To Tempt A Rogue (5 page)

McTate's face lit with concern. “Is your uncle mistreating them?”

“Worse. He is completely indifferent to them. To their needs, to their grief, to their feelings. I believe that eventually his neglect will cause them all actual harm.”

Duncan McTate let out a long, low whistle. “Saints preserve us, laddie, you sound like an old woman, worrying about the
feelings
of a bunch of children.”

“They are not just a bunch of children. They are Robert's son and two daughters. My brother's dying wish was that I care for them, and so help me I shall do everything within my power to fulfill that promise.”

Nathaniel stared hard at the Scotsman and felt his stomach plummet with frustration. If he could not make a friend like McTate understand how important this was, what chance did he have of convincing a magistrate?

Lord Avery's stare turned to one of exasperation. “You aren't saying anything.”

Duncan stroked his chiseled jaw. “I'm just trying to imagine you caring for a trio of children. Two of them
female,
no less.”

The quip brought a smile to Nathaniel's face and the tension drained from the room. Lord Avery picked up the wine bottle and refilled both goblets.

“Is your uncle keeping you from seeing the wee ones?” McTate asked as he shifted to expose more of his body to the warm fire.

“No. I visit them every afternoon in their nursery. It is hardly an ideal situation, but when the weather improves I plan on taking them on outings to the park and around town. Perhaps such adventures will put small smiles back on their faces.”

“It doesn't sound so dire.” Duncan idly swirled his glass. “Visiting them most days and bringing a bit of cheer and caring into their young hearts. If you want my opinion, I think you are making too much of who has legal custody. Let them remain Bridwell's problem. 'Tis more important for you to be a presence in their lives. And if your uncle knows you are keeping a close watch on him, he might be forced to act in a manner more appropriate for a guardian.”

Nathaniel took a long moment to think hard upon the words. Why not just let things stand as they were? His uncle would not be so foolish as to physically harm the children. Thus far Lord Bridwell had voiced no objections to Nathaniel's daily visits and if he kept a close eye on the estate finances, Nathaniel could ensure that the money would be there when the children came of age.

This court battle was proving to be a far more lengthy and costly endeavor than Lord Avery anticipated. And the outcome of a victory was far from assured, especially without the will that supported his claim of guardianship. McTate's advice was sound, yet the idea of abandoning those three helpless souls to Lord Bridwell's care did not sit well.

Nathaniel's throat tightened. If the situation were reversed, if it were his children who were suddenly orphans that were under the protection of a guardian who cared so little for them, what would his brother have done?

Nathaniel shook his head slowly, knowing in his heart the answer. Robert would have intervened. Without hesitation, he would have taken the children into his home and nurtured them as his own.

Could he do no less for Robert's progeny? “Letting Bridwell remain in control is the coward's way out,” Nathaniel insisted. “Besides, he might one day take it into his head to deny me access to the children and I'll have no way of stopping him. I believe the only way to secure their future is to establish myself as the legal guardian as soon as possible.”

McTate frowned. “If your uncle has no real regard or feeling for the children, why does he want them so badly? What's he really after?”

“Their money,” Nathaniel said bluntly. “Along with the power and prestige of being in control of the Claridge fortune. As a second son myself, I can honestly say I never gave my position much thought since I had been given the lesser family title of Baron Avery as a young boy, just as my uncle had been made Lord Bridwell when he was a lad. Both titles come with generous incomes and more noble prestige than either of us probably deserve. It was therefore doubly shocking for me to discover how deeply my uncle resents being a second son.”

Suddenly alert, McTate sat up in his chair. “Could your nephew, young Gregory, be in any danger?”

Lord Avery paused. “Physical danger?”

“You said your uncle resents being a second son. What lengths do you think he is willing to go to become Duke of Claridge?”

Nathaniel swore loudly. “Good God, I never even thought of the title. If Robert died without an heir, then I would have become duke. I assume if Robert's heir dies without issue the title reverts to me. Though I suppose my uncle could try to lay claim to it.”

“Yet another reason for your uncle to see you as an obstacle he needs to remove,” McTate retorted. “Of course, if he is as enterprising as he seems, and truly does covet the title, he would need to dispose of both you and your nephew.”

Nathaniel's heart pounded in his chest. “Bloody hell, McTate, now you've given me a new worry.”

