To Rescue a Rogue (32 page)

“You will see. Now, my little one,” she said coaxingly to Delphie, “come to your mother.”

Delphie tensed and her hands clutched into Mara like claws.

Dare raised a hand. “First, I must try to explain to her, to both of them.” He took Delphie in one arm, and knelt, putting the other around Pierre.

Mara sighed for love of him. It would be so easy for him to take the children apart for this, to exclude this intrusive stranger, but he wouldn't do that. He even spoke to them in French.

“I love you both as you know,” he said, “but you know it is possible that you have parents who love you just as much, and who have been searching for you ever since you disappeared. That must be very hard to bear.”

“You are our papa,” Pierre stated, not giving an inch.

“In so many ways, but not by blood. If Delphie really is Madame Clermont's daughter, there are laws about these things, and good laws overall. If you were my true children and had been taken from me, it wouldn't matter that years had gone by and you might have forgotten me, I would find you, and bring you home. You see?”

The children nodded, but uncertainly.

“It will not matter what we want?” Pierre challenged.

“It may not. But whatever happens, I will not lose you. We will not be truly apart.”

Mara wanted to protest a promise that could not be kept.

Dare put Delphie on her feet and stood. “You are both to try to be kind to Madame Clermont, but one of the footmen will be nearby at all times, and he will find me if you need me. Now it is time for bed, I think. Say good night to madam.”

They did so, resentfully, and then he led them into their bedroom. When he emerged, he and Mara followed the silent duchess downstairs.

Dare let his mother get ahead, however, and took Mara into his bedroom. She wrapped her arms around him, remembering that first night here, when he'd rescued her. Her predicament had seemed so serious then. It had been nothing.

He sighed and moved away. “I think she's telling the truth.”

“There's no evidence but her word,” Mara protested.

“But her word is convincing, and she passed Solomon's test.”

“What?”

“She surrendered the child to you to because Delphie was suffering.”

Mara sat on a chair. “It can't be true.”

“Why would she come so far and at such effort to tell a lie that will explode as soon as its investigated?”

Mara had no answer to that.

“One solution occurs to me,” Dare said, turning to look into the fire.

“What?”

When he didn't answer, she repeated, “What, Dare?”

He turned to face her. “I could marry her.” Before Mara could protest, he said, “Then I will be able to care for Delphie and she and Pierre would not be separated.”

Mara couldn't find words, but then she exploded to her feet. “What about me?”

He closed his eyes. “I must protect the child first.”

“Then what about another child?” Mara protested. “Our child? I could be carrying one now—you know I could.”

He covered his face with his hands. “Don't.”

She dragged his hands down. “I must. What am I to do if I'm carrying your child? Marry someone else and live on dry bread all my days? Bear a bastard and try to explain to him one day that you put another child first, a child not even your own?”

He stared at her. “You are cruel.”

“We took vows, Dare. Did you not mean them?”

“I took vows to the children, too. That I would never let anything harm them again.”

Mara swallowed over an agonizing lump in her throat and enclosed his hands in her own. “That was a vow you could never keep, my dearest love. I would give you up, I would, if I thought it right. But what sort of husband will you be to that woman, all the rest of your life? How will it help Delphie to see you suffer. She's a caring, sensitive child, and as she grows, she will understand. And how will this affect your addiction?”

He tore away from her and turned to brace himself against the window frame. “I cannot betray Delphie by letting her be taken away. I simply cannot. You saw how she looked at me. She's suffered so much.” He turned, haggard. “Do you know how long it took to persuade her to cry aloud like a normal child? To laugh? To complain or object?”

Mara remembered the child's total silence in the midst of terror and betrayal. Then something else made her gasp. “Our betrothal ball!”

“Cancel it,” he said.

“We can't.”

“What does my reputation matter?”

“Blanche's does.”

He turned away again, gripping the curtain so hard, Mara feared he'd rip it down. She ran to find Ruyuan. Only when he and Salter were with Dare did she feel able to leave Yeovil House.

She wished desperately that she could stay.

T
he next day was Sunday. Mara attended service at St. George's in Hanover Square with her family and didn't think she'd ever prayed so fervently in her life. Her prayers were entirely for a solution to the dilemma that seemed to have no happy ending.

Afterward, she, Simon, and Jancy went to Yeovil House to see how things were. They learned that Madame Clermont had insisted on taking Delphie to a Catholic mass. It had been allowed, but Dare had escorted them and Pierre had gone, too. He refused to let Delphie out of his sight.

Dare looked fine-drawn and pale, but his voice was even when he said, “The mass stirred some memories in Pierre, but nothing to identify his family or home.”

“What about Delphie?” Mara asked.

“No, but that doesn't prove anything. She was young.”

Not that young,
Mara thought, but time would reveal the truth.

She went up to the schoolroom with Dare, to find a chilly atmosphere. Madame Clermont was attempting to play with Delphie, offering the pretty dolls. Delphie was clutching Mariette and pretending the woman didn't exist. Pierre stood on guard. He even, Mara noticed, wore a wooden sword on a belt.

