  A footman hopped down to open the door. The carriage lamps inside were so dim that it was difficult to see. She took the seat opposite Benjamin as the footman shut the door, and Benjamin increased the flame.

  “No difficulty leaving?” he asked. His dark gaze raked over her, suddenly making her aware of the risk she took.

  Her mouth went dry. She was alone with a man. Not just any man but a rogue. Even worse, one to whom she was attracted. This act could ruin her. Panic tightened her chest. Yet what else could she do if her mother was truly in danger?

  Chapter Seven

  “What harm do you think could befall my mother?” Louisa asked as she rubbed her arms against a sudden chill.

  Benjamin’s eyes narrowed as if he heard the doubt in her tone. “Having second thoughts about rescuing her?”

  She glanced away. “I wish to understand what sort of threat she might be facing.” Never mind that she should’ve asked before leaving the ball.

  “She might be having her portrait painted if she’s the adventurous type.”

  Louisa studied Benjamin. That idea had already occurred to her. “Why would that be so terrible?”

  “If the artist is the same man I happened to hear about earlier in the day, he often persuades his subjects to be painted in the nude.”

  “Oh, no.” Any concern she had for herself fell away in an instant. No possible outcome she could think of was favorable.

  “When the painter is ready to move to a new subject, he requests a significant payment for the portrait else he’ll share it with others.”

  “Do you speak of extortion?” Her earlier panic returned, causing her shivers to worsen.

  “Yes. I would assume if your mother chose to pose in such a manner, she’d prefer to keep it private and pay a reasonable sum.”

  “I’d prefer she not do it at all.” Yet it sounded exactly like something that would appeal to her mother. Louisa placed her hands over her face as despair threatened. Why couldn’t she have a normal mother who preferred to embroider or sketch? Or one who found a nice, older gentleman with whom to settle down? Instead, her mother seemed to thrive on the thrill of adventure.

  Louisa admitted she’d experienced that same excitement when she’d ventured to Benjamin’s home the second time. The realization worried her, as she knew at least part of her was much like her mother.

  “May I?” She looked up to see Benjamin point to the place next to her. “I would offer you comfort if you’d permit it.”

  She nodded, reassured by the fact that he’d asked rather than assumed. A true rogue wouldn’t have bothered to request permission.

  Benjamin sat next to her and gently placed his arms around her. “I don’t mean to frighten you. I don’t think the man will physically harm her. No doubt she can take care of herself.”

  “No, she can’t. She never looks beyond the moment. Never considers what could go wrong.” Louisa leaned her head against Benjamin’s shoulder, grateful for his support. It had been so long since she’d had someone with whom to share her worries.

  “It sounds to me as if she’s searching for happiness.”

  Louisa tipped her face to look at him in surprise, his understanding warming her from the inside out. “No one else seems to understand that.”

  Benjamin shifted as if uncomfortable under her scrutiny. “I confess to doing a few things in my past that were unwise. It took discovering the reason why I did so to change.”

  “I want her to be happy. But I can’t seem to provide that for her.”

  His gentle fingers brushed her jaw. “Doing so isn’t your responsibility.”

  “Perhaps. But I must continue to try.”

  “You are a loving daughter, an amazing person. Special.” He briefly pressed his lips to hers. “Unforgettable.”

  Her stomach swirled at his quiet words as much as from his kiss. Though tempted to share that she felt the same way, she held back. Encouraging a relationship would be a mistake, even if that no longer felt as true as it had a few days ago.

  Benjamin confused her in every way possible. When he kissed her again more deeply, all she could think of was how lovely the confusion felt.

  He eased back only to place a kiss along her cheek. “Wait here.”

  Only then did she realize the carriage had halted. She watched as Benjamin alighted and closed the door before peeking through the curtain to see they’d stopped before a large townhome. The Marquess of Delham’s home, she realized with surprise. She quickly closed the curtain, not wishing to be seen. Time crawled as she waited for Benjamin’s return. She couldn’t imagine why they’d stopped here or what might be taking so long.

  At last, he returned and spoke quietly to the driver before joining her. “My apologies for the delay. Obtaining the address was more difficult than I expected.”

  “Why would the marquess know the address?”

  Benjamin studied her for a moment as the carriage rolled forward. “The marchioness received a note from the painter today demanding an outrageous sum for her portrait.”

  “He painted her as well?” Louisa couldn’t imagine the stiff-mannered lady in such a compromising position.

  “Yes. Needless to say, the marquess was less than pleased.”

  “Oh my.”

