Infamous

“It is not a worry I will have. I will not marry and that is that,” Rose said, shaking her head. She brought the animal back to a more sedate trot with no more than a small tug on the reins.

“After I have removed every impediment?” Bennet asked with a grin.

“Not every one. I do not like men,” she said, slowing Gallant to a walk.

“All men?” he asked in surprise as he trotted past her.

“All the ones I have had occasion to meet.”

“And how many is that?” Bennet teased, pulling up his horse to try to intercept the gaze Rose resolutely directed straight ahead.

“Too many.”

“I see. What a fortunate circumstance, then,” he said as Rose rode past him.

His pause caused her to look around at him. “What is?”

His blue eyes glittered with mischief. “Why, I too have been pursued by fortune hunters until I confess I am quite marriage-shy myself. I too have decided never to marry.”

“That seems an odd coincidence.” Rose pursed her lips.

“Yes, it does to me as well, but there you have it. Since we are both confirmed bachelors, there is no impediment to our friendship.”

“Friendship? I can think of one.”

“Look, your brother is stealing a march on us. Race you to the edge of the park.”

Rose spurred her horse to try to overtake Bennet before he came up with Stanley. In at least one feature the two men were alike. They knew when to run away from an argument they were destined to lose.

“I have not had such a ride since hunting season,” Stanley said, patting Victor’s steaming neck and letting the horse cavort playfully, before bringing it down to a walk beside Bennet and Rose.

“You must make yourself free of my stables whenever you have time to ride. You can see they need the exercise.” Addressing Stanley, he added, “I have also put your name down as my guest at White’s and Boudle’s, so feel free to drop in there when in need of some solitude, or some companionship.”

“That is most kind of you,” Stanley said sincerely. “I fear we shall not be in town long enough to take advantage of so much hospitality.”

“You must at least stay for my sister’s coming-of-age party. She and Mother would be pleased to have family there. Oh, and I had meant to tell you, my ship Celestine is in port and the cabins are not booked. I beg you to make use of them if France or Italy is your destination. Otherwise they would travel empty.”

“Vamer, I am overwhelmed. I will pay for passage, of course.”

“I had offered rooms at Varner house but Rose would not hear of it. We get so little company.”

“But you have done so much,” Stanley said. “You must come visit us at Wall when we return. We shall be back in time for hunting season.”

“I should be delighted.” Bennet smiled at Rose in that self-satisfied way that said he had charmed her brother completely.

By the time they returned to the hotel Bennet’s groom was back to take charge of the horses, leaving Bennet free to dine with Stanley at White’s, and, Rose presumed, introduce him to his cronies. She went upstairs, shaking her head and plotting how to get the better of Bennet Varner. He was a provoking rogue. She supposed she should have expected some sophistication from a London male, but intelligence had been a surprise, though he masked it well enough. She had never known a man like him, and found to her surprise that she was looking forward to a third meeting just to match wits with him again.

“Where is Stanley?” Alice asked from the settee as Rose whisked into the parlor that was common to their two suites.

“Gone off with Bennet Varner to his club. Do you feel well enough to shop? We are invited to a ball at Varner House, and I have my doubts that I own anything elegant enough to do the occasion justice.”

“Stanley was going to take me shopping.”

“But if he goes with you it will take forever,” Rose said, unbuttoning the frogs of her jacket. “You know he cannot make up his mind about such things. Then he gives those heavy sighs when he is tired of waiting for you.”

Alice frowned in thought. “I suppose we could make a start. I shall need some new gowns.”

“Also we may be here some few days until the Celes-tine is ready to sail.” Rose opened the door into her bedroom and her maid, Cynthie, took her coat.

“Then we are going?” Alice asked with a pout.

“Of course,” Rose said. “What made you think we were not?”

“Stanley.” Alice followed Rose into her bedroom. “He said if I was meaning to be sick for days on end I might as well do it at home.”

Since Rose had had some such thoughts herself, she felt a little guilty at Alice’s tearful reply. “Don’t worry. I will bring Stanley up to scratch.” Rose selected a buff walking dress, and stepped out of her riding skirt. “I have been promised Europe and I mean to see it. I have no intention of wasting the whole season here in London.”

