Company Of Rogues: A Shocking Delight Part 14

"You could forbid your tenants to take part."

"As Canute forbade the sea to roll in? There's a law that says that anyone loitering within five miles of the coast is liable to arrest. Like too many laws, it's nonsense. Much of my land lies within five miles of the coast, including farms, villages, and a fishing fleet. Some of the men and women are fond of idleness, but are they loitering if the area is their home? Are their friends and family, when visiting?"

"It can't be hopeless. Smugglers are breaking the law."

"Did you check where your tea comes from?"

Lucy marched on, irritated by his question but warm with the enjoyment of rational conversation.

He continued to walk with her. "That means you didn't because you know."

"That means I didn't because I didn't have time. Will you speak in Parliament on the issue?"

"Are you going to berate me for that, too?"

His question made her realize she was being alarmingly impertinent. She looked at him to apologize, but saw that twinkle in his eye. "I would."

"Speak in Parliament? About what?"

"About legitimate trade. I agree with you on tax reform. We're overburdened with taxes that are strangling enterprise."

"You truly are a City woman, aren't you?"

"Born and bred."

"And I'm a country gentleman. You see everything in terms of trade. I see things in terms of land and sea. You long for gra.s.s-free streets, and I for the wild openness of the gra.s.sy coast. But we're kindred spirits all the same."

She felt that, but also all the impossibilities he'd expressed, and he didn't know the whole of it. "Hardly," she said, as coolly as she could.

"Everyone outside a fairy circle has more in common than they have in difference."

"You have an odd way of putting things, my lord. Fairy circle?"

"Didn't Lady Charrington's ball feel that way to you? Magical but unreal?"

"It seemed all too real."

"You mean those fools? They won't repeat that."

"I know. I'm sorry. It was only that I wanted to enjoy the ball and they spoiled it."

Especially by causing you to be so harsh to me.

His expression became unreadable, perhaps even frozen. He bowed. "I wish you happier events in future, Miss Potter. Fare thee well."

Lucy watched him go, feeling as if something had been s.n.a.t.c.hed away.

Fare thee well? An odd, archaic phrase, but one that translated to farewell, which was a rather absolute goodbye. True, they had established how different their lives were, but discussing that had created something. At least for her.

He mustn't have been paying full attention to his surroundings, for the girl with the kite careened backward into him. He steadied her and grabbed her string spool before the kite carried it away. But the kite was failing, fluttering down, until he ran backward with it, his hat tumbling off disregarded, until it soared. Once it was high and flying well, he gave the spool back to the child, who beamed up at him before looking up in wonder at her high-flying kite.

He smiled at the girl for a moment, a surprisingly tender smile, then picked up his hat and hurried on his way.

Lucy avoided Hannah's speculative eyes and returned to Lanchester Street in a daze of disturbing thoughts. She found Clara up and breakfasting in Aunt Mary's bedroom, so she could take out her journal and try to record the morning. All that came out was disjointed phrases.

The Peasant Earl.

I know the darkly masterful man is real.

And dangerous.

Especially if he's skillfully after my fortune.

Yet the country gentleman seemed real, too.

Like a lad with a kite, Hat flying as he made it soar.

Tender smile to make my heart soar If I were so foolish As to loose its string.

She stared at the last lines, wishing she could obliterate them, but it wouldn't obliterate the truth.

With a sigh she added, Happy Iphigenia.

Chapter 12.

That night David attended the d.u.c.h.ess of St. Raven's ball, aware that Susan expected him to court Miss Potter. Susan didn't know about the park. That interlude had been disastrous. They'd fallen into such easy conversation. Too easy by far for virtual strangers. They'd also touched on their differences.

It wasn't only a matter of trust anymore. Miss Potter loved London and he disliked it. He loved the countryside, and especially the Devon coast, and she wept at new-mown gra.s.s! The daughters of the aristocracy were at ease in the countryside, but she'd been born and raised in the City. How could he transplant her to the Devon countryside and hope that she could thrive?

He couldn't do that. Perhaps he'd take Susan's other suggestion and look around for a country-bred heiress who was either stupid or trustworthy.

"Miss Potter looks particularly charming," Nicholas said, coming to his side, his wife on his arm.

"She does," David agreed. Stupid to say anything else.

She'd just arrived, and was wearing white tonight-some filmy, floaty material embroidered with sprigs of flowers. There were more flowers in her golden hair. What G.o.ddess was that? He should know, but gazing upon her, he found his mind was empty of anything but her.

"Those pearls don't tempt you? She's wearing a small fortune around her neck." When David didn't respond, Nicholas said, "I never suspected this martyrish tendency," and strolled off.

"You mustn't glare at him."

David turned to Nicholas's wife. "You seem far too rational to be linked to him."

"Oh, it was force majeure," Eleanor said, "but we rub along."

As they were clearly devoted he sensed a hidden joke, which annoyed him even more.

