A Pair of Rogues (2 page)

“I am not flustered! Or if I
am,
it is because I do not like to discuss my sister in such an outrageous way!”

“Your sister, is it?” Folding his arms across his chest, Ned leaned back against the chimney piece. Comprehension flooded his face. Comprehension . . . and a flicker of some bleaker emotion. If Robert hadn’t known his friend far too well, he would have called it hurt.

“Your little sister, I take it. What was her name—Catherine?”

“No, Christina,” Louisa said. “She’s a delightful girl—spirited, beautiful—just what I thought would be right for you. But”—she sighed dramatically again—”it is not to be.”

“But, after all, why not? Surely Robert couldn’t object to my meeting his sister?” Ned made an evil face.

“Why wouldn’t I,” Robert retorted, “when I had second thoughts about presenting you to my wife?”

In the ensuing silence, Ned went very still.

“Robert!” Louisa rushed to intervene. “What a terrible thing to say! And you know it is quite untrue. You could not wait to present me to Ned.”

Deeply chagrined, Robert was relieved to see an easing in Ned’s stance. He had not meant to wound his friend. He wouldn’t have thought it possible in any case, if he had not just witnessed the change in Ned’s expression.

But the devil would goad him!

Robert tossed a sheepish grin at his wife, grateful for her diplomacy. “I couldn’t wait to show you off, that was all.”

“And who better to show her to, eh Broughton, than the man who made all your happiness possible?” Ned had quickly recovered his sangfroid. “Louisa, I am not at all certain if you realize how instrumental I was in bringing about your wedded bliss. Why, if I hadn’t coaxed Robert and taught him everything I know—step by lurid step—he might never have gone as far as to hold your hand.”

He turned towards Robert. “You did at least hold her hand, didn’t you, Broughton?”

Robert had to grin, though at times he could happily throttle Ned. Louisa was blushing, and so charmingly, Robert wanted to rush her upstairs right now. But that was to be expected around Ned. One could not be in his presence long without one’s thoughts being led astray.

“That is as may be,” Robert said, clearing his throat, “but my sister is entirely another matter. She’s an innocent, Ned, and she’d bore you to death within a sennight.”

Ned felt, rather than heard, the seriousness beneath Robert’s banter. He ignored the resulting pang and waved Robert’s words aside. “No need to worry,” he told him. “If I make any villainous plans with respect to your sister, I promise to keep you informed. I pride myself on my transparent nature.”

Robert grimaced. “How you comfort me. But I daresay Christina can take care of herself.” He gave a startled sideways glance, as if he’d let slip something he shouldn’t. “Not that she is anything but innocent, mind you. She is just out of school. Quite young, you know. Not your usual type.”

“Sounds terribly boring,” Ned reassured him.

“Indeed. After the christening, we plan to bring her out. Louisa has offered, and my mother has agreed. Mama is too old, she says, for the rigors of London.”

Ned nodded, and his voice went glum. “Almack’s. Court presentations. I shudder at the thought.”

“I knew you wouldn’t be interested.”

At the sound of Robert’s relief, Ned couldn’t resist another barb. “But, my dear fellow . . . if the chit’s your sister, how could I not be intrigued? You must add me to her list of swains. I shall grovel at her feet.”

But he had missed his mark. Robert merely laughed. “I’d love to see you grovel. I’d love to see you die for a woman’s sighs.”

“Not bloody like— Oh, pardon me, Louisa! Yourself excluded, of course. I was all prepared to grovel, but Robert threatened me bodily with a sword.”

“That is very sweet of you, Ned.” Louisa gave him a motherly smile before cocking her head at the sound issuing from the hall. “That is the dinner gong. Robert, would you take the baby while I ring for Nurse?”

Ned watched his friend cross the room to take his son from his wife, and a unfamiliar weight settled on his chest. They made such a pretty picture—mother, father and child. And an unusual one at that.

Dukes did not generally cradle their own offspring. Neither did duchesses for that matter. But Louisa refused to be bound by the rules that constrained them all.

And Robert was happy because of her. God knew—as did Ned—that Robert’s upbringing had not been an affectionate one. No more than his own, Ned reflected with a bitter mental shrug. Eton at six. The cold indifference of schoolmasters.  No protection from sadistic senior boys for whom one had to fag. The early separation from parents, who had no particular interest in one anyway.

