Rogue's Lady

After glancing at her when she walked in, Sapphira looked away, pointedly ignoring Allegra as she returned her attention to her friends. Allegra set her teeth and waited.

“You hadn’t heard?” Lady Ingram was saying. “The divine Lord Tavener gave up Clorinda a month ago. Felicia Marlow’s been trying to fix his interest—to no avail. Now, there’s a man who could distract one from one’s grief!”

“Such presence,” Mrs. Barton-Smythe sighed. “Such eyes! Such physique!”

“Such technique,” Lady Ingram riposted, setting the women giggling.

Such a conversation to be having with a new widow, Allegra thought, her small store of patience exhausted. Compared to Rob, she doubted she’d find this Lord Tavener so “divine.”

Pasting a smile on her face, she dipped a graceful curtsey. “Aunt Sapphira, how might I assist you?”

Her expression disapproving, Mrs. Barton-Smythe said, “Anyway, I understand Tavener’s finally looking to marry. That should set off some fluttering in the dovecotes of London!”

“Indeed!” Sapphira replied. Finally deigning to acknowledge Allegra, she turned and waved an imperious hand at her, like a sovereign giving permission for an underling to approach. “I find the parlor chilly, Allegra. Fetch my shawl. And do put an apron over that gown while you help Stirling polish the silver, for if you spoil the dress, I shan’t buy you another!” Turning to her friends, she said with a shake of her head, “So thoughtless—but what can one expect of a chit of her background?”

Curling her nails into her palms to stifle the first response that sprang to her lips, Allegra laughed lightly. “Poor Aunt Sapphira, grief is making you forgetful! Polishing silver is a footman’s task, as you know quite well. Although,” she added in a thoughtful tone, “forgetfulness is said to be a sign of an aging mind. By the way, dear aunt, should you not take a seat out of the sunlight? ’Tis so injurious to the mature complexion.”

Sapphira had opened her lips, probably to give Allegra a set-down, but at that last remark, alarm flared in her eyes. Clamping her mouth shut, she jumped up from the sofa and hurried over to the mirror.

Just then the front door knocker sounded. “Answer that before you get my shawl,” Sapphira ordered as she peered into the glass, searching her reflection.

Suppressing a chuckle, Allegra exited the room and walked down to the entry hall. Bypassing with a rueful shrug the footman who stood ready to perform that task, she threw open the door.

Allegra’s breath caught and her hand clutched the doorknob as her gaze locked on the tall officer in scarlet regimentals. “Rob!” she gasped.

A thin scar made a white arch over the left eyebrow of a face bronzed by a life in the saddle. Standing on the threshold was not the lighthearted Oxford student she remembered, but someone older, rather stern-looking, every inch the seasoned commander who had led men in battle.

Still, with his hair the color of ripe wheat and his deep blue eyes set off by the brilliant red of his uniform, Rob Lynton was even handsomer than the university student of six years ago. She exhaled in a rush as something fluttered in her chest.

He was staring at her, as well. “Is that—Allegra? Heavens, how grown up you look! But what are you doing answering the door?”

“Oh, R-Rob!” she stuttered, his dear face suddenly reminding her so vividly of his father’s that grief razored through her, bringing tears to her eyes.

Seeing them, his expression softened. Stepping past her to close the door, he murmured, “Ah, Allegra, ’tis a heartache indeed,” and drew her into his arms.

Savoring the feeling of his closeness, she clung to him, fighting the urge to weep. A sharp “harrumph” made her straighten. She turned to see Stirling watching them, disapproval on his face.

Eying her askance, he inclined his head to Rob and said icily, “How may I help you, soldier?”

With one hand resting on her shoulder, Rob looked him up and down. “It’s ‘captain’ to you, sirrah. And who are you? Where is Hobbs?”

“Rob, this is Stirling, your, ah, new butler,” Allegra interposed.

Stirling’s face registered shock, followed by an almost comical dismay. “Lord Lynton, f-forgive me!” he stammered, bowing low. “Please allow me to express my own and the staff’s great pleasure at your safe return!”

Frowning, Rob glanced around the entry at the crocodile-legged table and brightly striped hangings. “Is this home?”

“Perhaps I should take you in to meet Sapphira,” Allegra suggested.

