My Lord Rogue (10 page)

“Where are we?”
she
asked
wearily.

“My townhouse
.”

Gillian frowned. “
I do not think it’s wise for me to stay here
, my lord
.”

His mind reeled and he stared baffled as the chill between them seemed to grow. Only moments ago she’d leaned on him to ease her grief, now she
retreated to formalities.
What was she afraid of
?

“You have nowhere else to go,” he said.

She turned away from him
,
but h
e
would not be shut out. He
reached
for her, grabbed
her chin and
pulled
her face toward him.
Not
another moment
would
go by without
him
speaking his mind.
“There are bigger things at work here than you know. I
need
you.”

Her laughter sounded
half-crazed. “Simon, you
don’t
need me. You
are married.
It
would
not be socially acceptable for me to be
seen here.”

“
Not if
you live here.
”
He tilted her head toward the entrance. “This is where it will all begin.
”

Doubt registered in her eyes
.
“Wh
ere what will begin
?”

“Nelson’s Tea,” he said
,
surprised by
the resonate hint of pride in his own voice
.
“
Don’t
pretend you don’t know
. If what you say is true and you were privy to Lucien
’s
assignments
, then you
do
know about Nelson’s Tea.” He studied her momentarily. “
Join us.
I want you to be a part of
what we’re about to accomplish
, Gillian. Take Lucien’s place.
With us, your talents can be put to optimum use
.”
He
made no effort to conceal his
nod to her feminine attributes. They need
ed
someo
ne who could infiltrate society and
wheedle secrets from the demi-monde
without anyone being the wiser
. And who better to play the game
than
a woman with a title
— someone like Gillian
.

“What you ask
.” She
paus
ed.
“
Carries
great
weight
. And after wh
at I
’ve
just d
one
to Admiral Nelson
—
” She held her hand up to her neck.
“
—
i
t
’
s doubtful
he will allow me
to take part
.
”

Simon
threw his head back and laughed his
first genuine laugh in ages. “Believe me when I say you are exactly what Nelson
needs
.”

She chewed her bottom lip, making it grow plump
, red,
and far more tempting
than proper
.

Simon cleared his throat and diverted his
eyes.

“As you wish
,” she said softly.

Had
she read his thoughts?
Could she see how much he wanted her? Was this to be his penance? Forced to work with the one woman who ignited his passions without ever being able to touch her?

“I will stay here
¯
tonight.”
That was the
one
concession she gave him.

“Good,” he said
, pleased that she’d agreed even to one night
.
That gave him time to convince her.
“Then it’s settled.”

“But I will not
decide to stay
until I’m quite
certain
of my feelings
about our current association
.”

“I’m not asking for anything
you cannot and will not give
. I’m a married man. I know that well
enough.”
He
cocked his brow, wondering if
his confession
would turn her against the idea. He didn’t blame her, but he
needed
her
,
even if he couldn’t speak the words aloud
. “With or without you,
England’s future depends on the men and women willing to sacrifice themselves for the
sake
of all
.”

She nodded
. At least she understood that much. Her eyes widened
. S
he placed her warm hand on his sleeve,
a dim flush racing across her face like a fever
. “Where will you go now?”

A moment passed. Quiet, sanguine, he memorized her heart-shaped face,
the dark lashes that swept over her cheekbones, the living moistness on her rosy mouth,
setting
everything about her
to memory. For
those
rare glimpses into what might have been were all that would
satisfy
him when he retired for the night.

“Home,” he finally answered
, rolling the bitter taste
of the word
over his tongue
.

“I wish you
a
safe
journey
,” she said as the door to the townhouse opened
and Goodayle, the butler he’d hired as chief protector of his secrets
,
appeared.

“Good evening, my
lord
.” Goodayle bowed and then moved forward quickly to help Gillian step out of the carri
age. “My lady,” he acknowledged. He
nodded as
Simon
stepped onto the
carriage
stoop.

“
Goodayle,
I present Baroness Chauncey.
She will be staying at Number Eleven until further notice.
I leave her in your
dependable
car
e
.”

“Will you not be joining her?”

The temptation to do so tugged at him like a riptide.
But he could no sooner stay than contain
the
currents
.
“No
,
”
he said, forcing the word from his mouth before he change
d
his mind.

