Never Romance a Rogue Read online

  Belle was regarding Owen, green eyes wide. Though he ought to offer to escort her, as the daughter of a duke, she tipped her head, sending golden curls cascading to her shoulder, and aimed her gaze at Miss Bateman.

  Might as well be obliging. He’d learned that as a lad. He extended his arm. “Miss Bateman, would you favor me?”

  She smiled. “Of course, Mr. Canady.”

  He started to turn to Belle to offer her his other arm, but she waved her gloved hands at him as if shooing him ahead of her. Owen raised a brow but set off as she indicated.

  Miss Bateman drew him up short, fingers clutching his arm. The grey-coated cat that had been sitting on Lady Belfort’s lap was standing in front of them, her eyes, like two copper pennies, still drilling into him. Behind him, he heard Belle suck in a breath.

  “Fortune?” Miss Bateman asked.

  The cat turned and stalked off after her mistress.

  Miss Bateman’s gaze darted to Belle’s. “It wasn’t the cut direct.”

  Belle bit her lower lip a moment before answering. “No, not exactly.” She managed a smile. “I’m sure she’ll be happier on next meeting.”

  Miss Bateman nodded, and they continued into the dining room. He could not shake the feeling that something momentous had just happened, and he had been found wanting.

  It wouldn’t be the first time. In fact, he’d accustomed himself to being criticized for his least fault and had congratulated himself on developing a sufficiently thick skin that he no longer cared.

  So why did one look from Belle make him care a very great deal?

  Chapter Three

  Fortune hadn’t liked him.

  Well, she hadn’t disliked him, not precisely. Callie had told Belle the story of how the cat had hissed and bolted when confronting a certain Lord Wellmanton, who had turned out to be a thoroughly disagreeable fellow colluding with the leaders of Württemberg to prevent Fritz, Leo, and their father from retaking their kingdom. Fortune had certainly treated Owen better than that.

  But the cat’s ability to know someone’s character was legendary in Belle’s family. Fortune had allowed Belle’s father to pet her on first sight, or so the story went. Belle had seen how the cat had reacted to meeting Leo and Fritz. What was Belle to make of Fortune’s tepid reaction now?

  She knew her parents would not force their guests to sit according to precedence, nor did they seem to mind that, without Lord Ashforde, they were odd numbers at table. A few comments, a pointed look, and a sweet smile soon saw Owen seated with Tuny on his right and Belle on his left. Tuny’s brother was just beyond her, and Larissa was on Belle’s other side. With her mother at the foot and father at the head, it made for a congenial group.

  Just as Belle had planned.

  Her father asked the blessing, and the footmen moved forward to serve their guests. Belle was less interested in the flounder in butter sauce, sweet potato rissoles, and peas with mushrooms that were placed on her plate for the first course than what was happening between Tuny and her potential suitor. Leaving Larissa to converse with Leo, which her sister would likely much rather do anyway, Belle tilted her head just enough to focus her hearing in her friend’s direction. The ostrich plume in her turban tickled her ear.

  “How do you find Wey Castle, Mr. Canady?” Tuny asked, cutting into her fish.

  A safe if unoriginal opening gambit. Belle might have asked about any adventures on his journey out from London. And she would have to remind Tuny to find a way to use his first name.

  “A delightful place, rich in history,” Owen responded, digging into his rissoles. “I take it you’ve visited often.”

  “Lady Larissa, Lady Calantha, and Lady Abelona have been my dearest friends since I was a girl,” she confessed. “Whenever I visited my sister, the Marchioness of Kendall, at Villa Romanesque, their country seat, I spent as much time with them as I could.”

  Good. Reminding others of your standing was never a bad thing in a Society that prided itself on privilege. Belle had to clamp her jaw shut to keep from adding how much she enjoyed Tuny’s company. Time enough later to extoll her friend’s virtues, if that were even necessary.

  “Then you must know them very well,” Owen said, silver fork toying with his peas. “Their father seems the doting sort.”

