A Rogue of My Own (5 page)

R
EBECCA DIDN’T THINK IT
the least bit heroic to sneak into a man’s room to search it. In fact, it felt distinctly criminal to her. Yet there she was, dressed in the breeches, fancy jacket, and feathered hat of her rakish cavalier costume, snooping through drawers and trying not to think how she would feel if someone were doing the same thing in her room.

She didn’t even know what she was looking for. She didn’t think Lady Sarah knew what she wanted her to look for, either. “Letters,” the lady had said in ordering her to search the room. “Or anything that looks out of the ordinary.”

But absolutely nothing in the room could be classified as out of the ordinary. If anything, it was furnished so spartanly that at first glance it didn’t seem that anyone even lived there.

“He never leaves his room unlocked,” Lady Sarah had said. “I know because I have it checked often. But today he did. I can’t imagine why, unless it’s to give one of his agents access to pick up or deliver something. So if it’s still open tonight, you’re going to find what that something is.”

Rebecca had so hoped the door to the room wouldn’t be unlocked. She had gone to the costume ball, but had been too nervous about her task to do anything more than keep an eye on Lady Sarah and wait for her nod, which was the signal to begin the intrigue for the night. She had rushed off at that point, winding her way through Buckingham Palace’s long corridors, following the precise directions to the room she was supposed to violate. She just hadn’t been told whose room it was.

“The less you know the better,” Lady Sarah had advised. “Should he ever speak to you, you need to appear genuinely ignorant of his identity. But make no mistake, Rebecca. You’re a maid of honor in the queen’s court, so listen closely. This is so important that I would do it myself if I could trust anyone else to keep him distracted long enough for the search to be done. But I’m the only one who can keep him occupied for a reasonable time, so you need have no fear of being discovered. But don’t dally. Ten minutes and no longer.”

When Rebecca discovered the door was still unlocked, she didn’t enter the room immediately. Instead she wasted one of the allotted minutes debating whether to lie to Lady Sarah and tell her the room had been locked. But the older woman had stressed the importance of the task. Rebecca might discover a plot against the crown, a planned attack against one of the colonies, or at least evidence that the occupant of the room was a traitor and in the palace under false pretenses.

She found nothing. Riffling through every drawer, she found not one letter, not even a scrap of paper. The heroic zeal that had propelled her earlier had faded, leaving her feeling like a bloody thief.

She was closing the last drawer with a sigh when she heard the door suddenly open behind her. She wasn’t supposed to be caught! Sarah had given her no contingency plan for that!

“If you aren’t Nigel’s lover, you’re going to have a lot of explaining to do,” a deep male voice intoned.

Some of her panic subsided. It wasn’t the occupant of the room, just someone who knew him. But then she felt the weapon in her back and the panic returned in spades.

“You’ve made a mis—”

“A woman?” The man laughed and withdrew his weapon. “That’s priceless. Has you dress like a man, does he? I suppose whatever works.”

She didn’t quite understand what the fellow was going on about, but she did understand that he’d given her an excuse for being there. She just couldn’t bring herself to use it. She decided to take umbrage with his presence instead. Was this room a magnet for snoops?

“You are the one who needs to explain…what…”

She turned around as she spoke, but the words died in her throat. Him? The Angel. Raphael Locke’s cousin? For the fourth time, she was rendered dazzled and speechless in his presence. Like her, he was dressed for the ball in a costume from another century, though his costume was from the more recent past. He was dressed as a dandy in a satin coat and knee-high breeches in a powder blue that wasn’t quite as pale as his eyes. An abundance of white lace was at his cuffs and neck. His long black hair floated about his shoulders. He should probably have had a closer shave for the occasion. The foppish look wasn’t quite achieved with the dark stubble on his cheeks. He was a little too broad in the shoulders, too. She’d never noticed that before, but then she’d never been this close to him before, either. Usually, all she could do was stare at his handsome face openmouthed, just as she was now doing.

“Dazzled you, have I? Oh, come now,” he added with a distinct tone of impatience. “This reaction is typical of young
innocents, not sophisticated women of the world like you. Or am I mistaken?”

She couldn’t pull her thoughts together quickly enough to wonder what he was rambling about. His halo had arrived, an ethereal glow—or were her eyes just blinded by the bright satin of his coat?

“I’m going to make absolutely sure, you understand,” he explained before he reached out and gently squeezed each of her breasts.