And, yet, here was Robert, with two devoted spaniels at his feet, billing and cooing over his little marquess like any nursery maid, and—if he only could see himself—eyeing Louisa as if he could hardly restrain himself until time to go to bed.

The emptiness in his own life in comparison suddenly pressed on Ned’s heart like a blacksmith’s anvil on a pedestal of stone. Gads, but he was envious!

But a rake had no business even thinking of marriage. It was quite all right for Robert, who had always been strait-laced, and it undoubtedly would be for Robert’s sister, too. Her middle name was certain to be Virtue.

But no decent girl would consider marrying a man with Ned’s reputation. And he had had enough of the other kind to last him a lifetime.

With the baby asleep in his arms, Robert preceded them from the room, meeting the nurse in the hall. Louisa accepted Ned’s arm.

“Robert is right, you know,” Ned said to her in a confidential voice as they strolled towards the dining parlor. “I would make the very devil of a husband.”

“I think you are sadly mistaken. We would so very much like to see you happy. And I cannot help feeling that the perfect match is awaiting you just around the corner.”

Ned chuckled in response, but his laughter was forced. “I wasn’t made for such things, my dear. My life has been a dismal trail of debauchery and seduction.” He tried to lighten his tone. “Besides, I know you are wrong, because the hair on the back of my neck is lying completely flat.”

Louisa paused, holding him back. “I beg your pardon?”

“Didn’t Robert tell you?” Louisa shook her head, so he continued, “I have the most extraordinary gift. When marriage is in the air, the hair on the back of my neck always rises, the way a dog’s does when it senses a threat. It comes in quite handy, I assure you. It’s got me out of a sticky spot or two.”

This wasn’t true, of course, but it was his usual tale, designed to entertain his hostesses, and Ned almost believed it himself now. “I felt it quite strongly when you and Robert were courting,” he said. “Wagered a hundred pounds at White’s on the outcome of your affair and made a nice, tidy bundle when you married. Paid off my immediate debts and carried myself for months on the surplus.”

Louisa dimpled as they resumed walking. “And you say you’ve felt nothing of the sort since I mentioned Christina?”

“Nary a twinge.”

But the strange thing was, Ned felt a
frisson
right now, just at the sound of her name.

Louisa’s smirk must have had something to do with it. She looked as if she knew something he did not know, and the result was, the hair on the scruff of his neck was standing straight up. He shivered.

Louisa watched him closely. “You’re certain you feel nothing at all?”

“Positively not.”

“That is just as well, I suppose.” As she swept towards her place at the table, however, Louisa still managed to look uncommonly delighted. “For, as he said, Robert is quite opposed to the idea.”

Ned pushed her chair in, and she glanced back at him with a secretive smile. “Quite adamantly opposed.”

* * * *

“Christina!”

As Lady Christina Lindsay descended from the carriage which had carried her up from Bath, she spied a red-headed whirlwind descending from the steps of Broughton House. Louisa embraced her, then gave the coachman his instructions, before drawing her quickly into the house.

Christina decided, as she did every time she saw her new sister-in-law, however brief their visits tended to be, that she liked Louisa very much. She had not been certain what sort of reception to expect when she had been foisted upon Louisa by a mother who could not be bothered to come to London herself. The Dowager Duchess of Broughton had made it clear that her family should expect no more of her efforts on their behalf. Her husband’s death, she said, which had occurred a year before Robert’s marriage, had robbed her of all desire to live.

From Christina’s perspective, the Dowager did not appear to have altered at all.

Her mother’s normal failings were only half the reason for Christina’s nervousness today. By now, she was certain her sister-in-law must have been made aware of her damaged reputation. Within the family, Christina was known to be something of a problem. Her own mother had declared her a rag-mannered hoyden since birth.

Why would Louisa want the trouble of bringing out such a girl?

But whatever secret fears Christina had harbored about her reception were momentarily laid to rest by Louisa’s warm welcome.

“I shall give you five minutes to examine your room, and then you must come see Robert Edward.”

“See the baby?”

“Yes, of course. You will love him. He is so droll.”