“But I never had a London season. Neither did you, if it comes to that. Would it be so awful to stay just a few weeks?”

“If we do not embark for France within a fortnight I shall return to Wall or Bristol,” Rose vowed, emerging from the top of the dress.

“But why are you so dead set against London?”

“Because I might meet...any number of fribbles and fops. You know I have no patience with such men.” Rose adjusted her hair in the mirror and glanced at Alice to see if she believed her.

Alice shrugged and went for her reticule and pelisse while Rose sent Cynthie to tell Martin to find them a hack. Stanley had caviled at paying passage for four servants—his valet, two maids and a groom—especially when there would be no horses involved. But Rose had held out for Martin’s quick usefulness as a footman and general dogsbody and finally prevailed when Alice begged them to stop arguing over so trivial a matter.

The young women spent a successful afternoon at the modiste and mantua makers’ shops. Rose found two evening gowns that needed no alterations, but Alice chose to have hers made from scratch and risked not having any for Harriet Varner’s birthday ball. When the carriage returned them to the hotel, Alice grabbed one small parcel of ribbons and left Martin and Rose to transport the large stack of bandboxes to the third-floor suite.

“What do you think of Bennet Varner?” Rose asked her groom as they trudged up the stairs.

Martin darted her an uncertain glance. “He’s a quick’un, miss.”

“Yes, I thought so myself. Though he acts the part of a jovial carefree fellow, I find myself expecting some hidden agenda.”

“But what could it be, miss? No one in London knows—”

“No one we know in London knows anything about what happened at Wall five years ago, but many people go to London.”

“Are you thinking of Lord Foy?”

“The war was over last year. I cannot imagine where else Axelrod Barton, Lord Foy, would be except London. Surely not at that Yorkshire estate that he described as moldering into the rock from which it was built.”

“But what are the chances of meeting him? It’s such a very big city, miss.”

“I am sure you are right, Martin, and I have nothing to fear. Ten to one Axel is still tripping about Vienna or haunting the gaming hells of Paris.”

“Besides, even if you were to encounter him, he knows nothing.”

“He remembers nothing. There is a difference and I should not wish to jog his memory.”

“I shall keep an eye out for him, miss, and warn you if he’s about.”

“Martin, don’t say anything to your sister, Cynthie. No need to alarm her unnecessarily.”

“Yes, miss,” Martin agreed as he deposited the boxes in the common sitting room for Alice and Rose to sort out.

Susan and Cynthie, the two maids, unpacked the treasures and the women spent a profitable hour planning several toilettes. Rose and Alice got on better when they spoke of trivialities. Rose truly had no intention of marrying, but she saw no point in being a dowd either. She had money and meant to enjoy it. She also knew that the best way to put forward their tour was to get Alice tricked out as soon as possible and in good twig for the crossing.

The chance that they could actually be traveling to where she might meet Lord Foy did not disturb her so much as encountering him in England. He was not likely to be touring museums or ruins. So long as they avoided British society abroad she would be safe. Therefore, the sooner they left England the better.

Bennet Varner sighed and paced from door to window for the twentieth time, looking out on the dismal courtyard below Viscount Leighton’s small room in the group of apartments known as the Foreign Office. Leighton growled and cast his pen aside, running his hand through his fair hair in exasperation. It suddenly occurred to Bennet he was annoying his best friend.

“You always get like this where there’s a woman involved,” Leighton complained. “Will this be another of those uncomfortable seasons when I am forever worrying about Foy blowing your head off?”

“That’s only happened once, and if you recall he merely wounded me,” Bennet said, throwing himself into one of the wing chairs pulled close to the small grate.

“Only because he knew you would not have him arrested for that. If he could have killed you with impunity he would have done so. And that was over your sister. Every time you make up to a woman, Foy seems to appear to take her away from you. When will you two stop this stupid competition? It started at school years ago, and you have never grown out of it, either of you.”