The Scotsman shrugged. “I am merely watching your back, my friend. 'Tis a farfetched idea that Lord Bridwell would go to such lengths, then again, who can say with certainty what lies in a man's heart? Especially an Englishman. History is filled with examples of familial genocide. That rascal King Richard came to the throne only after imprisoning his two nephews, Prince Edward and the Duke of York, in the Garden Tower.

“Richard was too clever to kill them outright, so at first the lads were seen from time to time playing together through the bars and windows of the tower. Gradually they appeared less and less, and within a few weeks disappeared forever. Though many suspected what had occurred, no one challenged the king. The truth was not revealed until two hundred years later when the bones of two young boys were found buried at the foot of the tower stairs, under a great heap of stones.”

“Richard murdered those children so he could become king,” Nathaniel said wryly. “There is great wealth in my family estate, but it is hardly the crown of England.”

The Scotsman blinked. “Perhaps my imagination has gotten the better of me. Yet I would be a poor friend indeed if I did not advise you to be extra vigilant.”

Nathaniel knew McTate was offering sincere and prudent advice, but he wished the subject had never been broached, for it merely added to his growing list of concerns. “Once I win my case, all these problems will simply vanish,” Lord Avery said with a confidence he did not truly feel.

“Aye, now, that might be your biggest mistake of all. Placing your faith in English law.” McTate let out a huge, exaggerated sigh. “If you're as smart as I think you are, you'll take some advice from a Scot. Don't be waiting around for the courts to hand those children over to you, all neat and pretty and tied with a big bow. Go out and take them.”

Lord Avery gasped. “What?”

“You heard me. Take them. Steal them. Right out from under Lord Bridwell's nose.”

“Are you out of your mind? Or just drunk?” McTate furrowed his brow as though he was giving the questions serious thought. “I suppose I'm a bit of both, but that doesn't make it a poor idea.”

“ 'Tis a wholly ludicrous notion.”

“Why? My people are raiders and reivers. We have lived that way, successfully, for generations. If a neighboring clan has something that is rightfully yours and they refuse to return it, you steal it back.”

Nathaniel put down his half-full wine goblet, deciding he had already had more than enough to drink. He was tempted to reach over and remove the glass from Duncan's strong hands, but decided that would not be a prudent move. “We are talking about three young children, McTate, not cattle.”

The Scotsman looked startled. “I don't see all that much difference.”

Lord Avery began pacing, his long legs taking lengthy strides back and forth across the carpet. “Let us say that for a moment, a very brief moment, I am considering this plan. What then am I supposed to do when my uncle shows up on my doorstep demanding that I return his wards? Or worse, what if he brings a constable and insists that I am arrested and hauled off to Newgate? Even if I manage to circumvent the full force of the law, I will never be seen as a fit guardian if I pull such an outrageous stunt.”

“Aye, it's a risky move, there's no getting around it. But I believe if the courts thought you a fit guardian in the first place, your petition would have been considered more seriously. You said yourself that even with bribes you were unable to gain temporary custody.” McTate's eyes narrowed as a crafty expression illuminated his handsome features. “And your uncle can hardly have you arrested or get the children back if he can't find them.”

Nathaniel halted suddenly and pivoted around on his heel. “Are you suggesting we go into hiding? Like criminals?”

McTate leaned back in his chair. “I am suggesting that once you take matters into your own hands you must make certain to keep all the advantages on your side. Lord Bridwell will most likely not raise a hue and cry if you take the children from him because it will make him appear a weak and incompetent guardian.

“Hell, if he is as neglectful of the children as you say, he might not even notice they are gone from the mansion for several days. Especially if we can devise and execute a well thought out plan that will ensure the silence of several key members of the household staff.”

Nathaniel's mouth tightened. Though he spoke in a calm, casual tone, Lord Avery knew McTate was completely serious. But could such a drastic plan really succeed?

“The children would be terrified if a stranger snatched them away,” Nathaniel said slowly.

“I agree. That is why you must be the one to take them from the house. They know and trust you and will come without any fuss or bother.”

“So I am to be the kidnapper?”

“It makes the most sense.”

Conversely, it did. The knot in Nathaniel's stomach doubled in size. He would far prefer to do things in a legal, civilized manner, but if the courts ruled against him, there would be few choices left.

