A Rogue's Surrender: Regency Novellas

by Lauren Smith

Had he struck his head again?

  She didn’t think so, for she’d done a better job of easing his fall this time around.

  “What did you do to him, Mallory?” Aidan asked as Lucien began to moan her name while he struggled against his sheets.

  “Nothing, other than talk sense into him.” She was shaking and about to burst into tears, but tried her best to hold herself together.

  “Place some pillows on the ground beside him,” Gennalyn suggested, her mind obviously clearer than Mallory’s. “I don’t want him to hurt himself should he roll off the bed again.”

  “Someone ought to watch him through the night. Perhaps each of you can take turns with him, at least until the doctor stops by tomorrow morning.” Mallory tried to sound as efficient and dignified as Gennalyn. But it was impossible to maintain her dignity when Lucien, having regained consciousness, began to babble about her tempting lips and outrageous body that– “We’ll have no more of that.” She rushed forward and clamped her hand over his mouth.

  Roarke was gawking at her.

  Aidan was grinning.

  Gennalyn was gaping at her.

  Lucien shot daggers at Mallory with his glazed, but gorgeous, eyes. He drew her hand off his mouth and tucked it on his chest, refusing to let go when she discreetly tried to pull away. “Oh, hell. What did I just say?”

  His brothers began to laugh.

  Gennalyn bustled them out of the room and shut the door firmly after them. “And stay out until you learn to behave like gentlemen,” she called through the thick wood panels. “But do fetch us some tea and cakes, Roarke.”

  He popped his head back in to kiss his wife gently on the lips. “Very well, my love.”

  Mallory could still hear Lucien’s brothers chuckling and guffawing as they walked downstairs, their boots clomping on the stairs. “It isn’t funny. Lucien is not thinking straight at the moment.”

  “I’m fine,” Lucien insisted. “Just being an idiot. That’s what you called me, isn’t it? A stubborn idiot.”

  Mallory felt heat rise in her cheeks. He’d heard that? “You were trying to climb out of bed and I was scared that you would hurt yourself. Which you did because you hadn’t the sense to lie still and allow your bones to heal.”

  He turned indignant at her accusation. “I was trying to get on bended knee to propose to you.”

  Gennalyn gasped. “I think I ought to leave the two of you to sort this out.”

  “No,” Mallory said at the same time that Lucien said yes. “Don’t go. I’ve already told him that I will refuse him if he is so foolish as to propose to me. He is not clear-headed at the moment.”

  Lucien now scowled at her. “Nor are you.”

  Gennalyn stepped between them. “Lucien, stay in bed and behave. Mallory, I think neither one of you is thinking clearly at the moment. You’ve each had a bad scare and need to give it a little time to pass.” She glanced from one to the other. “You know I’m right. No one understands what you’re experiencing better than I do.”

  Lucien made no protest.

  Mallory nodded. Gennalyn’s world had spun out of control after she’d lost her entire family. If not for Roarke, who knows what might have happened to her? For the first time in her life, Mallory appreciated all that her distant relation - who had become a dear friend, more of a sister to her - had endured.

  But Mallory trusted her feelings for Lucien. After all, she was not the one who’d had a roof beam crash down upon her head. And she had always been in love with Lucien, that hadn’t changed. The frightening incident only confirmed how fragile life was and how important it was to let him know how deeply she cared for him.

  In truth, her love for him was as deep as the ocean and ran as true as the glistening moon tides that ebbed and flowed under its powerful pull. But she had no intention of allowing her feelings for him to go farther.

  Lucien was the one whose heart could not be trusted. Even though he was smart and honorable and thoughtful, he’d never shown her the slightest interest until now. “What changed?” she asked him. “Why am I suddenly so fascinating to you that you would risk life and limb to propose to me?”

  Although she’d asked the question, she already knew the answer. He had a lump on his head the size of a cooked goose, but that only partially explained his odd behavior. He’d kissed her and practically undressed her even before the roof collapsed. He’d done it while his head was clear. Before that, he’d been chivalrous and attentive to her at her birthday party. But before that? Nothing. She hadn’t mattered to him at all.

