When the Rogue Returns (21 page)

Victor sighed, feeling sorry for the fellow despite everything. “Miss Gordon clearly doesn’t.”

Lochlaw’s expression grew troubled. “That’s just it, don’t you see? Miss Gordon was only trying to be polite. She’s always polite. But if I don’t get Mrs. Franke a better present and show her that I’m capable of pleasing a woman, Miss Gordon will be secretly convinced that I’m an idiot. And she’ll never speak to me again.”

“I seriously doubt that,” Victor said dryly.

“She’s never spoken to me before today,” he pointed out. “Until now, I thought she didn’t like me. She’s often there when I come to the shop, but she never talks to me. And she always seems to get so flustered around me.”

Victor bit back a smile. “That’s because she
likes
you.”

Lochlaw cast Victor a hopeful look. “Do you really think so?” Then his face fell. “No, that can’t be true or else she would talk to me.”

“She’s shy, that’s all. And with a shy woman, the more she likes someone, the less she is able to show it. That sort of woman needs a lot of encouragement before she’ll reveal her true feelings.”

Isa had been like that, once. Victor wished he had seen it better then.

Lochlaw stared off across the street, a frown spreading over his brow.

“Do you like Miss Gordon?” Victor asked.

“I always thought she was very pretty,” Lochlaw admitted, “but once I heard her talking about atomic theory . . .” His shoulders slumped. “Now that I know she’s clever, I like her even more. And that makes it even more hopeless than with Mrs. Franke.”

“I don’t follow.”

“A clever sort like Miss Gordon will see at once that I’m terrible with women.”

He considered pointing out that a clever woman would “see at once” that he was rich and titled, but it felt wrong to poison the baron’s budding feelings with such cynicism. “If she likes you, she won’t care.”

The baron thrust out his chin. “You don’t even know for sure that she does. That’s why I have to get Mrs. Franke a better gift. And you have to help me!”

“You’re making no sense, lad. If it’s Miss Gordon you like, then why not get
her
a gift?”

“Now
you’re
being a dullard,” Lochlaw chided him. “Miss Gordon isn’t married. Even
I
know that an unmarried gentleman can’t give an unmarried woman a gift. It’s just not done.”

“So you’re going to give one to Mrs. Franke instead?” Victor said, still bewildered.

“She’s a widow, so I can do that. And if it’s good
enough, she’ll be so impressed that she’ll tell Miss Gordon, and I’ll look like quite the man about town. Mother always says that women like you better if they see that lots of other women like you.”

That sounded exactly like something Lady Lochlaw would say, because she didn’t want him fixing his attentions on Mrs. Franke. “Really, lad, I think you’re going about this all wr—” Victor broke off as something occurred to him. “You know what? You might have a point. You should give Mrs. Franke a truly spectacular gift. And make sure that you have it delivered to her house.”

Lochlaw blinked. “Why shouldn’t I just bring it to the shop?”

“Women are always more impressed by gifts that are delivered to their homes,” he said, feeling only a modicum of guilt over his little deception.

“They are?” Lochlaw said. “Why?”

“Who knows? But there’s a reason men are always having flowers sent over to women’s houses. Because women love that sort of thing.”

“That makes sense,” Lochlaw said. “So you think
I
should get flowers?”

“Certainly.” Now he just had to make sure it didn’t occur to Lochlaw that while gifts between unmarried gentlemen and unmarried ladies were unacceptable, flowers were perfectly fine. It would do Victor no good if Lochlaw had flowers sent to Miss Gordon instead of Isa. “Let’s go order lots of flowers to be
delivered to Mrs. Franke’s house. That will impress her greatly.”

“And it’ll impress Miss Gordon, too, when Mrs. Franke tells her of it?”

“Most assuredly.”

Then Victor would
finally
find out where Isa lived.

I
SA HAD SPENT
her entire day working on the merchant’s ring when Mr. Gordon wandered back to the workshop.