“Once I have the children in hand, where would we go?”

McTate's smile flashed white against his bronzed, weathered face. “I have a small, little-used property in the Highlands that will be the perfect place for all of you to reside. I guarantee that neither Bridwell, nor anyone he hires, will find you there. I'll even provide the servants, and a skilled governess, to care for the children.”

“Then what?”

“After the dust settles a bit, you strike a bargain with your uncle. I suspect once he realizes you have the upper hand, he will be far more inclined to listen to reason.” McTate flashed another devilish, dangerous smile. “ 'Tis all very simple. Just say the word and I'll help you set everything in motion.”

Simple? McTate's plan was convoluted, dangerous, and diabolically clever. Nathaniel's often sleeping conscience balked at the idea of employing such drastic, underhanded methods to obtain his goal. Yet he admitted that deep down, a small, mad part of him was seriously considering it.

In addition to the family, it seemed as though every servant, including the butler, housekeeper, a host of maids, footmen, and grooms, were present in the front courtyard of Hawthorne Castle to see Miss Harriet off and wish her well on her journey. The sky was cloudless, the sun was shining, the air felt brisk and invigorating. It was a good day for traveling.

Harriet shook hands with each servant, accepting their good wishes with a gracious smile. Pulling on her gloves, she then headed toward the carriage where the family had gathered to say their good-byes.

“I still cannot believe you are really leaving,” Elizabeth said in a small voice. “And going all the way to northern Scotland. Gracious, 'tis practically on the edge of the world.”

“It could have been worse, dear sister,” Harriet said as she smoothed a stray blond curl from Elizabeth's cheek. “I might be bound for Ireland.”

Elizabeth's eyes widened in horror. “I do not understand how you can be so glib about this, Harriet. I would be filled with utter terror at the thought of leaving home and taking up employment in an unknown household.”

“I know.” Harriet rested her hands gently on Elizabeth's fragile shoulders. “But I am excited about this chance to experience life beyond our small village. Please, you must remember this was my choice.”

Elizabeth lowered her chin. “I shall miss you very much,” she said, her voice tight with emotion. “Promise me you will not stay away too long?”

“I shall be back before you even realize I have been gone,” Harriet replied. “Now, don't get sloppy and sentimental, dear sister, or else Griffin will start blubbering in front of the servants.”

The corner of the viscount's eyes crinkled as he forced a smile. He leaned over and caught Harriet in a large brotherly hug. “You have no earthly idea how difficult it is for me to let you go,” he whispered in her ear. “I have been persuaded to allow this tomfoolery only because you insist it will bring you a measure of contentment. But you must give me your oath that you will return immediately if you experience any problems.

“Though you are loath to admit it, there are some difficulties that cannot be overcome by sheer effort of will, even with such a strong will as yours.”

“I shall be prudent and cautious as I undertake this new venture,” Harriet replied, frowning at the slight trembling of fear she felt in her chest.

Two days ago she had felt exhilarated and optimistic as she packed her bags. Yet as she stood in the courtyard, surrounded by all those who were familiar and dear to her, Harriet's heart began to thump. She had never expected it would be so difficult to say her good-byes.

Except for a brief and most unhappy few months in London, she had never lived anywhere else. Was she being foolhardy to undertake such a drastic change in her life? Harriet clutched the reticule that held the letter offering her the job of governess to the three wards of Mr. Wainwright and wrestled with her doubts.

Thanks to the efforts of the local vicar, this position was found, and accepted, in short order. The vicar had kindly and generously spread the word among his many friends and relatives and his efforts were rewarded with a letter from a distant cousin in Scotland who knew of a wealthy merchant class family in desperate need of a qualified governess. Harriet could hardly believe her good fortune when she heard the details, for this was precisely the sort of opportunity she had been hoping to find.

Away from England, away from society, away from the nobility. She could make a fresh start, where no one knew of her past, where she need not fear being laughed at, or scorned, or worst of all pitied because of a broken engagement and a disreputable ex-fiancé.

There were other benefits as well. Harriet very much liked the fact that she would have several charges to care for, specifically two girls and younger boy. Her experience with her nephew Georgie made her comfortable with the notion of coping with little boys, since she felt she understood them. Certainly far more than she understood grown-up boys.