“I don’t know what you mean. Besides, my first meeting with Lord Foy was when I saved your skin on the playing field. Are you forgetting that?”

“I would like to. So what is this new inamorata like?”

“I don’t know what makes you think—”

“Heavy sighs from a man normally tied to his desk when he is not crawling about one of his ships.” Leighton pushed his papers aside and rose from his desk.

“She’s my mother’s goddaughter, just arrived from the country.”

“An innocent?” Leighton rifled through his desk drawers.

“Yes, in many ways, but not stupid. She is already suspicious of me.”

“Suspicious of you, a man without the sense to know when his intended has taken another man as her lover.” The slight man extended his search to the corner cupboard.

Bennet hopped up to pace again.

“Sit down. I’m sorry I said anything. Aha.” Leighton held up the brandy decanter triumphantly, sloshed some of the liquid into two glasses and handed one to Bennet as his friend paced past him. “What are you doing that she is suspicious of?”

“I’m trying to keep her in London and having a damned hard time of it.”

Leighton seated himself by the fireplace and jabbed at the small blaze with the poker. “Why keep her here, where Foy may get at her? You can follow her wherever she goes. A few weeks of dalliance in the country might be just the thing to ease your nerves.”

“To Paris?”

“Oh, that’s another matter, but the rumors may be completely false. When you think about it, does it not seem entirely fantastic that Napoleon could have any thought to leave Elba? France is facing economic ruin, the peace negotiations are nearly completed. Probably it is all a hum.”

Bennet threw himself into the other chair again. “Perhaps if I warn her of our suspicions she can delay her brother’s departure—”

“No, that you must not do, for we do not know what sort of economic panic such news would cause if it were to get about. You know what fools we aristocrats can be.”

“If I cannot tell her I will simply have to deceive Rose.”

“Rose, a country rose?” Leighton mused. “When may I meet this latest paragon of yours?”

“Harriet’s coming-of-age party tomorrow night. I don’t suppose you are in the market for a wealthy wife?”

Leighton looked sharply at him. “Not a chance, Bennet. Remember, I know Harriet Besides, she always said she was going to marry Foy when she was old enough.”

“Yes, I suppose there’s no stopping that now. Will you come anyway?”

“Yes, so long as there is no pressing business here. I will attend. I must meet the woman who has thrown you into such a fuddle.”

Chapter Two

Rose breakfasted in bed, a luxury she now allowed herself since Alice was not an early riser, and, judging from the hour at which Stanley had stumbled in, she rather thought he would be abed till noon. Of course, at Wall, she would have been up and riding two hours ago, but she was on holiday and should try to enjoy herself. She could enjoy herself now that Varner had expanded her horizons. Rose decided she could like London quite well now that she knew there was such a delightful place to ride.

Cynthie helped her into her green riding habit again, and Rose promised herself that she would buy another if Bennet appeared today. He had said they would ride every day, but it would be just like such a careless fellow to forget and leave her standing in the lobby of Greeves Hotel with Martin on watch in the street.

She spent the remaining hour before ten o’clock writing a long letter to her mother in the comparative privacy of the lounge off the lobby. Rose had just handed this over to be mailed when she saw the horses from the window and looped up the tail of her habit to go down the steps. Bennet leaped to her elbow and helped her to mount Gallant so solicitously she decided she would rumble his lay today. She would, at least, take up yesterday’s argument where he had interrupted it.

They had brought Victor for Martin to ride, and the two grooms kept a respectful distance back from Bennet and Rose.

“No horses for Stanley and Alice?” Rose asked, looking innocently around from her perch atop Gallant.

“Your brother told me Alice does not ride.” Bennet flicked an imaginary speck of dust from his plum-colored coat.

Rose wondered if he had deviated from his usual black riding jacket for her benefit. “Did he also tell you he planned to have such a bad head from staying out late drinking that he would not be able to sit a horse today?”

“No, I surmised that myself,” Bennet said proudly.

“You were with him, then?” Rose asked as she steered her horse through traffic.

“Yes, for part of the evening. I left him around midnight.”

“I cannot say that I like Stanley taking up gambling and drinking. I know all men do it, but that does not make it a safe pastime.”

