‘You need me! You want me to marry you in order to make you a better person?’
Roger lifted Lucy’s hands and held them to his lips, bowing his head over them. He looked into her eyes.
‘No. I want you to marry me because I love you.’ He drew her close. ‘I told you I did not regret what happened with Joanna, but it was not entirely true. I did not realise I cared for her. I didn’t value what I had until it was too late. I’ve regretted that mistake ever since.’
She looked like she was about to cry. ‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘Because by the time I realised what she was worth I had lost her. When I think of her now, she’s eclipsed every time I look at you. I won’t make that mistake a second time. I care for you, Lucy. I love you more truly and more deeply than any woman I have known or wanted. I mean to have you and to keep you. Each day with you will be one day more than I could hope for and one less than I crave. On my deathbed I know that my greatest regret will be our time together being at an end.’
Lucy rolled her eyes, though her mouth twitched at the corner. ‘That sounds like poetry! Not what I would expect of you.’
‘Do I disappoint? Very well, no more fine words. Let me ask you a question—did you come to my bed last night only so I would help Robbie or because you wanted to be with me?’
‘Both.’ She looked at him. ‘I’m scared of how I feel when I’m around you. How you make me feel. If I let myself trust you and you betrayed that, I don’t know if I would survive that pain. I know my heart isn’t at risk if I stay here.’
‘Is your heart at risk with me?’ Roger asked.
She bit her lip and looked away. Roger’s heart soared. She cared for him as deeply as he did for her.
‘Then I believe we’re on an equal footing because the thought that you might leave me is more terrifying than any army I’ve faced, any arrow I’ve dodged. Come with me.’
‘You’ve burned my house down. I have precious few options!’ Lucy said, though her eyes smiled.
‘The building is sound. You could repair it and work with Thomas if that’s what you choose,’ Roger replied. He took a deep breath to quell his rising fear that she would do so. ‘If you don’t want me, say the word and I’ll walk away now. I’ll go back to the Northern Company and you’ll never have to see me again.’
He pulled himself to his knees, but was almost bowled over as Lucy flung herself into his arms with a cry, burying her head against his good shoulder.
‘Don’t leave!’
He steadied himself, wrapping his arms around her and tilting her back so he could see her face.
‘Is that a yes?’
‘It’s a yes,’ she agreed, reaching up to kiss him.
It was some time later before Roger’s lips were unoccupied and he could speak.
‘I’m staying in England for good. Once I’ve delivered the message to Hugh Calveley I’m going back to Yorkshire. I can’t promise you what kind of welcome we’ll receive. My father may cast me out or spit in my face, but I intend to start my life again and I’d like you by my side.’
‘We both have pasts that we regret,’ Lucy pointed out. ‘But we can have a fresh start together. Let’s build a future worth having.’
There were still uncertainties in Roger’s life. Perhaps it was not too late to repair the damage he had done to his family. He did not know, but he no longer thought about it with such dread. As he bent his face to Lucy’s and began kissing her again, one thing was absolutely certain in his mind. Whatever happened he would not do it alone, but with the woman who was returning his kiss with mounting passion.
He’d do it with the woman he loved.
Epilogue
It was a month before they arrived in Wharram.
With no desire to stay in the inn until it was repaired, Lucy, Robbie and Thomas accompanied Roger to Lord Calveley’s house. The message from King Edward was delivered and the requested troops agreed upon. Calveley promised he would himself ensure payment was sent to the two messengers: wealth enough for one man to begin repairing an inn and for another who was adding a wife and child to his household.
They parted ways at Lord Calveley’s house: Thomas to Mattonfield and Roger and Lucy to Yorkshire.
Hal’s face was stony as he greeted Roger at his house in York, his infant daughter in his arms.
‘It’s been a long time. We thought you might be dead.’
‘Thought or hoped?’ Roger asked.
‘Never believe that,’ Hal said with more warmth than Roger felt he deserved.
It was Robbie who proved to be the unwitting diplomat. He walked to Hal and Joanna’s son who played with an enviable collection of wooden animals before the hearth and threw himself down to play. The two mothers followed.
‘Is the boy yours?’ Hal asked.
