Lady Rogue (17 page)

"I'm glad."  Though she didn't understand
, Dawn was glad to see Margaret laugh. "He is your only "family" or so you've said.  It's only right that you should be together."  The ties of kinship meant a great deal to her, especially after suffering the loss of three of her own loved ones.

"Yes.  Yes.  I suppose it is."  Squinting her eyes, Margaret Pembrooke let her gaze sweep from the top of Dawn's head to the toes poking out beneath her nightgown.  The child was a marvel.  In such a short amount of time she had
come such a long way. Oliver would be intrigued.Certainly if he had an eye in his head he would be attracted by Dawn’s beauty.  If everything worked out the way she planned, this young woman would soon be her neice.  As a member of a very influential family Dawn would be safe from anyone who might want to bring harm to her. Whatever she might have done in the past, it didn’t matter.              "Perhaps I should leave the two of you alone......"

Self-consciously Dawn put
her hands behind her back.   In truth she didn't really want to meet Margaret Pembrooke’s nephew.  She was content in her newfound isolation and still  a bit unsure of herself. Time. She  needed far more time to feel really at ease.

"Oh pooh!  The truth is his whining bores me.
”    Margaret Pembrooke had in fact begun to look upon Dawn as the daughter she'd wanted but never had.  A young woman of fortitude and a kind heart.  "You're grateful.  He's a thankless ninny!  You’re a wise woman; he doesn’t seem to have a brain in his head. All he wants is more, more, more.  But perhaps the right woman......"   She said no more lest she give her well-laid plans away. “But we’ll speak not a jot more about it. Just be certain to take a nap, dear. Sleep does wonders for a woman’s beauty. In the meantime I have some matters that must be attended to before tonight.

Before Dawn could say a word, Margaret Pembrooke was gone, maneuvering
her wheelchair down the hall as skillfully as a hackney driver guided the coaches in his charge.
                           

Chapter Twenty Two

"What a wet, dreary morning!"  Oliver drummed his fingers against the office window in abject annoy
ance.  "Miserable day. Quite!"

"Not a good day for an open carriage ride in the park
, I would say."  Garrick looked up from his drawings, voicing his thoughts aloud.  "But then perhaps that is really a blessing.   Perhaps now you will give your undivided attention to that large sheet of paper lying on your desk.  Eh?"  Oliver had been quite unproductive of late.  Had it not been for their long friendship, Garrick would never have put up with it.  "Have you any new ideas for Southwark Bridge?"

Oliver shook his head.  "I can't concentrate.  My head seems to be full of pudding or some such thing." Leaving the window, Oliver pace
d up and down, back and forth.

"What's wrong, Ollie?"  As if he really had to ask.  It was  always the same.  Money.  Garrick tried to keep the scolding tone out of his voice.  "Have y
ou incurred some more debts?"

"Yes. BiGod, yes!  And don't say "I told you so".  I don't want to hear it!"  As if to ward off the lecture he knew must be brewing, Olive
r put his hands over his ears.

"Ollie....."  Garrick studied his friend and partner very critically.  There seemed to be  much more on Ollie's mind than just unpaid gambling notes.  Well, if he was really in some sort of trouble
, he'd renege on his vow not to give him another penny.  So thinking, he put down his pencil, rose from his chair, and made his way to the  landscape painting on the wall, behind which a safe was hidden.  Fumbling with the lock he soon had it open and reached inside for the moneybox he knew was within. 

"Garrick......don't....."

"Fie!  I'll show you I'm not the stingy ogre you take me to be."  The metal  box, fastened with a large iron lock, was heavy and took both hands to manage.  "I've been gruff and stubborn with you these past weeks but I'm not blind.  You have the look of a mouse cornered by a cat.  I want to help."  The lid of the strongbox creaked as he opened it.

"There's no way you can.  I'm ruined!"  Moving quickly to Garrick's side, Ollie seemed loath to have him look inside.  "Please, by the friend
ship we share, put it back!" 

"Put it back?"  Garrick would have had to be a simpleton not to
suspect what was wrong. "Ollie, what have you done?"

"No...nothing!" 
Oliver grabbed the moneybox, but Garrick would not ease his hold.  The result was that money, ledgers and stocks went flying.  "Oh, dear.  Oh dear."  Falling to his knees Oliver began picking up the scattered papers and coins.

