Lady Rogue (18 page)

Revenge for Robbie's tragic fate?  The idea appealed to her. It was exactly what she wanted.  She would make this cold-hearted man fall in love with her
, and then she would break his heart.  Just as callously as he had called in the runners to arrest her brother.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The air was fresh as it can only be after
a cleansing rain.  Garrick breathed in deeply and walked briskly. For the first time in a long while he felt light of heart.   Happy. 

Oliver hurried to catch up with his friend as they
made theirway to the carriage house.             
              Thrusting his hands in the pockets of his overcoat, Garrick paused for a moment to gaze into the night. Strange, but it was as if he were looking at the world through different eyes, viewing it less critically and seeing only its calm and beauty.

"Brrrrrr!  I only know that's it's abominably cold
for this time of year.  For the love of God, Garrick, why are you stopping?  Let's hurry to the carriage before I freeze my tail."  Flinging his scarf about his neck, Oliver broke out into a run. Opening the door to the carriage house, he quickly summoned Garrick's driver.  "Hurry and hitch up the horses, man!  Be quick about it." 

"Yes, sir!  Immediately, s
ir."  Opening the door, the carriage driver bowed.

Oliver hurled himself inside, bundling under the thick lap robe in an effort to get some warmth.  "All I want is a hot toddy and the warmth of my own fire.  Do you want to come to my hous
e, Garrick?"

"No, not tonight
, Ollie."  Garrick stepped up and took a seat beside his friend, shutting the door behind him.  He was immersed in his own thoughts and anxious for his own bed.  Tonight he knew he would have very pleasant dreams of a dark-haired beauty with the most fascinating eyes.  Dawn Landon.  The name suited her, for surely she was as breathtaking as a sunrise.

"She told me
no
, Garrick.  Oh, I knew she would.  The heartless old witch.  All she could do was scold."  Oliver expelled his breath in a long drawn out sigh. "She'd watch them cart me away to debtor's prison and never lift a finger to help.  Oh I am the most miserable wretch.  I suppose this will be the end of our friendship, for I will not be able to buy those stocks back, at least for the moment.  Garrick?. Garrick?"

"What?"  Garrick shrugged in apology.  "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you.  My
thoughts were somewhere else."

"So I noticed," Oliver grumbled.  "I said Aunt Margaret turned me down
.  She said that the only way I'll learn my lesson is to pay the piper.  Ha!  I wouldn't put it past her to have been the one to put that fat little squirrel up to buying the stock.  Just to teach me.  Do you suppose?"

"It's possible but I doubt it. 
One of our competitors is a more likely prospect.  John Rennie, perhaps.  He has his eye on designing Marylebone Park, but I think we are going to be called to do it.  We'll have to just wait and see.  I have a feeling our new partner will soon reveal himself."

"I'm sorry, Garrick.  I suppose you'll never forgive me!  Since Aunt Margaret won't loan me the money the stock will just have to stay in unknown hands.  I d
on't know what else I can do."

"You can work, Ollie.  W-o-r-k!  Just as I did when I didn't have t
wo shillings to rub together.  It will mean long hours, dedication and new clients, but it can be done."

"Ugh....!  It sounds depressing.  Couldn't you perhaps give me just a small sum and I
could try my luck....."

"Oliver!"  Garrick's ex
clamation snapped like a shot.

"All right.  Starting tomorrow I'll become a slave to my pencil, ruler and paper.  I'll work myself to the bone if t
hat's what you and Aunt Margaret insist upon." He pouted like a little child.  "Garrick.....?"

"I don't want to talk about it just now, Ollie.  I want to indul
ge in more pleasant thoughts."

"And I know just what of."  Oliver pulled the lap robe up to his chin, taking Garrick's portion.  "No wonder you want me to be preoccupied with those silly old drawings.  That way you won't have any
competition.  I'm not a fool."

"I know.  I'll give you fair warning.  I intend to woo and win the fair Miss Landon from
Norfolk."                

"From
Norfolk?  Something is not right, Garrick.  I tell you my aunt doesn't have a friend in Norfolk.  And...and did you notice the way this Miss Landon talked?  So precise and measured.  Too perfect, as if she were trying to cover up something." He shook his head.  “Hmmmm.  Maybe she stutters or something.”

"You're trying to find fault, Ollie, where there is none.  I thought she was witt
y, bright and beautiful......"

"She totally charmed you!"