“If you are worried that he will get into fast company, I assure you my friends would never fleece a guest of mine.” Chaos gave a little jump at a bright red curricle, but Bennet’s grip turned to iron and brought the animal under control. The man’s leg muscles bulged tautly under his buff riding breeches.

“You have a high opinion of your friends, sir. I shall reserve mine until I meet them.”

“Hah, I see. A recommendation from me is worthless, as you have decided to mistrust me.”

Rose stared at him to have her mind read so accurately, then turned her attention back to the last thoroughfare to separate them from their destination.

“I have surprised you, haven’t I?” Bennet prodded as they approached Hyde Park.

“Yes. As I was about to say yesterday when you galloped away to avoid the remark, you are not at all trustworthy.”

“Yes, when you said you could think of one reason we could not be friends. I saw the barb coming so thought I would avoid it until I could think of a rejoinder.”

Rose laughed. “You are a jump ahead of me today, and yes, you did surprise me. It will not happen again,” she assured him as she urged Gallant into a trot.

“That I can believe. Why do you not trust me? And do not waste time dissembling.”

Rose looked at Bennet thoughtfully. He was riding carelessly with both reins gathered in one hand and not paying any obvious attention to his horse, yet the beast was minding his subtle leg signals much better than yesterday. It struck her that Bennet rode as naturally as a soldier, and her experience of soldiers should make her dislike him. But she could not think of a clear reason to do so. She urged Gallant into a canter, using Bennet’s own trick against him. The horses would be used to having a brisk canter as soon as they got to the park, would expect it if they rode here again, she thought. Why did she not trust Bennet Varner? At the end of fifteen minutes and on the other side of the vast park she was ready to bring her mount down to a walk again and answer him, even if it meant never riding here with him again.

“All of this, the horses, your kindness to Stanley, the offer of your ship, why?”

“I did not think courtesy required a reason,” Bennet replied, his dark eyebrows arched in surprise over those innocent blue eyes of his.

“You have been more than courteous, you have been kind in the extreme, and charming enough to allay the suspicions of a brother, who though dense around women, can generally take the measure of a man.”

“Hah. Is that a compliment or an accusation?”

“You decide. It is your motivation that is suspect.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment. My motivation is quite simple. I am, in the general way, bored silly by society and the women thrown at my head by a well-meaning mother and sister who think it is high time I married. To encounter a woman who is no danger to me is refreshing in the extreme. That is why I thought we could be friends, because I am no danger to you, either.”

Rose stared at him and felt herself smiling at those laughing eyes. If he was not telling the truth, his performance at least deserved the compliment of her pretense of belief.

“And something else,” he added.

“What?” she asked, wishing she could really have such a friendship.

“I enjoy jousting with you. Do you know how rare it is to find someone able to hold her own in an argument?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“So there you have it. I am in some need of companionship of the abrasive kind, someone who does not agree with me at every turn just because I am as rich as Croesus.”

“You are not.”

“Not what?”

“As rich as Croesus.”

“How would you know?”

“If you were you would hire a man of business and not be at all involved in trade.” Rose lifted her chin as though his vocation mattered to her.

“It is precisely because I am involved in trade that I am so rich.”

“No matter how much your sister would like it to be otherwise?” she chided.

“Rose, don’t tell me you won’t countenance an acquaintance with a cit I had not thought you so stuffy.”

“On the contrary,” Rose said, deciding to change her tack, “I regard your involvement in trade to be the most stable thing about you. It is your avocation I disapprove of.”

“Gambling? I assure you I—”

“No! Gammoning people into thinking you a charming, empty-headed fellow when in truth...”

“In truth, what?” he prompted with a grin.

“I haven’t figured that out precisely, but I will.”

“I shall anticipate the moment. Bring sweet Alice to tea this afternoon if you wish to extend your study of my character. Bring Wall, too, if you can manage it. Mother wants to meet him, even though he is safely married.”

“Is she looking for a husband for Harriet?”

“Always. I scared off one suitor by challenging him to a duel. The offers since then have not been as forthcoming.”