"If you've
ruined both of us, I'll never forgive you!"  Garrick's jaw ticked his anger.  Finding the ledgers, he examined them.  Everything seemed to be in order.  Quickly he made tally of the money that should have been inside the strongbox.  Nothing seemed to be missing.  Perhaps Oliver was  merely overdramatizing

"I didn't take any money.  I swear by my mother's hat, I didn't, but....."  His hands shook as he covered his face.  "I.
...I sold some of our stocks."

"You
what
?" Garrick was thunderstruck.  It was as if Oliver had punched him in the face.  A blow might have caused less pain.  More precious to him than gold, those stocks represented ownership in the  architectural firm that he and Oliver had so painstakingly built. 

"I had to.  But at a devastating cost to my conscience.  I've lived in fear these
past three weeks. I knew you would find out eventually. But I had to, Garrick."  He smiled sadly.  "You see, in a way I was a worse than a mouse. Circumstances forced me to be a rat!.  And you......"

"I am the cat you feared.  And well you should."  Springing to his feet, Garrick
hoisted Oliver up by his shirt front. "I ought to  shake you until your teeth rattle. I would if I thought it would put some sense into your thick head.  God's pocket watch!  You've ruined me, and all for a stupid game of cards."

"I'm sorry, Garrick.  I am!  I am!  I'll never do anything so foolish again."  Tears stung Oliver's eyes.  "Hate me!  You have every right to.  I don't blame you,"
he sobbed.

"I don't hate you."  A shudder conv
ulsed Garrick as he pushed Oliver away from him with disgust.  "But don't blubber.  I won't have it.  If you've--as they say in Bloomsbury-- "done us in", then at least face it like a man."  Giving Oliver a not-too-gentle nudge, he forced him to sit in his deskchair and tell him the whole story.

It was just as he might have supposed.  Feeling ce
rtain that he could surely recoup his gambling losses, Oliver had run up a tremendous bill at his club.  Instead of winning, however, he had lost miserably.  There had been nowhere to turn. His Aunt Margaret had refused to give him a shilling; Garrick, too, had been adamant.

"They threatened me with debtor's prison!"  Oliver's shoulders shook
. "Prison!  Me,  Oliver Howard Chambers.  Oh, the horror of it all."  He buried his face in his hands.  "I couldn't bear it!  I couldn't.  Dear God, I could never forget the stench and horrid filth of the prison we visited. It was bad enough to be a visitor.  But an inmate?  I would have done anything."

"Even rob
a friend?"

"I was desperate."  Pulling out his handkerchief, Oliver blew his nose.  "But then just like in an answer to a praye
r, I was approached by a short, balding bespectacled man who seemed to know everything about you and me.  He offered to pay me a good price for only a small portion of ownership of our company.  How could I refuse?"

"How could you?
"  Garrick said sarcastically.

"So.......I sold him some stock.  My bills were paid.  All I had to fear now was you!  And I did
fear you.  Nearly as much as I had feared that awful prison."  He smiled  sheepishly. "But not quite.  But...but, it will be all right.  And...and they were
my
shares that I sold."

"When we started this venture we agreed the
re would be no outsiders. You have gone against your word.  How can I trust you now, Ollie?" 

"I won't sell any more.  And...and I'll buy those stocks back.  You'll see!  You'll see!"  Folding his arms across his chest
, he seemed to have a resurgence of his confidence. "Auntie  Margaret seems to be speaking to me again.  She's invited me to dinner tonight.  To meet some young woman she's taken under her wing."  Putting a hand to his lips he said softly, "Most likely some old spinster with ice-cold hands.  But anything to please her."

"By
God if you have to marry some pinch-faced prune to get your butt out of hock, it would serve you right!  For once don't argue with your Aunt, Ollie.  If courting some woman will help you get that stock back, then good God, man, do it!"

Oliver was indignant.  "I will!  I will!  It's what I intended to do in the first place without you scolding."  His
brows drew together in a frown that was quickly wiped away.  "Oh, why am I raging at you.  It's my own fault I'm in a pickle.  But do come with me tonight.  Will you, old sport?"

