What A Rogue Wants (2 page)

“
So your constant exploits
are for―?”

“
Irritating him.” He
wasn’t about to begin exploring why he acted as he did. He had an
agreement with himself to never examine his actions toward his
father. So far, the agreement had worked out perfectly. He raised
his hand and signaled the server for another glass of whiskey.
“It’s a perverse but enjoyable pastime. One I’ll not see ended by
being snagged in marriage with a lady like Julia who beds all who
take her fancy. That would irritate me, not my father.”

Gravenhurst regarded Grey over the rim
of his glass. “If you really want to shock and irritate your
father, I have a way.”

Grey leaned his elbows on the table.
The sympathetic look on Gravenhurst’s face bothered Grey more than
his wet state. Pity, even from his best friend, made him
uncomfortable. “I want nothing more than to be the exact opposite
sort of man than my stick-up-the-arse father. What’s this way you
speak of?”

“
Marie Vallendri is now
living in Golden Square. I propose we go there tomorrow, you meet
her and invite her to your parent’s country party.”

“
That’s brilliant.” Grey
slid his chair back and stood. “Father hates anyone French, and
he’ll despise a former rumored courtesan of Napoleon’s, famous
opera singer or not, dining across from him at dinner.”

“
You’ll really do it?”
Gravenhurst’s face had gone pale.

Grey chuckled. He hadn’t been sure,
but now he was. Passing up a chance to shock Gravenhurst was out of
the question. “Were you trying to call my bluff? Really Grave, you
should know better. Pick me up at ten and we’ll make our way to
Golden Square. By dinner tomorrow night, I expect Miss Vallendri to
be my newest mistress and sitting at my parents’ table eating
turtle soup.” Never mind he didn’t particularly want a new
mistress. That wasn’t what this was really about. “If this doesn’t
make my father want to secure me a commission and send me far from
him, I don’t know what will.”

“
You’re sure this is
wise?”

“
I’m sure it’s not, and
that’s what makes it perfect,” Grey said and strode toward the door
with as much dignity as he could muster over the squishing of his
shoes.

LADY MADELAINE ALDRIGE SCRAMBLED OUT
of the hired hackney and tugged on her dearest friend Abigail
Langley’s hand. “Do hurry.”

Madelaine nearly careened down the
steps when Abigail jerked her hand away. She whirled around to face
her friend. “Why’d you do that?”

The bright morning sun in her eyes
made it hard to see Abigail’s expression, but her frown was
apparent in her tone. “Look at these people.” Abby cast her voice
low, though only God above knew why she bothered.

“
No one can hear you,
Abby.” Madelaine raised her voice above the merry music drifting
from Golden Square and scanned the perimeter of London’s art
district. Vendors lined the streets with their wares and mulled
about in small clusters while laughing and joking. The sight was
glorious. Ladies strolled along the paths without chaperones or
companions, couples sprawled in the grassy banks on blankets with
picnics and art canvases clustered around them, jugglers performed
by the spouting fountains and in the distance Madelaine could swear
she saw a woman shooting an arrow at a target. Her heart nearly
exploded with excitement. There
was
more to life than following societal dictates! It
felt grand to be right about something for once.

She rummaged in her reticule, fumbling
in her impatience to find the coins she needed for the hackney
driver. Once secured, she paid the man and sent him on his way
before Abby changed her mind and forced them both to leave. Abby
was a worrier that way. Her friend chewed on her nail, a sure sign
she was having serious doubts.

Madelaine linked her arm through
Abby’s and led them toward the sound of a trumpet, or was that a
saxophone? Who really cared? It was beautiful music filling the
air. “Abby, do quit looking as if someone’s going to point at us
and shout ‘frauds!’ Artists don’t give a whit about two women from
Lancashire coming to explore a little.” At least she didn’t think
they did. “We’re safe here. Free to roam around and do exactly as
we wish. Artists live as they want without the restrictions of
Society.”

“
How do you
know?”

