Never Romance a Rogue Page 2

  Owen nearly called the fellow back. Jasper was all he had in the world, his only true friend, his only opportunity to make something of himself. Letting the horse out of his sight for long was never easy. He often took lodging within sight of the stable in the country or the mews in the city for that very reason.

  Yet surely the duke’s stable was as fine as everything else His Grace had owned in London, which had been very fine indeed. No one would harm Jasper. Not if Owen did as he had sworn and discovered a secret that would satisfy his blackmailer. Or found a way to turn the tables on the fellow.

  “Mr. Canady.”

  He turned at the sweet voice and put on his best smile. The lady standing at the edge of the stable yard was the only good part of this bargain. Golden curls offset a pleasing face above a figure with plenty of curves, and all wrapped up in a charming personality guaranteed to draw a man closer.

  “Lady Belle.” He swept her a bow. “Thank you for inviting me.”

  “You are very welcome,” she said. “Everyone else has already arrived. Mother will be happy to welcome you too. And so will Miss Bateman.”

  She was careful to stress the last name. That had been a given since he’d become acquainted with the duke’s family. It was perfectly acceptable for him to pursue the lovely Miss Bateman, but the duke’s daughters were beyond his reach.

  “I am honored,” he said. He thought about offering her his arm, but his coat was a bit the worse for wear after the ride from London. Jasper took a perverse delight in stamping in every mud puddle, like a child let out of the schoolroom on a rainy day. After the hot weather they’d been having this summer, there had been relatively few puddles, but Owen’s coat was dusty, nonetheless.

  She had no such concerns. She latched onto his arm and steered him across the courtyard toward the double doors of the house. Castle, they called it. Stone walls encircled the courtyard, with windows looking down like narrowed eyes, suspicious of his every movement.

  He could only hope the occupants were less observant.

  “I hope you had a pleasant ride,” she said.

  “Not nearly as pleasant as my welcome at the end,” he assured her.

  She beamed. That was something about Lady Belle. When she smiled, her entire face lit. It was impossible not to smile along with her.

  He shook off the feeling. He wasn’t here to bask in the warmth of her smile. He had a mission, and growing attached to her or any other lady would jeopardize it. Jasper had been the one bright spot in his life since the day he’d first ridden the horse seven years ago. No one in his mother’s aristocratic family had ever cared a whit for him. In fact, he’d never met a lord who didn’t look out for his own self-interest first. The duke would be no different. Owen would play the game and trade His Grace’s secrets for Jasper’s safety, then be gone on the wind.

  Doing his best not to leave a trace on Belle’s heart, Miss Bateman’s, or his own.

  Chapter Two

  Belle was downstairs for dinner before anyone else. Generally, she might have waited, timing her entrance to make a statement. Her silk gown was perfect for such a moment, with life-sized pomegranates embroidered all along the hem of the pearly white skirts, a crimson and gold striped bodice, and a turban to match, complete with ostrich plume.

  But she hadn’t staged this house party to make a statement. Everything was conspired to give Tuny and Mr. Canady an opportunity to further their acquaintance.

  She wandered around the withdrawing room closest to the formal dining room, where everyone was to meet before dinner. When she’d been a girl, the space had been done in shades of pink with dainty gilded furnishings and a great deal of velvet. Her father had tended to avoid the room. Now, though the heavenly hosts still disported themselves about the painted ceiling, the rest of the room was more inviting, with wallpaper of cranes descending on a wooded lake, curved-back sofas and chairs upholstered in blues and greens, and a thick carpet patterned in green leaves.

  Belle rearranged a pillow here, tugged a chair a little closer there. Most likely one of the older couples would take possession of the sofa, but if she could maneuver Tuny and Mr. Canady into the chairs closest to the fire, they might have a moment for a private word.

  Her mother and father arrived just as she’d positioned everything to her liking. By the quirk of her mother’s brow, she was the only one to notice. Larissa and Callie came next with Leo and Fritz. She would have liked Mr. Canady to appear before Tuny, so she might have a word to encourage him. Had he lost his way? Having grown up in the castle, she could navigate the dozens of rooms on the three stories of winding corridors easily enough, but she could understand why he might be struggling.