"No!"  Since that night he'd tussled with the young thief on the lawn, he'd avoided Margaret Pembrooke's house.  Perhaps it was because he didn't want to remember the look of stark fear he'd read on the young man's face when
the runners took him.  Or the heartrending wails of grief from the girl who had fought to pull him free.   His pride had been avenged but at what cost?  A man's freedom.  He had been judge and he had been jury, demanding that  the lad be brought to justice. Was it any wonder that the memory of that night bothered him so?

"No?"  Oliver tugged a
t his sleeve.  "You must.  Please, Garrick.  Please!  I always feel more at ease when you are there to spar with the old dragon.  I'm certain she won't mind.  She always has Cook put enough food on the stove to feed Napoleon's army."  He stiffled a giggle with the back of his hand.  "You can play matchmaker for me with the "prune" if you'd like.  That  way you'll insure I get my comeuppance."

"By
God, you're right!"  Garrick cocked a brow.  "And it would serve you right.  All right, I'll come!"  Striding back to his desk, he took a seat.  "Now, for the love of God, Ollie.  Get back to work!"

"Aye, aye, Sir."  Mimicking a soldier, Ollie salute
d, then sprawling in his leather-upholstered chair he too picked up a pencil. 

Chapter Twenty-Three

A light rain fell softly filling the night sky with a gentle haze.  Dawn watched the rain’s
descent from her bedroom window, awed by the mystical aura the rain drops brought to the night.  Trying to take her mind off the evening to come, she stood a long time at the window,  thus catching sight of the trim black carriage that rolled up the road and turned  at the carriage house. 

"Mrs. Pembrooke
's nephew!"  What he would be like.  Fat or thin.  Tall or short.  Dark-haired or of light hair and complexion.    Leaning against the window, she tried to catch sight of him, but all she could see was two dark forms alighting from the carriage and approaching the house.

It was obvious that
Margaret Pembrooke intended her nephew and Dawn to meet and  become attracted to each other, but Dawn  wasn't interested.  Not after her disappointment with love.   She would be pleasant, she would be polite, but she did not want him to be interested in her.  Matters of the heart caused  too much turmoil.  And yet perhaps tonight would be a good test of her accomplishments.  She would see if Oliver Chambers believed her to be a proper lady or if she gave herself away.

Opening the door of her bedroom, Dawn listened to the sounds below
. To bolster her lagging self-confidence she made a quick accounting of all she had  accomplished in the last few months. She doubted Oliver Chambers could have done as well, and that made her feel better.

What on earth will I talk to them about
? She thought anxiously, movingto her dresser mirror. She approved of the image that stared back at her.  Her dark hair was done in classical style, with a curled fringe in front and ringlets behind.  The  mass of curls was pinned up at the back to form a chignon, a bandeau of parchment-coloured silk held the curls in place.  Dawn decided she approved of this new coiffure.  Here and there a curl escaped it's restraint, brushing the nape of her neck, tickling her skin and feathering around her face. 

She looked most fashionable. Her
high-waisted gown was also of parchment-coloured silk striped in forest green.  Its short sleeves were caught up at the shoulders.  A.narrow black velvet edging outlined the oval décolletage, framing the unblemished skin of her throat.  The skirt, which formed a small train at the back,  swept the ground, rustling as she walked across the floor to the door.   A necklace of gold and emeralds, loaned to her by Margaret Pembrooke, completed the outfit.  Reaching up, Dawn assured herself that it was still  safely there, then smiled ruefully as she slipped out of her room and descended the stairs.

Garrick shook the rain off his umbrella, closed it and stamped his feet before stepping inside the door.  Still smarting because of Oliver's confession, he began to wonder if he really should have come.  He was hardly  in the mood for dinnertime chatter.  He was incensed by what Oliver had done. Having gotten himself into this predicament, Ollie was the only one who could extricate himself. That included learning how to manage his aunt and stay in her good graces, a most valuable lesson.

"You look as if we were going to a hanging.  Smile, Garrick
. I'm the one who is about to be skewered," Oliver grumbled.  He forced smile as he handed his coat to the butler. "Good evening, Douglass.  I hope my Aunt is in a pleasant mood."

"She
is, as we all are of late." 

Garrick was amazed by
the  servant's smile.  What had thawed the man's icy hauteur? "Well whatever the reason,  Douglass, I assure you a heartily approve."