"Indeed she did."  Garrick slapped Oliver on the back.  "Cheer up, old chum, and stop being a bad loser.  Just because she agreed to go to the theatre with
me
doesn't mean she's one of Napoleon's spies.  And even if she were, I'm not certain I would care." 

Putting his head back on the seat
, Garrick closed his eyes, recalling Dawn Landon's enchantingly lovely face.  He'd met a lot of women in his twenty-six years, but never one of her incomparable beauty.  And yet it was her aura of innocence that had touched him even more deeply.  Guileless in this age of jaded coquettes, she brought out a protectiveness in him, a gentleness that he'd never felt before.  Oh, yes, he intended to woo her all right.  As a matter of fact he could hardly wait until tomorrow night.

Standing at the drawing room window, Dawn watched the carriage disappear down the road, still astounded that Garrick Seton was an acquaintance of Margaret Pembrooke's.  What a ghastly joke!  Once she might have been elated, but now that revelation only saddened her.  What might have happened had they met under different circumstances?  She would never know. 

"A handsome man, isn't he?"  Margaret Pembrooke had not been blind to the looks that had passed between her young w
ard and her nephew's friend. 

"Yes,
he is," Dawn answered stiffly.

"Ah well, so much for good intentions.  Besides, my nephew has done it again.  Perhaps he is a totally unsuitable man for you.  Put himself in debt to poor Garrick's detriment.  I don't know why he puts up with the boy.  Certainly Garrick has a good business head.  If he didn't....."  Touching her throat Margaret Pembrooke laughed.  "But I won't go on and on so.  At least not until I compliment you, Dear.
You were perfection tonight."

"Thank you."

All in all everything had gone well.  She was pleased.  Certainly Garrick had been captivated and she sensed her nephew had been interested as well.  Oh, what an interesting little triangle this was going to be, but it would do Dawn a world of good to have two men fighting over her.

"Two young eligible bachelors vying for you the very first night you come out of your cocoo
n. Quite an accomplishment." 

"You're the one who deserves the praise.  I couldn't have done it without you."  Dawn bent down and hugged the woman aff
ectionately.  "I am grateful."

Margaret Pembrooke's eyes misted.  "Oh pooh!  I've learned far more from you than you could ever learn from me.  You've made me feel alive again, child.  Why even Douglass has taken to smiling now and again
.  He is, if you have not noticed, your staunchest admirer."

"I know.  I couldn't have two more loyal and loving friends."  Dawn's smile was melanc
holy.  "I'm very, very happy."

Margaret Pembrooke read through Dawn's words.  "No, you are not.  Why, Dawn?  What happened tonight?"  She bristled.  "Did my nephew say anything to hurt your feelings?  I swear if he did I
will cut him off without a farthing. Oh, well, I already have but I'll.....I'll take him out of my will.  I'll......"

"It wasn't Oliver."

"Garrick?  Why, I don't believe it.  He was totally smitten."

"It's not what he said, but who he is.
” Dawn couldn’t hide her bitterness.

“
Who he is?”
Margaret Pembrooke was puzzled. “And just who is that, my dear?”

“The bloke who brought the runners down on my Robbie.” In her anger Dawn let the word slip out. “Gentleman!’ she amended quickly.

“Oh, dear!”

“It’s his fault I lost my brother.” Dawn tightened her lips, remembering.

"You don't know that until you hear his side of the story.  Give him a chance to tell you what happened.  There was so much confusion, what with everyone running this way and that....."

"I know now beyond a doubt what he did."  Dawn tilted her chin stubbornly.
And as if that were not bad enough he was also the principle witness against my brother.”

"You mean Garrick is the young
nob
as you call him, the one who sent your brother to Newgate?"  Margaret Pembrooke was aghast.  Usually she kept up on the news of London. How had his bit of information slipped by her?

Dawn nodded her head in confirmation “Cruelly and callously, he condemned Robbie to prison.”

Mrs. Pembrooke was stunned. “I….I didn’t realize that it….it was Garrick. You were so distraught that day that I hardly took note of anything. To tell the truth, I don’t really remember what happened. Except that your brother was taken away. And that you were the most mournful little soul I had ever seen.”

Dawn scarcely heard her, she was much too occupied with her own thoughts. “Oh, I have wondered how he happened to be here that day,” she said more to herself than to her companion. “But I put it out of my mind. Now I know. Robbie followed me here, undoubtedly worried about my safety. Little did he know that there was someone waiting to pounce. Just like a cat on a mouse. Someone who would delight to trap him and see him put in a cage.”