Rob grimaced. “Ah, yes, my lovely new mama. No point postponing that pleasure, I suppose. My batman will be arriving shortly,” he said to Stirling. “Assist him in stowing my kit.” Turning his back on the butler, he grasped Allegra’s arm. “Shall we go?”

Stirling bowed deeply as they passed. “At once, my lord, Miss Allegra!”

“You’ve become quite a beauty, little cousin,” Rob said as he walked her up to the parlor. “But what were you doing in the hallway, answering the door in that old gown? Why aren’t you wearing proper mourning?”

Flushing with pleasure at his first remark, Allegra hesitated before responding to the second. As satisfying as it might be to pour into his ears all her anger and resentment toward Sapphira—and as promising as Rob’s initial comment about his stepmother had been—bitter experience had taught her caution.

It would be wiser to keep her own counsel until Rob observed for himself the changes that had been wrought in his absence. If he were no longer the fair-minded individual she’d known…if Sapphira managed to win him over in spite of the alterations she’d made, he would neither take kindly nor give much credence to any negative opinions Allegra voiced now about his stepmother.

And if Sapphira did win him over, Allegra would offer Rob the report about his father’s last days that she’d promised herself to deliver and leave Lynton House as soon as she could arrange it.

Leave Lynton House and Rob…her childhood hero and the one remaining link to her idyllic past. The thought cut too deeply, so she thrust it away and focused on the query to which she could safely reply. “I was not…very well circumstanced when I arrived,” she said, shame scouring her at his disapproval, “and haven’t yet the funds to purchase mourning gowns.”

“Then my father’s wife should have ordered some for you,” Rob said flatly.

“We’ll talk more about it later,” Allegra replied as they arrived at the parlor. Knocking once, she pushed the door open and escorted him in.

“Aunt Sapphira, ladies,” she said as he bowed. “May I present Captain Lord Lynton.”

The babble of conversation faded into shocked silence. Lady Ingram and Mrs. Barton-Smythe hurriedly stood and dropped curtseys, while Sapphira froze, staring at Rob’s unsmiling face. Then she rose as well, one hand at her throat—and fainted.

As an opening tactic, Allegra thought as she watched Rob rush to catch his stepmother before she crumpled to the floor, Sapphira’s swoon was masterful. In one action, she both emphasized her role as his father’s fragile, grief-ravaged widow and bought herself time to assess her stepson’s reaction.

Her sardonic amusement deepening, Allegra observed how, while fluttering and moaning as he lifted her onto the couch, Sapphira managed to rub her impressive bosom against Rob’s coat, insuring he could not fail to notice her feminine charms, either.

Though Rob caught Sapphira and set her gently back onto the couch, his expression remained guarded—as if he mistrusted her performance as much as Allegra did. Nor did he display any of the panic or agitation with which men often reacted to feminine tears and trauma. Some of the tension in Allegra’s gut eased.

Coolly Rob turned to Sapphira’s callers. “Begging your pardon, ladies, I must ask you to excuse us. I’m sure my stepmother will send you a note when she is feeling more the thing.” He swept them a bow, leaving them with no choice but to murmur expressions of solicitude and take their leave.

After directing the footman who showed them out to summon Lady Lynton’s maid, he went to the sideboard and poured a glass of wine. When Sapphira opened her eyes and gazed dazedly around her, he presented it.

“Please sip this, ma’am, while we wait for your maid to assist you. I regret the distress my sudden entrance evidently caused and beg leave to wait upon you later when you’ve recovered.”

Taking the glass from Rob—and making sure her fingers brushed his, Allegra noted—Sapphira took a tiny sip and gazed up at him. “Lord Lynton—our own dear Rob! Pray excuse my weakness, but when I saw you standing there, looking so much like my poor Robert, I was…quite overcome.”

Rob removed his fingers. “Indeed. I expect you will grow accustomed to the likeness, since I intend to sell out and remain in England.”

“Oh, Rob, that’s great news!” Allegra said, speaking for the first time since the little drama unfolded.

Ignoring her, Sapphira gave him a weak smile. “Then I will have you to advise me? What a relief! Managing a household is such a burden for a woman alone, especially as I am still so much cast down…” She allowed one crystalline tear to bead on her long lashes.