"Come this way." 

Douglass led them to the drawing room where Margaret Pembrooke waited.  Leaning down, Garrick  kissed her cheek.  "Good evening, Margaret.  I hope it's all right that I've come." 

"Quite!  You're always welcome
, Garrick, as well you know."

"Thank you.  I must say you look lovely tonight in that peach-hued gown.  Surely the most attractive woman in all of
London."

Under the scrutiny of his gaze she blushed.  "You, dear sir, are a flatterer.  But since I
want to believe you, I will."

"As well you should."

Margaret turned her attention to her nephew, wishing with all her heart that he could be more like his friend.  Steady.  Dependable.  Utterly charming.  "Good evening, Oliver."

"Good evening, Auntie."  His eyes darted  searchingly about the room.  "Just where is this young woman you a
re dying to introduce me to?"

"She'll be down shortly."

"I can hardly wait," Oliver said snidely, casting Garrick a wry smile and looking towards heaven as if he sincerely needed help from that direction.

"Here she comes!"

"Oh, wonderful I......."  Oliver turned, speechless as a stunning young woman glided down the stairs.  Any sarcastic remark he might have made died on his lips as he moved forward.  Garrick too was staring, but unlike Oliver he stood his ground, too entranced to do anything but feast his eyes as the young woman gave them a charming smile.

"Dawn!  Come and meet my nephew
Oliver and his good friend ."             

Dawn paused in mid-stride.  It was not Margaret Pembrooke's nephew  she was staring at, however, but the man who stood behind him.  Her eyes opened wide, her  hands started to tremble as her mouth formed a perfect "O" of surprise.  Garrick Seton here?  After all the heartache he had caused
, he was the last man on earth she ever wanted to see again.

No! 
It could not be.  Not 
he
!   The world was much smaller than one could ever imagine.

"This is my nephew's friend, Garrick Seton,  Dawn my dear.  Garrick, may I introduce you to Miss Dawn 
Landon
."  Catching Dawn's eye Margaret Pembrooke winked as she said the last name, but Dawn  barely saw the gesture--she was staring too intently at the man whose face had haunted her for so long.  His hair was a bit longer than it had been and it brushed against the strong column of his neck as he turned his head. 

"Beautiful," he breathed.

"She's exquisite, Auntie."

Dawn opened her mouth, but words of polite greeting would not come.  Flee!  That was her first instinct.  She did not have the courage to face
him
just now. This man was responsible for Robbie's ill fortune and somehow he would be her ruination too.  He would recognize her, and then she would be taken away to  languish in Newgate.

"I am very pleased
to make your acquaintance." 

Truly Garrick was overwhelmed.  No prune-faced spinster this one
, but the most ravishingly lovely woman he had ever beheld.  He judged her to be about nineteen,  beautifully fresh like a rose just coming to bloom.  Never had he seen such soft, unblemished skin, lips so perfectly shaped, or eyes that shown so like jewels in the light.  And yet she seemed unaffected. There was no false coyness in the way she stared at him, no seductive lowering of her lashes.  Fascinated, he took her hand, his lips lingering on the soft flesh as he kissed it.

Dawn took a deep breath.  He didn't recognize her.  Not as the child waif, nor as the woman at the docks, but then why was t
hat so surprising?  The day he had given her back the filched purse he had not realized her double identity.  Perhaps now that she spoke correctly and dressed fashionably he would take her for a lady of quality.  It seemed that he  already had.

Dawn  touched her tongue lightly to her lips to ease the dryness, unware of the provocativeness of her action. "How do you do," she said slowly, trying to keep her voice from quivering.  She must be careful in her choice of words for more than embarrassment would be her punishmen
t if she made a careless slip.

"I'm doing quite well.  Especially now....."  She captivated him just as surely as if she had woven a spell.  Indeed, perhaps she had, he thought for at that moment he wanted her more than he had ever before desired a woman.  Moving to stand beside her
, he breathed deeply of her delicate fragrance.  "Violets."

"I beg your pardon?"  Dawn was discomfited by his nearness.  Every nerve of her body was vibrantly aware of him, his strength, his good looks. The faint pleasant hint of musk and tobacco teased her nose and she remembered that time in the carriage.  Even then he had  held sway over her feelings. Oh, dear God, how could she still be so overwhelmingly attract
ed to him after what he did?  Robbie.  She must not forget that this man had coldly and callously called the runners on her brother.