"Why...why I can hardly believe that.  It doesn't sound like Garrick.” Mrs. Pembrooke shook her head, not wanting to believe ill of the man she respected. “ He is always the most noble  and sympathetic of men.  You should hear his tirades about how
appallingly the poor in the city are treated.  Why, he  is the only man I know who treats his servants with such respect."

"He is the man.  I know it beyond a doubt. And I will never forgive him.” There was much about her past that Dawn had
not confided even to Margaret Pembrooke. “He  has done me an ill turn, that is all I will say.  And as for my being attracted to him, I wouldn't want him if he were the last man in London."

"Well
, all right then.” Gently touching her arm, the older woman tried to sooth Dawn’s disquiet.  “I won't ask him here again, if that is going to upset you."

Dawn thought about the matter for a long,drawn out moment, then said softly.
"On the contrary, I want him to be a frequent guest."  Her eyes glittered brightly.

"Dawn, what are you planning?"  A flicker of fear swept through Margaret Pembrooke.  "The fewer people who know of your...your uh....prior circumstances the better.  I think the world and all of Garrick
, but men can sometimes be such pompous prigs when crossed.  Don't goad him.  I warn you.  He is not a man to triffle with."

"You are right.  He'd more likely than not turn me
in to the runners if he knew who I was, without even so much as a wink of his eye.  But he'll not learn from me that I was a street sparrow before basking in your kindness." 

"It will
be a secret between us.   Hmm?  That's my good dear.  There is no tempting fate."

"Let him go on believing I am the daughter of your friend from
Norfolk, for I do intend to let him woo me.  I intend to be a most charming companion, and when I have his heart within my grasp....."

Margaret Pembrooke was taken aback.  It was so unlike Dawn to show such hostility and yet perhaps it was deserved.  "Then so be it.  I will not involve myself in Garrick's defense if you are so convinced he has done you such a wrong.  I will urge you to caution, however.  Vengeance is a two-edged sword.  Be careful, Dawn my dear, that in your attempt to wound you are not the victim."

Chapter Twenty-Five

The new Co
vent Garden Theatre was filled to capacity. The new building had been built by Smirke only last year to replace the theatre that had burned down. Even though it had been enlarged and modified, it appeared there would hardly be room enough for all those who wanted to see the night’s performance.

“John Gay’s
Begger’s Opera
has always been one of my favorites. I thought perhaps you would enjoy it too,” Garrick was saying.

“Begger’s Opera?” For just a moment Dawn stiffened. A strange selection. Why had he chosen something about beggers? Was he on to her? Had he seen through her pretense after all?

“God. You haven’t seen it before.” Garrick chuckled. “It’s a rather harsh satire on Walpole and Townshend. Clever. The melodies will undoubtedly be familiar to you. Sweet, simple, singable airs. You should enjoy it.”

“I’m certain that I will.” Taking a deep breath, Dawn relaxed.

“It should be worth fighting even this ungodly throng to enjoy.”

It was as unruly a mob as she had ever seen, Dawn thought, narrowly escaping the elbow of a well-dressed gentleman ahead of them.
  Money was being taken at the gate by a money-taker. Standing in line, people were pushing and shoving, waiting for the doors to open.  As they crushed through the excited crowd, Garrick held Dawn against him, imprisoning her in his strong arms as he gazed smilingly down at her upturned face. She was all too aware of the hardness of his body, searing  her through the silk of her gown. 

Be
careful
, she told herself, remembering Margaret Pembrooke's warning. Harden your heart.
Don't let yourself care for him again
. 

It
was much easier said than done.  Her feelings ran far deeper than she had suspected. Shivers danced up her spine whenever he touched her, an awareness of his masculinity that she could not ignore; it ignited a longing that touched her heart and craved an outlet. He was certainly the wrong man for her. Why then was it so difficult to think rationally when he was near?

I fell in love with a dream, a man who doesn’t really exist
, she thought sadly. He was cold and calculating as all men of his social position were. She knew that now. And yet her heart had a mind of its own and it was proving to be stubborn. She must get control of her emotions or all was lost. Taking a deep breath, shifting her position, she managed to maintain her calm, but even so she was immensely relieved when he loosened his hold.

"
Come this way." His smile was dazzling. "I helped design this theatre.  I know a secret way."  He led her away from the jostling crowd to a darkened doorway. They entered and were soon winding their way up a broad staircase.

Inside the theatre was richly ornamented. Dawn stared in awe at the gilt pilasters and latticed boxes, then quickly remembered herself. She didn’t want to give herself away.