At that moment, Hill, Sapphira’s dresser, appeared along with Lizzie. Allegra noted that after Hill assured Rob she and Lizzie could manage taking her ladyship up to her chamber, he made no further attempt to assist her. He simply watched as the women supported Sapphira out of the room, a thoughtful expression on his face.

When the trio had gone, he turned back to Allegra. “I notice you didn’t offer your help.”

“I expect Aunt Sapphira would sooner accept the hand of an urchin off the street than take mine,” she replied.

“You don’t get on?”

After briefly considering a more detailed response, Allegra said only “No.”

Rob studied her, his gaze progressing from her simply arranged hair to her gloveless hands to her worn gown. His eyes returning to her face, he said, “I have an appointment with the solicitors soon, but when I return, I should like to talk further.”

“I’d like that, too. You…” She paused, her eyes filling with tears. “You must wish to know about Uncle Robert’s last days. He often spoke of you, and I promised to convey his blessings.”

“I didn’t know how ill he was until…” His own eyes sheening with moisture, Rob broke off and swallowed hard. “In his last letter, he said only that he’d been ailing with some trifling thing that would soon pass. When I heard nothing further, I should have realized that something was amiss—but there was always one more duty to perform, and the weeks slipped by.”

Shocked, Allegra looked up at him. “You didn’t know how desperately ill he was?”

“If I had, I would have come home at once! But after that one letter, Papa didn’t write again. And his fine new wife sent me…nothing. I didn’t even know you were here. I’m glad he had some family with him at…at the end.”

“Oh, Rob,” she whispered, tears starting again as his face contorted. While he looked away, fighting for control, she took his hand. He gripped hers hard for a moment before turning back to her.

“Thank you for being here, Allegra. I want to know everything, but later, when I have more time. Now I must go up and change for the appointment. Walk up with me, won’t you?”

Letting go of her hand, he motioned her to precede him. In silence they entered the hall and walked up the stairs. Distracted by a renewal of her grief, it wasn’t until Rob stopped at the door to the blue bedchamber that she remembered.

Flushing, she motioned toward his room farther down the hall. “I’ll leave you to finish your preparations. Please do send for me when you get back, and good luck at the solicitors.” After squeezing his hand, she made to walk past him back toward the service stairs.

He caught her shoulder. “Come now, Bessie can manage without you for a few hours. Why don’t you rest while I’m gone?” With a smile, he opened the door to the blue bedchamber and gave her a teasing push.

Caught off-guard by that action, she stumbled. By the time she’d righted herself, her flush deepening as she tried to think of something to say, his sharp gaze had scanned the obviously unoccupied chamber.

“You’re not staying here?”

She summoned a smile. “I have…other accommodations now.”

His lips tightened into a thin line. “I see. Yes, we shall certainly talk later.”

“Of course. I hope your meeting goes well.” Turning again, she walked away, acutely aware that instead of continuing on to his room, he remained in the hallway. She felt the force of his gaze upon her until she disappeared behind the door to the service stairs.

THE IMPERATIVE of revisiting for Rob the last few weeks of his father’s life brought Allegra’s muted grief back to sharp, aching focus. Not feeling up to a battle of wills with Sapphira, she climbed the stairs and slipped inside her little attic room.

A few hours later, after reviewing her time with her late uncle and choosing the details she would recount to Rob, she reread the note she’d just received from Mr. Waters at the employment agency, summarizing their interview earlier in the week.

Her qualifications looked excellent, he wrote, and given the gentility of her carriage, voice and demeanor, he felt certain he would have no trouble obtaining a post for her as soon as he received her letters of reference.

Sighing, Allegra cudgeled her brain trying to determine whom she might approach to obtain such letters. Giving up the effort for the moment, as she had often these last few months when she struggled with some problem, from her reticule she drew out her most prized possession—her father’s last letter, written when he knew he was dying.

The vellum was smooth and worn from use. Just holding it gave her comfort, nor had she any need to unfold it to recall the words written within.

“My precious daughter,” Papa had begun in a struggling hand, “I now accept that this feeble frame has refused my will’s demand to recover. But before I go, I must tell you that while music was my life, you and your mother have been my heart, my soul, my spirit and my joy. Though I rejoice that soon, she and I will be together for all eternity, my heart breaks at leaving you alone. You must not be afraid, carita. Always remember you possess your mother’s grace and the Antinori fierceness.”