  He couldn’t know the half of it. Her father had kept his distance from them when they were small, as if he couldn’t imagine what one did with daughters. Her stepmother—her mother—had taught them to be a family. Now her father was nearly as determined as Belle to see all his daughters happy.

  “His Grace is very kind to include me,” Tuny said, dropping her gaze.

  No, no. Now was no time for humility! Tuny should be asking him about his family, his friends. She needed to draw him out. Learn everything about him.

  Belle forked up some peas and shoved them into her mouth to keep from saying the words aloud.

  Just then, Sir Matthew asked Tuny a question, and she turned her attention to her brother.

  “You’re rather quiet tonight,” Owen said to Belle.

  She swallowed the peas so quickly she nearly choked. “Just enjoying the company. You and Tuny seem to be getting along well.”

  His dark brows went up. “Tuny?”

  “Short for Petunia,” Belle explained. “It’s an affectionate name shared among those she loves. I’m sure she’d allow you to use it, if you asked.”

  That was pushing it a bit. Tuny was trying to decide whether she could love Owen. But putting the idea in his head could only help.

  “I’ll bear that in mind,” he promised. “Your father is not what I expected.”

  Belle glanced down the table to where her father was smiling at something Leo had said. When her father smiled, she knew all was right with the world.

  “What did you expect?” she asked, returning her gaze to Owen.

  “Someone more distant, less approachable,” he said, nodding his thanks to the footman, who had refilled his glass.

  “You’ve heard some of the rumors in town,” Belle said, wrinkling her nose. “Some people can’t appreciate his preference for family. But I certainly do. And so does Tuny. Her family is very important to her. You should ask her about her sisters.”

  He inclined his head. “Two, if I recall. Just as you have two. And she’s the youngest, like you.”

  Belle beamed. “Very good, Mr. Canady. You have been attentive.”

  He chuckled. “You make it sound as if I just won top marks in school.”

  “In knowing more about a lady, definitely,” she assured him. She glanced around him, but Tuny was still busy talking with her brother. Now Belle’s mother was chiming in from the end of the table. How did her friend expect to win a fellow’s affections if she ignored him?

  “And what more should I know about you, Lady Belle?” Owen asked.

  Belle turned her attention back to him. His gaze hadn’t wavered. Indeed, the warmth of it raised an answering heat in her cheeks.

  “There’s not a great deal to tell,” she said. “I’m a duke’s daughter and the youngest, as you noted. I’m fond of riding and dancing, but you already knew that from our time together in town.”

  He leaned closer. “And what secrets lie behind those lovely green eyes?”

  Her mother really needed to speak to the staff. It was entirely too warm in here. Belle glanced to the hearth, only to find it empty. It must be the summer. It had been unseasonably hot. Everyone remarked on it.

  “I have no secrets I am prepared to share with a gentleman,” she informed him.

  His dark eyes lit. “Ah, but you do have secrets.”

  Belle leaned closer, until their foreheads nearly touched, and lowered her voice. “You should ask Petunia.”

  He chuckled, straightening.

  “So, Your Grace,” Fritz ventured, voice carrying down the table, “what have you planned for us this fortnight?”

  That was all it took for everyone to focus their attention on her father.
br />   “I’m sure my duchess will be happy to tell us,” he said, lifting a glass in toast to her mother.

  All gazes now swung her way. Belle would never get Tuny and Owen back into conversation now!

  “Tomorrow, we’ll start with a tour of the area,” her mother said, smiling at them all. “There will be mounts available for those who wish to ride and carriages for those who prefer a more leisurely pace. Later in the week, we’ll have archery, games, and other contests, as well as an opportunity to show your theatrical skills with a set of tableaus vivant.”

  That had been one of Belle’s better ideas, if she said so herself. Working together to bring a scene to life had so much potential for building admiration, affection. Her sisters must have thought so too, for they were grinning at their fiancés.

  “Everything will culminate in a ball here at the castle late next week,” her mother continued. “The Earl of Carrolton and his family will be joining us, as will the Marchioness of Kendall and her family and a number of acquaintances from around the area.”