  Except he’d named a day after her. Saint Mallory’s Day.

  What did it all mean?

  How long before he lost interest in her?

  She gave it two weeks at the most.

  “I understand your parents are taking you to London tomorrow,” Lucien said, dismounting from Charlemagne and striding toward Mallory as she fed the ducklings by the pond. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He hadn’t seen her in almost two weeks, for she’d taken Gennalyn’s admonition to heart and kept her distance from him. Did she think she was doing him a favor? He certainly was not enjoying each empty day without her.

  “Lucien,” she said in a breathy greeting, turning to face him. There was a pink flush to her cheeks, and after a moment’s hesitation, she cast him the tenderest smile. “You’re looking well.”

  She reached up and gently touched the lump on his head that was almost fully healed. His cuts and bruises had mostly healed, as well. All but the bruise to his heart. “So are you, Mallory.” She looked as pretty as an angel, as beautiful as a sunrise, he might have added more romantic thoughts were he prone to spouting poetic niceties.

  Which he was not, although Mallory might inspire him to start.

  In truth, she looked spectacular.

  She wore a simple gown of dark green muslin that matched the color of her eyes. It fell in a soft drape over her curves. But it was the lush cascade of her unbound hair over her shoulders, the glow of her smile and sparkle of her eyes upon seeing him, that made her so spectacular. “Your parents stopped by twice to visit, but you stayed home. Why didn’t you come with them?”

  The sun glistened upon her glorious curls and a soft breeze blew several loose ones so that they fluttered becomingly across her forehead and cheeks. She casually brushed them back, and then frowned at him to admonish him for his accusatory tone. “You know why.”

  He nodded, but dukes were used to getting their way in all things and he did not like that Mallory was doing things her own way, especially when those things pertained to his ducal heart. “I wish you had come to visit me. Will you let me call upon you while you’re in London?”

  She shook her head, momentarily confused. “You’ll be in London, too?”

  He cast her a wry smile, deciding to be completely honest with Mallory. “I had meetings set up with my creditors before the barn crashed down upon us.” She deserved no less than the truth. Anyway, being impatient and demanding was not working with the stubborn girl. Rather than sway her, she was entrenched now and it was making his blood boil. “At the time, I thought each meeting would be short and sweet. I expected to be telling them that they’d be paid in full upon my marriage to Heloise.”

  Mallory inhaled lightly.

  “But that won’t happen,” he hastened to add before she lectured him once more on the folly of marrying for the sake of convenience.

  She licked her generous lips and searched his face. “It won’t?”

  “No, not a cigar or snifter of port to be handed out in celebration. Horrible Heloise will not receive an offer of marriage from me. These meetings, for the most part, will be lengthy discussions about restructuring my debt. They’ll take up most of my time, but I still wish to see you.”

  Her tongue flicked out again to moisten those lips he was aching to kiss. “Are you certain?”

  “Yes, I insist upon it. What have you got to lose? Being seen about town with a duke as your escort will only en
hance your standing once you make your formal debut. You’ll be noticed by all the best gentlemen on the hunt for a wife.”

  “Oh, I see.” The luminous gleam in her eyes faded. “Then you’ve come to your senses and now realize the impossibility of a match between us.”

  Hell, no.

  His intentions toward Mallory had not changed, but he would not say anything until after the rounds of meetings were concluded and he knew where he stood financially. He’d find a way to salvage all he could of the Hawthorn holdings, take on business partners if necessary to lighten the debt load. But Mallory’s fear that he would lose too much if he settled for her was palpable and not something his mere assurances would overcome.

  She had to be made to realize that she was worthy of any sacrifice on his part. However, she had to reach that discovery on her own. She wouldn’t believe him if he simply told her straight out. Which he had told her and was once again telling her, but to no effect. Perhaps once he’d made his deals and knew where he stood, he’d be better able to convince her.