The Belgian woman was quietly angry, but much improved in appearance. She had been persuaded to wear brighter clothes, and the yellow-striped cream suited her. Perhaps she had eaten and slept well for the first time in ages, for her skin and eyes seemed more alive. She still wore her white close cap with its strings beneath her chin, but wisps of hair that escaped were dark and curly. Perhaps not so dark as Delphie's but dark.

Delphie looked instantly at Dare, but she didn't run to him. Something flickered on her face that might have been hope, but clearly the child was terrified of doing the wrong thing and being punished—the worst punishment being loss of Dare.

Mara ignored the tense atmosphere and any rules and swept Delphie up into a hug. “Hello, my precious,” she said in French, so as not to upset Madame Clermont. “Here it is the day of rest and you are working so hard at dressing dolls.” It was nonsense, but the best she could do. “And poor Mariette never has new clothes.”

“Mariette likes her clothes,” Delphie said.

“That thing,” Madame Clermont spat. “It is ugly and dirty. It should be thrown on the fire.”

She was correct, but oh so wrong.

“Children's tastes are unpredictable, madam. If you wish Delphie to be happy, you must permit her Mariette.” She spoke to the doll. “Would you permit me to give you some jewelry, Mariette?”

After a moment, Delphie replied in the squeaky voice. “Yes, please.”

Mara casually passed Delphie to Dare. “Hold her as I take out my earrings.” She took off the pearl earrings, then used the wires to attach them to Mariette's cloth head, watching to be sure that the bit of necessary puncturing didn't upset Delphie.

Then she took Delphie back, gave her Mariette, and carried her to the mirror. “There, Mariette. Are they not pretty?”

“Very pretty,” Delphie squeaked. “You are most kind, Milady Mara.”

“May I give you something, Mariette?” Dare asked, coming over.

Mara turned child and doll to him. He took out the golden pin that fixed his cravat and carefully set it into the doll's rag clothing.

Mariette thanked him. Then Delphie added, “Mariette would like to kiss you in thanks, Papa, and so would I.”

It broke Mara's heart that the child thought she had to ask permission, but both Dare and Delphie needed the hug.

Mara glanced at Madame Clermont and caught a strange expression. The woman's lips were tight, but sadness accompanied fear and irritation. She, too, understood how impossible a happy ending might be.

Everyone had decided that the ball must go on, for to abandon it might confirm the stories about Dare and possibley harm Mara's reputation. The story of the woman who claimed to be Delphie's mother had already escaped, but no one would think that sufficient reason to cancel a hastily arranged important event.

Eventually they had to leave the children, but Mara stayed at Yeovil House, trying to help, but even if she had the power to bring sunshine into people's lives, the shadows here were too dense. Dare evaded her most of the day. Would he really marry the woman to save Delphie?

Yes, he would, and Mara might permit it. Both she and he were strong and would survive. Delphie might not.

She returned to Marlowe House to sleep, but took a coach to Yeovil House after breakfast the next day. She couldn't stay away. She arrived at the door at the same time as Major Hawkinville. “Berkstead's back,” he said.

“Where?”

“Let's find Dare.”

Dare hurried downstairs and they all went into the library.

“He claims to know nothing of the story,” Hawkinville reported. “He's probably lying, but there's no way to force him to admit it short of torture. He's blinded by jealous hate to such an extent that he probably believes the story himself. Still seems convinced that Mara's being compelled to marry you against her wishes. Even came up with Madame Clermont as a new attack on you.”

“How?” Dare asked.

“She was your mistress in Brussels. Then you abandoned her and stole the child you'd made together.”

“Delphie's five. The man's fit for Bedlam.”

“Probably, but he's not frothing at the mouth yet, so he can sound quite plausible, and he does have friends. He was a good soldier and a good officer. What do you want us to do with him?”

Dare rubbed his head. “Oh, leave him be. He's spread his poison and we've applied an antidote, which will work or not as fate disposes. But, Mara,” he added, “don't go anywhere alone.”

She nodded. “This is my fault.”

“You had no reason to think that a flirtation would be taken to this extreme.”

He was not mentioning her true folly, and she supposed there was no benefit from confessing it here.

“This woman who claims to be your child's mother? Is it true?” Hawkinville asked.

“Probably.”

“Easy enough to settle the truth, I'd think.”

“Not before tomorrow night,” Dare said, “which is when Mara and I announce our betrothal to the ton.”

“I don't see the connection.”

Dare glanced at Mara. “One way to unravel the Gordian knot would be for me to marry the woman. Delphie would still have me.”

“Gordian knots are usually cut,” the major said. “Pay the woman off.”

“It's been tried,” Dare said, shocking Mara. “No amount of money will suffice. You see,” Dare said to her. “Solomon, again. Her sole desire is to take her daughter back to Halle.”

Mara could almost hear Major Hawkinville's brain clicking like a rapid machine. Could he actually come up with a solution?

“Compromise,” he said at last. “She can live as the child's mother as long as she lives with you and Mara. Uncomfortable all around, but it's the best balance.”