“I should think not, if they are in danger of being shot.”

“Actually, I was the one who was punctured. It was a pure waste of my claret I should have let him carry Harriet off to Yorkshire.”

“That is a very hard thing to say of your own sister. How old was she?”

“Seventeen.”

“Not old enough to know her own mind.”

“Old enough to know better than to get involved with a man like Foy.”

Rose halted her mount and pretended to be checking the tightness of the girth. Bennet looked back in some concern, dismounted and went to help her down. “What is it?”

“Nothing. Martin, check the cinch,” she called. “I shall walk a little way.”

“I’ve said something to disturb you. Do you find it unnatural that I do not love my sister?”

Chaos followed behind Bennet like a large dog.

“No, of course not. It is I rather who have spoken out of turn. To condemn you for something I know nothing of is ill-done of me.”

“Well, I was going to mention that, but as you have admitted your fault I am left with no barbs to fire.”

Rose managed a brief smile, and she almost told him she knew Foy. But no, he would find out soon enough. Why ruin this day, when Axel was likely to ruin the next?

“Tell me what is wrong,” Bennet begged, looping the reins over his arm and taking her hand between his two.

“The engagement and duel, this all happened years ago.” Rose said, shaking the mental image of Axel’s piercing brown eyes from her mind. “Surely it is past history. Perhaps Foy did not even survive the war,” she said hopefully.

“No such luck. He was wounded several times and kept turning up like a bad penny to cut up our peace. This time when he begs for Harriet’s hand I shall agree.”

Rose became conscious of her surroundings and began walking again, forcing Bennet to surrender her hand. “That might make Harriet like you better, but if you did not think him worthy of her then...”

“It is not that Axel has become more acceptable, but that Harriet has managed to descend to his level. I must get her married off before she causes a scandal that I cannot squelch.”

Rose’s glance flew to his face.

“No, do not ask me what all she has been up to. By emulating her intimate acquaintances she has become very jaded. She may merely be trying to get revenge on me for being in control.”

“Perhaps, if you talked things through with her, there might be a reconciliation.”

“Harriet forgive me? Not a chance. Not with Mother on her side, and Harriet is like Mother in that respect. The catalog of my wrongs never has anything erased from it, but grows with time like the national debt. I doubt I could ever be forgiven for all my offenses.”

“You are joking.”

“Except that this birthday ball may wipe out a few. You should have your invitation by now. You are coming, of course.”

“You make it difficult to say no. But then we must be off to Paris.” She watched the smile fade from his face as he halted again.

“Do not go,” he begged.

“But I must. I must go whenever Stanley and Alice are ready to leave.” She signaled to Martin to bring Gallant, and Bennet helped her to mount.

“Help me convince Stanley to spend the season in London. You can stay in Varner House. Mother and Harriet would love to have you.”

“Now that is an untruth,” she said with her usual pert smile as she watched him swing up onto Chaos.

“Then stay to keep me from boredom.”

“To argue with you? I think you will find that grows stale after a bit.”

“Bantering with you? Never.”

The look in Bennet’s eyes could not be misread. He was not joking this time or making game of her. She smiled sadly and shook her head. One mention of her to Axel and he would revise his opinion about that. She urged Gallant into another canter, and the horse responded willingly to have two such treats in one day. What a strange man Varner was, to trust her with confidences about his family that if repeated would do them a great deal of discredit. She would not repeat them, of course. Rose never gossiped and took pains to say the best of people. She was well aware what careless chatter could do to a woman’s character, how it could mar her very life. Was Bennet Varner naive or merely the first frank man she had ever met? She would have liked to further her acquaintance with him just to puzzle that out

Bennet left Rose reluctantly at the hotel and wondered if he should risk delaying the ball just to buy a few more days. No, a celebration at Varner House would be no particular lure to the Walls, at least not to Rose. They would simply shrug and board the next packet. Just as the promise of a fine ship might not hold them. There was the possibility of making London so interesting for young Wall that he did not mind dallying in town, but Bennet caviled at introducing Stanley to any new vices just to serve his own ends.