Never Romance a Rogue Page 4

  He’d lived in a few such villages as a lad, first with his mother in Ireland after his father and brother’s deaths, then with his mother’s relatives in England after her death. He’d been only six at her passing, too young to understand why her family hadn’t wanted to take her in when she’d been widowed. She had made a choice to marry an Irishman, and one who had seen fit to join with the firebrand Wolfe Tone when he’d rebelled against the English. Bringing her back into their homes would have meant disapproval, gossip. Bringing in her orphaned son was a duty, a way to be praised for their charity, their generosity.

  Even if love had never been part of the bargain.

  He shoved aside the memories that threatened and rode to the end of the town and along a little byway as if he fully intended going further. When he was certain he had not been followed, he circled back to the house he had been told to find. The cream-colored two-story cottage was ringed by tall hedges, and the drive up to the green-lacquered front door had seen fresh gravel of late. He caught no sign of workers, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to leave Jasper alone, particularly knowing who waited for him inside.

  “If someone tries to untie you,” he murmured to the stallion as he loosely looped the reins over the porch railing, “you run as far and as fast as you can. I’ll find you.” With a pat on Jasper’s withers, he climbed the stairs to the door.

  He didn’t bother to knock. He had been instructed to appear this morning; his host would be expecting him. Pushing open the panel, he stepped into a small entryway that opened onto a sitting room. If he hadn’t been forced to visit by his blackmailer, he might have found the cottage charming with its walls partly paneled in wood and fine furnishings scattered about.

  The man standing by the empty stone hearth turned at the sound of Owen’s bootheels against the polished wood floor. His black hair was pomaded back from a sharp-featured face, and his thin mustache drooped on either side of his mouth.

  “Do you have my answer?” he asked in his accented voice.

  “Not yet,” Owen admitted, moving to join him. The position was as much to keep an eye on Jasper through the gauzy curtains as to watch the man who held his future in an uncertain grip. “The duke and his family are reticent.”

  “And you are persuasive,” his nemesis said. “I have confidence you will learn his secret.”

  “That’s just it,” Owen said, widening his stance. “I begin to believe the duke has no secrets. What exactly did you hope I would find?”

  The question was a gamble, but anything he could learn about his enemy might stand him in good stead.

  The fellow eyed Owen a moment, head cocked and dark gaze thoughtful. “I will tell you, then. Perhaps it will speed your work. I must know what the duke has planned to support the Batavarians.” The last word simmered with loathing, as if the fellow had picked up an apple only to find a worm crawling out from inside it.

  As if the man in front of him wasn’t the worm himself.

  “And why should the duke’s support be any secret?” Owen pressed. “His oldest daughter is marrying the crown prince, and his middle daughter is marrying the prince’s brother, Count Montalban.”

  He curled a lip, making his mustache hitch. “He has made clear his support. What is unclear is how he plans to express that support. We must know how to counter his arguments, poison his plots. With another man, we would learn what he cares most for in the world and threaten it. That is how you find yourself in this position.” His smile to Owen was knowing.

  “But the duke cares only for his family,” Owen reasoned. “And you dare not threaten them without risking his wrath.”

  Alonzo Mercutio, informant to the King of Württemberg, nodded. “Exactly so. A shame you are not in such a position, Signor Canady, but I very much fear the only way you will keep your beloved horse is to bring me the information I seek, and soon. I do not have the luxury of patience.”

  Chapter Four

  Meredith Mayes, Lady Belfort, sat at her dressing table in her lavender satin dressing gown, pulling a brush through her dark hair. A few strands of silver, well earned, were beginning to appear, along with lines around her eyes. The lavender shade so many had remarked upon was still evident. She fluttered her lashes at her husband, who had bent to stroke a red-gold hair of his own into place.

  “Are we planning to join the house party today?” he asked as he straightened.

  Meredith set down the brush and swiveled to meet his gaze. He was as handsome as the day he’d first proposed to her, under the kissing bough at her mother’s annual Christmas Eve party. She rose and adjusted the cravat at his throat. “No, though I begin to regret I said we’d wait.”

