Jilted by a Rogue

by Cheryl Holt

  “Why would you assume he was the culprit?”

  “He snuck upstairs during the party. I didn’t notice until he was coming down, and I was too naïve to understand that he might have robbed me.”

  “He sounds like a cad and a criminal.”

  “That’s my opinion, yes.”

  “While you were immersed in the fiasco, were you madly in love?”

  She burst out laughing. “No, I’ve never been in love, and I certainly wasn’t in love with him. It was temporary insanity, remember?”

  “Yes, I remember, and if you ever vex me overly much, I intend to raise this subject to put you in your place.”

  “Please don’t. You wouldn’t be that cruel.”

  “I can always tattle to your brother too. The prospect should keep you in line.”

  “You don’t have to keep me anywhere. I learned my lesson in London. Apparently, I have some deeply-buried wild tendencies.”

  “Really? How intriguing!”

  “I shall spend the rest of my life ensuring they never flare again.”

  “I’m disappointed. I’d like them to flare.”

  “Well, they never will.” She pushed back her chair and stood. “Now then, I’m exhausted, and I have to get to bed or I’ll fall down in a fatigued heap.”

  “I’m having too much fun, Miss Boyle. Must you leave?”

  “I must.”

  “But we haven’t discussed your role in the house or the routines you’ll implement.”

  “Whose fault is that, Captain? I’ve been waiting for you for hours.”

  He pushed to his feet too. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

  “It depends on when you deign to rise in the morning. I plan to serve breakfast each day at eight.”

  “Can we have it at seven instead?”

  “We can have it whenever you need it.”

  “Ooh, I adore a woman who’s malleable.”

  She flashed an irked glare. “Don’t flirt and don’t be smart. It’s my job to feed you when you’re hungry. We will have supper at eight in the evening too—every night while I am here.”

  “Then, barring an emergency, I will always join you.”

  “I might actually look forward to it.”

  She sauntered off, and he watched her go, noting where her bedchamber was located: in the maid’s room behind the kitchen and tucked away from the other occupants of the house.

  He was already wondering if he’d ever have occasion to visit her in it, just as he was pondering how he’d begin working to make it happen. She was beautiful, educated, funny, and lonely, and she was living under his roof. He couldn’t have arranged the situation more perfectly.

  Cozy encounters were stretching ahead where they would chat and dine and drink wine together. She’d admitted to having wild tendencies, and she’d vowed to never let them spark again, but who could blame a fellow for wanting to fan the flames?

  If he had anything to say about it—and he had plenty—he and Miss Boyle would grow a lot closer.

  He staggered off to his own bed, thinking that the energy in the air had changed, the vibrancy had changed. He’d thought he would hate having any female move in, but clearly, he’d been mistaken.

  So far, he liked it very, very much.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “This is Laura,” Amelia said to Captain Hastings, finally introducing them.

  “Hello, Laura,” he replied. “Aren’t you a pretty little thing?”

  Amelia smiled at the girl, wishing she could read her mind. As usual, she was standing a bit behind Amelia, as if trying to remain hidden.

  They were at an afternoon tea party being held on the lawn outside the garrison’s main building. The woman she’d met while shopping, the one who’d loaned her a cook, had sent an invitation, and Amelia had been delighted to accept.

  Brinley had declined though, claiming she liked soldiers well enough and would have come if it had been a gathering of young men, but that it would likely be a collection of fussy wives of the more senior officers, and she had no intention of wasting an afternoon with a bunch of grumpy, old crones.

  She’d stayed at the house, and Amelia was glad of it. She was enjoying the opportunity to socialize—without Brinley coloring any opinions.

  Amelia was amused that Brinley had been correct about the sort of people who would be in attendance. There were several dozen guests present, mostly women and children, and many of them were matrons whose husbands had been in the army for decades. They’d spent much of their lives overseas and out of England, so they had a wealth of information to share about being abroad.

  Amelia planned to befriend all of them so they could counsel her as to how she should settle in with the least amount of difficulty.

  She’d been surprised to turn around and see Captain Hastings walking toward her. He looked like a horse trainer again, rather than a solider, attired in a flowing white shirt, tan trousers, and scuffed black boots. His hair was loose and hanging over his shoulders.

  He was a dashing specimen of a man—she couldn’t deny it—and she couldn’t help but notice how all the ladies peeked in his direction as he sauntered by. He was so handsome, and he had a lanky, muscular frame that practically oozed good health and virility.

  And of course his marvelous blue eyes were mesmerizing. When he stared at her, a shiver slithered down her spine, but she was ignoring it. He was Brinley’s brother and technically her boss. She had no designs on him and no interest in any relationship besides her role as housekeeper.

  “This is Captain Hastings,” Amelia told Laura. Laura nodded, and Amelia said, “Oh, I forgot. You’re acquainted with him, aren’t you? He burst into our hotel room on the day we arrived and scared you to death.”

  Captain Hastings snorted with feigned offense. “I didn’t scare her. She’s too tough to be frightened over nothing. Aren’t I right, Laura?”

  Laura shrugged, indicating that what frightened her depended on what was occurring.

