When a Rogue Meets His Match

by Hoyt, Elizabeth

  Traitor.

  Elspeth put down her tea and reached into the pocket of her gown. She produced a small notebook and a tiny pencil, then looked earnestly at Freya. “Might I take notes?”

  Oh, Good Lord.

  * * *

  By the time Gideon returned to Whispers House that night he was dead tired.

  Exhausted in both body and something deeper. Perhaps his soul. He’d realized as he’d set out that morning that he’d never cold-bloodedly planned to murder a man. He didn’t like Greycourt—far from it. Had anyone asked him a month ago if Gideon would hesitate to kill Greycourt, he would’ve laughed in their face.

  It was thinking about the man and how to murder him that made the deed so ghastly.

  He’d spent the day shadowing Julian Greycourt—or attempting to. It had taken him until well after noon to find Greycourt drinking coffee in a crowded coffeehouse. Greycourt had been all alone; not even the younger brother was about, which seemed…odd.

  After that Gideon had followed the man to his tailor, to a dueling club, and finally back to the inn where Julian was staying with his brother.

  It was as Gideon had been lounging across the street from the dueling club, waiting for Greycourt to emerge again, that he asked himself what exactly he was doing. He already had a list of Greycourt’s usual places from Pea. If he wanted to kill Greycourt, why didn’t Gideon simply choose a place and wait until the man arrived? Come to that, couldn’t he have shot the man in the London crowd? Or if that was too loud, he could get close enough and stab him.

  In the back.

  Aristocrats considered stabbing a man in the back ungentlemanly. And while Gideon made a point of hating nearly everything the toffs did, he reluctantly had to agree with them in this case. He wasn’t sure he could sneak up on a man—on Greycourt—and kill him without giving the man a chance to defend himself.

  Had he grown weak? It was so simple a thing—a quick jab and everything he’d ever wanted would fall into his hands.

  Everything except Messalina. He would lose Messalina.

  He was tense, his fingers clenching, as he entered the dining room in preparation for supper. But something happened when he caught sight of his wife, busily gossiping with her sister.

  His heart lightened.

  What a strange feeling. It made him uneasy somehow—to have his very mood changed by another person. Gideon had always needed only himself.

  He paused for a moment inside the doorway to draw himself together and then noticed the third person in the room, sitting across from Messalina and Lucretia.

  “Hawthorne!” Will Blackwell exclaimed, turning around. “I’d begun to fear that you’d abandoned your wife and her lovely sister.” He darted an uncharacteristically shy glance at Lucretia as he said the last part.

  Lucretia’s color rose.

  As did Gideon’s eyebrows. Was Blackwell interested in his sister-in-law? Normally he wouldn’t stand a chance of courting Lucretia. But then, normally Gideon wouldn’t be married to Messalina.

  “Good evening,” his wife said with a smile.

  His pulse leaped at her expression.

  All three were looking at him expectantly, so he bowed. “A good evening to you all. I’m sorry for my tardiness. I wasn’t aware we were to have a guest.”

  He took his seat across from the ladies.

  “That’s my fault, I’m afraid,” Blackwell said rather sheepishly. “I came to call on you and somehow stayed for supper.”

  “That’s because we invited you to supper,” Messalina replied. “After all, you’re my husband’s business partner and friend. Naturally you’re quite welcome at our house.”

  “That’s very kind of you,” Blackwell said.

  Lucretia tilted her head as Reggie brought in a platter of charred-looking roast beef. She murmured, “You may not think that once you’ve tried the food here.”

  Pea followed with a bottle of wine and a bowl of gray cooked…stuff.

  “I’ll be taking my supper down at the tavern, guv,” Reggie muttered as he thumped the roast beef on the table.

  To Gideon’s surprise, Messalina said, “Oh, Reggie, couldn’t you stay? I know Hicks is trying his best.”

  “No doubt about it, ma’am,” Reggie readily agreed. “But…” He glanced at the blackened beef and winced. “I suppose I can eat my dinner here.”

  “Thank you.” The smile Messalina bestowed on Reggie made the big man blink.

  Both Reggie and Pea exited the room.