  He cupped her cheek in his hand and bent forward to kiss her lightly on the lips. “It’s settled. I shall see you in London.”

  She gave a reluctant nod. “Safe travels, Lucien.”

  “Same to you, my girl.”

  Chapter Eight

  My girl. That’s what Lucien had called her.

  Indeed, she was his and always would be.

  They both knew it, so why was she carrying on this charade? He was no green youth who was prone to making rash decisions. He’d resisted marriage for all of his thirty-one years, yet he’d now asked her to marry him and shown no regret for proposing to her.

  She had refused him.

  Had she just made the worst mistake of her life? What if he never asked her again?

  “Mallory,” her father said sharply. “Have you heard a word of what I’ve said? Have your mother and I been wasting our breath?”

  Mallory cringed as her father proceeded to pound a long list of do’s and don’ts into her head. When he finished, her mother took over. They obviously had no faith in her abilities, believing her to be a clumsy oaf who would trip over her own feet at her first London ball.

  In truth, she was.

  Fortunately, there would be no balls for her until her formal Come-Out next spring. Her nemesis, Lady Heloise, had already made her debut and been declared an Incomparable. She was the impossible standard to which her parents were going to hold her. How could she compete with this exquisitely wealthy, blonde beauty who outwardly appeared to be everything delicate and sweet but inwardly was a mean-spirited Harpy who would not hesitate to attack her and draw blood?

  “And you were unpardonably rude to Lady Heloise,” her mother continued, striking a raw nerve. “You had better make amends with her while we’re in London.”

  Mallory sighed. “Why must we speak of her? Lucien will not marry her.”

  Her father scowled. “At all times, he is to be referred to as His Grace. Or with his permission, Hawthorn. But you are never to presume such familiarity as to call him Lucien.”

  “As for Lady Heloise,” her mother intoned, “do not be so naive as to believe His Grace has given up on her. Why do you think he returned to London last week and remains there still? I’m certain it is to reconcile with the lady and resume his courtship of her.”

  The tenor of their conversation, in addition to the rattle and bump of their carriage, was enough to make Mallory ill.

  Knowing he would marry an heiress was bad enough. But to marry Horrible Heloise? That would be unbearable.

  Mallory closed her eyes and pretended to sleep the remainder of their journey, unable to endure more of her parents’ comments which had moved on from Heloise to her own sisters and their successful marriages.

  But successful by whose terms? Theirs were loveless marriages and both husbands had already been caught cheating. It was reported in the scandal rags, so it had to be true. Not that Dierdre or Alicia cared, for they were too busy spending their generous allowances to mind which beds and upon whose pillows their husbands rested their heads.

  Mallory knew she was different.

  She wanted love.

  She opened her eyes as their carriage groaned to a halt in front of their elegant Mayfair townhouse. The day was warm, but not unbearably so, and the sky was a lovely, robin’s egg blue. A few clouds streaked the sky, but only a very few, and the sun was shining down on them as they descended the conveyance and stretched their legs.

  They had yet to step inside before her mother began to rattle off their daily schedule. “A quiet supper for us at home this evening, but tomorrow shall be a busy day. We have an appointment at the modiste’s at ten o’clock in the morning. At two, we shall meet your sisters at Abbingdon’s for high tea, but we needn’t stay long. Later that evening, we shall join them and their husbands for the theater, and afterward, a late supper.”

  Mallory merely nodded as she removed her bonnet and pelisse and handed those belongings to their butler. “Good day, Parsons. Have you missed us?”

  Their long-time retainer cast her a wink and gave a courtly bow. “Indeed, we have, Lady Mallory. It is good to see you in town again. It’s been too long and your absence has been felt.”

  “We’re here to shop for my gowns for next Season.”

  Parsons’ expression turned wistful. “I remember you as a little girl scampering about the house. But you’re all grown up now. We shall have to engage additional footmen to hold back the swarm of bachelors who shall be breaking down our front door.”