Having girls to guide would bring balance and variety to her days. And best of all, they were Mr. Wainwright's wards, not his natural children, so his interest in their welfare should be limited. That would leave Harriet in nearly complete charge, a position she felt suited her best.

Two girls and a boy. A long time ago, in what now seemed like a different life, she had yearned to have four children of her own. She had dared to dream of raising two boys and two girls, if the Lord had seen fit to bless her.

The begetting of those children had also been something to look forward to with excitement and curiosity. Her ex-fiancé Julian had been very miserly with his kisses, yet Harriet had remembered, and cherished, each and every one with nearly reverent clarity.

The soft brush of his gentle lips against her own on the afternoon when she agreed to be his wife; the desperate, almost frantic pressing of lips and dueling of tongues on the eve of his departure to Spain, when he left to join Wellington's staff as a junior officer.

The intervening weeks and months and years had been long and lonely, yet Harriet greeted Julian with open arms and a loving heart upon his unexpected return. She would never forget the thrill of finally being alone with him. Of winding her arms around his shoulder and neck, rising on her toes to embrace his fit form, pressing her body snug against his. The movement of his breath against her cheek, the heat of his body so near to her own.

They had shared several deep, slow, erotic kisses that made her knees turn to rubber with a mindless pleasure that had stunned her. It was those kisses Harriet remembered so vividly for they had promised such glory but led to only sorrow.

She believed they would marry within a few weeks and begin their life together. A home, children, a place in society, a place among the community where they lived. It never happened. Instead there had been scandal, disgrace, and abandonment.

Given no other choice, Harriet had made the best of it. And now somewhere in the wilds of northern Scotland, two little girls and their younger brother awaited her arrival.

“Will you miss me, Aunt Harriet?”

Harriet gazed down at her nephew with a pained expression. She would indeed miss Georgie, probably more than anyone else in the household. She had loved, protected and fought over this child from the moment he entered her life. It was difficult to accept that his need for her as a champion had lessened considerably over the last year and was part of the reason she felt it was time to break away from the household.

Very much aware of the fickle nature and memories of children, Harriet feared he would soon forget her. Burying that gloomy thought deep in her heart, she bent down and scooped the child up in her arms. “You are a special, wonderful lad,” she whispered in his ear. “Always remember how much I love you.”

Georgie suffered his aunt's embrace with good humor, planting several sloppy kisses on her cheek before pulling away. Harriet collected herself and straightened. With brisk efficiency she embraced her sister-in-law, Faith, kissed the sleeping infant Emma Kate's cheek, and gave Elizabeth one final hug.

Harriet turned, hearing her sister's soft, gentle sobs. Feeling unsettled by the emotions that were crowding her, she brushed at the tears brimming in her eyes and focused her attention on the cumbersome coach in order to keep from crying.

The moment the steps were pulled down, Harriet held up her skirts and climbed into the coach. She settled into place with a minimum amount of fuss, deliberately facing forward. Towards her future. Amid shouts of farewell and good luck, the coach lunged forward.

“Though I am glad to be of service on this journey, Miss Harriet, I fear I will be feeling quite homesick,” a female voice declared.

Harriet heaved a deep sigh and tried to shut out the soft sniffles of the maid who accompanied her on the journey. Her own emotions were just below the surface, threatening to overtake her. Yet as the carriage turned the corner and headed down the road Harriet made no sound.

 

 

“Did you see that imposing looking bear, Kate?” Harriet asked. “He was drinking from the stream, but stood his ground boldly even though the carriage passed within a few feet of him as we clattered over the wooden bridge. He must be very brave, for the noise did not seem to even startle him.”

Kate lifted her head and gave a cursory, uninterested glance out the window. “The mangy creature must have just finished his last meal,” the maid stated with a sniff. “If he was hungry, he'd come slinking along beside us and then attack.”

“Us?” Harriet asked with disbelieved amusement. “Do bears often attack people?”

“Oh, no, Miss Harriet. Not you and me. He'd go right for the horses. They're the easy target. I imagine a bear that fierce could tear a horse to pieces within minutes. He'd go directly for the throat, I'd wager.”

“I thought he seemed majestic and bold,” Harriet muttered as she turned her head to catch a final glimpse of the animal.