Simon whirled around and took the first carriage step before casting one last glance over his shoulder.
Gillian, his siren, his bright and glorious star,
beckoned
like a lighthouse beacon
. He was the ship
in need of guidance away from crippling rocks along the
sea
shore.
Without her, he would surely die.

“
Goodayle is my man
,
baroness
.
He’ll see you settled. Direct your needs to him.”
With that he
looked up at his coachman and said, “Two ticks.”
He pulled the creaking
carriage door
closed with his cane and settled back on
the cushions
.

As the conveyance
jolted to a start
, he
thought
he heard
Gillian
say
,
“I assure you, I shall.”

“
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts

Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,

With spectacles on nose and pouch on side
…
”

~
William Shakespeare’s
All The World
’
s a Stage

Gillian’s words
echoed
in
Simon’s head
with
an
unyielding power
certain to banish any happiness he might have won
.

“I assure you, I shall.”

What the devil
did that mean
?

Simon
leaned back against the squabs
, grumbling
, a frown distort
ing
his features
.
His life, his desires, hopes
,
and dreams were
nothing if not
forfeit.
He’d tried to forget
. He’d played the game at pretending not to love in order to shield his heart
.
He’d tried
to push Gillian and everything denied him where she was concerned from his mind. But now that he’d seen her, held her, all
he could think about was Gillian’s beautiful chocolate brown eyes daring him to pull her puppet strings
.
Kissing her until she wilted beneath his touch. Watching her skin glisten with each sensual exertion. He wanted
to hold
her pliant body cupped
closely
against his.
He shook his head
,
incredulous. Of a certainty
, h
e’d denied
his
own passions
too long
.
A
terrible mistake
that would be his undoing
.

He’d left the admiralty,
set aside his association with the navy,
and linked himself to the nobility at
Prinny’s
insistence.
His endeavors hadn’t
all
been
for public consumption.
He had gleaned a network of intelligence from
his activities
.

N
othing but England
matters
.
Remember that.
In his line of work, any other kind of thought process got one killed. A
façade
was
the order of the day if he wanted to
save lives
.
And t
housands of souls
were in jeopardy. Every British citizen
depended on Admiral Nelson’s plan to offset Napoleon’s quest for control over the Channel and the British isles.
Fouché
and
Barrere
would not abandon Napoleon’s schemes.
That left little
time
to deliberate over
personal
happiness. Not
for
Gillian
.
Not for his
wife.
Not when his
country
was at war
.

Simon closed his eyes,
eagerly seeking
a moment’s peace
. The turbule
nt activities of the evening,
the attempt on Admiral Nelson’s life
, and the loss of one of his most dependable men
had taken
its
toll.
The result? H
e wa
s exhausted beyond measure. T
he
one
thing he should be pining for
now
was sleep
, but
oddly
he wasn’t tired
.
He felt — well for lack of a better word — annoyed
, on fire
. Everything in his life had its place. Now his state of being left him perplexed as to how to handle Nelson’s Tea henceforth.

He laid his head back against the
velvet
upholstery and closed his eyes, squeezing them tight
. What would
tomorrow bring
?
He’d managed, with Gillian’s help, to
a
vert a grand plot
of
catastrophic proportions
.
What if
Gillian had
failed
to warn them
? What if Nelson had been murdered? Thank God for Lucien, for Gillian. If not for them, England would have mourned and lost one of the greatest boons to its
brittle
morale.

He opened his eyes. He’d never wanted
such a
life for Gillian. But t
he grave implications of what
she
had done
, the
sudden buoyancy of the
intelligence she could ga
ther,
became multifaceted importance to his mission.
As long as
Nelson’s Tea
had Nelson at the helm, they
would
succeed. But how much more so, how much greater
than he, the king
,
or Nelson
had ever
imagined
with a woman as talented as Gillian working with them
, for them
?

How long he pondered over this new
panorama
of thought he didn’t know.
Two ticks meant h
e’d told the driver to take him the long way around Piccadilly to Curzon Street. T
he
extended
ride
had
afforded him time to settle his mind before he faced his wife.
As the carriage pulled to a stop, Simon straightened his shoulders and
resumed his stiff countenance before exiting the coach.