That certainly brought Rebecca out of her daze. Aghast, she shoved him away from her only to have him slip his arm around her waist and bring her up hard against him.

“Thought that might work to bring you back to your senses,” he said with a chuckle.

“Let go,” she demanded rather breathlessly.

He shook his head slowly. “Let’s keep in mind who doesn’t belong here and who has the upper hand.” While his words sounded threatening, he was in fact grinning now. “And while we’re at it, let’s have a better look at what attracts a man of Nigel’s peculiar tastes.”

His hand touched her cheek. It was warm, hot actually, and not smooth like a dandy’s, but a little callused and wide. Slowly it moved up her cheek in a sensual caress that sent Rebecca into a head spin of dizziness. Fainting was a definite possibility. The Angel was embracing her? She’d never thought she’d even get close to him, let alone feel the whole length of him pressing against her body.

His hand continued moving upward until his fingers reached her hairline, then with one of them, he flicked her hat off. It tumbled to the floor behind her. A man’s hat, it hadn’t exactly fit her tightly. Her blond bangs tumbled down over her
brow. Flora had helped to conceal her hair, but not before she’d arranged it in her usual becoming coiffure.

“Well, well,” The Angel said.

His eyes were moving slowly over her face now that it was no longer shadowed by the brim of the hat. He didn’t seem the least bit amused now. And without the amusement, he didn’t seem quite so angelic either. Brought down to earth, as it were, he was just a man, and possibly—dangerous?
What
brought that to mind? The sudden hard glint in his pale blue eyes? The way he was holding her waist more tightly?

“You’re too pretty, and far too young, for Nigel,” he said, still gazing at her face. “Though I suppose with the right clothes that would lend itself to the appearance of a young boy. At least, thank God, you bear no resemblance to me. So the question becomes, are you a willing participant in this charade, luv?”

She had absolutely no idea what he was accusing her of now, but his assumption that she belonged there had gone on long enough. Quick-witted when she wasn’t bedazzled, she went on the offensive.

“I have no knowledge who this Nigel is that you keep mentioning, but you, sir, need to explain what you’re doing in Lady Sarah’s room. She sent me here for a scarf. I highly doubt she sent
you
here for something as well. So who are you and what are you doing here?”

“Rupert St. John,” he said in an absent manner while his eyes were still slowly perusing her face. Looking for the lie? He must not have been able to find it because he asked, “Do you really expect me to believe that you’ve stumbled into the wrong room?”

At last she had a name for The Angel, but he didn’t look
like a Rupert. No doubt he’d given her a false name, which she found quite annoying.

“You don’t look like a Rupert.”

Startled, he raised a black brow at her. “Dare I ask what I look like to you?”

“A hungry wolf.”

He didn’t laugh at the description, but he did abruptly release her. “Wolf, perhaps,” he said drily. “Hungry? Not at the moment.”

She had enough sense to guess she’d just been insulted. Had she touched a nerve perhaps? Good, because he was certainly touching too many of hers.

Regaining her balance after stumbling back from him, she went to straighten her skirt in an indignant manner, but forgot she wasn’t wearing one. How could she appear to be offended while she was wearing britches? She settled for grabbing the hat off the floor and shoving it back down on her head.

The very idea! Not hungry at the moment? As if she didn’t know he was implying she wasn’t to his taste.

He crossed his arms as he continued to stare at her. She didn’t fail to notice that he was standing between her and the door.

“Didn’t find a scarf, did you?” he said.

So he was going to test her excuse, look for flaws? “No, but then I’d barely begun to look for one when you barged in.”

“You won’t find one, either.”

“Nonsense. I was told precisely how many doors to count to know exactly which room to enter.”

“You’re in the wrong wing of the palace, m’dear—if you’re telling the truth. Sarah Wheeler, and, yes, I have no doubt that’s who sent you on this little errand, is quartered elsewhere.”

Rebecca hoped she looked suitably appalled. “You mean I owe you an apology?”

“Not me. It’s not my room, but you can be sure the owner will hear of your ‘mistake.’”

She sighed. “This is only my second day in the palace. I am not oriented yet with its layout. It was an honest mix-up.”

“Was it? Then no harm done. But don’t be surprised that now I must say, get the hell out of here.”

She blushed, nodded, and tried to hurry past him. He caught her arm for one last warning. “If we meet again in a place where you aren’t supposed to be, I will make assumptions more to
my
liking.”

