What a Rogue Desires

by Caroline Linden

  “Treason?” David laughed. “What was I accused of, selling the latest cravat styles to the Americans?”

  “I don’t know. Do you think the Americans would pay well for the latest cravat styles?”

  “Besides, don’t they hang traitors?” David continued. “How fortunate for me, only to be sent to prison.”

  “Damned calm about all this,” said Brixton. “Hamilton roused us from our beds, all in a lather that you’d be distraught.”

  “A fine friend you are,” Hamilton told him. “Preferring your bed to standing with an old friend.”

  “Yes, yes, but I’m not in need of a bodyguard,” said David lightly. “Trev is out of sorts with me. Let him and all the rest wager their funds away over women’s gossip.”

  This clearly took some wind from their sails. “Well, that robs a bit of nobility from our mission,” said Percy. “If you’re not off selling the contents of Exeter House to the pawnbrokers, what have you been doing, Reece? It’s not like you to avoid all society.”

  David put out his hands, palms up. “As I told you, I’ve undertaken the management of Exeter, and it’s rather consuming.”

  “Oh,” said Percy, clearly disappointed. “Right.” There was a moment of silence, as David’s friends contemplated the prospect of working, and working so hard a man had no time for society. “I say,” said Percy hesitantly. “You’re not turning into him, are you? Your brother?”

  “Lord, no!” David pulled a face. “As soon as he returns, I shall be as useless and indolent as ever.” Although he suspected that was untrue.

  “We are relieved to hear it,” said Hamilton. “Being a wastrel isn’t half so enjoyable without good company.”

  They all laughed, so heartily David barely heard the soft tap at the door.

  “Yes, Bannet, what is it?” called David, still grinning. His servant shuffled around the door.

  “Madam is asking for another book, sir. Might I fetch her one?”

  Hamilton’s ears visibly pricked up. Brixton let out a long, lewd whistle. “Madam?” exclaimed Percy in delight. “Have you got a woman stashed upstairs, Reece?”

  David pressed his lips together in a grim smile. “No, no, no one of interest.” He bounded out of his chair and across the room, practically shoving Bannet back out the door.

  “No one of interest?” Percy laughed. “I’m thoroughly interested! Tell all, Reece.”

  “Yes,” said Brixton. “Who is she? No wonder you’ve not been out at nights.”

  Bannet stumbled over his own feet into the hallway. “And the book, sir?”

  “Yes, yes,” said David in a low tone, throwing a glance over his shoulder. “Anything she wants.” He closed the door and turned back to his friends, who had an alarmingly energetic air about them now.

  “Let’s meet her,” said Hamilton bluntly. “Invite the lady down, Reece.”

  “No.”

  “Come, man, what’s the problem? We promise not to steal her away from you.” Brixton chuckled

  “No,” David repeated.

  His friends glanced at each other. “Reece, you dog,” said Percy, “you can’t expect us to let this pass. If you’ve got a woman hidden upstairs in your own house awaiting your every pleasure, without having got yourself legshackled or aflame with scandal, you are a genius among men. Display your spoils and revel in your triumph. We are apostles at your feet.”

  “You’ve no idea what you’re raving about,” David told him. “Nor have I.”

  “It can’t be a matron,” mused Hamilton. “Certainly not one of the girls baiting the parson’s mousetrap. We’ve not heard a word connecting you to any actress, opera singer, nor any demimonde. Who on earth have you got?”

  “A visiting relation,” David said, improvising. “A very, very distant relation. No one you’ll have heard of.”

  “Oh, a relation,” said Percy, his interest fading.

  “Elderly?” asked Hamilton, as probing as any lawyer. David made a face and held his hands up as if he couldn’t decide. “Young?” David wagged his head from side to side in more indecision. “Attractive?” Hamilton asked, drawing the word out speculatively.

  “Cut line,” said Brixton. “Hamilton wants to know if she’s rich.” They all laughed, and David, grinning determinedly, went back to his seat. Good Lord, what was Bannet thinking to announce her presence to his friends? To anyone, in fact? David really must get some proper servants.