“So,” he said, taking a seat across from her worktable, “his lordship has invited me and Mary Grace to attend his house party.”

“Yes, he told me.”

“I’m just wondering why.”

She concentrated on the setting she was working with. “I would imagine it’s because he finds you both interesting.”

He snorted. “It’s not a crotchety old man like me that he has his eye on. Anyway, I can’t leave the shop—not if you’re going.”

“I don’t have to go, either,” she said quickly. It would certainly simplify matters.

“You do if Mary Grace is to attend. She’ll need a chaperone.”

“Oh. Of course.”

And Mary Grace desperately wanted to go. Isa had learned that at lunch when she’d quizzed the young woman. It had never occurred to her that Mary Grace might have a tendre for Rupert, but apparently she did. Once Isa prodded her a bit—and hinted that Mr. Cale, not Rupert, was the man who’d snagged Isa’s interest—Mary Grace became positively voluble.

His lordship was so brilliant. His lordship was so handsome. His lordship was the finest man in all the world.

“Well, then,” Isa said, “I’m happy to play chaperone.” Especially if it solved the problem of Rupert finding a spouse who was not
her.

Mr. Gordon gazed steadily at her. “But if I am to encourage the girl’s father to let her attend, I’ll need to know the extent of his lordship’s interest in her. If he has his eye on you and merely thinks to make you happy by inviting her—”

“I don’t think that’s it. I think she intrigues him.”

“He damned well intrigues
her
,” Mr. Gordon said dryly. “She couldn’t stop going on about him today.” He shook his head. “Though if his interest turns serious, it will send his mother into apoplexy.”

Isa chuckled. “It certainly will.” She sobered. “But it’s not as if Mary Grace came from the gutter. Her father is a well-admired coffee merchant and she has a substantial dowry.”

“All of that means nothing to a wealthy peer, and you know it. Her father is still in trade, as are the rest of her relations.”

“More money is more money, even to a peer. Besides, Rupert isn’t like other peers. He needs a special kind of woman as a wife, no matter what his mother thinks. Mary Grace might never be good enough for Lady Lochlaw, but as long as Rupert is happy, it doesn’t matter.”

“And do you honestly think he
would
be happy with my niece?” he asked earnestly. “She’s not you.”

“I know. But even if he may have . . . fancied me a little, I think his affections are already shifting. They might shift more if she gives him any encouragement. And it’s not as if there could ever be anything between me and him.” She met Mr. Gordon’s gaze. “I will never marry him.”

Mr. Gordon searched her face. “Because of Mr. Cale?”

She blinked. “Why do you say that?”

“I’m no fool, Mrs. Franke. Any man with eyes can tell that the two of you have known each other before. I would even venture to guess that you have known each other very well.”

The sudden clamoring in Isa’s chest made it hard for her to breathe. She should have realized that Mr. Gordon would start to wonder about Victor’s interest in her.

Perhaps it was time she revealed the truth. He deserved to hear it, especially when so much was at stake. And she’d prefer that he heard it from her. Then he could prepare himself for whatever consequences came of Victor’s thirst for vengeance, if she couldn’t convince her husband to be cautious.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” she said softly. “Years ago, I lied to you when we first met in Paris.” She drew a steadying breath and prepared herself for his shock. “My name is not Sofie Franke. It’s Isabella Cale. Victor Cale is my husband.”

♦  ♦  ♦

I
T WAS PAST
6
P.M.
by the time Isa closed up the shop, long after Mr. Gordon had left. He’d been surprisingly understanding of her situation. She’d told him everything—even down to informing him of her family’s crime.

He hadn’t seemed as shocked as she’d expected. Victor’s odd questions had partly been responsible for that, but unbeknownst to her, Mr. Gordon had also had suspicions of his own, born of her insistence on keeping her life so private. Having worked in the diamond industry, he knew how many unscrupulous characters were out there. He said that he also knew she wasn’t one of them.