  Mallory shook her head and laughed. “I don’t think there shall be much of a frenzy around me. I’m no classic beauty as my sisters were, and I’m told that my dancing skills are inadequate. My parents think these young men will run from me in horror.”

  “Mallory.” The edge to her mother’s tone halted all conversation between her and Parsons. “You needn’t discuss our plans with the servants.”

  Parsons’ demeanor instantly turned icily dignified and he cast her the same bland, politely distant gaze that he used to greet acquaintances who came to the door.

  The rest of the day passed uneventfully as did the next morning’s appointment with Madame de Bressard, the best modiste in town. Mallory had been measured, pinned, poked, and tugged at for several hours, and been shown fabrics in colors and materials that made her eyes pop in wonder, until it was time for her and her mother to walk to nearby Abbingdon’s to meet her sisters for tea.

  Mallory scanned the elegant tea establishment for sign of Alicia and Dierdre. She spotted them immediately, for Alicia had on an iridescent turquoise gown and her blonde curls had somehow acquired a reddish tint. Dierdre’s gown was an eye-catching green-striped affair, and her hair was also less gold and more red than she remembered. Was this the current rage in London? Were all women of fashion coloring their hair? “Ugh, what did they do to themselves?”

  Her mother shot her a frown. “Mallory, mind your business.”

  “But they look ridiculous.”

  “Be quiet,” her mother said, taking her by the elbow and dragging her toward their table. “They look wonderful. After all these years of lessons, have you learned nothing?”

  “Apparently not.” Mallory’s gaze was suddenly caught by a movement at a back table. At first, she wasn’t certain what had unexpectedly drawn her eye. Then she saw a head of golden hair and broad shoulders that could only belong to Lucien. What was he doing here?

  As he rose, so did the rest of his party.

  Her mother peered across the room and gasped in delight. “What a wonderful coincidence. Why that’s Hawthorn. Ah, I see he’s made amends with Lady Heloise. The older gentleman must be her father.”

  Mallory’s heart sank into her toes. Oh, Lucien. What have you done?

  There had to be a logical explanation for why he was here with Horrible Heloise.

  Heloise took notice of her at that moment and cast her a gaze as sharp and deadly as the strike of a
venomous viper. Mallory clutched her mother’s arm. “Mama, I’m spent. Can we not give our apologies to Dierdre and Alicia and go home? We’ll see them in a few hours for theater and supper.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, child. Stop pouting and come along. Perhaps Hawthorn and Lady Heloise will acknowledge us. What good fortune. Everyone in here will take notice of us.”

  Her mother slipped out of her grasp and now had her by the elbow, dragging her forward toward their table and directly in the path of Lucien and Heloise.

  Mallory swallowed hard and tipped her chin upward in the hope of appearing undaunted by the unexpected presence of the man she had trusted and admired most of her life.

  Heloise ignored her, turning her brittle smile, that everyone else found charming, on her mother instead. “Lady Goodell, how lovely to see you again. Hawthorn mentioned you would be arriving in London. Unfortunately, we haven’t the time to pay a formal call on you. Perhaps on your next visit.” When Lucien moved away to call for their carriage, Heloise giggled coquettishly and whispered loud enough for Mallory to hear, “Although we may be on our honeymoon tour by then.”

  Her mother and sisters gushed over the news while Mallory sank into her seat and tried not to burst into tears. She needed to accept Lucien’s decision, but her mind and stomach revolted at the thought.

  His meetings with creditors must have gone badly, and after weeks to dwell on his situation, he had obviously decided to go with his original plan and marry Horrible Heloise.

  Her stomach was still roiling as Lucien returned.

  At first, she refused to meet his gaze. When she finally did look up, she was startled by the coldness in his blue eyes. “How could you?” she mouthed, while the ladies were busily discussing the latest fashions.

  He frowned at her, pretending not to understand what she was talking about.

  She could not question or confront him while they were surrounded by everyone, she understood that. Perhaps he would pay a call on her later to explain. She silently chided herself for being so foolish as to believe that love could fix everything.