H
is
footman
open
ed the carriage door
. “My
lord
.”

Simon nodded briefly before heading to the
threshold
of Number Seventeen where Archer, his butler
,
stood
patiently waiting
.

“
Thank you, Archer
,” he said, giving the man his coat, t
op hat
,
and gloves.
“Is everything well with my wife?”

“She is the same, my
lord
.”

Simon nodded
, a spike of guilt stabbing him afresh
.

“There is another matter,” Archer said, tilting his head. “The duke is here.”

“His
grace
?”
What the devil had brought his brother
t
here?

“
Yes, my lord.
You’ll find his
grace
in
the
study.”

“And Lady Constance?” he asked,
hoping to see his favorite niece
, especially after
the events at Drury Lane
.

“
She didn’t accompany him
, my
lord
.”

“I see.” Though he didn’t.
Already six and ten, his young niece
yearned for society at a time when Byron refused her opportu
nities
, especially for her first season
. The reason?
After his wife Olivia’s death, he felt
Constance
needed
protection. At times,
Simon
agreed.
But not
always
.
The chit
was entirely too sheltered and
had a penchant for
making rash decisions
as a result of Byron’s overprotection
. Yet for all her childishness, she
was full of vigor for life,
just like her mother
—
God rest
Lady
Olivia’s soul. Olivia
was the reason
his brother
Byron
disliked society
. H
e meant to keep Constance from anyone who would bring up the past or remind him that he
hadn’t been
able to spare his two ladies from being captured by pirates.
Another reason why the man detested
Simon'
s
involvement with the navy
. The
Admiralty Board had neglected to protect the
Caddock
.
Constance had been the sole survivor, a fact Byron never neglected to
remind
him.

Simon shook his head. The Danbury’s had seen their share of misfortune
s.

Edwina.
He
glanced
up the stairs. Though
he and Edwina had
a loveless marriage,
their union
had been built on respect and trust.
H
is wife
deserved better. If
Byron hadn’t forced the issue
, sealing the bargain that united
the Landon-Fitzhugh and Danbury
families before they’d ever met
, things might have been different
. Perhaps
,
given time
and a proper courtship,
he and Edwina would’ve grown to love one another
in the natural order of things
.
But then there had been
his assignment to Drury Lane and
Gillian.

“Would you like to take your brandy in the study, my
lord
?”

“
Yes
,” he said. “
I need a drink. It has
been
a damned
wretched
night
.”
H
e
took in
the
town
house before he added,
“Is he in a good mood?”
He certainly wasn’t
prepared
to hear his brother lament the weather or some such drivel.
No. Byron was
t
here for a reason. But what?

“His
grace
has been
staring at her painting again,”
Archer
replied
, shaking his head.
“Cooper advised me to tread carefully where the duke is concerned.”

Simon nodded
, understanding
.
Cooper
, Byron’s butler, kept
them abreast
with his brother’s comings and goings by warning Archer.

Archer
bowed and then disa
ppeared with his accoutrements
. Satisfied, Simon
arrowed for the study
, passing the parlor with the
Broadwood
pianoforte Olivia had adored playing
when she was alive
.
He kept it
t
here, preserved in her memory.

“I thought I told you I didn’t want to be disturbed
until my brother returned
,” Byron called out when Simon opened the
double-paneled oak
door.
Realizing that
Simon
wasn’t
Archer
or any of the other servants
, Byron recanted, “Ah, it’s you. Haven’t you learned to knock?”

“
In order to enter my own study
?”
Simon
cocked a brow
.
“If I had,
would you even have allowed me in?
”

“Precisely.”

How he enjoyed the
ir sibling
repartee. Their relationship as brothers hadn’t always been
so
disjointed, their banter so
bluntly
sharp
. Only two years apart in age, they had learned to lean on one another through good times and bad. But
Olivia’s death had molded Byron into a very bitter man, especially
when the conversation turned to his only child
,
Constance.

“I’ve just returned from Drury Lane. Quite a spectacle there this evening, one you might have found positively scandalous.”

