Claimed by the Rogue (19 page)

She paused for a moment. “I suppose I…listened.”

“You listened?”
 

She nodded. “I did.”

Robert gestured to the space beside him. “This trunk is broad enough for the both of us. Why not share it with me?” She hesitated and then scooted back to join him. “Better, thank you.” Gaze holding hers, he swallowed hard. “Go on, I’m listening now.”

She released a heavy sigh. “Sometimes I feel as if all I ever do is fight—with Mama, with the hospital governors and now with you.”

Liking the casual intimacy of her shoulder resting beside his, he said, “It doesn’t have to be that way. Why not call a permanent truce and start afresh?”

She shook her head. “You’ve always possessed a talent for making matters sound simple, when they’re not.”

In six months, a year at most…

He stiffened. “And you for making them out to be far more fuss than they need be.”

For a fleeting moment he thought she might reach for the pitcher of lemon water and upend it over his head, but then her features relaxed. Instead, she rested her head back against the tree and sighed. “Oh, dear, we’re fighting like cats again. What has it been, all of forty minutes?”

Robert reached for his timepiece, pretending to consult it. “More like thirty to my reckoning. Shall we try this again?” At her nod, he lifted his water glass from the grass. “A toast—to friendship renewed.”
 

“To friendship.” She touched her tumbler to his and took a sip. Setting the water aside, she said, “But mind you, anything more is out of the question.”

“I shall lower my expectations accordingly.” Was she, like him, thinking of the other day’s near kiss? He bloody well hoped so. But as he couldn’t very well kiss her here before an audience, sparring would serve as a close second best.

She hesitated. “Seriously, if we’re to be friends, we should agree upon some ground rules.”

He felt his smile slip. Rogues and rules hardly went fist-in-glove. “What have you in mind?”

Clearly she’d given the subject considerable thought, for she didn’t so much as pause but launched directly in. “Firstly there shall be no kissing.”

So she was indeed still thinking of their near embrace—excellent! “Very well, I agree not to
initiate
kissing you.”

“Secondly, heretofore there shall be no speaking of the past—
our
past.”

“That suits me well enough. I’m far more interested in the future—ours.”

Ignoring that remark, she continued, “Lastly, there shall be no provoking a quarrel with Aristide.”

At the mention of the bilge rat’s name, Robert felt his blood boil. “I quarrel with him! ’Tis he who—”

“He and I are to marry,” Phoebe put in reasonably, so reasonably that he could not possibly argue. “If you are sincere in seeking my friendship, you must honor him as my intended—and my choice.”

Despite the muscle ticking in his jaw, he nodded. “Very well, I shall not provoke a quarrel with Aristide—but should he see fit to challenge me, I shall see the thing through.” Were he to find a way to prove the Frenchman was behind the severing of his horse’s cinch, he would cede no quarter, none at all.

Seemingly satisfied, Phoebe nodded. “I suppose that shall serve.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “What, no other stipulations? Perhaps a provision for an armed guard to accompany us with orders to shoot me on the spot should I fall afoul of rules one, two or three?”

Her lips twitched as though she fought a smile. “Don’t tempt me.”

He cast a sidelong glance her way. Flatter himself though he might, he’d yet to see her so bright-eyed and pink-cheeked with Bouchart. More worrisome still was her fiancé’s suspect background and questionable character. A man who’d tamper with another’s tack couldn’t be trusted, certainly not as a husband.

“You know, ’tis oft said that those who craft rules do so in the main to govern themselves.” He’d made the remark purely to goad her, but belatedly it occurred to him it might be true.
 

Phoebe narrowed her eyes. “I have never heard that.”

“I suppose it’s just as well we’re having our picnic in plain view. You shan’t have to worry about trusting yourself alone with me.”

The tweak had the predictable—and desired—effect. Phoebe swiveled to face him, nearly bringing them to bump noses. “What a perfectly arrogant remark to make. In your years away, your good opinion of yourself seems to have grown apace with your hair.”

Rather than dispute it, Robert laughed. “The Bible counsels that the meek shall inherit the earth, but I’ve yet to see any evidence of it.”

“I can see you’ve added blasphemy to your heathen habits.” She glanced toward Caleb, still tearing about the lawn with the children. Changing the subject, she asked, “Should we perhaps make him a plate?”
 

Robert shook his head. “You’d only insult him. Taking care of me is his life’s purpose, at least until he feels he’s repaid his debt.”

“Is he indentured to you, then?”

Robert shook his head. “Where Caleb comes from, indenture as we know it doesn’t exist.”

Her gaze narrowed. “Don’t tell me he’s your…
slave
.” She pronounced the latter in a voice hushed by shock and rife with disapproval.
 

Her question pulled him from his good humor. “Trading in human flesh is the vilest of acts, altogether the very worst evil man visits on his fellow man. I’ve seen not only men but women and children too led near naked and chained to auction blocks in markets throughout the Orient. A prize horse at Tattersall’s is granted greater dignity, I assure you. Caleb stays with me of his own accord. Though he won’t accept wages for his services, I set aside a certain sum every month. When the time comes for him to strike out on his own, he will not do so as a pauper.”

She glanced back to Caleb, riding Fiona on his shoulder. “Why does he feel indebted?”

“I once helped him to escape…a very bad situation, and he believes he owes me his life.”

“Does he speak any English?”

Robert hesitated. “Speak it, no, but I believe he comprehends quite a bit.”

“What is his native tongue?”

“None now.”

Phoebe’s eyes snapped back at him. “I may not have traveled farther than Scotland, but that does not make me an ignoramus. All humans have a spoken language. I’m certain Caleb’s people are no exception.”

“He was brought up speaking Persian as well as some Hindi and Malagasy, but he hasn’t uttered a word of either in years.”

