To Rescue a Rogue (19 page)

I
n the library, Dare eyed his friend, considering how to stave off a physical attack without doing too much damage. His training with Ruyuan had made him dangerous.

Simon, however, ran a hand through his hair. “Did you ask her to marry you?”

“How can I say no and still be a gentleman?”

“So you didn't. She needs whipping.”

Simon wasn't serious, but even so, rage stirred. “No. And don't berate her, either.”

“She's my sister.”

“And my betrothed.”

“You're going to let her do that to you?”

Dare laughed. “Accept imposed heaven?”

Simon stared. “You love Mara?”

“Is it such an impossible notion? I'm sure men have been falling in love with her since she left the schoolroom. I'm the fortunate one she claims to love in return.”

Simon's eyes narrowed. “Are you being honorable?”

“I hope always to be honorable, but in this case, no. I had no intention of coming this far this soon, but I precipitated this. Seeing her the center of attention”—he paused, trying to make sense—“I was suddenly very afraid that some other man might snap her up before I had the chance. So I asked her to wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“Wait for me to be free of the beast.”

“And if you don't break free, you'd let her go?”

Dare turned away. “I would have to. If I can't free myself soon, I doubt I ever will.”

“That's no reason—”

Dare turned back. “Yes, it is. It would be a crime against heaven.”

Simon sighed. “I'm not having Mara labeled a jilt, so the betrothal must remain private.”

“Of course.”

“Dare, you know there's no one I'd rather welcome into the family.” Simon made himself say the words. “Even opium addicted.”

“I think I'd rather slit my throat than take opium at Brideswell.”

“That's nonsense. It's in Mother's medical chest.”

“You know what I mean. It's a daily defilement.”

It was too close to noon for this. Body and mind were turning restless, making it hard to think. Or to think of anything but the ease the beast could bring. He poured brandy for himself and Simon. Sometimes it acted as a substitute, for a while.

“I am going to return to Long Chart as soon as Marlowe House is ready for you,” he said. “This visit to Town isn't serving as I'd hoped.”

Simon drank some brandy, watching him with burdensome concern. “What did you hope for?”

“I'm not sure anymore.” Brandy burned down, a distraction for mind and gut. “To escape a place where everyone was so damnably considerate of me. To test my ability to be with strangers. To test my control where opium is available everywhere.”

“All those have worked.”

Dare drained the glass and refilled it. “There's another problem.”

“What?” Simon asked.

“Didn't you notice how some people avoided us after church?”

“Because of Blanche, I assume. Not a good sign.”

“Because of me.”

“Because of opium? That makes no sense.”

The glass was empty again, but more wouldn't achieve anything except embarrassment. “That and my mysterious absence. My association with a dubious woman.”

“What dubious woman? As far as the ton is concerned, you were cared for by a respectable Belgian widow.”

“Who is not here to bolster the story. Many wonder why it took so long for me to contact my family. We've claimed I was unaware of my identity all that time, but it's hard to swallow. Now I'm wondering if it's leaked out that my rescuer was The´re`se Bellaire.

There are plenty of men who remember her brief but brilliant sojourn in London.”

“Ran the best brothel the town's ever known. I'm sorry to have missed that.”

“Don't be.”

Simon winced. “Sorry. Scene of Nicholas's journey to hell, I know. But I don't see how that can be known.”

“Which leaves us with a general belief that I didn't return because I was happily addled with opium. Which, leaving aside the happily, is mostly true.”

Simon looked at his glass and put it aside. “Don't you want to stay in Town until we decide what to do about Blanche? It's clear there's a bit of a challenge.”

“What good can I be?” But Dare shrugged. “Very well. I'll do what I can while I'm here. God knows, the Rogues have done much for me. But I must go. This is another reason, Simon. My times of true sanity and civility are very limited.”

 

Mara had no taste for dealing with her brother just yet, so once she'd shed her outer clothing, she picked up the piece of paper with Chinese writing on it and went in search of Dare's Chinese friend. In daylight it seemed easier to find the right door.

The man who opened the door was dressed in the red monk's robe, and like the figurine was completely bald. He wasn't old, however, and his height and broad shoulders suggested strength. He had steady slanted eyes in a rugged, wide face.

Mara stepped back, suddenly nervous.

“I may help you?” he said.

“I'm Lady Mara St. Bride. I'm staying here.”

“I am aware, my lady. May I help you?”

He wasn't inviting her into his room, which was hardly surprising, and Mara wasn't sure she'd want to go in, but she felt awkward hovering in the corridor. She offered the paper. “I received this. I wondered if you could translate it. I think it's Chinese. Are you Chinese?”

He took the paper. “I am, my lady.”

He was addressing her correctly and Mara hadn't been as polite. “I'm sorry, sir, but I don't know the correct way to address you. Mr. Yan?”

“My name is Feng Ruyuan,” he said, showing no upset at her mistake. “In my country the first name is the last. Thus in your usage I am Mr. Feng.”

Mara dipped a curtsy. “Then thank you, Mr. Feng.”

He smiled and looked at the writing. “Who wrote this note to you, my lady?”

“A merchant.”

“Are you promised in marriage to him?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then be wary. This message says,
‘Have this made into a robe, my love, in preparation for our wedding night.'”

Heat swept up Mara's body into her face and she snatched the note back. “Thank you! Please, you won't speak of this?”