  Julian’s brows rose. “Something happening I don’t know about?”

  She ran her hands along his shoulders, relishing the strength beneath her fingers. “I will own to a curiosity about Mr. Canady. We met a time or two in London, but I find I know nothing about him, save that Belle seems determined that he and Tuny should suit.”

  Julian smiled. “Noticed that jockeying at dinner, did you? What does Fortune say of him?”

  As if she had heard her name, a mew came from the other side of the bedchamber door. It sounded the least bit perturbed.

  Meredith went to open the door for her pet, who scampered in and went to take possession of the bed. Her look to Meredith was knowing.

  “I’m not sure Fortune and Mr. Canady have met,” Meredith admitted to her husband as he moved to join her by the door. “But I can’t help the feeling that he’s hiding something. Perhaps we should have a conversation. I would not want Petunia or Belle to lose her heart to a rogue.”

  Julian pressed a kiss against her cheek. “Always thinking of your ladies and our girls. I’ll send word to my office, see if we can look into his background.”

  She grabbed his lapels before he could pull away entirely. “Perfect. Now, perhaps we could find other things to converse about.”

  Julian wrapped his arms about her. “Conversation can wait.”

  ^^^

  Belle found a dozen excuses to linger near the front of the castle with Tuny, watching for Owen. She insisted that they bring a carrot to Unicorn, her horse for some years. The powerful white mare had been meant to work the castle’s home farm on the island, but Belle had fallen in love with her the moment her mother had spit on her gloves and turned the horse’s forelock into a horn. Unicorns were on the family crest, after all.

  “And she still can fly like the wind,” Belle told Tuny as she watched Unicorn chew on her treat.

  “With you on her in Cossack trousers,” Tuny said, glancing down at her serviceable blue day dress. “You’ll never catch me riding astride.”

  “Father only allows me to do it on the island,” Belle admitted, moving on to the next stall. Her father’s latest acquisition, a fine dapple-grey mare with a silky black mane and tail, ambled closer, as if hoping there might be a carrot for her too.

  “Probably not with Mr. Canady in company,” Tuny said.

  Belle grinned at her. “I’ll bring Father around.”

  She would have been happy to bring Owen around as well, but she had reacquainted her friend with each of the other horses in the small stable nearest the castle without the least sign of him.

  “Good day for a ride,” she speculated, coming out into the sunlight to gaze up at the blue sky. “I don’t see a single cloud.”

  “Next you’ll have us counting the windows in the wall of the castle,” Tuny predicted with an amused smile. “Or perhaps estimating how many stones cover the yard.”

  Belle shook her head. “That won’t be necessary. He should return shortly. He was only going to the village and back.”

  Tuny nodded toward the gate. “And here he comes now.”

  They both turned to look at the man passing out of the shadows. Belle wasn’t the only one to sigh in appreciation. She shared a grin with her friend before the pair hurried to meet him as he was dismounting.

  “What a fine animal,” Belle said. She raised a hand, and Owen stepped fluidly between her and the horse so that her fingers landed on the chest of his coat. She pulled back, face warming.

  “This is Jasper,” he said, offering the reins to Walters, their stable hand, who had come running. “He’s a bit particular about those with whom he associates, and he’s just had a long ride, so it might be best if I introduce you another time.” He nodded, and the lad began leading the horse away.

  “Particular, eh?” Tuny said, aiming a look at Belle. “Like Fortune.”

  “Fortune?” he asked, facing them once more.

  “Lady Belfort’s cat,” Tuny explained. “You met her last night. She’s famous for knowing a person’s character.”

  His look remained pleasant, but he seemed to have grown an inch or two. “And she wasn’t excited about mine. Imagine that.”

  Belle linked arms with him, finding the bands of muscle unyielding. “A passing fancy, I assure you. She will come to see your sterling qualities, just as we have.”