"You smell like vi
olets, my favorite flower."  

"I see."  Her heart thundered so frantically she thought it would surely burst
, but as their eyes met she suddenly felt relieved.  The worst was over.  They were face to face and so far she had not given herself away.

"H
mm."  Sensing the current that seemed  to flow between his Aunt's companion and his friend, Oliver tried to regain the attention of those in the room.  "I say, Aunt Margaret.  What do you think about our dear king?  It's said he's quite mad, that he has lapsed into lunacy again."

"I think it's tragic!"

"Why, I've even heard rumors that he has been put into a strait jacket.  The whole city is buzzing with the news."

"Then the whole city should still their gossiping tongues.  As should you, young man."  Margaret Pembrooke was irate.  George had been on the throne for fifty years, succeeding his grandfather, George II
, when she was just a child.  He was the only king she could remember well.  "A king deserves the respect of his subjects, not their twittering.  Besides, I'd rather have George as king  be he mad as a hatter, than that pleasure-loving, emotional flibberty-gibbet of a son of his."

Oliver was contrite. "I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to offend you, only to kee
p you up on the latest news."

"Wel
l, now you've told me."

Slowly Garrick drew his gaze away from Dawn's face as he overheard the squabbling between au
nt and nephew. "Hush you two," he said good-naturedly, giving Margaret Pembrooke's cheek a teasing pinch.  "There's no need to argue on such a fine night."

"Fine night?"  Oliver cast his friend a sideways glance.  "B
y God, it's snowing outside."  He darted a worried look at Garrick.  Oh the young woman was lovely, of a certainty, but it was the first time he'd seen such a look on his friend's face.  He wasn't sure that he liked it.  One thing was plain. Garrick was totally entranced.  Well, if he could see himself now, looking like a love-sick calf, he'd be appalled.  He'd chide him merrily tomorrow at the office.  Indeed he would.  Besides, his aunt had invited
him
here to meet the young woman and Garrick had merely tagged along.  She was meant for
him
.

"Dinner is served."

"Oh, it is?" Garrick  offered Margaret Pembrooke's houseguest his arm, but Oliver obstinately placed himself in his path.  Oliver took her hand and placed it in the crook of his elbow.

"We'll talk about prunes tomorr
ow, shall we Garrick old boy?"

"Prunes?" Margaret Pembrooke looked puzzled as Garrick wheeled her in
to the dining room.  "Indeed!"

Oliver cast Garrick a triumphant smile as he successfully contrived to seat his Aunt's pretty young ward beside him.  "Whe
re are you from Miss....Miss?"

"Landon.  Dawn Landon  and she is from
Norfolk.  The daughter of a very dear friend of mine."  Margaret Pembrooke caught Dawn's eye and smiled.  "It is her first time in London."

“Her first time?” Garrick raised his eyebrows. Why did she
seem totally new, yet vaguely familiar? Something flickered at the edge of his memory, but he could’t grasp it and finally shrugged it off altogether.  If it was her first time in London, then it was impossible for him to have seen her anywhere. 
Except, perhaps in my dreams,
  he thought with a smile. She was just the kind of woman he had always dreamed of meeting someday. Now he had.

"
Norfolk, Auntie?  I don't remember that you had any acquaintances there."  Oliver shrugged his shoulders. 

"Then you don't have a very accurate memory!"  She sniffed indignantly.  "But that doesn't matter.  I expect you to show Miss Landon every curtesy. 
London is an exciting city.  Show her the sights.  You being such a successful architect like yourself will know just where to take her."

"And if he doesn't, I do!"  Garrick placed himself strategically across the table.  His eyes caressed her with a heat that stirred her  b
lood and set her heart racing.

"That would be most gracious of you, Sir."  Dawn smiled sweetly, at last managing to  completely regain her poise.  How many times had she dreamed that Garrick Seton had fallen in love with her?  More than she could count.  And now suddenly it did not seem to be such an impossible imagining.  He did s
eem interested in her. 
In my dreams I surrendered to him
, she thought. 
But not now.   Never!  Not after what happened to Robbie
.