The theatre smelled of tallow, glue and a mixture of the fragrances from ladies' perfumes. As she looked down she could see those of lesser rank filling the middle gallery. They were not as elaborately dressed but they were good humored.  Indeed when a song or character did not please them, they often threw things to show their disapproval, or so Arien had said.              

Dawn knew that pickpockets often roamed about the audience,
looking for prey.  Oh, how Robbie would have eyed the men she was now rubbing elbows with. The rings, heavy watches and fobs, the seals hanging singly or in pairs from waistcoat pockets, would have made his fingers itch.
Robbie
. Her brother’s name haunted her.

Garrick led her to a private box and Dawn forgot all else in the excitement of the moment, staring in amazement at the collection of society's elite.  Of course
, she and Garrick were every bit as fashionable.  He in black coat and buff colored breeches, she in a dress of maroon silk.  Margaret Pembrooke had said emphatically that a well-dressed woman or man never went out without their gloves, thus Dawn wore a pair that went all the way up to her elbows.  She plucked them off now as she made herself comfortable on the soft padded seat, looking avidly about her.

Garrick was  pleasantly amused by her wide-eyed interest, noticing her stares.  It was as if he were seeing the theatre through her eyes.  "Well,
what do you think?" he asked.

The stage was lit by fixed strips of candles behind the proscenium arch.   The candlelight gave off a specia
l glow.  "I think it's grand!"

"I hate to admit it, but most of the people gathered here do not share enthusiasm for seeing this opera.  The object is to be seen and to see
others not, I'm afraid,  to watch the performers."  Again he smiled.  "Indeed, I would say that they come to view each other in their finery and to instigate gossip."  Leaning over, he nuzzled her ear. She felt his breath ruffle her hair, felt the sensation continue down the whole length of her spine.  Her eyelids felt heavy as if she had had too much wine.

Danger
, she thought. 
Remember what Margaret Pembrooke had warned
.  She was poised on the brink of a dangerous precipice, balancing precariously.   What was happening to her?  She couldn't look away.  Couldn't move.  She felt a warmth flow over her body like a tide.

"There, I do believe we've just caused a bit of scandal."  Their eyes met and  held  and for just a moment  the thrill that rushed through her
threatened to melt her resolve. "By tomorrow all of London will be wondering just who you are." Sheer excitement swept over her, radiating to her very core, but once again she urged herself to caution.  Hastily she looked away concentrating on what was happening below. 

There was an expectant hum as the audience settled in their seats.  Garrick took a seat beside her, peering at the stage to see just what held her rapt attention. The curtains were still drawn but she seemed to
be fascinated by the musicians who plucked and tooted as they tuned their instruments and prepared for the overture.  She was a strange one, he thought, acting as if she had never seen an opera before. But then in Norfolk she might not have.  Perhaps she'd just never been to a large city before.  Well, so much the better.               

Dawn 's eyes
darted this way and that as she watched the progression of  glittering women and fashionable men who filled the boxes.  One woman in particular caught her eye, a bejeweled, blonde woman who kept glancing  angrily over at their box.

"Garrick, that woman......"  Forgetting herself for a moment she pointed, a gesture for which Marga
ret Pembrooke would have haughtily critisized.

"An acquaintance of mine.  Think no more about it."  So, Stephanie was attending tonight.  Dreadful timing on his part, but t
here was nothing to be done about it.  Besides, he had a perfect right to choose his own company.  Shrugging his shoulders, he turned away. 

The murmur of conversatio
n died away as slowly the house lights were snuffed.  Stillness settled over the scarlet and gold room as the orchestra struck up the first faint strains of the overture. The curtain was down but the music that suddenly filled the enormous room caused Dawn to shiver.  She felt as well as heard it, each vibration touching her soul.  The music reached out to her, soothing her pain, relaxing her.  Slowly she closed her eyes.

"You're a music lover I see."  Garrick's voice was low, in harmo
ny with the music as he spoke.

"Yes, I am."

"As am I.  We already have something in common."

He was ca
ught up in a web of enchantment and could not take his eyes off her.  There was such a hungry intensity in the smile that lit her face, the exuberance with which she enjoyed the soft melodies.  It spoke of a passionate nature, though she seemed to him to be a young woman who had never been kissed. The way she flushed each time he was bold in his appraisal of her confirmed his feeling. It was said that the eyes were windows of the soul, and he saw in hers an innocence that deeply drew him, a vulnerability that he didn’t want to bruise.