The writing growing steadily more illegible, he concluded, “With your courage, intelligence and spirit, all will be well in the end. Adios! Your adoring Papa.”

At this moment as never before, Allegra felt truly alone in the world. A rush of panic and despair escaped her attempt to supress it. Would everything ever be well again?

A knock sounded at the door, interrupting her thoughts, and Lizzie popped in. “The Captain be wanting to see you in the library.” Belatedly adding a curtsey, Lizzie continued, “At your convenience, he said.” She sighed. “Oh, Miss Allegra, ain’t he just the handsomest man you ever saw? And as gentlemanly as handsome!”

Calling Rob’s face to mind steadied Allegra. With her old friend returned, she wasn’t completely alone. “Handsome and gentlemanly indeed,” she agreed. Resolute and gallant as a knight of yore, she added to herself, picturing him again in his regimentals. If only her childhood hero might ride to her rescue.

A sudden flare of hope made her straighten. Even as a boy, Rob had followed his father’s lead in supporting her and her family. He’d chastised his friends when they teased her and once knocked down another boy who called her a “dark-faced foreigner.” Might he offer some more attractive alternatives for her future?

She mustn’t depend on anyone but herself now, she reminded. But though she told herself she should count only on delivering Uncle Robert’s messages to Rob before going her own way, Allegra could not forestall a swell of excitement.

Not sure whether he would include Sapphira in their discussion, Allegra was relieved when she entered the library to find only Rob within. But seeing him seated behind the desk where she had so often found Uncle Robert, she had to take a deep breath.

“Allegra, come in!” he called. “Some wine?”

After pouring them each a glass, Rob ushered her to the sofa and took a seat beside her. “First, accept both my condolences and my apologies. You must have thought me an unfeeling beast! I didn’t learn until I talked with Bessie this afternoon that you lost your parents last fall. Please believe that I would have written at once, had I known. I can only be glad that after that awful event, you had the good sense to come here to Papa.”

Determined to banish the threatening tears, she took a sip of her wine and composed herself. “It was…a dreadful time. I think we helped each other, Uncle Robert and I.”

“You certainly helped him! Bessie told me he was already ill when you arrived. That you put aside your own grief and devoted all your time to entertaining and tending him…and at the last, to keeping vigil. Chores his new wife did not feel up to performing, I understand.”

Allegra shrugged. “He was almost as much a father to me as my own. It was a pleasure to spend time with him.” Amazing herself, she felt compelled to add, “Sapphira is rather young, and has neither the sensibility nor the skill to be of much assistance in a sickroom. I believe she has been all her life much cosseted and indulged.”

Rob grimaced. “So I gathered upon entering my front hallway. I thought at first I’d stumbled into the wrong house! I stopped to see Hobbs this afternoon and learned I have him to thank for sparing this room from invasion by crocodiles and lacquered paint. I’ve reinstated him, by the way.”

“I’m so glad! But—what about Stirling?”

“Sapphira can provide him with references—assuming she is up to that task. You are also young, but you seem to have managed the duties of the sickroom quite well.”

She smiled. “Oh, but consider my unconventional upbringing! From plucking chickens to make a healing broth to brewing tisanes to soothe the throat of an ailing soprano, there are few nursing chores I’ve not done. But enough of me. Let me tell you about Uncle Robert.”

For the next half hour, Allegra sketched for Rob all the events of the last few months of his father’s life, touching on his humor, his faith, his courage and the great love he bore his son. “Toward the last, he dictated several letters for you. As he requested, I left them there, in the desk drawer.”

Rob nodded. “I found them after returning from the solicitor’s office. But what of you, Allegra? What do you intend to do now?”

She faced him squarely. “You needn’t worry that I mean to be a charge upon you. I’ve inquired about a post as a governess.”

“My fiery little cousin a governess?” He grinned and shook his head. “The girl who dressed down a duke in the park for having the temerity to ride by too closely to her mount? Who would have come to blows with that numbclutch Eton mate of mine for calling her a silly, lisping foreigner, had I not intervened? Heaven help the unlucky family that hired you!”

Allegra felt her face heat. “I admit, I was a trifle…boisterous as a child. But I’ve long since mastered my temper.”