“
I read it in the gossip
sheets, so it’s at least half true.”

“
I suppose.” Abby did not
look convinced with her creased brow. “We cannot stay long. An hour
at most.”

Madelaine sighed. “I know.” Why
couldn’t her one voyage into freedom and the glorious unknown be
longer? “Now stop worrying. We’ll be back at the townhouse long
before my father. He’ll never know we were anywhere but Bond Street
shopping for ribbon and all the other ridiculous things girls are
supposed to love.”

“
I do love ribbon.” Abby
twirled a strand of her brown, curly hair around her
finger.

Madelaine patted her friend. “I know,
darling. I can’t for the life of me figure out why. You’re so
sensible in every other way. But because I love you so, I left you
all my best ribbons in your room.” The fact that it had been an
utter relief to leave the ribbon behind didn’t matter. Abby had a
gift for twining ribbon in her hair while Madelaine had a knack for
somehow getting it knotted in her hair. “You won’t forget me, will
you?” Madelaine’s throat suddenly ached with emotion.

Abby clutched Madelaine’s arm tighter
as they strolled toward the first row of vendors. “I would never
forget you, Maddie, with or without the ribbons. But next time I
see you, I daresay you’ll be a proper lady, likely betrothed to a
handsome man you meet at Court, and you’ll probably not wish to
talk to the housekeeper’s daughter any longer.”

Since she’d never been very good at
being a proper lady, Abby’s prediction wasn’t likely to come true.
She held in a sigh. She wanted a husband, but she didn’t want to
pretend to be someone she wasn’t to get one. Yet, she knew she was
odd, and her father wanted her married, no matter the pretense she
employed.

“
I’d never forget you,”
Madelaine swore as she stopped under a pretty tree blooming with
pink flowers. Perching on the ledge of the stone wall that
surrounded Golden Square, she inhaled the unfamiliar sweet scent.
“Let’s sit for a moment and take it all in, shall we?”

Abby nodded and sat beside Madelaine.
The sadness that had pressed against Madelaine’s chest since her
mother’s death felt lighter here in the square. The lightness was
short lived. Tomorrow Father would deposit her at Court where he
demanded she find a proper husband to marry. Not even her usual
stalling tactics had talked him out of it. “No dallying,” he said.
No pressure there. It was only her mother’s dying wish that Father
had zealously embraced. She pressed her fingertips to her throbbing
temples.

Tomorrow she would be a
lady-in-waiting to the queen, manipulated like a puppet by the
queen’s dictates. Even if by some miracle Madelaine found a man who
suited her, that wanted her in return, the queen’s opinion could
sway any match to be denied or accepted. She prayed the queen liked
her. If not, life could be intolerable. She couldn’t botch it this
time. She’d failed her mother in life, but she would not fail her
in her death, nor would she cause her father any more pain and
sorrow than she already had. Failing to find a husband, after he’d
used his friendship with the king to secure her a position with the
queen would mortify her father.

Somehow, she would become a proper
lady, though the idea of spending the rest of her life only
concerned with sketching, embroidering, and the pianoforte made her
clench her teeth. Thank God she had today to do as she pleased. It
might be her last ever.

“
Come on.” She stood and
brushed her skirts off. “I want to eat sticky treats, look at
scandalous art, and wander over to that group shooting
arrows.”

“
The gypsies?” Abby’s
voice hitched.

“
They’re not going to rob
us. It’s broad daylight for goodness sake.”

Abby stood and shielded
her eyes. “We can do as you wish for
one
hour
. I won’t have us coming in after your
father. There’d be the devil to pay if he found out we disobeyed
him.” That was an understatement. “You might be leaving for Court
tomorrow,” Abby continued. “But I have to go back to your father’s
house and live as his servant. I can’t afford his
wrath.”

“
Neither can I,” Madelaine
muttered. The last fight she’d had with her mother was ever present
in her mind. Fresh regret pierced her heart and made her rub at her
chest as they walked toward the smell of gooey rolls.