“Excuse me?”

He let her go. “Run along, wench. You’re too young to understand.”

I
ADMIRE YOUR GUMPTION TO
wear a costume like that, ’deed I do,” Evelyn remarked as she walked over to join Rebecca. “But didn’t it occur to you that a woman in breeches isn’t likely to be asked to dance?”

They stood on the edge of the dance floor. The ballroom at Buckingham Palace was immense. With so many chandeliers lit, and so much gilt on the walls, the room sparkled brightly.

Rebecca hadn’t moved too far from the entrance, though. She’d been watching the door for Rupert St. John’s arrival while she waited for Lady Sarah to finish her conversation and come over to her. She’d tried to go directly to the lady to warn her that she’d been discovered, but a rude flick of Sarah’s hand had warned her not to interrupt.

Rebecca was nervous. The intrigue wasn’t over yet. Rupert wouldn’t be put off by any hand-flicking if he decided to question Sarah about the “scarf” excuse. So she really needed to talk to Sarah before he did.

“This costume wasn’t my idea,” Rebecca said in response to Evelyn’s question. “I neglected to bring one with me.”

“Let me guess. Elizabeth?” At Rebecca’s nod, Evelyn rolled her eyes. “She didn’t tell you about the costume room, did she? We have access to all sorts of paraphernalia to create a great many different costumes. Why, there must be five shepherdess crooks hanging up in there,” she added, tapping the one in her hand on the floor.

Learning about the costume room, Rebecca should have got angry, but she was currently too nervous for any other emotion to take precedence.

“I suppose you could dance with me,” Evelyn said with a giggle.

Rebecca grinned. She couldn’t really imagine a man asking her to dance either, now that she thought of it, not with both of them wearing breeches. The poor chap would be far too embarrassed, she was sure.

But dancing was the least of her concerns. “It’s all right,” she said. “There will be other balls.”

She actually wasn’t displeased with her costume. At least it was unique, dashingly so in her opinion. Most of the other guests were wearing duplicates of the same costumes. Two shepherdesses had danced by while she’d been standing there talking to Evelyn, who was also dressed as a shepherdess. And Rebecca must have seen at least four gentlemen made up to look like pirates.

Rupert still hadn’t arrived. Perhaps he wasn’t coming to the ball. Perhaps he was only in the palace to spy and was wearing the dandy costume to look as if he belonged here tonight. What was she thinking? He was a member of the Locke family. He couldn’t be a spy. She’d seen him in the palace yesterday, too, and he’d been dressed normally.

It was regrettable that she’d met him for the first time under
these awkward circumstances, it really was. But what was he doing in that fellow’s room? The same thing she’d been doing?

Rebecca paled slightly at the realization that she’d made some wild assumptions about Rupert based on the task she’d been sent to do. Sarah had never told her why she was to search that room, only that it was important. But important to whom?

“Shall we walk?” Sarah said as she approached Rebecca, giving a nod to Evelyn to excuse them.

Rebecca wasn’t given much choice in the matter, since the lady put her arm through hers and led her to the back of the crowd. Sarah hadn’t donned a costume for tonight, just a black domino mask.

“What do you have for me?” Sarah asked eagerly.

“The information that I was discovered.”

Sarah stopped abruptly. “By whom? A servant?”

“No. But he seemed to be well acquainted with the man who lives in the room. However, I had already made my search and found nothing of interest. The room was very neat. I would have thought no one occupied it, if I hadn’t found clothes neatly folded in the bureau.”

Sarah appeared a bit excited about that piece of information. “If it wasn’t a servant, it must have been the agent Nigel was expecting. That would account for his not calling the guard on you, which I assume didn’t happen?” When Rebecca shook her head, Sarah nodded. “I need to know who he is. I don’t suppose he gave you his name?”

Rebecca didn’t hesitate even a second. “No,” she lied. She didn’t feel guilty about it either. Whether the name Rupert gave her was accurate or false, she wasn’t about to brand The Angel as “Nigel’s agent,” whatever that suggested, unless she knew for a fact that he was up to no good. He was related to the Duke of
Norford, after all! He couldn’t be up to anything nefarious or traitorous.

“A description of him will do just as well. What did he look like?”

An Angel, Rebecca thought, managing not to grin. She wasn’t sure why she was determined to protect Rupert St. John, if that was even his real name, but she was.