  Leo raised his glass. “To new friends.”

  “To new friends,” the others chorused, lifting their glasses in response.

  After they’d all taken a sip and lowered their glasses, Belle looked pointedly around Owen at Tuny, but she was already talking with her brother again.

  She cornered her friend as the group rose from the table, the men as well as the women. Her father had never been one to tarry behind when he might be with her mother.

  “You must press your advantage,” Belle hissed as she and Tuny followed the older couples down the corridor, Owen walking with Sir Matthew not far behind and Belle’s sisters with their betrotheds just ahead.

  “It’s early days,” Tuny whispered back. “Plenty of time.”

  Belle held back a sigh with difficulty.

  They had not even reached the withdrawing room before Tuny’s brother raised his voice. “I’m for an early bed. Long trip out from London.”

  His wife smiled at him. “Long trip with two excited girls in the carriage.” She turned to Belle’s mother. “You don’t mind, do you, Jane?”

  “Not at all,” Belle’s mother assured them as the others paused. “I expect Alaric and I will be right behind you, as soon as we see Meredith and Julian off.”

  But if all the older couples were unavailable, who would play chaperone? Belle opened her mouth to suggest that her mother stay with her and her sisters when Tuny patted her arm.

  “I’m tired as well. See you in the morning, Belle.”

  And she followed her brother and sister-in-law up the stairs, without even a word to Owen!

  “Thank you for a lovely evening, Your Graces,” Owen said before heading in the same direction.

  Belle let her sigh out. Might as well make for her room too. There was always tomorrow.

  She hugged her aunt and uncle, then crouched before Fortune to run a hand over her silky fur.

  “He’s a fine fellow,” Belle whispered. “I know you’ll see it when you look closer.”

  Fortune’s ear twitched as Belle straightened, but the cat set her gaze on the door as if just as eager to be gone.

  Aunt Meredith wasn’t quite so ready. She turned to Fritz. “With fewer people about, now might be a good time to introduce Dolph to Fortune.”

  Fritz inclined his head. “Excellent thought. I’ll fetch him.” He strode down the corridor.

  Leo offered Larissa his arm. “Perhaps we’d best leave them to it.”

  Larissa laughed. “Trust a prince to know when to beat a strategic retreat. Leo and I will be playing chess in the library, Mother.”

  Her mother nodded with a smile. “Shut the door, if you please. I wouldn’t want anyone bolting in there.”

  Larissa and Leo hurried to comply.

  Callie put herself next to Belle. “And we can block the withdrawing room.”

  Belle widened her eyes. “Are we expecting a battle?”

  “Possibly,” Uncle Julian drawled.

  All gazes turned as the door at the end of the corridor opened, and Fritz came out with Dolph. He’d put a leash on the big Sennenhund, and Dolph trotted along beside him happily, head high, chest puffed, and plumed tail waving.

  Fortune’s ears went back.

  Immediately, Aunt Meredith scooped her up, but that only brought her on a level with the hound’s sniffing nose.

  Fritz tightened his hold on the leash to keep Dolph from bounding forward. The hound obediently sank onto his haunches, but the rapid movement of his tail across the floor told of his excitement.

  “Fortune,” Fritz said with all the solemnity of a courtier greeting a grand duchess, “allow me to introduce Augustus Adolphus. Dolph, this is Fortune, a very fine lady. You will treat her with the respect due her station.”

  Anyone outside their family would probably have burst out laughing at the statement. Belle’s family nodded in agreement, and Dolph lowered his head toward the carpet in deference.

  Fortune’s ears came forward, and she blinked her great copper-colored eyes as if granting dispensation.

  “Do we dare?” Uncle Julian asked.

  Aunt Meredith dipped her skirts to lower Fortune to the floor. The cat stalked up to Dolph and bumped her nose against his. Dolph reared back with a snort, eyes widening. As if satisfied she had made her point, Fortune turned and sashayed back to Aunt Meredith.

