Redeeming the Rogue (33 page)

SHE COULDN’T STOP SMILING. FEELING RENEWED, lightened of a heavy burden, Arianne lay in bed remembering how Rafferty had held her all night, planting soft kisses on her shoulder, tucking her tight against the wall of his chest. Such an intimate feeling to wake in the middle of the night, in the dark, in a borrowed space, and find another protecting you, even in his sleep. The Baron had not stayed with her, even after he had finished his prodding. Poor Miss Sharpe, to be stuck with a man like the Baron when there were men like Rafferty about. Even when he left in the morning to meet Phineas, he assured her he’d be back. In hindsight, perhaps ruining her reputation was the best thing that could have happened to her. Otherwise she would never have rushed to escape London, she most likely would have never met Rafferty, she certainly wouldn’t have agreed to a pretend marriage, and . . . her brother wouldn’t be watching her like a hawk. Christopher!

She hopped out of bed and rang for Kathleen. There was much to be done, invitations to send, workers to hire, canopies to order, weeding to begin. Perhaps it was a blessing her brother was here. She could put him to work as well. Then Rafferty would return. Something bloomed inside of her at the thought.
You can trust him with your heart.
She was beginning to suspect that was true. He hadn’t abandoned her when he learned she was used goods, and he hadn’t tried to take advantage of her admission. She had thought he was only interested in her due to her relationship to the Duke. But now that William was here, she could see that Rafferty didn’t cater to him in the manner that others did. Which meant Rafferty cared for her . . . for her. A ridiculous grin refused to leave her face.

 

“ARIANNE. MIGHT I REMIND YOU THAT I’M NOT ANOTHER household servant; I’m a duke,” William boomed. He sat at Rafferty’s desk in the study, a stack of stationery to his left and a listing of names to the right.

“Well, I have no need for a duke at the moment, but another servant would be deeply appreciated.” After having waited at the printers for a rush order of invitations to be printed, her patience was wearing thin—especially for helpless dukes with a sense of entitlement. She decided to take a different approach and softened her tone. “William, you have the loveliest handwriting. This is little different from addressing letters.” He appeared unmoved. “Would you prefer I arm you with a shovel to join me in the garden?” He scowled, indicating his displeasure with that assignment as well. Frustration kicked in. She put her hands on her hips. “Is there something more important to occupy your time?”

He pulled an envelope in front of him and picked up a pen. “I should have gone to Baltimore with Rafferty. At least then I’d be able to confront this Phineas Connor fellow,” he grumbled.

She stopped at the door, then turned. “Phineas? Why ever would you wish to confront Phineas?”

“If he’s the ruffian that Mrs. Summers wrote of, then I’ve a mind to accost him about putting your safety at risk.”

She laughed. “Phineas is not to blame. You can rest easy on that score.”

“So it was Rafferty . . . I suspected as much,” he mused. Arianne felt her cheeks warm. She had blundered into that one. “Anne, tell me the truth. Are you and Rafferty truly married?”

Her fingers found the gold wedding band. “Why do you ask?”

“You never wrote to me about him. I received all manner of letters about things you were doing with some baron, and then nothing. I’ve come all this way only to discover you’ve married a complete stranger at sea?” His eyes widened a moment, then narrowed. “Are you pregnant? It’s that baron’s byblow, isn’t it? I bet Rafferty married you for your allowance. You
are
the sister of a duke.”

Her face heated. “No, William. I’m not with child, and I don’t believe Rafferty even knows that you send money every month. I don’t believe he was at all impressed that I am your sister. At the moment, he’s probably regretting it.” She knew she was. “So if you’ll excuse me, I have other responsibilities. Please let me know when the invitations are complete. I’d like to have them delivered today.”

She leaned against the wall in the passageway for a breath. Thank heavens she wasn’t as stubborn and obstinate as her brother. Acting as if he were too high and mighty to be addressing envelopes, please. “I’m a duke,” she repeated in a mock singsong voice. Then it occurred to her that she’d been the very same way at times when dealing with Rafferty. The poor man. She owed him an apology. A smile bubbled to her face. This time she might concede the negotiations.