“I’d like to be helpful, Lady Sarah, but he was in complete disguise, dressed for the ball tonight. I’ve been watching for the exact costume he was wearing and I haven’t seen it yet. But that wouldn’t be conclusive since he wore a monk’s robe with a hood, and a full face mask. His hair was hidden under the hood, and his eyes were shadowed under the mask. He was even of average height. If he changed his costume, he could stand next to me and I wouldn’t know it. Or someone else could arrive wearing the same costume. Considering this is a night for hidden identities, it was a perfect time for him to come to the palace, I suppose.”

Sarah mumbled something under her breath, then said more loudly, “Total waste of time. If you had used your wits, you would have gotten that mask off of him so that you could recognize him if you saw him again.”

Incredulous, Rebecca replied, “I was lucky enough to get out of there with the excuse I used, so how could I have done that?”

“You could have used your wiles and got him to remove the mask to kiss you, that’s how. Or are you really so innocent that you don’t know how easy that would have been, a pretty girl like you?”

Rebecca didn’t respond immediately. She got caught up in the image of being kissed by
him,
which was quite easy to
envision since he’d held her so closely in his arms. It really was too bad she didn’t possess those wiles Sarah was talking about…

“Answer me!” Sarah snapped.

Rebecca pushed the image away, realizing just how angry Sarah had become. Over what? Rebecca’s lack of worldly wiles? She was
supposed
to be lacking in that regard!

She felt herself getting angry. Was this how Sarah got the other maids of honor to do her bidding? By browbeating them and making them feel like complete incompetents? With displays of anger to make them think they’d lose their post if they didn’t jump to do her bidding? If anyone should lose her post, it was Sarah Wheeler. Rebecca had a feeling the woman far overstepped her authority.

“I’m not so innocent that I don’t know that kissing perfect strangers is not one of my duties here at court, Lady Sarah. I was apprised of what this post entails, and playing the thief was not part of the description either. Perhaps we should take this matter up with the queen.”

Sarah’s face turned livid. “Are you daring to threaten me?”

“Threaten?” Rebecca feigned a wide-eyed look. “Surely you have Her Majesty’s approval to use the maids in this manner. So why would you see it as a threat? But perhaps I overreacted. I wouldn’t presume to bother the queen with anything this sordid. And I’m aware that the duchess wouldn’t understand me if I spoke to her. But…”

She didn’t really need to mention the names of powerful people such as the prime minister who were acquainted with her mother. Sarah had gotten the idea and was still enraged about it. But Rebecca had probably gone too far. The woman would no doubt have her dismissed in the morning, which was going to so disappoint Lilly…

Rebecca sighed and said, “What you have just witnessed is my reaction to feeling like a criminal tonight. I apologize. But if you need to enlist spies for the kingdom, you will have to find someone more heroic next time.”

“I see,” Sarah said, and pursed her thin lips. “Useless as well as incompetent, but what more can one expect of someone barely out of the schoolroom.”

“Precisely,” Rebecca replied stiffly. Good grief, making peace merely invited more insults? “By the by, if you should be asked if you sent someone after a scarf tonight, I would suggest you say yes.”

Sarah gasped. “My God, you didn’t really use my name, did you?”

“The only excuse I had for being in a room I had no business being in was to take umbrage with the fellow who found me there and demand to know what he was doing in
your
room. I forced him to convince me that I was in the wrong room. So my presence there appeared to be no more than a mistake.”

“He actually believed you?”

“I’m rather good at taking umbrage.”

Sarah almost laughed, having just come under the fire of that umbrage herself. “Very well, perhaps you’re not so incompetent after all. But next time—”

Rebecca abruptly cut in, “There isn’t going to be a next time, not unless you provide me with a good reason to run one of your errands. Perhaps if you told me more about what tonight’s errand was about? Is the queen’s life in danger? Is there some plot afoot that requires these unusual measures? I cannot believe that our kingdom doesn’t have people trained for this sort of mission.”

“Certainly there are such people, but they can’t be used for such trivial matters as this.”

“Trivial?” Rebecca frowned. “You said this was important,
gravely
important to be precise.”

“Important to me,” Sarah snapped, and marched off.

Rebecca was left dumbfounded. So her main assumption tonight had been false, too? There was nothing even remotely heroic about what she’d done? She was beginning to not like living in the palace.