Byron harrumphed. “I have no interest in the
ton
n
or
the
desire to know anything about anyone else’s detestable lives
, especially the opera
.
I have my own disastrous life to live.
”

Simon understood
his brother’s reasoning
. Gossip had run rampant after France had declared war on England
and Spain
in February of ninety-three
,
and the
Caddock
, the
ship Olivia and Constance
had boarded
for Spain,
had been
attacked
by pirates operating under French orders
and sunk.
Perhaps because of h
er
age,
Constance had been the
only
survivor.
A nagging suspicion that wasn’t exactly the case had haunted him ever since. But nothing had been proven to indicate otherwise.
Unfortu
nately for the girl, sh
e was the exact image of her mother, making Byron
maddeningly
overprotective
on
all accounts.

“Careful, brother,” he warned.

Byron put down the book he was reading. “Careful? Careful? Who are you to
warn me
?”

The conversation was over, as it always was when Byron refused to listen to whatever Simon had to say. Simon poured himself two
fingers of brandy, downed the entire contents
,
and turned to leave Byron in peace, not that the man
would find it
in
Simon’s
townhouse
.

“By the by,” Byron began, “do not fill my daughter’s head with whatever nonsense you experienced at the opera tonight.”

Simon cocked his brow. “
I cannot and will not refuse to answer my niece when she questions me about the world at large
.”

“
You fill her head with fanciful notions, brother. I came here to warn you not to continue
.”

So that
was
his purpose in coming.
What
could be gained by
arguing with Byron
?
His visits were rare. If he’d come to warn him off, as he suggested, Constance must have press
ured him for a season.
T
he girl was due her turn, a matter Byron
refused to acknowledge
.

Simon
felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. His brother’s intentions were well and good
,
but by veiling Constance from society, his darling niece would suffer
.
Did
Byron
want her to be a spinster?
The click of the large
oak doors
put
a final end to
his
conversation
with his brother
.
A hard, bitter man, he’d
set
Olivia
on a pedestal
, which made
Simon’s
situation with
Edwina
all the more painful.
Olivia had
gone swiftly, if not suffering untold horror
, b
ut
his
wife left this world by agonizing degrees.
His brother
,
so deeply immersed in his own sorrow
,
failed to
take that fact into account, unless rarely urged to do so.

Simon left Byron and all thought of the man’s selfishness behind him as he moved through the
town
house and allowed his
gaze
to flow up
the staircase railing to the top of the stairs.
He could no longer
put off his
nightly visit to his wife
and
took the stairs one by one
, each step
bringing him c
loser to
the tormenting
emotion
s
he buried deep inside
.
In truth, he was as loathsome as the foulest of God’s creatures. He’d failed to locate
a doctor able to cure Edwina’s
debilitating painful
condition
.
He embodied bitter disappointment
for the happy marriage he
and Gillian might have had
if
they
had
been married instead. Guilt, the
sharp
g
utting sensation
,
damned
his soul
to
eternal
hell
. Deserved self
hate
accused
him
with ritualistic
frequency
of hollowness, envy, lust
,
disallowing
him
forgiveness for loving a woman other than his wife.

Bloody hell!
He
was
a monster.

A warm light glowed invitingly from the slightly ajar door to Edwina’s room
.

“That should be my dear h
-h
usband back from the o
-o
pera,” Edwina sa
id
. “Do come in, my
l
-
lord
.” Her weak voice held him in the highest esteem, though it faltered
whenever she strung too many words into one sentence
.

Simon knocked softly and then eased the door open.
T
he
all-too familiar
abhorring aroma of laudanum
,
valerian root,
and
Peruvian bark
entered his lungs, sickening
his stomach
. His
gut
flip
-
flopped as he
set his shoulders back
and
moved in
to
the room, presenting his wife the
mask she admired
, the
disguise
he secretly abhorred.

“Lady Edwina,” he said, bowing
, moving quickly
to her side
. T
he tragedy that had become their lives
was
a mundane
but habitual
affair
he’d helped
produce
.

Edwina
’s lip curled into the semblance of a smile, one that
didn’t reach her
dimming
eyes. “Come.” She stretched out her hand but dropped
it almost immediately because the effort was too great. “T-Tell me. Holcroft. D-Did he do it again?”