  “Would you see that Miss Bateman and her family and Mr. Canady know how to reach us?” she murmured to their footman, Davis, who immediately leaped off the wall to do her bidding.

  Slowly, the withdrawing room filled with family and friends, including her uncle and aunt, Lord and Lady Belfort. Belle kept defending the two seats she’d selected for Tuny and Mr. Canady, but eventually, even she had to yield. Soon, every one of the armchairs was taken, and the white marble hearth was all but eclipsed by the quartet of gentlemen—her father, Sir Matthew, Leo, and Fritz—standing in front of it in their evening black.

  Waiting just inside the doorway, Belle caught herself tapping her foot and forced it to still. Really, was it too much to ask that a suitor and his lady take some part in the courtship? However did Fortune manage to match anyone up?

  She glanced to where her aunt was sitting on the sofa nearest the hearth, the lady’s husband leaning a hip against the side. Though Belle and her sisters shared no bloodlines with the pair, they had always considered Lord and Lady Belfort family. She smiled at the thought that that made the grey-coated cat on Aunt Meredith’s lap her cousin.

  As if she knew Belle was watching her, Fortune raised her head, revealing the white fur that circled her neck and ran down her front like a cravat. She blinked copper-colored eyes before turning to gaze at the doorway. It couldn’t be Dolph approaching. The dog made a decided thud as he trundled across the floor. Besides, her mother had wisely consigned Dolph to the rear garden and the kitchen staff until they could arrange a first meeting between him and Fortune.

  So, was it Owen who had caught the cat’s attention?

  Belle drew herself up, heart starting to beat faster, but Tuny walked in instead. She was wearing her golden yellow gown with the puffy sleeves, and Belle was pleased to see that the color made her sleek hair ripple with gold. She stopped to join Belle.

  “Still not here?” she murmured, putting her back to the swooping cranes, as if intent on holding the wall in place.

  “He arrived,” Belle said. “I sent a footman for him, but I don’t know what can be keeping him.”

  Indeed, everyone else was evident—her parents; her sisters and their fiancés; Tuny’s brother and sister-in-law; and Aunt Meredith and Uncle Julian. The ladies were in fine silk, most of the gentlemen in tailored wool. She glanced at the porcelain clock on the mantle. Less than a quarter hour until Mrs. Winters would see dinner served. What was he doing?

  Davis hurried back into the room and took up his place on the other side of the door from Belle and Tuny. His face was red and his tall body stiff. A moment later, Owen Canady walked in.

  Like the other men, he wore a black tailcoat and trousers, with a white satin-striped waistcoat and pristine cravat. The contrast of color was even more dramatic on him, with his raven hair, mustache, and beard. And his sharp blue eyes glittered as he surveyed the room.

  Belle nudged Tuny’s slipper with her toe. “Go on. Tell him you’re glad he could join us.”

  Tuny raised a brow. “That’s your mother’s job as hostess. I’m certainly not going to usurp the place of a duchess.”

  “Then I will,” Belle announced, breaking away from her.

  Her mother was already heading in that direction. Belle waited for her, and her mother shot her an amused smile
. Then she focused on Mr. Canady, offering him her gloved hand.

  “Mr. Canady, a pleasure. We’re delighted you could join us.”

  He took her mother’s hand and bowed over it. “I was delighted to be invited, Duchess. Your home is nothing short of stunning, just like the ladies who grace its corridors.”

  Oh, well said. Belle dimpled at him.

  Her mother retrieved her hand with a shake of her head. “And I thought I’d find the butter sauce on the fish tonight. I can see I’ll need to keep an eye on you, Mr. Canady.”

  “Allow me to introduce him around, Mother,” Belle said, stepping forward.

  Her mother nodded, smile still amused, and Mr. Canady offered Belle his arm. She turned to lead him toward her friend, only to find that Tuny had joined her sister-in-law, with her brother now hovering next to them. By the way she was running a gloved hand up her arm, she was none too comfortable at the moment. Belle’s heart went out to her. Perhaps she could make this a little easier.

