Today's Embrace (16 page)

Now was not the time to resist. He was being too wonderful. He was the man of strength and tenderness she always imagined he would be with her.

She maintained her smile as they walked to the door. Better Dr. Jackson than Dr. Tisdale. She'd been lucky there. If Dr. Tisdale came, he would surely mention her “delicate” condition.

“I wish, though, that we could just get on with making our plans for the voyage.”

“We will.”

“Arcilla's so anxious to see us,” she continued, overly enthusiastic with the use of
us
. “To show off her baby boy to his uncle Rogan. Baby Charles, she says, is adorable.”

“All babies look the same for months after they're born.” He stopped
on the stairs and turned to her, frowning. “Charles! You did say she named the baby Charles?”

“Why yes,” Evy said, puzzled by his reaction. “Charles Rogan—you see? You're favored over Parnell. Why? Charles is a perfectly dashing name.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “That sister of mine. It's a wonder Peter allowed it. Unbelievable!”

“What is? Why are you—”

“Because dear Charles was her first love.”

Evy now understood Rogan's reaction. “Oh,” she said, lamely.

“Yes,” he said dryly. “Oh, is right.”

Charles Bancroft, of course, the one young man Arcilla had wanted to marry. “I see what you mean. Maybe Peter didn't notice.”

His mouth curved. “Come, darling. Well, if the ol' boy didn't, it goes to show he's working too hard. Charles,” he repeated wryly. “That will go over very well in Grimston Way when they eventually come home—and it will cause a few tongues to wag.”

Evy withdrew into uneasy silence at his mention of wagging tongues.

“Dizzy again?”

“What?”

“You look pained. Here, sweet, I'd better carry you to our rooms.”

“No, it's all right, Rogan, really.”

“No, it isn't.” He swung her up into his arms and carried her through the corridor of the second floor. “One thing about you, Evy, concerns me. You don't want to admit your weaknesses to me. You should, you know.”

Because you'll want me to stay behind if I do. And I'm determined not to be left at Rookswood while you sail over the golden horizon
.

It was late afternoon when Rogan left Evy asleep and came downstairs. He would be relieved when Dr. Jackson arrived tomorrow. She must still be suffering the effects of her fall down the steps … That Heyden van Buren! Rogan just itched to lay hold of him.

He left the house and walked around the side of the mansion into the rose garden. The rain had stopped and dewdrops were on the roses. He paused. Yes, Elosia Chantry was there as he'd expected, strolling among her beloved roses, her large hat shielding her from any lingering sprinkles.

Rogan watched his father's maiden sister. She had left an aristocratic life in London to come to Rookswood to assume the role of woman of the family soon after Rogan's mother died. Rogan had never needed Elosia, nor had Parnell. Their younger sister, Arcilla, however, had needed her desperately. She was the coddled baby in the family and had taken her mother's death painfully hard. Elosia was considered of the old school, pompous, autocratic, and haughty, or as Rogan affectionately called her, “Mama Bear.”

She hadn't seen him as yet and moved along the brick walk to pause before a favorite red rose bush. She bent over to sniff it appreciatively, gloved hands folded behind her.

He smiled as he walked to join her.

She straightened and turned.

“Oh, Rogan, dear boy.”

“Look, Auntie, I've got to talk to you about Evy.”

She lowered her pince-nez to regard him with lofty demeanor. “Aha, I thought it would come to this eventually. Well, you should have listened to me and married Patricia. She understands you, you know. She's of your kind. Evy is a sweet girl but totally unprepared to assume the role of mistress of Rookswood—”

Rogan sighed and folded his arms across his chest, regarding her with tilted head. He knew just how to handle her. He'd been getting around her autocratic ways since he was thirteen. There was an understanding between them. He came straight on, always had, and she knew it. When she saw his narrowed gaze, she stopped in midsentence.

“You know I love you dearly, Elosia, but things have gone far enough where Evy is concerned.”

“What?”

“You know what I mean. All this rot going around London circles about my needing to marry her because she was pregnant. It's all a sickening dish … served out by our darling Patricia. If it keeps up, I'll need to confront her in London. You tell her that, will you? Tell her if she wishes to continue discussing my wife, I may do a bit of discussing myself—about her.”

She looked stunned. “You're serious.”

“Quite serious.”

“Well, I never believed it about Evy for a moment. I told her so this afternoon.”

“Even so, the talk has her upset. It's got to end. That means you, too.”

“Me? But really, Rogan, whatever do you mean?”

“You know what I mean, old dear. It's time to draw in your claws and get used to the undisputed fact she's my wife. And”—he smiled to soften the impact of his next words, for he had no desire to hurt—“she is the future mistress of Rookswood.”

“What—whatever do you mean, dear boy, draw in my claws? Why, I've been quite gentle with the girl.”

The girl
. “Aunt Elosia, the girl, as you persist in addressing her, is Mrs. Rogan Chantry.”

“If you had only mellowed toward Patricia and married her. How much simpler things would be.”

“For you perhaps, and dear old Julien as well, but I made up my mind years ago I would marry whom I pleased. You best know my devotion to you, Auntie, will reach its limit should it come to a choice between the two of you. So please don't try to make me choose. That goes for Julien, too. Though I think he knows better now.”

“You know how outraged Lord Bancroft remains over your betrayal of his daughter?”

“There was no betrayal of Patricia.”

“Well, then, dear boy, I believe you, but it does make things most difficult for
me
. How can I attend the upcoming socials when I will need to come face-to-face with Lord and Lady Bancroft?”

“I've married Evy Varley, and there's no more to be said about it.”