He was consumed by
a desire to kiss her, to be the first to touch her lips, but decided to take it slow.  Above all he didn't want to frighten her.   Dawn Landon was not the kind of woman he usually kept company with. Her heart was not hardened but fragile. Besides, now was not the place or time.  The feelings taking root in his heart were of a private nature that he did not want to exhibit to the elite of London just yet.

Drawing his eyes away he forced him
self to focus on the musicians. “I think the
Beggar’s Opera
will always be one of my favorites.” At least it would be now.

“I
have
heard these melodies before,” she whispered. One or two had been her mother’s favorites in a time long since gone by. The music was entrancing, weaving a magical spell.

“They are popular English, Scottish, Irish and Welsh ballads. Gay engaged John Christopher Pepusch, a composer of German origin, to mix the sauce and orchestrate the songs. There will be sixty-nine in all.” Garrick made no secret of his intent to impress her with his knowledge of the work. “There’s an element of romance in it which should please you.”

Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye Dawn took note of his strong profile, the firm jut of his chin, the thickness of his rich brown hair as it waved at his temples. His lips looked so very pleasing when he smiled, making him look far less formidable and threatening. Somehow she just couldn’t look away. She could have spent every minute of every day just looking at him.

“All ladies I’m told adore such tales.”

“They do….” Oh, how was it possible that despite all her resolve he was so quickly entangling himself in her heart? She should run away. Take to her heels and speed back to the Dials. What had ever made her believe she could live in his world? Somehow, today, tomorrow or the next she would give herself away and then all would be lost.

The overture ended,
the curtain slowly parted.  Dawn focused her gaze on the stage, fighting against the gasp which rose in her throat. She had been expecting bright costumes but instead what she saw was like glimpsing a part of her past. Two figures held on to the curtain, one of them dirty and disheveled, his stockings filled with holes, his coat tattered, his three-cornered hat pulled down low upon his ears. By contrast the other man was dressed in foppish splendor, carrying a velvet cocked hat under his arm.

“The begger insists that he wrote this story. From his point of view. You’ll find this ballad opera devilishly amusing,” Garrick was whispering in her ear. “It implies that the rogues and thieves of Newgate operate in much the same way as those who run the government. Peculation, bribery and treachery. But then I won’t spoil it….”

“Newgate!” for just a moment Dawn panicked. It was all she could do to remain in her seat. Newgate. The very name conjured up frightening thoughts.

“It’s set in Newgate Prison for the most part. It concerns the criminal underworld of
London. The cast of characters is made up of the motliest collection of strumpets, bawds, jades, cutpurses and highwaymen ever assembled on an English stage.”

Just the sort of people Dawn had lived among. “Those who
circumstance has forced into a dismal life,” she breathed. How smug he must feel. How superior. “I feel sorry for such as they.”

Garrick cocked his head, taking note of her tone of voice, the look of compassion on her face. “So, you have a kind and sympathetic heart. A good quality in a woman.” Quickly he informed her of his own empathy for those unfortunates. “Gay is right in the moral he brings forth in the story. He insists that the rich have all the vices of the poor, but that the poor alone are punished for them.”

“Punished so very cruelly,” she replied, thinking about Robbie. Even so she was swept up in the story, completely entranced. It concerned Peachum, a receiver of stolen goods who improved his living by informing on his clients. A man a great deal like Black John Dunn. Seated with his account book, Peachum sang of his confirmed belief in the dishonesty of everyone, setting the tone of the play.

It was a strange kind of love story for Polly, Peachum’s daughter, had fallen in love with Macheath, a gentleman-highwayman and the hero of the story. Her marriage to the highwayman so outraged her father that he decided to inform on his son-in-law and thereby make of his daughter a widow. The first act ended as Polly went to her husband’s side to warn him of the danger.

“Do you like it so far?” The sets were being changed for the second act, slid into place as the audience watched.

“Yes…”

There was a growing sense of intimacy sitting there beside him. She sensed his presence beside her with every fiber of her being. It was dark, with only the stagelights casting a soft, golden glow over them and Garrick’s knee was touching hers. She was very much aware of him. And yet knowing the danger didn’t make it any easier to pull away.

The dancing light played across his long lashes, nose and high cheekbones, highlighting the perfection of his face. She had never thought a man could be beautiful, but in his way, Garrick Seton was. Flawlessly handsome. Oh, how she loved his face—the arch of his eyebrows, the strength of his jaw. She wanted to reach out and touch the thick hair where it waved at his temples. It was an impulse she carefully controlled. Fearing he might sense her attraction to him, she turned her attention back to the stage.