‘Not by birth, but he’s mine to raise,’ Roger answered. ‘There’s another child I need to visit, too, isn’t there?’
Hal raised his eyebrows, then nodded, surprised approval showing in his eyes.
And that was the first battle won.
Despite Roger’s entreaty, Lucy refused to marry without the blessing of Lord Danby. As the two families travelled to Wharram, Roger reflected on the vexation of loving a strong-minded woman.
‘It’s frustrating indeed to love someone who refuses to commit to a date, isn’t it?’ Joanna said archly.
Roger grinned. Joanna regarded him thoughtfully. Unsurprisingly, she had proven less willing to forgive than Hal.
‘You nearly tore us apart, but Hal says you also pushed him back towards me. I don’t trust you, but I’m willing to be proven wrong.’
She gave him a slight smile and took herself off to sit in the cart with Lucy and their children. Roger could only hope they were talking of the three children and Joanna’s swelling belly, and that by the time they reached Wharram Lucy had not heard enough to put her off marrying him entirely!
* * *
They arrived at the red stone manor house in Wharram around mid-afternoon. Roger paused at the door in trepidation. He felt Lucy’s hand slip into his and squeeze tightly. At his other side Hal put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Roger gave each a smile, then entered alone.
Lord Danby was sitting beside the fire with his wife. Lady Danby gave a cry of astonishment, rising from her chair at the sight of her son.
‘Is that Hal?’ Lord Danby asked.
Roger knelt before his father. Lord Danby was greyer and thinner than before, but exuding the vitality he always had.
‘I’m Roger.’
‘My son!’
His father’s sightless eyes filled with tears. Roger’s own grew moist. Lord Danby reached a hand to Roger’s cheek, before raising him to his feet. Any lingering doubts Roger entertained that he would be welcomed home vanished in his father’s fervent embrace.
Lucy was introduced and approved of, the marriage blessing was given and the family feasted that night in a peaceful atmosphere. Some matters were discussed, others alluded to and dropped by common consent. Roger gave a selective account of his time in France, preferring to emphasise his accomplishment at delivering the King’s message and the subsequent reward.
‘So you found your fortune, my son,’ Lord Danby remarked as the three men sat at the table, a bottle of good wine to hand.
Roger glanced towards Lucy, who was sitting by the fire, Robbie drowsing against her breast. His heart swelled with love for her and hopes for their future together.
Lord Danby could not see where he looked, but Hal did. A look of understanding passed between the brothers and Roger knew that all was going to be well.
‘Yes, Father,’ he said. ‘Yes, I did.’
* * * * *
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Secret Lessons with the Rake
by Julia Justiss
Prologue
London—March 26th, 1832
Laughing and energised, Christopher Lattimar, Member of Parliament for Wiltshire, led his friends into the small private room at the Quill and Gavel, a tavern on a quiet street near the Houses of Parliament. ‘Time to celebrate our achievement. I’d say it’s a night for wine, women and song!’
‘Or at least wine and women,’ Ben Tawny agreed with a grin.
‘Two of my favourite things,’ Christopher said.
‘As we well know,’ Ben replied.
‘You should,’ Christopher tossed back. ‘Since until recently, you outdid me in enjoying both.’
‘Enough, you two,’ Giles Hadley, Viscount Lyndlington, said with a mock frown. ‘Ah, here’s Ransen with some ale. Though, given the momentousness of the achievement, Ben, you might have ordered champagne.’
‘Too French!’ Ben replied. ‘To celebrate the first change in four hundred years in the way Parliamentary representatives are chosen, we needed good English ale.’
‘We’re not there yet,’ David Tanner Smith cautioned as he deposited his tall frame into a chair. ‘The Third Reform Bill only passed the House today. We’ve still got to get it through the Lords.’
‘After all the riots and dissention when the Second Bill failed last autumn, the Lords wouldn’t dare oppose it now,’ Giles said. ‘The country won’t stand for any further delay!’
‘We’ll see,’ Davie replied. ‘Still, getting it passed in the House was a momentous achievement.’ Grabbing a mug from the tray the innkeeper left for them, he lifted it high. ‘To Lord Grey’s leadership!’