  Amelia pointed to some girls who were sitting under a tree and showing each other their dolls. “Why don’t you play with them?” Laura shook her head, and Amelia asked, “Why? Don’t you like to play? You can’t tell me that. I’ll never believe you.”

  Captain Hastings answered for Laura. “Dolls have to be the most boring toy ever invented. I never understood the fascination. What is it a person is supposed to do with them?”

  “Make up stories?” Amelia inquired. “Dress them in fetching clothes? Pretend they’re your secret twin sister?”

  He gave a mock shudder. “How utterly absurd.”

  “You would say that,” Amelia chided. “You were a boy, and boys have plenty of stupid toys.”

  “When I was growing up,” he said, “I never liked to be still. I liked to run and wrestle and ride our horses.”

  “Girls don’t always have choices like that.”

  “They should.”

  “Yes, they should,” she agreed, deeming it an incredibly modern attitude and wondering if he really meant it.

  There was a group of boys kicking a ball over in the grass, and he gestured to them. One lone girl was trying to bluster into their game, but they were deftly blocking her.

  “If it were me,” Captain Hastings told Laura, “that’s where I’d go. They’re having much more fun than those dull girls with their dull dolls.”

  Laura gazed so longingly at the boys that Amelia was astonished. Laura was so silent and unobtrusive, and she rarely exhibited a yearning for anything.

  “You can join them,” Amelia advised, “but if they aren’t too keen on letting you have a turn, don’t be upset.” Laura peered up at Amelia, anxious to be certain it was allowed, and Amelia urged her away. “It’s fine with me. I’ll be here, talking to the Captain. I won’t leave without you. Don’t worry.”

  With that assurance offered, Laura charged off like a bullet, and Amelia observed, a tad stunned, as she barged into the middle
of the mayhem and began pushing the boys around. The other girl recognized her as an ally, and in a minute or two, they were a team, throwing elbows with a wild abandon.

  Amelia frowned at Captain Hastings. “How did you know she’d rather run and kick a ball than play quietly with dolls?”

  “Wouldn’t everyone rather do that?” He was observing Laura too. “She doesn’t resemble Brinley at all. It’s hard to believe they’re related.”

  “I’m betting she’s had a difficult life trailing after her sister. She won’t speak for some reason, and I suspect she’s been traumatized. She seems wary and constantly bracing for what calamity might arise next.”

  “I can’t blame her for being wary. Brinley wouldn’t have been a good candidate to be responsible for her.”

  “No, and I think Laura has often been left to her own devices. If I walk out of a room, even if it’s for just a second, she’s nervous as to whether I’ll come back.”

  “If she doesn’t talk, how can you tell?”

  “Once you spend some time with her, it’s simple. Her facial expressions are easy to read.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  “What are you doing at afternoon tea?’ she asked him.

  “I’ve been in the barns all morning, and I have to complete some paperwork in my office. I was riding by, and I saw you with all the other ladies. I thought I should stop to check if you’re behaving yourself.”

  “Yes, I’m such a scalawag,” she facetiously retorted. “There’s no predicting how I might act.”

  “Well, after your admission that you have wicked tendencies, I would hate for you to go off half-cocked in front of so many strangers.”

  “You are a cad to mention my confession. Where are your manners?”

  “I’m sure it’s awkward to be reminded of your prior missteps, but I like how your cheeks redden when you’re embarrassed.”

  “Obnoxious oaf.”

  “So I’ve heard.” He glanced at the tables of food and punch. “I’m starving. May I eat? Is it permitted?”

  “I don’t imagine anyone will faint if I dish up a plate for you.”

  They strolled to the tables together, and they meandered side by side, discussing options, as he pointed to what he wanted and she scooped it up. She enjoyed helping him, serving him. He was a pleasant person when he tamped down his annoying arrogance.

  “You haven’t grabbed a plate for yourself,” he said. “Have you already eaten?”

  “Yes. I’m stuffed.”

  “If I stuff myself too, will you still provide me with supper tonight? Or will you figure I’ve been fed once today and don’t need to be again?”

  “I’ll feed you at eight. I’m positive you’ll be hungry by then.”

  “Yes, I will.”

  “How did you survive before you had me setting your schedule and watching over you?”

  He grinned. “I have no idea.”

  There was a bench under a tree, and they went over and sat down. On the way, various women hailed him with flirtatious comments. Even the elderly matrons teased him. He answered them all in a blithe fashion, as if he was a regular favorite.

  Even after they’d seated themselves, guests kept peeking at him, and most of them looked jealous of Amelia, as if they couldn’t deduce how she’d wrangled her spot with him.

  “The ladies all seem to like you,” she slyly stated.

  “I’m a likeable fellow.”

  She laughed. “According to who?”

  “You don’t think I’m likable?”

  “I think you can be when you try, but for the most part, you’re vain and impossible.”

  “Don’t women actually like their men to be rogues? Aren’t you all hoping a scoundrel will sweep you away?”

  “Not me. I almost eloped with a scoundrel, remember? I’ll take boring and respectable any day of the week. I don’t need drama or excitement.”