  Blackwell turned to Messalina. “Your concern for the cook does you credit, ma’am.”

  Gideon grunted, feeling the dullard for not having complimented her first. “You’ll have all my men turned to tame lambs soon.”

  He reached for Messalina’s glass and poured the wine.

  “How dreadful,” Lucretia murmured. “Who would you have to do your nefarious deeds then?”

  Blackwell choked.

  Gideon raised a brow at Lucretia, who looked very far from repentant.

  Messalina cleared her throat loudly. “Do you often attend the theater, Mr. Blackwell?” She turned to Lucretia. “That is where we met.”

  The phrase sounded so intimate. It wasn’t, though. Gideon stared at his wineglass, refusing to be jealous.

  “I’m afraid not.” Blackwell looked rueful. “Business takes up the majority of my time. I do, however, like to read when I’m able.”

  “Do you?” Lucretia sat up a little straighter. “I’m reading The Adventures of David Simple in Search of a Faithful Friend right now.”

  “Ah,” Blackwell said. “A favorite of mine. What do you think of the author’s sentiments on morality?”

  Lucretia appeared to hesitate, then said slowly, “They are very noble, but they seem to me a bit idealized.”

  “Exactly,” Blackwell replied. “For instance, David Simple is appalled by London and its people, while I find them most congenial.”

  Messalina looked interested. “I must read the book after you’ve finished it, darling.” She glanced doubtfully at Gideon, hesitating.

  “No, I haven’t read it,” he said gruffly.

  “Gideon dislikes literature of all kinds,” Blackwell said cheerfully. “He is a very busy man.”

  Gideon narrowed his eyes at his partner. Blackwell made him seem a clod.

  Messalina hastily asked, “How was your day, Gideon? I haven’t seen you since well before luncheon.”

  He’d left her, warm and limp with pleasure, that morning.

  He cleared his throat. “Very good.” Considering he’d spent most of it contemplating how to murder her brother. Gideon glanced down. The slice of beef on his plate suddenly seemed much too greasy. He strove to think of something light to say. “And your day, madam?”

  “We shopped on Bond Street.” She hesitated and then squared her shoulders. “Then we came back to Whispers and found the Duchess of Harlowe and her sister Lady Elspeth waiting for us in the sitting room.”

  “We had tea and a lovely chat with them,” Lucretia said defiantly.

  Gideon raised his brows. Did they think he’d disapprove of having tea with other ladies? He’d never forbidden Messalina her friends.

  “My mother always finds a day shopping to be invigorating,” Blackwell said. He turned to Lucretia. “What did you buy, Miss Greycourt?”

  “I’m afraid I came away with only a pair of kid gloves,” Lucretia replied. “Does your mother live in London, Mr. Blackwell?”

  “Alas, no. She’s in a little town south of London. But I visit her whenever possible.”

  “One wonders,” Gideon said dryly, “how you have time for business at all after attending the theater, reading books, and visiting your mother.”

  Messalina shot him a look of exasperation.

  But Blackwell laughed. “Indeed. And on that note, I confess that I must leave you all early.”

  “Oh, must you?” cried Lucretia.

  While at the same time, Messalina said, “But you haven’t f
inished your meal.”

  Blackwell stood and bowed to them. “I’m afraid I have an engagement later this evening. I do hope you’ll forgive me?”

  The ladies were profuse in their assurances of forgiveness.

  Gideon nodded with a half smile as Blackwell made his farewells. He couldn’t help but wonder what sort of engagement Blackwell was going to. When Gideon had first met him, Blackwell had been fond of gambling—and he hadn’t been an especially lucky player.

  He turned to Messalina. “And what did you buy on your shopping trip, madam wife?”

  Messalina brightened and told him about her day and though he listened to her, most of his attention was on her face.

  Her happy face.

  He felt a pang. He wanted Messalina to always be this happy. To never experience sorrow or disappointment.

  Gideon dropped his eyes to his plate. He would bring her sorrow. He was the monster that would bring tears to those merry gray eyes.

  Was there any way he could live with himself afterward?

  “Shall we retire to the sitting room for tea?” Messalina asked, interrupting his thoughts.