  “She’s so far from rich, Hamilton, I should warn you off. But if you want to meet her, by all means. I’ll send for her. You should know, however, that she is my responsibility, and if you so much as look at her the wrong way, you’ll find yourself facing either the vicar or my pistol barrel before the end of the day.” He reached for the bell, hesitating with his hand over it. “Shall I?”

  “Good God, no!” Percy looked horrified. “How utterly appalling. You, responsible for a woman’s virtue?”

  “What is the world coming to?” Brixton laughed again. “Soon they’ll put highwaymen in charge of the Royal Mail.”

  David’s smile froze to his lips at the mention of that word, “highwaymen.” “Indeed,” he said, trying to hide his reaction. “On a similar note, I must be off. Exeter business waits for no man, you know, not even me.” He got to his feet again. “I bid you all good day.”

  “Yes, yes.” Brixton and Percy led the way from the room, making more jokes about setting the wolves to guard the lambs, the cats the cream, and so on. Hamilton lingered just inside the door, waiting for David.

  “Who is she really?” he asked in a low voice. David just looked at him, his face deliberately blank. “You wouldn’t have a female relation here, not when Exeter House sits a mile away in grand propriety. So who is she?” he asked again, his eyes sharp.

  “No one you would know,” said David. “A woman of no consequence.”

  “Is she?” Hamilton murmured after a significant pause. “I wonder.”

  David watched him stroll after the other two. Should he worry about that? His friends were curious. But what would they do if they discovered who she was, and why she was in his house? Nothing much; David was certain his friends wouldn’t call the Runners to his house, and even scoundrels had enough honor not to steal away another man’s mistress. Vivian wasn’t his mistress, of course, but David would let them think that. Only if necessary for her protection, of course.

  Not because he wished it were true.

  Bannet returned with three small volumes that made Vivian’s eyes grow wide. “The master said you may have whatever you wish,” said the servant through the door as he slid them under. Vivian snatched up each one eagerly, reading their titles with a little chirp of glee. “I tried to choose some appropriate for a lady.”

  “Oh, thank you, thank you, Bannet!” she said in delight. “I’ll look at them all.”

  “Be sure to let me know if you need any assistance, madam,” Bannet reminded her. She smiled.

  “Sure, and I will. You’re a dear, Bannet.”

  His voice softened noticeably. “Thank you, ma’am. It’s kind of you to say.”

  Vivian laid her hand on the door, leaning closer to whisper, “It’s no more than the kindness you’ve done me.”

  All was quiet from the other side, then she heard the muffled sound of his footsteps down the hall. Vivian smiled to herself, feeling very kindly toward the servant. If he hadn’t taken to bringing her books and sitting outside the door and talking to her from time to time, Vivian was certain she’d have gone mad from sitting and waiting for David to arrive.

  Cuddling the books to her chest, she skipped across the room to the window seat and settled herself. She’d never known she liked to read before, and it was still difficult for her at times. She found she didn’t like poetry, liked some novels though not others, but loved, above all, plays. For some reason David Reece had a large collection of plays in his library, and Vivian was happily reading all of them. The plays opened a world of delight to Vivian, a world so d
ifferent from the one she had grown up in.

  She was lost in that different world hours later when the familiar scrape in the lock intruded. For a moment she scowled, not wanting to put the book aside. It was unlike him to come see her in the middle of the day, though. What was about?

  He wore a smile when he came in, a package in his hand. He saw the book she clutched almost at once, but said nothing. Vivian wondered why. What had Bannet said? The master says you may have whatever you like. That didn’t sound like he minded. That didn’t sound like he cared. But she read the stifled inquiry in that lingering look, and put the book on the table, tucking her hands behind her, just in case. “I’ve come to apologize,” he said, standing before her like a penitent before the priest. “I was, as you observed, drunk as a lord last night. I ought not to have subjected you to that.”

  Vivian lifted one shoulder. He hadn’t hit her, nor touched her at all. She’d endured a lot worse than a man feeling sorry for himself, and mostly from people who didn’t apologize the next day.