A murmur of voices and the stomp of feet reached her ear from the back of the legation. She walked outside. Six young boys moved about the garden. They looked like a passel of thieves in their shabby attire, except these thieves were vaguely familiar.

“Your Grace,” one boy exclaimed, pulling a cap from his head. “It’s me, Your Ladyship, Ben.”

As he approached, she recognized Ben from the
Irish Rose
. She glanced about the others, realizing they too must have come from the
Rose
. Rafferty’s boys.

“Mr. Rafferty sent us. He said you could use help and that we could use a good meal.” His lips turned in a crooked smile. “I’d never been on a train before. The engine was smaller than the one on the
Rose
, but the cars moved so fast, I didn’t think I could breathe.”

Rafferty. She should have guessed. Thinking of her and sending the boys in the midst of everything else.

“How did you arrive from the station?” she asked. That was an uphill climb.

“We walked. It felt good after being on the
Irish Rose
for so long. Mrs. Trembull fed us. Now we’re ready to work.” He beamed. “It’s been an adventure.” She was about to direct them on the finer points of weeding when Ben remembered something else. “Mr. Rafferty told me to give you this.” He pulled a folded paper from his grubby shirt. “And that.” He pointed to a box on a garden bench.

While he fetched the box, she read the note. Rafferty said he wouldn’t be home tonight after all. He and Phineas needed to check on something after dark. Disappointment dimmed her earlier enthusiasm. She hadn’t realized how much she missed Rafferty until she knew he wouldn’t be home. Ben returned with the box. Inside she found one of her missing pots of lavender and a wrapped flower bouquet, slightly wilted. Another note from Rafferty was tucked in the flowers.
I don’t know what these mean, but they made me think of you.
Her heart sighed.

“Let me put these in water,” she said. “I’ll talk to Mrs. Watson about finding you boys some new clothes and a place to sleep. There’s plenty of work for you to do out here.”

She sniffed her bouquet, wishing Rafferty were here so she could thank him properly. She and her brother would have a quiet dinner this evening. Maybe he could help her with designs for some new gardens. She and Rafferty wouldn’t be here long enough to merit changes to the household structure, but leaving a nice garden behind would be a gift to the new British minister. Leaving the legation in an improved state from its condition when assumed would be the proper thing to do.

 

“MY LADY, I’M SORRY. YOU NEED TO WAKE UP!”

“Kathleen?” Arianne fought to get her eyes open. She’d had entirely too much wine at dinner last night. “What is it?”

“The coppers have Mr. Rafferty. They’ve got him in jail.”

“What?” She sat up in bed. “What are you talking about?”

“The police downstairs want to talk to you.”

Arianne slipped on a concealing robe and tied it securely around her. Her hair was loose, but it would have to do. She hurried down the stairs to where a policeman waited in the front salon.

He introduced himself as a sergeant with the Washington Metropolitan Police.

“Yes, Sergeant. What can I do for you?”

“We received a telegram from the Baltimore Police Department. They have a Mr. Michael Rafferty and a Mr. Phineas Connor in custody. Mr. Rafferty claims to be a diplomat residing at this residence?”

“Yes. He’s the British minister in charge of this legation.”

The policeman raised a brow. Clearly that wasn’t the answer he anticipated. “If that’s the case, the Baltimore Police can’t keep him. He’ll have diplomatic immunity. Someone will need to identify him. I believe he asked for you.”

“Identify him?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll telegraph that you’re coming. An officer will meet you at the harbor station for escort. The Baltimore and Potomac runs a ten o’clock train.”

“Thank you, Sergeant.” He turned to go, but Arianne stopped him with another question. “Could you tell me, sir, what my husband was doing to cause his arrest?”