  “No doubt,” he drawled. He seemed to make an effort to recover himself, for his smile edged into view. “And what delights do your parents have planned for us today? A tour of the island, if memory serves.”

  “Some on horseback and some in carriages,” Belle said, nodding to Tuny to fall in on Owen’s other side as they started back for the great doors of the castle. “I fear dear Tuny isn’t as comfortable in the saddle as you are. Perhaps you could tutor her.”

  He turned to Tuny. Belle couldn’t see his face, but she could hear the warmth in his voice. “I’d be happy to offer my assistance, Miss Bateman.”

  Any lady would jump at such a chance. Helping Tuny into the sidesaddle meant Owen might allow his strong hands to round her waist. Eyes and hand
s might meet, often. And surely he would need to ride closely beside her to encourage her. Perfection!

  “Thank you, Mr. Canady,” Tuny said. “But I’m satisfied with what skills I possess. After all, I don’t really need a horse in London. I can walk most anywhere I please, and I can use my brother’s carriage if the journey is longer than my legs allow.”

  Belle slumped. She and Tuny needed to have a conversation about how to better encourage a gentleman.

  They came inside to find that everyone was indeed gathering for an amble about the island.

  “The open carriage would suit me just fine,” Charlotte was saying to Belle’s mother as they entered the withdrawing room. “I’m sure the girls would enjoy it too.”

  “Then Peter and I will join you,” her mother said with a nod to Belle as she moved closer to the sofa.

  “Me too,” Tuny said, following her.

  That would never do. There wasn’t room for Owen as well. Even riding beside them, he would find it difficult to converse with Tuny if her attention strayed to her nieces.

  “Perhaps we should take a second carriage,” Belle suggested. “Mr. Canady could drive me and Tuny.”

  “One carriage should be sufficient,” her father said. “We have horses available for anyone else who wishes to ride.”

  “Of course, Father,” Belle said. “I was only thinking of our guests. Some are not as comfortable on horseback as we are.”

  He glanced at Owen. “We can likely find a horse to accommodate a less practiced rider.”

  “Excellent suggestion,” Owen said with an easy smile. “I regret that my horse doesn’t deal well with strangers. I’ll keep Jasper. One less horse for you to provide, Your Grace.”

  Her father inclined his head. “Then it seems we are settled. Meet at the stable in a half hour?”

  Everyone was agreeable, and most hurried off to change. Leaving Owen to his own devices for the moment, Belle hurried to catch up with Tuny on the first floor corridor.

  “Why don’t you want to ride with Mr. Canady?” she asked.

  Tuny shrugged, blue skirts flapping with her stride. “I thought I should show off my best traits, not my worst.”

  “Which is why I asked him to tutor you,” Belle explained. “Working together builds camaraderie.”

  “You sound like a matchmaking mama,” Tuny accused her with a grin. “Don’t worry, Belle. If Mr. Canady is the one for me, I’ll know it, and so will he.” Her grin slipped. “Unlike some others we could name.”

  She must be thinking of Lord Ashforde. Tuny had confessed to having conceived a passion for the fellow in her first Season. She seemed certain he could not return her affections.

  “All I ask is that you put yourself forward a little,” Belle encouraged her as they neared the room Tuny had been given, just down the corridor from her own. “He cannot become better acquainted if you do not allow him closer.”

  Tuny nodded, and they separated to change into suitable clothing. But Belle vowed not to let Owen finish his ride before he knew just how fine a lady Petunia Bateman was.

  ^^^

  Mercutio’s threats were still ringing in Owen’s ears. He had to find a way to determine how the duke planned to use his considerable influence on the Batavarians’ behalf. Failing that, he had to find some fatal flaw in Mercutio’s plans that would give Owen an edge over the fellow’s masters in Württemberg. But Belle’s father remained elusive.