“Have you?” he drawled, his amused tone suggesting he didn’t believe it for an instant. “I hope you’re not set on the notion of becoming a governess, for after consulting Papa’s solicitors, I have other plans.”

Did he mean to assist her after all? Trying to restrain her soaring hopes, she replied, “Other plans?”

“Though you may not know it, for Papa lived simply and such worldly considerations were obviously never of any importance to your parents, the Lyntons are quite wealthy. Which doubtless explains my father’s appeal to a chit of Sapphira’s age,” he added acidly. “Despite bestowing a sumptuous jointure upon his widow, Papa left a sizeable estate. It was his wish that you have the means to reclaim the place in society that should have been yours as Lady Grace’s daughter.”

For a moment Allegra stared at Rob, uncomprehending. “You mean…he left me a bequest?” she said at last.

“A bequest? Ah, well, yes, I suppose you could call it that. You shall have a handsome sum to serve as your dowry, along with the funds to purchase gowns and all the other necessary fripperies so that you may attend the afternoon calls, rout parties, balls and such that will lead to becoming betrothed to a worthy young man who will cherish and protect you for the rest of your life.”

“And then I live happily ever after?” Allegra gave a bitter laugh. “The idea of entering that world is just as much a fairy tale. Even girls Mama came out with, ones she considered good friends, gave her the cut direct after she married Papa. Aside from Uncle Robert, not even her own family recognized her. What makes you think they would accept her daughter?” What makes you think I want them to? she added silently.

“Ah, but you are wrong. Lady Grace’s papa would have welcomed her home at any time, but she refused to take up her ‘proper’ position among her own class if it meant being separated from your father. True, the highest sticklers may not receive you and Almacks might be beyond your touch, but a sizeable part of the polite world will be quite willing to accept the ward of Lord Lynton and granddaughter of Viscount Conwyn.”

She held her hands out at her sides. “Accept this ‘dark-skinned foreigner’?” she asked skeptically, Sapphira’s oft-repeated disparagement of her ebony hair and olive skin echoing in her head.

Smiling slightly, Rob studied her, the intensity of his gaze sending a little shock through her. “Not all men like a blond-and-pink princess,” he said softly after a moment. “Some prefer a more…earthy, exotic lady.”

The appreciation in his eyes deepened to something hotter. Allegra felt her cheeks flush, her mind suddenly buffeted by so many contradictory ideas and emotions she could not frame a reply.

One practical observation in that flurry of thoughts steadied her. “But what of a sponsor? You must know Sapphira would never…” Her voice trailed off and she grimaced as she imagined the probable response, were Rob to have the temerity to ask his stepmother to introduce her.

“Oh no, Sapphira isn’t…temperamentally suited for the role. Besides, she must be in deep mourning for at least six more months, while by the time the Season begins, you need only don black gloves. I shall invite Cousin Letitia Randall to stay with us. She knew your mother well. That is, if you will agree to a presentation?”

Her immediate response was to decline, but she bit it back. Rob was being kind and extremely generous. Though she had decidedly mixed feelings about entering society, with the arrogance of one born to that privileged world, he would never understand why she would not leap for joy at this chance to claim a place within it. And despite his assurances, he must know that he would need both determination and perseverance to overcome what she suspected would be a rocky reception by the ton if she accepted his offer.

Unless…

She recalled the look of heated appreciation in Rob’s eyes. Suddenly her mind was overwhelmed by a resurgence of the wild hope she’d never quite managed to extinguish. Only one thing would make Rob’s generous offer truly a dream come true.

Dressed in lovely clothes, hair upswept and her mother’s pearls about her neck, might she capture the heart of this “parfait, gentil” knight for her own?

If she could, if she could bring Rob to realize that the wild girl of whom he’d always been fond was now an accomplished, desirable woman, one with whom he wanted to share his life, it would be a more marvelous resolution to her dilemma than she dared believe possible.

Instead of going alone into the world, she’d be able to remain here with Rob, Bessie and Hobbs, the only people still on earth who knew and appreciated her—and not as a servant, but as a daughter of the house. Marrying some ton gentleman so as to reclaim her mother’s place in society held little appeal, but if that ton gentleman were Rob, she would gain not just social acceptance and a secure future, she would have won her secret heart’s desire and a love to last a lifetime.