  “Quite.” Benjamin shook his head. “However, we now have the location of Monsieur Delacroix’s studio.”

  They spoke little as the carriage proceeded to lower Thames Street where several artists had their homes above the shops that lined the street. She’d passed through the area before but never stopped.

  Louisa considered how best to convince her mother to leave. Accusing the artist might cause her to come to his defense.

  “Do you have a notion
as to how to proceed?” she asked.

  “Not precisely.” He glanced at her. “Do you?”

  In truth, she was surprised. A man with his reputation had surely been in unique situations like this one. But she was equally surprised he’d asked her. Weren’t rogues notorious for acting without concern for other people’s opinions?

  “Caution is in order,” he added. “We shouldn’t needlessly upset the marchioness.”

  Louisa’s heart thudded dully. To think he might understand the need to approach the situation delicately was one more chink in her defense against him.

  She gave herself a mental shake. Now was not the time to worry over her growing attraction to this man.

  “Why don’t you wait here while I see if I can gain entrance?” He reached for the door as the carriage halted.

  “I’ll come.”

  “I would prefer to avoid any unnecessary risks to your reputation.”

  She paused to stare at him in disbelief. He’d done it again—acted nobly. What was she to do with him and the way his words caused her heart to stutter? “You might require my assistance.”

  His wry smile suggested her remark amused him. “I’m certain your presence would reassure the marchioness. With luck, Monsieur Delacroix hasn’t charmed her into doing anything she wouldn’t normally do.”

  Louisa didn’t share her doubt as she alighted with Benjamin’s assistance. She’d lost any surprise at what her mother might do.

  Benjamin glanced up and down the empty street then studied the dark shops briefly before looking at the upper stories. Louisa’s gaze followed his to where dim light shone along the edges of the draped windows.

  “Is that it?” she asked.

  “I believe so.” He tried the door set between the two shops only to find it locked.

  “Would you like me to try?” Louisa asked as she reached for a hairpin.

  “No need.” He placed a hand on her arm as if to make certain she didn’t make an attempt, leaving Louisa to scowl in disappointment.

  Benjamin withdrew a slim metal rod from his waistcoat pocket then bent low to pick the lock.

  Louisa stared in surprise, unable to determine why he’d have the tool or the skill. He was much quicker than she and had the door open within moments.

  “I’ll lead the way, shall I?” he asked as he stepped inside. He paused to listen then closed the door behind her and started up the narrow stairs, his boots nearly silent on the steps with Louisa close behind.

  Nerves danced in her middle. The faint sound of voices drifted toward them, including a feminine laugh—her mother’s. Anger took over once more. To think her mother had ventured here alone... She couldn’t finish the thought.

  Benjamin knocked on the door at the top of the stairs. Several moments passed before a male servant cracked open the door. “Oiu’?”

  “I wish to speak with Monsieur Delacroix.”

  The man’s gaze swept over Benjamin then glanced past him toward Louisa. “Pourquoi?”

  “A business matter.”

  “Non. No visitors.” He started to close the door, but Benjamin anticipated the move by putting his boot in the doorway and prevented him from closing it.

  “He’ll see us.” Benjamin placed his hands on the door and shoved.

  The man stumbled back. “Non. No guests. He’s working.”

  Benjamin ignored him and stepped inside. “Where is he?”

  The servant’s lips tightened in disapproval.

  “We shall find him on our own then,” Benjamin said as he glanced about.

  Louisa followed, surprised by the elegant interior. The painter must be a success if he could afford such a home. The trill of her mother’s laughter sounded from the upper level, and Louisa turned toward the stairs, anger filling her once more.

  ~*~

  Benjamin was relieved to hear laughter rather than tears or worse—screams. He gestured for Louisa to lead the way to the next floor, wanting to keep himself between her and the servant in case the man attempted a more physical method of halting them.

  “Non. You cannot go up there,” the servant protested as he started after them.

  “Stay where you are.” Benjamin sent a glare along with the order, pleased when the man halted on the first step.

  “He won’t be pleased.”

  “Your warning is duly noted.” Benjamin stayed close to Louisa, keeping an eye on the servant while watching the landing above.

  He feared Louisa wouldn’t appreciate what they were about to discover. Though he knew she’d rescued her mother on more than one occasion, finding her posing nude carried a higher level of concern. If Delacroix specialized in seducing his subjects, they might be interrupting an intimate scene that should remain behind closed doors.

  Louisa marched up the stairs, her anger seeming to overcome any previous trepidation. She reached for the closed door at the top of the stairs, but Benjamin halted her.