“
THIS TRIP HAS BEEN A
bloody waste,” Grey growled as they made their way out of Marie
Vallendri’s townhome and into the bright sunshine of Golden Square.
“Who am I going to shock my father with at dinner tonight since
Miss Vallendri already has a lover?”

“
How about that chit right
there.” Gravenhurst pointed toward a band of gypsies who’d set up a
shooting booth.

“
I said I wanted to shock
my father, not give him a death fit.”

Gravenhurst chuckled at Grey’s side.
“Look closer. See the tall, pretty brunette? From my experience
women with curly hair have rousing personalities to match, and the
chit may be dressed as a proper lady, but she wouldn’t be in the
art district if she was. She’s ripe for adventure. I say go pluck
her.”

“
I like your thinking.”
Grey studied the woman. “She’s pretty enough but see how her mouth
is puckered in disapproval. She’s not here of her choosing. Likely
she’d faint if I propositioned her.”

“
You may be right. Perhaps
you should select a new mistress from Madame Landry’s
women.”

“
I think not,” Grey said,
distracted by the sudden shouting from the group of gypsies. As he
moved across the square and closer to the group he could hear
wagers being bantered back and forth between the men and women
alike. The excited buzz of the crowd was like a drug. He stopped by
a sleek-haired gypsy with keen black eyes who struggled to take the
money shoved at him while scribbling wagers in a little
book.

“
What’s the
wager?”

The gypsy acknowledged Grey with an
upward flick of his eyebrows and a sardonic smile. Grey instantly
liked him. “The lady claims she can split the arrow lodged in the
target over there.” The man pointed to a target so far away Grey
had to squint to see it.

“
Impossible. Unless the
lady is built like a man. Which lady?” He glanced at the women
gathered around the group. A few of them were thick in arm and
might be able to do it if they’d been shooting all their
lives.

“
There. That fair
ghel
with the sun on her
head.”

“
The fair what with what
on her head?” Grey reached into his coat and brought out a bag of
coin.

“
Come, I’ll show you.” The
gypsy eyed Grey’s coin and then wound through the throng of people.
“You going to wager?”

Was he ever. No need to go showing his
excitement and get taken advantage of. “Yes, but I’ll see the lady
before I decide for or against.”

“
And your
friend?”

Gravenhurst shook his head. “I’ll keep
my funds in my pocket where they belong.”

Leave it to Gravenhurst to try to
spoil the fun. Nothing could spoil this novelty though. Grey
shrugged. “Sorry―?”

“
Romany.” The gypsy stuck
out his hand. Grey shook the man’s hand with enthusiasm. His wasted
trip was just about to become profitable and entertaining. Toward
the inner circle the man stopped behind a woman whose waves of
flaxen hair tumbled invitingly down her back and marked her as the
woman with the sun on her head. He chortled at the description.
What a preposterous idea to imagine the petite creature standing in
front of him had the strength to wield the bow and shoot the arrow
true enough to split the one already lodged in the
target.

She had a right lovely round backside,
he’d give her that, but he’d not give her his confidence. He
jingled the bag of money with a grin and held it toward Romany
who’d begun taking bets again from the people around him. “I’ll put
the whole lot on the lady’s failure.”

With a gasp, the woman whirled around
and speared him with a dark look as well as nearly stabbing him
with her arrow. “You’re mistaken to wager against me,
sir.”

There was something invitingly erotic
about the pale-skinned, bronze-eyed beauty wrapped in delicate,
lilac silk. She looked dainty and helpless yet she wielded a weapon
that could kill and boasted of skills no proper lady would dream of
admitting. His lust awoke in a heartbeat. This was the woman he
needed to prickle his father and push him toward agreeing to secure
a commission. “I’ll be happy if you prove me wrong, yet your
stature does make me question your abilities, Lady…?”

“
Miss Prattle,” she
responded with a conspiratorial look at the curly-headed
brunette.

“
What an unusual name.” He
winked to prod her and was rewarded when her eyes
rounded.