Christina laughed. “Louisa, you must be the only mother in London to say such a thing about her infant. Would you not rather relate to me the horrors of your lying-in?”

“Pooh!” Louisa said, dismissing these with a toss of her carrot-topped head. “I can assure you they are easily forgotten. I quite ignored them myself as soon as I saw my darling.”

Bustled up to her room, Christina could only marvel again at this strange creature her brother had wed. Who would ever have expected somber Robert to have so much sense? Twelve years younger than he, Christina had only sketchy memories of her serious elder brother. Seeing him with Louisa the first time had been a startling experience. The air between them had seemed to vibrate with a curious kind of energy. It had been something she could not fathom, but had vaguely envied.

After a quick freshening up, she joined Louisa in the nursery. With conspiratorial smiles, both ladies tip-toed over to the cradle. Robert Edward was fast asleep. Their presence must have disturbed his little lordship, for he yawned and stretched with his tiny eyes still closed, poking out his swaddled bottom until his back arched at an impossibly concave angle.

 Christina gave a low, watery laugh and promptly fell in love.

“I’m so happy you invited me to be his godmother,” she whispered, as she and Louisa retreated from the room.

“I knew you would love him. You are just like Ned.”

“Ned?”

“Yes. The Earl of Windermere.” Louisa closed the door to the nursery and led the way back downstairs. “He is to be godfather.”

“Godfather—Ned?” A vivid memory flooded Christina’s brain—a head of windswept hair, as thick and black as pitch; merry eyes with a teasing gleam; two strong arms; and a comforting lap.

She waited until her sister-in-law and she were safely ensconced in Louisa’s withdrawing room with the doors firmly closed, before saying, “The rake? I thought he and Robert had parted company many years ago. It is certain in any case that I’ve heard of Lord Windermere’s tainted reputation, even so far away as Bath. He doesn’t seem to be the sort of man Robert would have for a friend.”

“Ned has his moments,” Louisa admitted, “but he has been so good to Robert and me. And he adores the baby.”

His handsome face flashed in Christina’s mind again. “He always did like children,” she said.

Louisa paused in her stitching. “I didn’t know you two had ever met.”

Christina grinned. “You could scarcely call it a meeting. I doubt if he remembers me at all. I was five and he was seventeen. He came down with Robert on the long vacation, but had the good sense never to come to Broughton Abbey again. Of course, I doubt my mother would have allowed Robert to invite him again.”

“Oh, dear.” Louisa seemed strangely discomposed. “What did he do?”

“I’ve never been entirely sure.” Christina frowned, searching her memory for clues. “Something to do with the upstairs chambermaid, as I recall. It wouldn’t have taken much to turn our mother against him. She’s referred to him ever since as ‘that horrid Windermere boy.’“

“Yes, I believe that is precisely how she referred to him in her last letter. I’m afraid I was so unwise as to advise her that we had chosen him for a godparent, but she did
ask.
Still, I shall refrain from asking Robert about the incident, and I would advise you not to either. Their friendship always has a rather . . . precarious feel.

“But what about you?” Louisa seemed curious. “You were very young when he came. Why do you remember him?”

A smile pulled at the corners of Christina’s mouth. “I remember him as the only one of Robert’s friends who ever made me sick.”

“Not sick!” Louisa looked stunned. And strangely disappointed.

“Not in the way you think,” Christina said, laughing. “I meant quite literally sick. I was playing out in the park with my nurse, when Robert and he passed by on their way to hunt. When Ned saw me, he ran over and grasped me by the wrists. He started to spin me about in a circle faster and faster. I was rather frightened at first, and then delighted by the ride.”

She made a disparaging face. “I suppose I must have giggled too much, for as soon as he stopped I began to feel ill. I’m afraid I lost my breakfast all over his boots.”

Louisa covered her mouth with one hand. “Oh, dear. He must have been quite put off. But what did the boys do? Were they horridly callous?”

“Not at all. Ned was very contrite. He held me on his lap until my spasms passed. As I recall, Robert stood around and looked helpless.”

As soon as she’d felt better, her brother had consigned her to Nurse’s care, but not before Ned had kissed her on the cheek and said he was sorry. He had given her a hug and dusted off her dress before she was led away.

Nurse had scolded, of course.