‘And to yours,’ Ben said, raising his mug to Davie. ‘We provided the agitation, but you honed the bill’s provisions.’
‘I think we should drink to us all,’ Christopher said. ‘Who would have imagined ten years ago that four Oxford misfits would band together, win seats in Parliament, and help bring about the biggest change in British government since the Middle Ages?’ He raised his mug. ‘To my dear colleagues and best friends. To the Hellions!’
‘To the Hellions,’ the others echoed, and downed a long draught.
‘Shall we talk strategy?’ Davie proposed. ‘Draw up a list of which peers are most likely to be persuaded, and decide the best arguments to sway them?’
‘We shall—but not tonight,’ Giles said. ‘Let’s just enjoy this first victory. Speaking of which...’ he paused to drain his mug and set it on the table ‘...I’m afraid I must abandon the celebration. Maggie’s increasing, as you know, and hasn’t been feeling well. I should get back to her. Don’t let me break up the party, though! Have several more rounds, and tell Ransen to put it on my tab.’
‘Thanks for the offer, but I should go, too,’ David said. ‘I can’t wait to share the news with Faith.’
‘She’ll be so proud of you,’ Christopher said, admiration for his quiet, determined, brilliant friend filling him. ‘Through skill and planning, the Dowager Duchess’s commoner husband has brought a recalcitrant aristocracy to heel.’
Davie waved a deprecating hand. ‘A joint achievement—for all of us.’ Setting down his own mug, he said, ‘Goodnight, gentlemen! And thank you—for your hard work, and most especially, for your friendship all these years.’
‘That goes for all of us,’ Ben said. Raising his mug to the company, he said, ‘To the Hellions.’
Giles and Davie clapped Ben on the shoulder as they walked out. After finishing his own mug, Ben added it to the tray. ‘I’m off as well.’
‘Isn’t Alyssa away on one of her sketching expeditions?’ Christopher asked. ‘You could come out with me. Just a few rounds of ale, for old time’s sake.’
Ben raised his eyebrows. ‘A few rounds of ale? What about the “woman” part of the celebration? I understand you recently parted company with the Divine Clarissa. Have you replaced her yet?’
‘Not yet. There are several matrons of great appetite and small morals who have made their interest quite clear.’
‘And Mrs Anderson recently left the Duke of Portland’s protection. I seem to remember her casting lures in your direction, even while she was with Portland.’
‘Can’t help being irresistible,’ Christopher said, and ducked his friend’s punch. ‘Oh, they are all lovely enough. But none of them...quite tempt me.’
The image of a courtesan who had always more than tempted him came to mind. How fast he’d jump to follow, were Ellie Parmenter to crook a finger in his direction!
Shaking his thoughts free, he said, ‘How about spending the rest of the evening at Madame Aurelie’s? Good wine, lovely women to pour it, and a few hands of cards. Almost as respectable as a gentleman’s club. I don’t think Alyssa would object.’
Ben gave him a wry grin. ‘She probably wouldn’t. But going to a gaming hell run by a famous former courtesan, with ladies discreetly available for select customers who can afford their high fees, isn’t the sort of behaviour I want to indulge in.’
Before Christopher could remind him how often he’d indulged in it in the past, his friend quickly added, ‘I know I could accompany you, share a bottle of wine, a round of cards, and nothing more than conversation with ladies who are as witty as they are beautiful. But...it just doesn’t appeal any more. Sorry. Don’t let me spoil your pleasure, though! In fact, in honour of our frequent revels in the past, drink twice the wine and beguile twice the ladies, for me.’
He gave Christopher’s hand a pat. ‘Enjoy yourself—as if I need to tell you that! I’ll take the tray down.’ Picking it up, he gave Christopher a wink and headed out the door.
Though Madame Aurelie and her charming company beckoned, as Christopher watched his friend leave, he couldn’t stifle a little sinking feeling in his gut...that surely wasn’t loneliness.
Copyright © 2017 by Janet Justiss
ISBN-13: 9781488021688
Redeeming the Rogue Knight
Copyright © 2017 by Claire Lackf
ord
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