  “You know my sisters and their gentlemen,” she told Mr. Canady as she drew him across the carpet toward the Batemans. “And my parents. You met Aunt Meredith, Lady Belfort, when we were at the benefit dinner in town. And of course, you know my dear friend, Miss Bateman. Let me introduce you to her family.”

  Tuny raised her head, as if expecting to have to give an oration, but Belle introduced Mr. Canady to her brother and sister-in-law instead. Sir Matthew looked him over, dark eyes narrowed. A former pugilist and bodyguard, he had been elevated to his position by saving the king’s life when George had been Prince Regent. With a shock of dark hair and rugged features, he still looked as if he could go a round or two in the ring if he wanted. Belle wasn’t sure what Tuny had told him about Mr. Canady or how he’d react, but he seized Mr. Canady’s hand and pumped it, hard.

  Tuny’s smile appeared when her would-be suitor didn’t so much as flinch.

  “I’ve heard a great deal about you, sir,” Charlotte, Lady Bateman, said when Mr. Canady had bowed over her hand as well. The light from the fire made flames flicker in her auburn hair and gleam in the silvery grey of her silk gown. “You’re from Surrey too, I understand.”

  “I have friends in Surrey,” he corrected her with a disarming smile. “I was raised farther north. But I understand you spent a great deal of your time in scientific studies in London.”

  Had Tuny told him? Belle glanced to her friend, but Tuny’s brow was puckering as if she were surprised by the statement as well. Still, many in London might still recall that, before her marriage, Charlotte had worked beside her brilliant brother to advance the science of ballooning.

  The pink in her cheeks said she was pleased to be reminded. “I’ve made my share of contributions.”

  “I am blessed by my family,” Tuny put in at last, with a look all around. “Brother a baronet, sister-in-law a natural philosopher, one sister a marchioness and the other a barrister’s wife, and all the nicest people you would ever want to meet.”

  “I can certainly see the attraction,” Mr. Canady said, and he and Tuny shared a smile.

  Something wiggled inside Belle, as if she’d swallowed a bug that was trying to escape. What was wrong with her? This was exactly what she’d hoped would happen—the two of them getting along, enjoying each other’s company, finding commonalities. She knew her turn was coming.

  Why couldn’t she be happier for Tuny now?

  ^^^

  Owen spent a little more time with the Batemans. He thought Belle might introduce him to her uncle, Lord Belfort, who must be the dapper gentleman with the red-gold hair standing near Lady Belfort, but Belle moved to distance herself, going to speak to her mother. The cat in Lady Belfort’s lap regarded him fixedly, as if he were a mouse that would escape if she didn’t watch his every movement. He put his back to her, excused himself from the Batemans, and went to join the duke and his future sons-in-law.

  His Grace was as angular as his wife was curved. Funny how the jade green eyes that looked so warm on his lovely daughter could look so cool on him. He, Prince Otto Leopold, and Count Montalban were in conversation. Owen had been introduced to the Batavarian twins, but he still found it interesting that they were so alike, both with curly blond hair and bright blue eyes, both tall and muscular. He would not have wanted to tussle with either. He would have to be very, very careful how he approached them and the duke.

  He still wasn’t sure why his nemesis was so determined there were secrets to be had or what the villain intended to do with them. The fellow hadn’t been forthcoming when he’d pressured Owen into this role. In truth, Owen wasn’t certain how the man knew anything about him. But Owen had answered a knock at the door of the rooms he had been renting in London to find a tall, slender, dark-haired stranger with a long mustache. His smile had been apologetic.

  “Forgive the intrusion, Signor Canady,” he’d said in a voice spiced with a Mediterranean accent. “But I fear I own your horse.”

  That had gotten Owen’s attention, as the fellow had likely known it would.

  “And I fear you’re mistaken,” Owen had told him, though a kernel of fear had lodged in his chest. “My uncle left me my horse in his will.”

  “Ah, no,” the fellow said, slipping into the room unbidden, as if he owned it as well. “Your great-uncle left everything to your cousin, and your cousin allowed you to ride away with the horse. But your cousin has now sold him legally to me.”

  Of course he had. His cousin Alfred was a weasel through and through. He’d seen no profit in Jasper and had been only too happy to allow Owen to take the unruly horse. One less burden on the estate. A show of gold, and Alfred would have conveniently forgotten the arrangement.