  “I should like to make it up to you,” he went on. “Tonight.”

  Now Vivian recoiled, drawing her feet up under her skirts and curling her body into a ball. “You don’t have to.”

  A mischievous light glowed in his eyes. “I want to,” he said. “You may even enjoy it.” He reached out and picked up one of the books Bannet had just brought. “How many of these have you read?”

  “A few,” she murmured. Oh dear; she’d read a dozen if she’d read one. Was she in trouble now?

  “Ah.” For a moment he stood still, head bent over the book. “More than I’ve read from the library. Glad to see someone’s putting it to good use.” He laid the book back where it had been, on top of the others. “This is for you.” He handed her the package. Vivian took it with a wary glance. “It won’t hurt you,” he said. “Look inside.”

  She pulled off the string and a mass of fabric tumbled into her hands. It was as blue as a summer sky and as soft as baby’s hair. She held it up and beheld a dress, a lovely fashionable dress with lace around the neckline and a silver ribbon around the bodice, with a little cluster of silk flowers right in the center. More silk bands circled the edge of the skirt, and silk of the same color was ruched about the sleeves. She turned to him, her mouth agape with astonishment. “What is it?” she asked stupidly.

  “It’s a dress,” he said. “I thought you might appreciate something other than that dreary gray thing. We’re going out tonight.”

  “What? Where?” she demanded.

  He raised his eyebrows and closed his eyes. “It’s a secret,” he told her.

  “No,” she said nervously. “I want to know where first. If you won’t tell me, then, no.”

  His gaze flicked to the books, then back to her face. “The theater. I thought you might like to see a play.”

  He could not have offered anything more likely to catch Vivian’s fancy. Her eyes also strayed to the books. “Like those?”

  “Good Lord, I hope it’s more entertaining than those.” He grinned engagingly, then sobered. “What are you frightened of?”

  Being caught by the constables—an old fear from her days of picking pockets on London streets. But Vivian acknowledged it was a little far-fetched. She hadn’t been to any decent part of London in years and years, and doubted anyone would recognize her or connect her to the bone-thin waif she’d been then. “Nothing,” she replied to David’s question, a little belligerently in spite of herself. “Why do you want me to go?”

  He just looked at her for so long she felt her nerves bristle again. “Has no one ever done anything nice for you?”

  She snorted. “Well, I expect you could have had me dangling from the nearest tree by now, so I suppose that I’m not counts as a nice thing.”

  He shook his head, those dark intense eyes searching her face. “That’s not what I mean. Your mother? Your father? Anyone?”

  She shrugged, her gaze falling to the dress in her hands. To be honest, just getting to hold such a dress was a pretty nice thing, to Vivian’s mind. She longed to rub it against her cheek. Someone had done nice things for her: David. But she certainly couldn’t tell him that. “My mum,” she said. “She used to braid my hair.” She remembered her mother’s hands moving quickly through her hair, knotting a strip of old cloth around the ends to hold it. Mum had never had enough time for things like that, but Vivian remembered. “That was a long time ago,” she said, looking up at him again.

  “Ah.” His gentle sigh sounded almost sad, and Vivian fought not to flare up at him again. She didn’t want pity. “Well, this is just a nice thing,” he said, in his more usual tone of voice. “I’ve a fancy to see a play. I hoped you’d do me the honor of accompanying me.”

  How was she supposed to answer that? Vivian stroked the soft fabric in her hands and thought. She would like to see a play. The only plays she’d ever seen had been at traveling fairs, short little scenes that never lasted long enough. What would a real one be like, in a proper theater, in a dress that felt as soft and light as a cloud, with a handsome man beside her?

  She cast a glance at that man sideways from under her eyelashes. He was still waiting for her answer, his head to one side, watching her. She lifted one shoulder, her fingers curling into the dress. “All right.”

  “Is that yes?” he prompted. “Are we agreed?” She pursed her lips and nodded. A nice thing, he said. He was just trying to treat her. She didn’t know why, but again, she was unable to resist him.