“This moment never occurred, my lady. But that is not a suitable message from any man except your promised husband.”

He was right, but she
was
promised in marriage to the sender. It had to have come from Dare!

Mara hurried back to her room, even doing a little dance in the corridor. Dare must have asked Laura or Serena about something she'd seemed to want and not bought. The wondrous thing was that he'd been thinking of marriage before they'd left for church. She hadn't forced or tricked him into anything!

Then she remembered Simon. She still couldn't deal with him right now, so she rolled the paper into a tube and slid it between her breasts and slipped upstairs to the nursery.

She enjoyed her time with Delphie and Pierre—soon to be her stepchildren—but couldn't hide forever. She went down to lunch braced for battle, but the meal passed peacefully enough. Jancy talked calmly of commonplace things, Simon didn't refer to the betrothal, and Dare didn't appear.

That daunted her spirits, but she was sure he'd recover.

Afterward, they left to visit Ella and George. Mara enjoyed her sister's company and playing with little Amy, though it reminded her of Ella's objections to Dare's children.

That would end when they were Mara's stepchildren. No one in the family would tolerate exclusion. The marriage would be so good for Pierre and Delphie. Everyone would adore Delphie, and Pierre would revel in the flock of noisy male St. Brides.

Her relaxation shattered when Major Berkstead entered the room. She had been vaguely aware of the footman coming to say that someone had called, but had been absorbed in dressing a doll with Amy.

Caught sitting on the floor, she flashed a look at Ella, who winced back. George must have invited him up. Mara decided to stay where she was so Berkstead couldn't sit by her.

She did her best to ignore him, but he persistently addressed questions to her. When talking about international affairs, he said, “The blessings of peace. Wouldn't you agree, Lady Mara?”

Attention focused on a tiny bonnet, Mara replied, “Peace must always be a blessing, Major.”

Conversation moved on to fish. “Like a piece of Scotch haddock myself. What's your favorite fish, Lady Mara?”

Mara looked at him and lied. “Eel.”

He beamed. “Very tasty, eel. Did you enjoy the play the other night, Lady Mara?”

The wretch was daring to remind her of that message.

“I thought it ridiculous,” she said pointedly.

His expression flickered. “Perhaps you prefer tragedy. Star-crossed lovers.”

“I think Romeo and Juliet a sad waste of two young lives.”

“Indeed,” Ella interrupted. “Thank heavens such things no longer happen. More tea, Major?”

Berkstead allowed her to refill his cup, but his attention remained on Mara. “Do you agree, Lady Mara, that true lovers cannot be kept apart in our modern age?”

He was speaking of them. She tried to form a message that would penetrate his thick skull. “I do, Major. Those who love deeply enough have only to wait until they come of age.”

“And before that,” he said, “there is Gretna.”

“Don't speak of such scandalous goings on!” Ella commanded and directed conversation firmly onto the new exhibition of sculptures in artificial stone.

Mara returned her attention to little Amy, but winced at having let Berkstead trap her into conversation. She simply wasn't good at being rude. But did he really imagine she would climb down a ladder in the night to run off to Scotland with him?

She sent an urgent appeal to Jancy, and soon they were taking their leave. In the carriage, Simon chuckled. “Another suitor, Mara?”

“He was one reason I was eager to leave Ella's house. The man believes himself in love with me.”

“That's not uncommon.”

“But he believes me in love with him! He chooses to see us as Romeo and Juliet, thwarted by my cruel parents, who forbid me to marry far from home.”

“What gave him that idea?”

Mara hoped any blushes were taken as agitation. “He proposed and wouldn't take no. So I offered that as explanation—you know it's more or less true. So now we're star-crossed lovers.”

“Poor Mara,” Jancy said, but she was fighting laughter.

“It is funny. I see that, but it's a tiresome trial.”

Simon said, “I'm surprised he hasn't called at Yeovil House if he's so besotted.”

Mara put on a bland expression. “He doesn't know Dare.”

“Berkstead said something about encountering Dare in the run-up to Waterloo. But if not, knowing you would be excuse enough.”

Did Simon suspect anything? He'd never suspect the truth.

“I hoped he'd realized his cause was hopeless,” Mara said.

“A man in love is rarely sane.”

Mara hoped that was the end of it, and in a way it was, but Simon added, “Dare's home is in Somerset. Almost as far away as Northumberland.”

She'd stumbled into the discussion with Simon she'd been avoiding, but he seemed calm about it. “He intends to buy an estate near Brideswell.”

Then she realized they'd never discussed such a thing.

“Fair enough,” Simon said, “but he could inherit the dukedom.”

“Gravenham has two boys already.”

“Stranger things have happened. Look at the way Father became Earl of Marlowe. Besides, if anything should happen to Gravenham, Dare might feel obliged to move back to Long Chart to help raise his nephews, especially if the duke dies.”

“Stop predicting disasters!” Mara exclaimed.

“It's not impossible,” Simon said. “How would you feel in that situation?”

It took only a moment's thought. “Dare would need me even more.”

Simon nodded and the debate seemed over.

“Did I do wrong, Simon? He did ask me to wait for him. Isn't that the same as asking me to marry him?”

“Not quite, but he wants you as much as you want him. Tread carefully, however. Stress and strain seems to make everything harder for him right now. The sooner we move to Marlowe House, the better. We'll stop by and see how things are.”