“Van Buren, dear boy. She's no more a Varley than I am.”

“She's a Chantry now, so forget Patricia. I don't want her name mentioned again to Evy. I don't think she's well. I want her left alone.” He narrowed his lashes, smiling. “Understood, Auntie?”

She looked dismayed. “Well, I—I'm sure I can't possibly promise not ever to mention Patricia—”

“Yes, you can, old darling, and you will. Evy is to be treated with the respect she deserves. She's unhappy, and I'll go to London over this if I must. I've already talked to Charles, but I want it stopped here as well. Granted, she has plenty to adjust to. She was raised in the vicarage, not at Rookswood, but she's more than capable of learning what's needed. She'll be a stunning mistress of the family estate one day, and it's important that family and acquaintances understand that.”

“My dear boy! I'm sure I don't understand what has you so upset. Of course she will be an asset to you and Rookswood. I never thought otherwise.”

“Evy seems to think she's treated as an odd piece of china.”

“What a strange idea!”

“Yes, isn't it? And we won't have
Mrs
. Rogan Chantry feeling that way, will we, Auntie?”

“Perish the thought, my boy. I didn't realize I had upset Evy so. Tush! I shall try to be more careful henceforth. We must
do
something. Yes, something to make Evy feel perfectly comfortable in the family. Now let me think … what should that be …”

Rogan smiled wryly. “Begin by inviting Mrs. Croft to Rookswood to look after Evy's interests.”

“Yes, she did mention Mrs. Croft. I thought Mrs. Wetherly was quite enough.”

“Mrs. Croft will stay on the third floor in the governess quarters. Do you wish to express any other reservations?”

“Well, naturally she needs to
learn
, and there are so
many
things she doesn't know yet. And Rookswood and the family reputation are important. But if you think Mrs. Croft is necessary.”

“Evy feels she is,” he said smoothly.

“Then I'll tell Mrs. Wetherly to have the rooms ready.”

“I knew I could count on you.” He put his arm around her shoulders and walked with her through the sea of red blooms toward the side door that opened into an afternoon sunroom.

“Oh, by the bye, dear boy, have you heard anything more from Julien since the letter he sent about your marriage?”

Thinking again of his uncle's lecturing monologue rekindled Rogan's temper. Julien had threatened to cut him and Evy both off from the diamond mine. Rogan wasn't worried so much about that as he was about Evy's acceptance at Bulawayo with Julien. Rogan didn't like the idea of leaving her there under his authority while he went off to the Zambezi gold mine.

“No, I haven't heard back from Julien. He must not have appreciated my response.”

“I suppose you told the old one-eyed lion how your choice of Evy was your own business.”

“I did.”

“That must have wrangled him. He so wanted you to marry Pa—” She stopped at once and glanced at him.

Rogan covered a smile. He opened the door and let her pass through into the sitting room.

“Ah, well,” Elosia was saying. “Arcilla has her troubles with Julien as well. She's written that he's now chief native commissioner or some such title at some dreadful sounding place.”

“Bulawayo,” Rogan said absently.

“Yes, Evy told it to me as well. Sounds like a dry, dusty place full of charging bulls.”

Rogan was still considering Julien. What if he went on the expedition into the Matopos looking for Lobengula's burial cave while he, Rogan, was hundreds of miles to the north from where Evy was?

“Arcilla's worried sick over Peter.”

He looked at her. Had his sister told her about the plan to attack the Transvaal? In her wire of the other day, she'd said she had told no one else. If Julien found out she'd wired him—

“Worried? About what?”

“About Peter's position as Julien's assistant.”

“What else did she write you about? Anything important?”

“If you're asking whether she mentioned that foolhardy Dr. Jameson and his plan to start a war with the Boers, no. She did not. She wrote about Peter's dreadful situation, trying to appease all those naked savages. My poor, precious Arcilla—”

“Then how did you find out?” he asked pointedly.

“My dear boy! If you think it's a secret after that conversation with Lyle in the library the other day, well, you have another thing coming. I'm quite aware you stormed off to see Lord Salisbury in London. But don't worry. I doubt anyone else paid attention. So what did his lordship say to you?”

“To mind my own business,” Rogan said wryly.

“Did he really!”

“He might just as well have.”

Rogan thought of the meeting in Salisbury's office at Pall Mall. Salisbury said he would wire the high commissioner at Capetown, even though he personally rejected such nonsense, saying it would be a fiasco of the worst sort for Jameson to sponsor a raid into the Transvaal with England and the Boers teetering on the edge of war. Salisbury had cynically asked Rogan if he was fool enough to think the British government actually wanted war with Kruger.

“I've not said that I do, sir,” he had answered.

Salisbury had huffed over his insult but assured Rogan that Her Majesty's government did not want a war with the Boers. They would never secretly sanction Jameson's raid into the Transvaal. “And Milner is working day and night for peace.”

Rogan had been pointedly silent about that …

“So,” continued Elosia, “Arcilla is worried over Peter. I do hope he's not fool enough to allow Julien to dip his hands into blood.”

Rogan turned sharply to look at her.

Just then one of the new maids entered with a bob of her skirt.

“What is it, Rosie?”

As he spoke to her, she twittered and blushed.

“Oh, Master Rogan, sir, a good afternoon to you, sir!” came her nasal twang. “Yes, a package for you. The post brought it just a wiggle ago,” she tittered. “And here it is, for you!” She presented it as a gift from her hand to his. She beamed. “You see, sir, I just
happened
to be looking out the window here”—she gestured to the window facing the rose garden—“and saw you walking over from the stables, so I ran to get the package from the hall table.”