The officer flipped open his pad. “This could be wrong. Sometimes the operators get a code wrong,” he said with a wry smile. “But it looks like public intoxication and disturbing coffins.”

 

ACCOMPANIED BY HER QUARRELSOME BROTHER, ARIANNE managed the ten o’clock train and, as promised, was met at the harbor train station. They were escorted to the police station, an awful place populated by scowling men in uniforms and others of questionable character and hygiene. Her appearance caused a stir before the sergeant on duty led them back to the jail cells. One would think they’d not met a proper lady and duke before.

Rafferty was lying on a metal bench, his eyes closed. He wore a pair of old trousers, a collarless shirt with rolled sleeves, and an old tatty waistcoat. It was little wonder the police didn’t believe he was a diplomat. Phineas was barely recognizable in stained clothes, long sideburns, and bushy eyebrows. A large battered sack lay by his feet. His nimble fingers worked a coin, making it visible one moment and gone the next.

“He says he’s the British minister,” the sergeant said, nodding toward Rafferty, clearly skeptical.

“Yes. That’s my husband.” Arianne sighed. It was clear that all those lessons on attire were for naught. “The other is Phineas Connor, his associate.”

“You’re absolutely certain?” The sergeant waited a moment, then shrugged. “They don’t look like any ministers I’ve ever seen, in church or out.”

He slipped a key into the cell door. “The captain says there’ll be no charges.” He ran his truncheon across the bars, making a loud clatter. Arianne jumped inside her skin. Never had she envisioned being in such an environment.

“You’re free to go, thanks to the lovely lady.” The sergeant pulled open the door, then glanced at Arianne. “You might want to keep them in Washington. Less trouble that way.” The officer left.

Rafferty’s eyes remained closed, but his lips slid into a smile. “Morning, darlin’. Did you miss me?”

“Rafferty,” she scolded. “What is the meaning of this? Look at you. You look . . .” He opened his eyes and sat up. Stubble covered his jaw. His unkempt hair fell forward on his brow. He hadn’t slept well, she could see that. Something stirred deep inside. She was tempted to say he looked delicious, like warm chocolate on a cold morning, but that would hardly be appropriate.

“You look like a dissolute loafer,” her brother said. “I can see why Mrs. Summers was concerned enough to write.”

Rafferty squinted, then grinned. “I thought a dissolute loafer would be less suspect checking coffins. But it appears the harbor police disagreed.”

“Coffins?” William looked as dumbfounded as Arianne felt. Coffins?

Rafferty stood, then stretched. He walked over to Arianne and kissed her cheek. She had to admit, he did make the extra effort to make their marriage appear convincing. She would miss this aspect when it was over. Her nose wrinkled. But she wouldn’t miss the smell of this unkempt man.

“You brought
him
?” he said close to her ear. Unfortunately, it was close to William’s ear as well. “Ben would have been more useful.”

“Ben?” William asked. “Who’s Ben?”

“Your Grace.” Rafferty stretched his arm toward his cell mate, who had peeled one eyebrow from his face and was working on the other. “This is Phineas Connor, my illustrious associate.” Rafferty swung his arm to indicate William. “Phineas, it is my pleasure to introduce the Duke of Bedford, Arianne’s brother. I don’t think he appreciates that we involved his sister in our nefarious schemes.”

Phineas bowed, then extended his hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, Your Grace. You have a lovely sister in Lady Arianne.” He bowed to her as well.

Arianne glanced at the neighboring cells, at the men who studied her with interest. If possible, they appeared even more dissolute than Rafferty. The entire place made her yearn for a bath. “Whatever did you do to land in such a place?” she murmured.

“This cell isn’t so bad,” Rafferty said. “We’ve been in much worse. Haven’t we, Phineas?”

“Indeed we have.” Phineas grinned.

William mumbled something inaudible.

Arianne turned to Rafferty, confused. “What is all this business about coffins? I thought you came to Baltimore to speak with Captain Briggs. And what about the public intoxication? That’s hardly proper behavior for a British minister.”