Tears sprang to her eyes. He was so good to her, and she’d been so lucky. It humbled her that he could take her past in stride. And that he believed her when she said she’d had nothing to do with the theft.

He’d been no help, however, in advising her what to do about Victor. He saw her side, but he also saw Victor’s side of the problem.

The truth was, so did she. And the more she was near Victor, the more she wanted what they’d once had. But her life was entirely different now. And she didn’t even know
what
his life was like.

She locked the door, then jumped as a man stepped from the shadows. “Rupert!” she cried. “You nearly gave me heart failure. What are you doing here?”

“We have a problem,” he said in a doleful voice.

“What sort of problem?”

He followed as she walked toward the livery that boarded her horse during the day. “Mr. Cale isn’t really my cousin.”

As if that were any great surprise. “He wasn’t in
Debrett’s
?”

“Yes. No. I mean, he was in an addendum that was shoved into the copy of
Debrett’s.
But it was not for
my
family. It was for the Duke of Lyons. It turns out that Mr. Cale is the duke’s first cousin once removed.”

Her heart stumbled. How could that be? And why hadn’t Victor just said that? “Is he really?” she managed.

“It gets worse.”

“I can’t imagine how.”

“When I saw the listing for the duke, I remembered where I’d seen Mr. Cale’s name—in a newspaper article some months ago, about him and the duke. The minute I remembered that, I had the librarian help me find the article. It took half the day, but we finally uncovered it.”

Her pulse began to pound. “What was in the article?”

“It seems that my cousin—I mean, Mr. Cale—was discovered in Antwerp by some company called Manton’s Investigations. I gather that it has connections to Bow Street as well as to the Duke of Lyons. They call it the Duke’s Men.”

Bow Street. Oh, heavens. Even she knew about the Bow Street Runners.

“It seems that the duke didn’t know Mr. Cale existed until five months ago. Apparently, Mr. Cale’s father was an English soldier estranged from the Cale family, though the article didn’t say why. But this Manton’s Investigations went looking for him on behalf of Lyons and brought him back to England. He’s been in London all this time with his real cousin, the duke.”

“Until he came here,” she whispered. Victor must have hired the same people who’d found him to find her. He would finally have had the money and resources to do it.

But how had they found her? Victor claimed he hadn’t even known she’d gone to Paris, and he’d certainly been unaware of her life in Scotland. These investigators must be awfully good.

Which meant they might know about Amalie already!

No—surely Victor wasn’t so accomplished at deception that he could have hidden that from her.

Why not? He’s hidden half his life from you.

And she’d hidden Amalie from him. But she’d had good reason. What possible reason could
he
have for hiding his connections from her?

Might his duke cousin have something to do with it? Lyons might wish to see Victor married respectably and thus have wanted Victor to find her and divorce her.

No, that made no sense—Victor didn’t need her
presence to get a divorce in Amsterdam, as he’d pointed out to her.

So perhaps the duke wanted something else—to have the man’s thieving wife dealt with? These great men never liked scandal besmirching their families. Though there was no way of knowing for sure until she spoke to Victor.

“Of course, I realized at once what was up,” Rupert went on, anger edging into his voice.

She tensed. Rupert had figured out the truth about her and Victor all on his own? “And what is that?”

“Mother hired Manton’s Investigations to find out all about you, so she could separate us. And the agency sent Victor.”

Relief coursed through her. Rupert hadn’t guessed the truth. “Nonsense. If he’s cousin to a duke, he doesn’t need to work as an investigator.”

“Then why is he friends with Mother? Why has he been asking questions about you around town? If he’s my cousin, that makes sense, but if he’s not . . .”

She caught her breath. Rupert had a point. If this had just been Victor hunting her down, either on his own behalf or the duke’s, then why involve Lady Lochlaw? Could the baroness have hired Manton’s Investigations? And then they had notified Victor that they’d stumbled across his wife?