  “Proceed with caution,” he advised with a pointed look, both for her safety as well as her sanity.

  The intensity in her gaze eased as if she’d grasped his meaning. She nodded, then with a deep breath, she slowly opened the door and looked in.

  Benjamin stayed back, not wishing to violate the marchioness’s privacy if she wasn’t properly attired. But he remained at the ready in case the painter threatened Louisa.

  “Mother.” By the reprimand in Louisa’s tone, he suspected all was not as it should be.

  “Louisa! Darling. Whatever are you doing here?” The rustle of material reached Benjamin, making him hope the marchioness had covered herself if needed.

  “I’ve come to take you home.”

  “Who is this?” The man’s voice held a distinct French accent, much more refined than his servant’s.

  Louisa moved into the room, and Benjamin followed closely for her protection.

  The Marchioness of Whirlenhall sat on a gold and white striped settee, her body draped in a deep blue satin cloth with candles surrounding her. Her bare shoulders and feet suggested she wore nothing beneath. A fire burned brightly nearby and helped to warm and light the room.

  The artist stood near the window before a large canvas set on an easel, a paintbrush in hand. His shocked expression might’ve been amusing in other circumstances. Paints stood on a table nearby along with a cup full of brushes and more candles.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Delacroix demanded.

  “We’re here to collect the marchioness and her painting, along with one other,” Benjamin advised him. He intended to take the Delham portrait and put an end to the extortion.

  “You will do no such thing.” He threw down the paintbrush and stepped forward only to halt and glare at Benjamin. “Who are you?”

  Benjamin didn’t bother to answer. Words were of little use in a situation like this. He preferred action. With a nod at Louisa to assist her mother, he eyed the stacks of paintings propped along the walls to determine where to search.

  As he crossed the room, Delacroix rushed toward the open door. “Weston, where are you? Come at once.”

  “Mother, please get dressed. We’re leaving.”

  “Why? What’s happened? Don’t you want to meet Monsieur Delacroix?” Her mother rose from the settee, holding the cloth around her.

  “No. We’ve been told he’s more than an artist. In fact, I’d wager he earns far more from his other profession.”

  “What would that be?” the marchioness asked.

  “Extortionist.”

  “What?” Delacroix spun to face Louisa. “Who told you such lies?”

  Benjamin found the painting he was looking for. Lady Delham’s face was clearly recognizable. He preferred to avoid studying the rest of the portrait. “The husband of the person in this painting asked me to tell you that no payment will be forthcoming for your efforts. He also suggested the time has come for you to return to your homeland.”

  Delacroix gasped. “How dare you touch what doesn’t belong to you.” He strod
e back to the door once again. “Weston!”

  Benjamin threw a cloth over the portrait, hoping the artist would attempt to stop him. He’d like nothing better than to place his fist in the man’s face. He set aside the painting and moved toward the easel.

  “Step away from there.” Delacroix rushed forward, hands outstretched.

  Benjamin shifted to face him, hands at his sides. “Did you explain to the lady that you would be pleased to sell her the painting at a ridiculous price to avoid sharing it with the public?”

  “Art should be enjoyed by the masses, especially if the subject doesn’t truly appreciate my skill.”

  “Jean Paul, is that true?” Louisa’s mother asked, her mouth agape with shock.

  “Non, madam. You must believe me.” The painter held out his hands in supplication. “You and I share something very special.”

  “Did you use that same turn of phrase when you painted the lady in the other portrait?” Not waiting for an answer, Benjamin turned toward the marchioness. “This very day, she received a note demanding a thousand pounds to keep him from selling the portrait to the highest bidder.”

  “This is all a terrible misunderstanding,” Delacroix insisted though with less outrage than before.

  The marchioness glared at the man. “To think I believed that you truly cared for me.” She allowed Louisa to escort her behind the dressing screen. Whispers and rustles followed, suggesting Louisa was sharing additional details as she assisted her to dress.

  Benjamin removed the canvas from the easel, found another piece of fabric with which to cover the half-finished painting, and set it near the door beside the other one, all while the artist sputtered denials from the far side of the room.

  Anger simmered deep inside him at Delacroix’s audacity. Benjamin drew close, preferring the women didn’t hear what he said. “Return to France as quickly as possible before the rest of those you attempted to deceive start taking action rather than give in to your ridiculous demands. Do I make myself clear?”

  The glare Delacroix sent him might’ve wilted a weaker man. Benjamin merely smiled. He turned his back on the artist, hoping he’d be stupid enough to try to stop him.