She cast him a quizzing look. “Did he take some sort of vow of silence?”

“Not quite.” Robert paused and then admitted, “He hasn’t a tongue.”

Her hand flew to her mouth, her eyes popping. “How awful!”

He let out a laugh. “There’s no need to hide the cheese knife. I wasn’t the one to cut it out.”

Dropping her hand, she said, “I never thought—”

“The devil you didn’t.”

“Well, perhaps for a moment,” she admitted. “That cutlass is a frightful-looking thing,” she added, casting a look to the blade he’d earlier removed and set within arm’s reach beside the blanket. “Must you still carry it?”

“London can be every whit as dangerous as Calcutta,” he said, thinking again of the other night’s
accident
. “And yet I’ve missed it, all of England, really.”

“What have you missed particularly?” she asked and her guileless gaze forestalled any hope he’d had that she might be fishing.

He pointed to the remains of the wedge of Stilton. “The food, for one.”

“Is there no cheese in India?”

“There’s no
English
cheese nor bacon nor Christmas pudding and a thousand other small things one takes for granted because they were always there—the way the spring air smells just after a rain shower, the crunch of snow beneath one’s boot soles.”

Leaning forward, she rested her chin on tented knees. “But only think of all the exotic sights you’ve experienced, people and places that most of us only know through newspapers and books.” Her wistfulness wasn’t lost on him nor had he forgotten the grand plans they once had made.

“The East is a different world entirely, beautiful in its way, but brutal too.”
 

“I’d like to see it someday,” she said, turning back to look at him.

Looking into her lovely face, for this moment as open as those of the children playing upon the lawn, it occurred to him that the present moment presented the ripe opportunity for which he’d been waiting. He should snatch his chance and snare her with bedazzling tales of swashbuckling exploits, and then reel her in like the prize carp that as a boy he’d caught fishing with his father and Chelsea at Framfield. Though their father had sworn it was vain waste, in the end he’d let Robert mount the blasted thing on the study wall rather than turn it over to their cook. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. For all those daring adventures and golden moments were intertwined, painfully and inextricably, with the horror and the humiliation.

“The sky is clouding.” He shifted onto his knees and made a show of dusting crumbs from his trousers. “If I recall anything about England, that means we should expect a shower at any moment.” Stiff-legged, he stood and offered her a hand.

She hesitated and then took it, her slim fingers threading through his as they’d used to. In light of the lovely lunch, the small gesture further buoyed his hopes that their bond might yet be repaired.
 

Gaining her feet, she abruptly let go and shook out her skirts. “I rather think I should be helping
you
up.”

“I’m not
that
bad.” He motioned to Caleb to come forward and begin repacking the hamper.

Looking on, Phoebe hesitated. “Before we go in, might I make a request?” She pressed a hand to her pocket, the unguarded action making him curious about what she might have in there.
 

“A favor, you mean?” he asked, wondering what she might want, hoping beyond all that it would prove within his power to provide.

“Very well, yes, a favor. Between
friends
,” she added pointedly.

“In that case, ask me anything.” Christ, if she’d expressed a desire for him to change out the sun for the moon, he’d give his bloody best to doing it.

She drew a deep breath. “If I asked you to escort me somewhere, somewhere a lady ought not to be seen, would you do it?”

The circus at Astley’s Amphitheatre, the pleasure gardens of Cremorne and Vauxhall and the seller stalls at Bond Street Bazaar had been her preferred haunts six years ago. Clearly this time she had something more serious than a pleasure jaunt in mind.

Intrigued, he answered, “Where is it you wish to go?”

Her dubious look sent his heart sinking, for it confirmed her trust was not yet his. “First I’ll have your word that you’ll take me—and without telling.”

That didn’t sound good. Still, Robert nodded. “Name your pleasure, milady. By now you must know that your wish is my command.”

“What business can you possibly have at a fish market?” Robert demanded, seated on the carriage seat opposite Phoebe. In the spirit of prudence, she’d waited to reveal their destination until they’d passed through the Hospital’s arcaded entrance.

“My own.” Now that they were underway, she subsided back against the leather squab.
 

He choked back a laugh. “Fair enough, but why so secretive? Once we arrive, I shall discover it soon enough.” His gaze darkened. “If I find that Frog fiancé of yours has sent you to do his bidding, I’ll have Caleb turn the carriage straight about.”
 

Rather than be cowed, she chuckled. Really, he had the most absurd fancies sometimes. “I very much doubt that Aristide has ventured east of the Strand—he has men for that—and he certainly wouldn’t sanction my doing so. I am his betrothed, not his lackey.”

He didn’t bother to conceal his relief—or his triumph. “In that case, wild horses could not keep me from accompanying you.”

She hesitated. “By the by, are you still paying for my time?”

“Cheeky chit. Yes, your orphans will have their hundred pounds and you your pound of flesh from me.” He grinned, his pirate’s smile crinkling the tanned flesh at the corners of his eyes. “Only mind you don’t repeat our arrangement in public. One of us still has a reputation to uphold.”

“No thanks to you,” she couldn’t resist pointing out.
 

He answered with a laugh and then leaned forward, close enough that she could all but taste the anise he’d taken following lunch. The prospect of savoring its flavor in a kiss stoked a tingling heat low in her belly. “But mind I’ve upheld my part to take you anywhere you might wish even though ere now you’d kept me in the dark as to our destination. Will you not return my faith in kind and at least tell me why we’re bound there?”

Meeting his earnest eyes, Phoebe relented. “I promised one of my students I would see a letter delivered to her mother.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that what the mail coaches are for?”

“Even within the city proper, paying the postage required to receive a letter by Royal Mail is beyond the means of many.”