“He's a killer,” Kate declared with a knowing nod.

Harriet took a deep sigh and pressed her fingertips to her brow. Unfortunately Kate had turned out to be a rather trying traveling companion. Harriet had not spent much time in the maid's company prior to this journey and was therefore surprised to discover the older woman had a somewhat gloomy, bloodthirsty outlook on life. An outlook that she was more than willing to share.

She also had an uncanny knack for taking any situation and seeing only the negative aspects of it. Given the distance of their trip, the time of year and weather conditions, there had been a great deal for Kate to expound upon.

Fortunately the maid would be returning to Harrowby and Griffin's household soon after they reached Mr. Wainwright's home, Hillsdale Castle. Harriet had agreed to allow Kate on the journey because her brother had insisted an unmarried gentlewoman could not travel such a great distance completely on her own, even if she was taking up a position as a governess.

Harriet privately speculated she would most likely be the first governess to arrive at her post with a maid in tow, but hoped her employer would find this an amusement or just accept it as an eccentricity of the nobility.

“Will we be stopping for luncheon soon, Miss Harriet?” Kate asked. “That meager breakfast of cheese and stale bread would hardly keep a mouse alive.”

“I'm sure John Coachman will pull in to the first appropriate establishment we find,” Harriet replied. “As always.”

Though some of the meals they had eaten over the past few weeks were hardly memorable, they at least offered a break from the road. Harriet could understand Kate's boredom. Even if the light were sufficient, the constant sway of the coach made reading or light sewing an impossible task.

At first both women had been more than content to watch the ever-changing countryside roll by out the carriage window. When that novelty wore off, they tried to engage in conversation. It seemed to help pass the time for Kate, but it gave Harriet a headache.

However, once they crossed the border into Scotland, the view changed to snow capped hills and Harriet's interest in the surrounding landscape was renewed. She was soon in awe of the unexpected majesty, and the raw, untamed beauty of the land.

The landscape was soaring and austere. Due to the season, there was only the barest hint of green to be seen. It was as if the land had survived, even triumphed, despite the harsh obstacles Mother Nature had tossed in its path. Kate declared the terrain bleak and unwelcoming and whined for the flat roads and warmer temperatures of home.

Yet even though she had to constantly tighten the lap rug spread across her knees to find more warmth, Harriet found this rugged country strangely moving. She did however feel sorry for the coachman and footman who rode outside the carriage, exposed to the harsh elements.

Kate often remarked at the amount of drink the men consumed at each stop, but Harriet did not begrudge them their warmed cider and mugs of ale. They must be nearly frozen from the cold.

“Well, 'tis not the most respectable place I've ever seen, but I imagine it's the best one we'll find.”

Harriet caught sight of the small inn they were approaching and silently agreed with Kate's assessment. The establishment looked little more than a large hut, with a thatched roof, a small orchard, and several chickens running about loose in the yard.

It was nestled in a small valley, surrounded by much larger mountains and as she stepped down from the coach, Harriet was glad those granite boulders protected them from the relentless cold winds. There were no other guests inside the common room and for a brief moment Harriet worried that they had stumbled upon a private home.

But the suspicious, cold reception from the surly innkeeper changed the moment he saw the color of the coin John Coachman flashed as he made arrangements for the care of the horses and a meal for the travelers. They dined on thick slices of hot shepherd's pie and mugs of home-brewed ale. Inquiries about the specific location of Hillsdale Castle brought more good news. It was no more than fifteen miles away.

After leaving the inn they at last began traveling in the highest mountains that days ago had appeared so far and distant. Harriet re-entered the coach in good spirits, buoyed with the knowledge that this long journey was finally nearing an end. However, her good mood was sorely tested within the hour as Kate gave several drawn-out bored sighs and began picking at a thread on the index finger of her wool gloves.

Harriet bit her bottom lip hard to keep silent. She had been lecturing the maid for days to cease this most annoying habit, but had been unsuccessful in making her stop. Once again she recited a silent prayer, asking Providence to deliver her to the castle before Kate's dreary conversation and endless fidgeting drove her mad.

Realizing it was fruitless to waste her breath on another lecture, Harriet leaned back, wedged her head comfortably in the corner of the coach and closed her eyes. She drifted in a trance-like state between sleep and wakefulness for most of the afternoon.