  “Well,” Belle’s mother said, smile forming. “That’s done, then. It seems there will be no bloodshed involved.”

  “Thank goodness,” Belle’s father muttered. “Still, we would be wise to be watchful when they meet again.”

  Just as Belle would be watchful when Tuny and Owen next met.

  She was downstairs early the next morning, dressed in her white muslin walking dress with the gathers along the long sleeves, the bodice, and two feet of the skirts. She’d hoped to arrange everything to Tuny’s advantage, but she found Owen there ahead of her. Today, he wore a bottle-green riding coat and fawn trousers, every inch the gentleman. She could only hope Tuny would appear shortly to admire the vision as well.

  “I thought I might go riding this morning before activities start,” he told Belle as she settled herself beside him at the table.

  She looked to Wills, who was serving that morning. The older footman stood taller, the light picking out the grey in his brown hair.

  “Will you see if Miss Bateman can be ready to ride?” she asked him.

  He started away from the wall, but Owen held up a hand. “No need. I generally ride alone. A gentleman can benefit from a moment of quiet before the day starts.”

  She liked riding first thing as well, particularly in London. The mist rising from the grass and the birds flitting from tree to tree made Hyde Park a delightful place for an early morning ride. Still, she couldn’t forego the opportunity for her friend.

  “I’m sure you’ve noticed that Tuny knows when to be silent and when to speak,” she said. “I’ll just…”

  She started to rise, and he put a hand on hers.

  “It’s all right, Lady Belle,” he said. “I don’t mind going alone. And I’m sure Miss Bateman would prefer to eat breakfast first.”

  Belle sank back onto her chair. “Oh. Well, if you’re certain.”

  He withdrew his hand, leaving hers surprisingly cold. “I’m certain. A turn about your fair island, perhaps a canter into town, is all I need. I’ll be back before the others are down.”

  Belle nodded. “Very well.” She brightened as another thought hit. “Or perhaps I can send Tuny to meet you along the way.”

  He cast her a glance. “You are being very kind to think of your friend, but I don’t need help courting.”

  Heat flushed up her. “I’m not nearly so selfless, I assure you.”

  “Ah, but it seems that you are.” He set aside his napkin and rose. “Thank you for your concern. I can take it from here.”

  Belle nodded again, but she couldn’t help thinking that he was being far m
ore optimistic than the circumstances warranted.

  ^^^

  She was a wonder. Owen clucked to Jasper, who set off down the hill from the duke’s castle at a canter. He was used to the matchmaking schemes on the ton, even though they had seldom been directed at him. Mothers looking for a strategic alliance for their daughters sought position and wealth; fathers looked for connections and advantage. He had none of those qualifiers. But watching others maneuver had always been interesting.

  Belle clearly wanted him to court Petunia Bateman. He could see the lady’s attraction. She wasn’t mercurial, but one could never tell when a particular situation would be met with skepticism born of harder living or delight at the wonders of the world. It was a heady combination. But falling for Petunia Bateman didn’t align with his plans.

  And falling for Belle would be far, far worse.

  “Can you see a duke wanting us in the family?” he asked Jasper as the horse trotted down the lane toward the graceful stone bridge that arched over a side branch of the Thames. Wey Castle rested on the highest point of an island, and the bridge was the only way to connect to the village. Owen had noted that on the way in.

  Jasper snorted and picked up the pace, as if trying to distance himself from the very idea.

  Owen chuckled. “Smart fellow. Still, you can’t help but admire the lady’s optimism and her determination to help those she loves. A shame we’ve never had anyone with that kind of influence in our lives. We might not have to race for our supper.”

  Jasper tossed his head. But he slowed his steps as they neared the village on the other side of the Thames.

  Weyton was little more than a cluster of whitewashed cottages, all neat and tidy, plus shops for a blacksmith, cooper, dry goods merchant, and baker. A few larger cottages for the more prosperous families lay on the outskirts. The inn along the river likely drew a crowd most nights.