  Gideon snorted. “If you wish. Although you’ll have to explain to Reggie why we have to move to the sitting room to drink tea.”

  “Of course.” Messalina sighed.

  Lucretia looked blank. “Why?”

  “Because”—Gideon rose and helped Messalina to her feet—“your sister is bound and determined to improve my house and servants.”

  “Well, someone has to,” Messalina muttered. She laid her hand on his arm. “That reminds me. I’ll be interviewing new servants in a couple of days. I hope I have your approval to hire as many as we need?”

  “I don’t know about approval,” Gideon mused as they strolled out of the dining room with Lucretia trailing, “but you have my consent to do so.”

  “Then that will have to do,” Messalina said briskly. Reggie was just outside the dining room, and she turned to him. “We’ll be taking tea in the sitting room.”

  Reggie’s broad forehead wrinkled. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Thank you, Reggie,” she said.

  The big man nodded and hurried to the kitchens.

  Gideon continued to escort Messalina and Lucretia to the sitting room.

  Messalina sank into the settee. “Actually, I’m not sure why we take tea after supper.”

  “Because”—Lucretia took a chair opposite the settee—“it’s an excuse to have cake.”

  Gideon sat next to Messalina, almost but not quite touching.

  The sitting room door opened again, and Reggie entered and held the door for Pea, who had an enormous tray of tea.

  “Oh, lovely,” Lucretia said, clapping her hands. “Are those sweets?”

  The tray held an assortment of sugared plums and tiny cakes.

  “They are,” Messalina said slowly, eyeing the sweets as Pea placed the tray carefully on a table. “But I never thought that Hicks would be able to make these.” She glanced at Gideon suspiciously. “Do you know anything about this?”

  Gideon shrugged carelessly. He was pleased by both Messalina’s and Lucretia’s reaction to his surprise. “I sent Pea to buy them this morning. I thought you might like them.”

  He winked at Pea, who grinned in return before scampering from the room.

  Messalina’s eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to bribe my sister?”

  He leaned close to her ear and whispered, “Yes.”

  “It’s working,” Lucretia said happily. She was already munching on a pink cake with tiny white flowers.

  Messalina laughed and began pouring the tea.

  Gideon took his cup and said, “I saw you had mail when I came in.”

  Lucretia groaned.

  Messalina winced as she poured a cup for Lucretia. “We received an invitation to a ball that Aunt Ann is having in a week at Windemere House. It’s rather late notice, but Lucretia and I think we can find something to wear. And I’ve sent a note round to your tailor to hurry one of the suits we ordered for you.”

  “I am relieved,” he replied dryly. “But you don’t sound very enthusiastic.”

  “Well, Uncle Augustus.” Lucretia helped herself to another cake as she shared a glance with Messalina.

  Did she know of the old man’s threats?

  “Why go at all?” Gideon asked.

  “It seems Aunt Ann has decided that the ball is to honor our marriage,” Messalina answered.

  Gideon had raised his teacup to his lips but hadn’t taken a sip yet. He paused, looking over the rim at Messalina to assess her emotions on the matter.

  Messalina gave a small smile back at him. “The theme is probably Uncle Augustus’s idea. Poor Ann simply does as he says. She’s quite frightened of him.”

  She frowned at her teacup.

  He hated to see her upset.

  “Her Grace is a very wealthy woman married to one of the most powerful men in England,” he said gently.

  “She can’t enjoy her wealth if she’s dead,” Lucretia said simply. She chose another four delicacies.

  Gideon raised his eyebrows, watching his sister-in-law. He’d never seen a woman eat so many sweets in such a decorous manner.

  “Lucretia!” Messalina glanced nervously at the dining room door.

  There were whispers about the duke’s first two wives and their early deaths. One had been thrown from a horse, while the other had somehow fallen down a flight of stairs.

  “You’ve heard the rumors as much as I have,” Lucretia said.

  “Yes, but I don’t want Uncle Augustus to learn that we’re whispering them,” Messalina said.

  Lucretia tilted her chin. “I’m not afraid of him.”

  Messalina’s lips firmed. “Perhaps you should be.”