  Owen had hoped to ride beside him as they left the castle, but the duke divided his attention between leading the cavalcade and helping Sir Matthew. Like his sister, the baronet did not appear comfortable in the saddle, listing first one way then the other and hands fisting on the reins as if he meant to drag his mount across the island by sheer force. In contrast, His Grace had an easy seat, moving with the horse as if born to the saddle. So did his eldest son, Lord Thalston, who rode on his other side. He might have been an ally in racing Jasper, if Mercutio hadn’t made him Owen’s target. But then, what aristocrat had ever offered Owen help?

  He had no opportunity to converse with the Batavarians either. Prince Otto Leopold was riding next to Lady Larissa, with Count Montalban beside Lady Calantha, and two of the three Imperial Guardsmen rode right behind. They were followed by the carriage with the duchess, Lady Bateman and her young daughters, Miss Bateman, and the duke’s youngest son, Peter.

  That left Owen with Belle at the rear.

  “I’m very sorry about this,” she said as they followed the group down from the castle. “I’m sure Jasper could go much faster and farther, given the opportunity.”

  That she’d remembered the name of his horse warmed him. Her horse, though older, moved with its own grace. The mare would have been a good contender to pit against Jasper, but he fought down the urge to suggest it. This time, he was after bigger game.

  “He has been known to speed over hill and dale,” he allowed. “But I am content in present company.”

  She beamed at him. “As am I. Unless, of course, we could have Tuny beside us. Would you prefer to ride next to the carriage?”

  The only person in the carriage who might have been able to tell him anything of import was the duchess, and she had her hands full with Peter and the two Bateman girls.

  “No, thank you,” he said. “Miss Bateman and I will have ample opportunity to chat in a more congenial setting.”

  “I have always found the island to be quite congenial,” she said, glancing around.

  Owen followed her gaze. Except for an occasional copse of woodland, fertile fields rolled across gentle rises giving views to the sweep of the Thames beyond. Cottages and barns dotted the landscape, their owners out working among the greenery in the warmth of the summer day. Easy to imagine having an estate in such a setting, sitting in his withdrawing room, gazing out across the river. Taking Jasper for a run down the lanes.

  “It is lovely,” he said. “Small wonder your father enjoys his time here.”

  “He says he feels the most alive on the island,” Belle said, giving her horse a pat. “I love it too, but I will admit that I found the Season thrilling.”

  It had been her first. It had also been the first time he’d spent the spring and summer in London. Generally, as soon as the roads were hard enough for racing, he’d be moving about the country, in search of competition willing to pay for the privilege. He’d thought ingratiating himself to the right families might open bigger doors.

  Not cost him his future.

  “There is a certain excitement to the Season,” he allowed as they followed the cavalcade past a larger set of stables, likely with room to hold carriages. “Everyone jostling to see and be seen, wondering who will catch whom first.”

  “Celebrating being caught,” she added with a smile that set her jade-colored eyes to gleaming in the sunlight.

  “Commiserating about not being caught,” he reminded her.

  She laughed. It was deeper than the giggle he’d expected, warmer, brighter, as if he’d come out into the summer sunshine after weeks of rain.

  “I have a feeling it won’t be long until Tuny is caught,” she said with a nod to the carriage in front of them.

  Back to her friend. He shouldn’t be surprised. She was that determined. “No doubt,” he offered.

  “She is very clever, you know,” Belle said, as if warming to her theme. “And good with children. See how she helps manage her nieces? She’ll make a wonderful mother.”

  He would not rise to that bait. He’d find himself betrothed before dinner. He merely nodded as they passed the turn to the village. Jasper gave the faintest of tugs in that direction, as if expecting they were going back to see Mercutio. Owen kept him moving forward.

  “She’s not afraid to economize, either,” Belle said. “Why, I’ve known her to remake dresses and retrim hats, so she always looks fashionable even with a smaller budget.”

  Perhaps she thought he’d find that attractive. Did he appear so lacking in funds? Like her friend, he’d done all he could to appear an equal with the aristocracy from which his mother had come. The duke’s housekeeper, Mrs. Winters, had seemed surprised he had not brought a valet with him. He’d fended off her suggestion that the duke loan him one with the truth.