"I'm sorry," she said. "We are irritating to those unaccustomed to us. But Nicholas believes, and I agree, that love truly does conquer all, as long as it's true love. Not l.u.s.t, nor the desire to possess, but love that respects, cherishes, nurtures, and above all compromises."

"A remarkable testament, but can there be compromise when it comes to matters of law?"

To his surprise she chuckled. "We'd be beyond hope if not! At another time, remind me to tell you about housebreaking, and perhaps, if I think you can stand it, more serious matters. Will you dance the first set with me?"

"You're an unconventional woman."

"A prerequisite for a Rogue. I am, you know. Not just a Rogue's wife. I might explain that to you one day as well, if it suits me."

Bemused, he led her onto the dance floor, but caught sight of Nicholas walking toward Miss Potter and her coterie.

"What the devil is he doing?"

Eleanor glanced over. "Inviting her to dance, I suspect."

"He'll never get through."

She just smiled.

Lucy was already weary of her suitors and she'd been in the house for only a quarter of an hour. She was very tempted to state that she wasn't dancing, but if she did that, she'd have to hold to it all night, and she enjoyed dancing.

She'd glimpsed Wyvern at the far side of the room and thought that perhaps, after their time in the park, he might ask her to dance. But he'd made no move to approach, which made her want to growl. Clearly he was a gentleman who felt a lady of firm opinions was to be avoided. She was going to have to choose a partner for the first set, so she sought one least likely to become a pest.

Then beyond the wall of suitors, a blond man smiled at her. He was more tanned and more blond than Wyvern, which created an interesting impression that he was made of gold. He smiled, and somehow, by a look in his eye, suggested that he was a means of escape. She had no idea who he was, but she smiled back and walked toward him. Men stepped back, allowing her through. She put her hand in his and he led her away.

"Thank you," she said.

"I thought you needed relief from the siege."

"That's exactly the word." She took the bold approach. "I'm Lucinda Potter."

"And I'm Nicholas Delaney, a friend of Lord Wyvern."

Her heart pattered, but she wondered how he could have been friends with an estate steward. Despite his casual demeanor he was very much part of this world.

"Only a recent acquaintance of the current one." He went on. "But my friendship with the previous Earl of Wyvern is long."

"The Mad Earl?" she asked, surprised.

"The temporary one, now Lord Amleigh. We were at school together."

Lord Amleigh was Lord Wyvern's brother-in-law. A tenuous thread of connection, but it thrilled her foolish heart.

Lucy would happily have talked more about all things Wyvern with this man, but they were on the dance floor and must take their places. She should be grateful to be protected from her own folly. When she'd first spied Wyvern across the room, fully the earl again in dark elegance, her heart had truly skipped a beat.

As they settled to the longways dance, however, she saw Wyvern join it with an auburn-haired woman. They would meet in the dance. She couldn't help but smile.

David had been impressed by the ease with which Nicholas had s.n.a.t.c.hed Miss Potter. It was easy to underestimate Nicholas, but he was heir a.s.sumptive to his brother, the Earl of Stainbridge. More impressive was Nicholas's position as unquestioned leader of the Rogues. For the most part, they were men of quality, rank, and expertise, and he was a commoner who chose to live a rural life. Even so, he ruled.

David wasn't a Rogue, however, and had no mind to be steered by Nicholas Delaney's iron whim. All very well to speak of the wondrous powers of love, but what of Romeo and Juliet, and Oth.e.l.lo?

Susan was also dancing, and as they turned together at one point she said, "You promised not to avoid Miss Potter."

"I'll meet her in the dance."

She gave him an older-sister look and he sighed. "I'll ask her for a dance."

The effect of meeting her in the dance was so powerful, however, that he lost his nerve. He'd never understand his mother's rash behavior, but he was beginning to see how this kind of obsession could ride roughshod over common sense and will. He couldn't dance with her. It wouldn't be safe.

At the end of the dance, Lucy couldn't resist asking Mr. Delaney a question. "Was Wyvern truly an estate manager?"

"Yes, and he'd rather still be that than here, an earl buffed to a shine."

"I met him in the park yesterday morning in country clothes. He seemed more comfortable."

"Are you suggesting that he should wear such clothes here?"

"That would be folly, but it seems a shame that anyone be uncomfortable."

"Hush! Such an outrageous notion might start a revolution. Cravats and collars would become soft, corsets would be thrown off by men and women, and hair would be allowed to take its natural form."

She chuckled. "What an astonishing world that would be."

"You would like to be part of it?"

"I never wear anything uncomfortable as it is. Nor, I suspect, do you, sir."

He smiled. "You're right, but we are both blessed with a pleasing form."

"Do you always argue both sides of a topic?"

"Whenever possible. Do you have a taste for the gothic?"

"As in novels?" she asked, surprised.

"In any way. Wyvern's seat, Crag Wyvern, is an imitation of a medieval keep, including arrow slits and a dungeon."