  “Your life must be so dreary.”

  “Dreary suits me.” A stunning, voluptuous blond woman, with big blue eyes, gazed at him so intently that Amelia elbowed him in the ribs. “One of your admirers is anxious for you to notice her. Shouldn’t you wave or something?”

  “I wouldn’t like to encourage her.”

  Amelia scoffed. “You are so conceited.”

  “I can’t help it. I have my father’s way with the ladies.”

  “His way? What does that mean?”

  “He was a renowned libertine, and when he started in on a female, there wasn’t one who could resist. He left a trail of broken hearts all over England.”

  She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “I’m a virtuous maiden. You shouldn’t discuss topics like that in front of me.”

  “Will you swoon?”

  “No, but please don’t attempt to shock me. I’m turning over a new leaf in Gibraltar.” She stopped and scowled. “Wait. That’s not correct. I’m reverting to the person I used to be. I won’t listen to stories about immoral people who are misbehaving.”

  He shot a particularly caustic glare at the blond woman, and she whipped away.

  “You upset her,” Amelia said.

  “She’ll get over it.”

  “Honestly! You can be so rude.”

  “There are always unattached females at an army post. They’re all searching for husbands, and they’re all wondering if I might be interested.”

  “Is she searching for a husband?”

  “Yes. Her spouse died recently, and she’s about to be sent back to England, but she doesn’t want to be sent. She’d like to convince some silly dunce to step forward and save her.”

  “Apparently, it won’t be you.”

  “No, it definitely won’t be me.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Mrs. General Upton Bennett. Victoria Bennett.”

  “Her husband was a general?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why would she lower herself by being wed to a mere captain?”

  “I told you: I’m the spitting image of my wastrel father. It makes me a walking target.”

  Amelia tsked and gestured toward the group. “If they’re all so besotted with you, how come none of them has been able to put on a leg shackle?”

  “I’m a confirmed bachelor, and they all know it.”

  “Why is that? Don’t all men eventually wish for a home and family?”

  “Not me. I had a close view of home and family when I was a boy. It wasn’t a pretty picture.”

  “I’ve heard that a good marriage can boost a man’s career.”

  “My career is limping along just fine without my dragging a wife into it.”

  “You don’t have many positive opinions about matrimony or wives.”

  “I only have my father, mother, and stepmother to go on—that would be Brinley’s mother—and from my watching the three of them, marriage will never be in the cards for me. I’d be an awful husband.”

  “Why is that? Are you afraid you’re too much like your father?”

  “Yes.”

  She studied his eyes, and they were alight with merriment. “I can’t decide if any of your statements have been the truth or not.”

  “I like to chase beautiful girls, but I can’t figure out what to do once I catch them.”

  “Are you adept at catching them?”

  “Yes. I’m a master at it.”

  “Should I call you Romeo from this point on?”

  “No, but you may call me James if you like.”

  His suggestion wasn’t all that surprising. After all, she’d been traveling as his sister’s companion, and she was living in his home and temporarily under his protection. But she couldn’t forget the prior evening when they’d been sequestered in that quiet dining room.

  She’d enjoyed the interval more than she should have, and it might be dangerous to be on familiar terms. She might like it too much.

  She was constantly questioning
the wisdom of her moving into his house. If she’d had any sense, she’d return to the hotel immediately, but she couldn’t persuade herself to depart. He fascinated her, and she was inventing reasons to remain with him when she ought to keep as much distance between them as possible.

  “I believe I’ll stick with Captain Hastings for now,” she said.

  “Not Romeo?”

  “Never Romeo.”

  He grinned his devil’s grin, and she grinned too. It seemed as if all the people on the lawn had vanished, and they were alone. She thought—if they’d been off by themselves—he might have leaned in and kissed her.

  She wasn’t a complete innocent. Mr. Cartwright had kissed her several times, so she knew how a man appeared when he was having romantic inclinations.

  The realization that Captain Hastings was having them had her pulse racing, and suddenly, she fervidly wished it would occur, which was madness in the extreme. He was handsome, charming, and virile, so he was difficult to resist, but she’d journeyed to Gibraltar to escape her dissolute proclivities.

  While still in London, she’d resolved to never gaze at a man in an engaging way ever again, so why was she grinning and flaunting herself?

  None of the other ladies had taken their eyes off him for a single second, so they were all furtively observing the exchange. If she wasn’t careful, she’d get a reputation for being a flirt.

  She eased back on the bench and asked, “Are you finished with your food?”

  “Yes, I’m finished.”

  “Let me have your plate.”

  She slipped it from his hand to hers, and for a moment, they froze. He stared at her in that potent manner he had. She sensed that he was about to say something to her, something he shouldn’t say, and she was desperate that he not voice it.

  “Will you be home for supper?” she inquired.

  “I’m not sure. I might be tied up at the barn.”

  She wanted to scold him, to inform him she would expect him to dine with them and to be prompt. But might it be better if he stayed away? There was an odd charge in the air, as if—should he reach out and touch her—they might explode. It was thrilling and scary, and she didn’t like it one bit.