  Still, proof of his cousin’s perfidy would not be unwelcome.

  “And the bill of sale?” Owen asked.

  His visitor pulled the paper from his coat. “As you can see, perfectly legal.”

  The kernel of fear blossomed into panic.

  “What do you want?” Owen demanded.

  The miscreant spread his hands. “A small thing. Something so easy for you to do. You are used to saying the right words, smiling at the right time. I see this. Then there is the Duke of Wey. He is a difficult man to approach. He trusts few. But you have been invited to his home. Bring me his darkest secret, and I will provide you with a bill of sale that proves the horse yours. Fail, and I will have no choice but to bring in the authorities and dispose of so temperamental an animal.”

  Owen had babbled a promise with fear he did not have to manufacture. While the fellow finally introduced himself and issued further instructions on when and where to meet, Owen’s mind had sorted through options.

  Contest the sale? Alfred would have been only too happy to argue against him, and he could well lose what funds he’d put by on solicitors and court fees.

  Run and hide? It might work temporarily, but Jasper would be easy to identify, and their hard-won funds would eventually run out. In the end, he’d had two choices: learn the duke’s secrets or use His Grace to uncover his nemesis’ secrets.

  The smile his enemy had praised was difficult to maintain now. With that upright bearing and serene gaze, the duke seemed as polished as they came. What nefarious plans could possibly lay percolating beneath?

  “Your Grace,” Owen said with a bow when the duke acknowledged him with a look. “I wanted to thank you for inviting me to your home.”

  His lips quirked, but he did not smile. “I understand you will be a very welcome addition to the guest list, Mr. Canady.”

  Someone had pleaded his case, then. Miss Bateman? Belle? “I will do my best to be entertaining, Your Grace, as a good guest should. Your home here is lovely. Surely you must prefer it to the bustle of London.”

  “Indeed I do,” the duke replied with a hint of a sigh that said he could not visit often enough for him. Owen had heard the gossip in town. They called him the Hermit Duke because he preferred the company of his family to the pleasures of Society.


  Owen made a show of glancing around at the elegant furnishings. “There is a comfort to knowing yourself at home. I would enjoy learning more about your castle’s history, if you can find the time.”

  Something flashed behind his green eyes. “I will see what can be done.”

  Good. He had the duke interested. Best to make sure others didn’t notice that Owen had singled him out.

  “And I would enjoy learning more about Batavaria as well,” Owen put in smoothly to the prince and his brother.

  Count Montalban eyed him, but Prince Otto Leopold smiled.

  “I am always delighted to speak of my homeland, Mr. Canady,” he said, voice holding a complex combination of accents. His former country lay among the mountains near France, Germany, and Switzerland, and he was said to have spent time in Italy as well.

  “Indeed,” Count Montalban said, voice slightly deeper than the prince’s but no less accented. “You might find him prosing on at great length, with little provocation. Be warned, Canady.”

  Prince Otto Leopold chuckled. “I will try to restrain myself.”

  “You needn’t worry on that score,” Owen assured him. “I’ve kept up on your progress with King George from the papers.” The Congress of Vienna had reapportioned Europe, with the result that the once-kingdom of Batavaria had been subsumed by the country of Württemberg. The prince, his brother, and their father, King Frederick, were attempting to enlist King George’s aid in seeing their lands restored.

  Count Montalban snorted. “Do not believe what you read in the papers.”

  Owen had also read a few stories about the count, who had been until recently the Captain of the Imperial Guard. The London Times had not been kind. If even half the articles were true, how could the duke agree to allow the fellow to marry into his family? Was that the secret his tormentor wanted him to unearth?

  “I prefer to hear the story directly from those involved,” Owen told the count.

  Unfortunately, the housekeeper chose that moment to announce that dinner was served, and all the couples began pairing up to walk together into the adjacent dining room. The duke and duchess obviously did not stand on ceremony. In more traditional households, His Grace would have led the highest-ranking lady guest in to dinner, but he escorted his duchess instead at the front of the column, followed by Lady Larissa and her prince, Lady Calantha and her count, Lord and Lady Belfort, and Sir Matthew and Lady Bateman.