  “Neither of you need be afraid,” Gideon cut in.

  The sisters both looked at him as if they’d forgotten he was there.

  He nodded. “You live with me now. I’ve men like Reggie in the house, and outside as well.”

  “I don’t know if I feel any safer knowing I’m in an elaborate cage,” Lucretia said sweetly. “The men following us down Bond Street today were quite conspicuous.”

  “As they should be,” Gideon said. “Deterrence is the best protection I know. I will never let anyone hurt you.” He looked into Messalina’s clear gray eyes and said softly, “Either of you.”

  Messalina smiled at him, and for a moment he could see nothing else.

  Lucretia cleared her throat. Something had softened in her face at his words.

  “Thank you,” she said gruffly.

  He nodded. He would’ve protected Lucretia regardless.

  She mattered to Messalina.

  Lucretia said to her sister, “Didn’t you say you were going to interview servants?”

  Messalina immediately turned to her sister, and in seconds they were discussing…lady’s maids versus housemaids?

  Gideon sipped his tea, watching the sisters with amusement.

  Inside, though, he was thinking about Windemere and the possibility that he’d helped with his wives’ deaths. Gideon had been young when he first entered the duke’s employ, so he hadn’t paid much attention to the rumors surrounding the second duchess’s death. But now…

  Now he knew that the old man was capable of hiring an assassin to murder his nephew. If he could do that without blinking, then was it so far-fetched to think he’d kill a woman?

  He frowned as he placed his teacup down. Did Windemere’s murderous loathing of Greycourt extend to the rest of the family? The duke had certainly never shown any kindness or affection to Messalina or Lucretia.

  He glanced at Messalina, who was engaged in a whispered argument with her sister. Her glossy hair caught the light, and the turn of her head made the long line of her neck glow in the candlelight. But it was the way her pink lips pursed before reluctantly relaxing into a small smile that caught his eye.

  Gideon dropped his eyes to the dwindling supply of
sweets. How much longer would he have her smiles to enjoy?

  Chapter Twelve

  That very night Bet and the Fox were wed and he took her away. He drove a small wicker cart drawn by four roe deer, and when he cracked his whip, the cart near flew through the countryside. When dawn broke, they pulled up in the clearing with the honeysuckle-and-sweetbriar cottage.…

  —From Bet and the Fox

  Several hours later, Messalina watched as Lucretia yawned so widely she couldn’t hide it behind her palm.

  “Oh my,” Lucretia sighed, slumped against the settee cushions.

  Gideon had long since retired to his study.

  Messalina swallowed the last of the milky-sweet tea in her cup and regarded the beautiful piece of luxury in her hand. The tea set had a pink hatch pattern around the rim, and each cup had a different bird on the side. Messalina had fallen in love on sight.

  Staring at it she asked, “Have you ever considered how much we spend on—on things?”

  Lucretia glanced down at her own cup, which depicted a goldfinch. “No? Why should I? I don’t understand.”

  “It’s just…” Messalina frowned at her lovely tea set. “Well, for instance, Sam would be on the streets, without shelter or food, if Gideon hadn’t employed him.” She nodded at the set. “The price I paid for this could keep him in comfort for years. It doesn’t seem fair somehow.”

  “But Gideon has employed Sam,” Lucretia pointed out. “He seems healthy enough.”

  “Yes, but there are other boys,” Messalina said. “And girls as well. I just…wish I could do something.”

  “Such as?” Lucretia asked.

  Messalina knitted her brows. “I don’t quite know…”

  She felt something brewing inside her, though. A vague idea of ragged boys and all they needed to start life properly.

  A purpose.

  Lucretia yawned again.

  Messalina looked at her. “You need to retire to bed.”

  “I’m not sleepy,” Lucretia said petulantly.

  Messalina smiled at her fondly. “You sound like a five-year-old.”

  “Humph.” Lucretia played with her cup. “Messalina…”

  “Yes, darling?”

  Lucretia frowned a little at her teacup. “Do you think it wise for me to attend the dance at Windemere House?” She glanced up, and Messalina saw that her sister’s face was unusually grave. “It’s just that…what if Uncle Augustus makes me stay?”