Mara was gaping, but she looked at Dare.

He met her eyes. “I can bear that, if you can.”

“Given the alternative, of course I can.”

She thought they both sighed with immense relief. It was not the life they'd planned, but it would be life together.

“We must put it to her, then.”

At the door, they met a footman. “Major Beaumont wishes to speak with you, milord.”

“Of course.”

Hal came in looking rueful. “I come bearing a summons from my godmother, Lady Cawle.”

Dare swore.

“She's on her high horse, claiming she agreed to give the nod to Blanche for my sake, and was willing to turn a blind eye to opium eating, but—sorry, Dare—won't be used as a cover for cowardice. I'll tell her to go to the devil if you want.”

Mara longed to do just that. How many more burdens would be tossed onto Dare? But they didn't need more trouble. “You should go,” she said to Dare, “but I'm coming with you. It might as well be now. Madame Clermont will wait.”

 

The Dowager Countess of Cawle received them in her Albemarle Street house, enthroned on a sofa, crimson skirts spread. Seen up close, she was still handsome with excellent skin and sharp, clear eyes that assessed Dare coldly.

Dare bowed. “May I present my bride, Lady Cawle. Lady Mara St. Bride.”

“Don't see why not,” the lady said, assessing Mara. “I know nothing to
her
discredit.”

“Then you don't know as much as you think, Lady Cawle,” Mara said, dipping a curtsy but speaking plainly. If the woman was going to be unpleasant, she might as well know it wouldn't all go her way.

A hint of humor showed. “I've heard about your family's hair. There was one like you when I was a girl. A terror.”

“That must have been Great-uncle Frederick. Fortunately he was able to enter the army and become a hero.”

“I hope you don't intend any heroics here.” Lady Cawle's gaze moved back to Dare. “And your army career, Debenham?”

“I was never precisely in the army, Lady Cawle, but I believe I acquitted myself well.”

Mara hoped she'd suppressed a start of surprise. She hadn't known he'd come to be sure of that, but he wouldn't have said it otherwise.

“I agreed to attend the forthcoming ball to add some little support to my godson's wife. An actress, and not of spotless reputation, but it won't do to have Mrs. Hal Beaumont excluded. I did not agree to endorse you, sir.”

“You have been put in an unfortunate position, Lady Cawle, and I apologize for it.”

The apology seemed to disconcert her. They were waved to seats, which Mara assumed meant they'd passed the first tests. She was struggling against rebellion even so. What right had this woman to judge either of them?

“You need to be careful, gel,” Lady Cawle drawled. “Your every emotion shows on your face and a warrior needs a shield.”

Mara colored. “I'd prefer not to have battles to fight.”

“Then you should have chosen your future husband more carefully, shouldn't you?”

“Does one get to choose?” Mara challenged.

“A believer in Cupid's arrow, are you? Would you have fallen in love with a pig herder if the arrow had commanded?”

Mara smiled. “I did once think myself in love with one of the gardeners.”

“But did not marry him,” Lady Cawle pointed out.

Dare said, “I thought you wished to joust with me, Lady Cawle.”

The dark eyes moved back to him. “It's useful to see how a gentleman will protect his lady. You were somewhat laggard.”

“Mara can fight her own battles. I was merely feeling neglected.”

Lady Cawle's lips twitched, but Mara couldn't decide if it was with amusement or irritation. “You were always a rogue—and I don't mean that ridiculous schoolboy association. Mischievous, and at times silly. I assume the silliness has been knocked out of you.”

“You tempt me to gibber like a monkey and throw fruit around the room.”

“Wouldn't do you any good,” Lady Cawle said, glancing at a bowl of plums and pears. “It's all wax.”

“Thus I am disarmed.” Dare smiled.

This time, the twitch was definitely an attempt to conceal amusement. “You are attempting to
be
disarming. What is this nonsense about you turning coward, and who is behind it?”

Mara relaxed a little.

“We suspect it was spread by a Major Berkstead,” Dare said. “He is understandably in love with Mara and resents the fact that she has chosen me. He seems willing to believe any evil of me. My friends have countered the story, but we have not yet found the best defense—someone who actually saw me shot down in action.”

“How likely is it that such a person will be found?”

“By tonight? Slight.”

“So you intend to force the ton to choose without evidence. Including me.”

“We see no other choice.”

“And if we all stay away?” the woman challenged.

“That is why we're putting up with your foibles, my lady. Where you go, all will go.”

Lady Cawle's eyes narrowed. “You plan to spread the word that I will attend?”

“No one would so presume. But if you do intend to be at the ball, it would be pleasant if you would inform some others.”

The woman's lips gathered in what could almost be a pout. “I have little choice. Hal's wife needs my support, and Arabella Hurstman insists.”

“Arabella Hurstman?” Mara asked, searching her memory.

Dare laughed. “Francis's aunt and doting godmother to Nicholas's Arabel. Miss Hurstman is a warrior for the welfare of women and has decided to keep a particularly keen eye on the Rogues' wives. She carries such weight with you, Lady Cawle?”