  “Excellent.” He grinned. “Seven o’clock.”

  As if she had any choice in the matter. Still, Vivian couldn’t keep a small smile from her lips as she replied, “Seven o’clock, then.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Vivian had seen the Drury Lane theater before; she had picked many pockets in front of its grand façade. But she had never been inside, and couldn’t help being excited as the fancy closed carriage they were riding in slowed to a stop.

  “Nervous?” David asked.

  She glanced at him, sitting back from the edge of the seat where she’d been perched with her face all but pressed to the window. “Well—no. I suppose I ought to be, for I’ve never been inside a real theater before!”

  He just smiled, his gaze fixed on her. Vivian felt a flush of pleasure that had nothing to do with the theater. It had nothing to do with the lovely hot bath Bannet had prepared for her, nor the finery she wore. It might be related to the fact that Vivian knew she looked fine tonight, wearing a silk dress with a white flower pinned in her hair and beaded slippers on her feet, but that was only part of it. Mostly, she thought, it was because David was smiling at her as if there weren’t another woman in the world.

  And he looked quite fine himself tonight, in gentlemen’s evening clothes. Vivian was certain she had never seen a handsomer man, in fact, than David Reece. Even though he looked a perfect gentleman, there was still something about him that hinted at dangerous unpredictability. She supposed that was what had made him think up this mad idea to take her to the theater, but she had to admit she liked it. It made him compelling in a way other men weren’t, as if one ought not to look away because one never knew when he would do something utterly unexpected with no warning. Vivian had made her way in life by taking advantage of people who were predictable, and the fact that she couldn’t predict David at all made him fascinating.

  He had certainly shocked her tonight. Just as she had begun worrying about how she would look, a girl from the dressmaker had come to help her dress, making tiny adjustments to the gown and helping her pin some flowers in her hair. She had stared at her reflection in amazement, barely believing that lovely girl was she. After a hot bath, with her hair braided and pinned up, she probably wasn’t the same. And it was all due to David.

  The door opened, and a servant let down the steps. David alighted, then turned back and put out his hand. Feeling like a princess in a fairy tale, Vivian stepped down, her eyes filled with the sight of the Theatre Royal rising s
everal stories above her. Gaslight shone off white stone and sparkling windows; laughter and voices rang out in the crowd of people, elegant people and middle class people and vagabonds and whores. Every stripe of person London held seemed to be attending the theater—even her. An involuntary smile lit Vivian’s face.

  “That’s more like it,” said David, bending his head to murmur in her ear. “I was beginning to think you’d changed your mind.”

  “Changed my mind? You’re mad,” she whispered back. “I’ve never seen anything like it!”

  He merely laughed quietly, tucking her hand around his arm and drawing her close to his side as they joined the throng streaming through the wide double doors.

  Inside it was even more crowded. Dashing young men in very fine dress strolled through, a class to themselves, often with scandalously dressed, brightly rouged women who could only be whores hanging on their arms. Instinctively Vivian began to follow them, only to have David turn toward the grand staircase. “Not the pit,” he said. “We’ve got my brother’s box.”

  Her wide eyes grew even wider. A box at the Theatre Royal! People in the boxes were people who were written about in the newspapers. Members of the royal family had boxes. Dukes and earls had boxes. She shot a look at David, but he seemed unmoved by the prospect. Of course, if the box was his brother’s, David had been here before; this was nothing new to him. She likely looked like an idiot with her eyes popping from her head and her mouth open in amazement. She nodded and followed where he led.

  Near the foot of the stairs, a pair of gentlemen stopped them. “Reece!” called one, a tall fellow with pale blond hair who looked decidedly drunk. “God save me, man, I thought we’d never see you again in society! Thank God you’ve given up whatever doings of Exeter’s and come into the world again.” He stumbled over a number of words, and had to steady himself with an arm around his companion’s shoulders. That man, not quite as tall and with rich chestnut hair and brown eyes, turned and called out a casual greeting to David. Then his eyes landed on Vivian.