When the Rogue Returns (27 page)

“Which is why we have to make sure they
stop
lurking about,” Victor said stoutly. Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed it. “And why I must go. The trail grows colder by the moment.”

As he headed for the door, Betsy called out, “Shall you eat something first, sir?”

“I’ll get something in town.” Then he strode out the door.

Truth was, he had no appetite, not with Gerhart out there somewhere plotting against them. But he would find whatever rock the man had crawled under. And when he did, Gerhart would learn what vengeance Victor had in store for him.

T
WO DAYS LATER,
around noon, Isa placed the last few items she’d need into her trunk for the house party. She couldn’t get her mind off of Victor. She hadn’t seen him since he’d gone off to investigate, and she felt the loss of him like the loss of a limb.

He’d said he wanted them to be a family again, and the sparkling hope of that had kept her going despite all their problems. Whenever she thought of him making love to her so sweetly, so fiercely, the problems became as nothing.

But if she didn’t see him soon, she would go mad! Any minute now, Mr. Gordon was supposed to come by with Mary Grace to drive them out to Kinlaw Castle. She’d feel better if she knew that Victor was all right, first.

Betsy appeared in the doorway. “His lordship is here.”

Isa blinked. “Rupert? Why?”

“I don’t know. But he looks none too happy about
something. Do you think he’s heard that Mr. Cale is your husband?”

“It depends on whether Victor has spoken to Lady Lochlaw yet.”

Betsy sniffed. “Well, I must say, Mr. Cale has been mighty absent these past two days for a man just returned to his wife after ten years.”

“He
is
trying very hard to unearth my relations.” She had told Betsy everything, confident that her servant would not betray her. What she hadn’t expected was that Betsy might become suspicious of Victor.

Then again, the woman considered Isa and Amalie family; she would protect them to the death. She agreed that Victor was handsome and brave—and the profusion of dahlias had swayed her a bit—but she hadn’t liked that he’d been so ready to distrust Isa ten years ago. Betsy was nothing if not loyal.

“If you’ll finish up this packing for me,” Isa said, “I’ll see why Rupert is here.”

She got her answer as soon as she walked into the parlor, where Rupert was compulsively straightening her paintings on the walls. That was always a sign he was agitated.

“Good morning, Rupert. I thought you would be well on your way to Kinlaw Castle with your mother by now.”

He faced her with a grim set to his mouth. “I’m not going.”

“What? You can’t do that! It’s
your
house party. You have to go.”

“No, I don’t,” he said sullenly. “I’m the baron. I can do as I please. People already think me half-mad anyway, so who cares if I choose not to go?”

“I care,” she said.

“That’s not true,” he said in a voice of deep betrayal. “You lied to me. You told me you were a widow, and you’re not.”

She sighed. “I take it that Mr. Cale has spoken to your mother.”

“Yes. Just this morning.” He scowled. “And she delighted in telling me all about how you and Mr. Cale have been married for ten years. Ten years! Why didn’t you say anything?”

Lord help her. She’d been dreading this ever since their last encounter. “Because I couldn’t. Back when I believed the awful lies my family told me about my husband, I was afraid that he might find me, so I became Sofie Franke. When he
did
find me, I learned that we had both been laboring under an enormous misapprehension. I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you ever since.”

Her explanation didn’t seem to dampen his anger one bit. “I trusted you! I believed you to be a widow. I wanted to
marry
you.”

She swallowed. This was so hard. “I’m sorry about that. I never realized that you saw me as a possible wife until this whole mess with Victor—Mr. Cale—happened.”

“That’s because you never saw
me
as a possible husband,” he said petulantly. “It’s because I don’t under
stand women, isn’t it? Because I’m not a man about town, and I buy walking shoes instead of flowers and—”

“No, Rupert, of course not.” Stepping forward, she put her hand on his arm, relieved that he didn’t pull away. “I’m older than you, and far beneath you in station. I never dreamed that you would consider me a suitable wife. I assumed that we were friends. Good friends, but no more.”

He wouldn’t look at her, but his frown softened a fraction. “We
are
good friends, aren’t we?”

“We will
always
be good friends. You are the kindest, sweetest man I know.”

“More even than Mr. Cale?”

She suppressed a laugh. Victor was many things—forceful, ardent, seductive—but “sweet” wasn’t one of them.

A quick glance at the dahlias filling the parlor made her amend that. He did have his sweet moments.

“You and Mr. Cale are very different men,” she said earnestly. “I like you both in different ways.”

“But you
love
him.”

She caught her breath. Did she? She had once. Could she again? “The point is that I don’t love you, which is neither of our faults, but just the way things are.” She smiled at him. “And you don’t really love me, either, do you?”

He frowned. “I don’t know. I don’t understand love. I like being with you. But then, I like being with lots of people.”

“Mary Grace?” she ventured.

A blush filled his cheeks. “She’s so beautiful, with her red curls and freckles. And so
tall.
Tall women are elegant, don’t you think?”

She would never have described Mary Grace as elegant, but now that she thought about it, the girl had potential to be so. If Isa gave her a few tips. “I certainly do.”

His face fell. “But she couldn’t possibly like me. Ladies who are young don’t understand me any better than I do them.”

“Ah, but Mary Grace isn’t the typical young lady, any more than you are the typical young gentleman. Give her a chance. She might surprise you.” She patted his arm. “And she speaks of you as if you’re the cleverest, finest fellow in the land.”

“She
does?
” he said, his blush deepening.

Isa nodded. “And I know she’s really been looking forward to the house party, solely because you invited her personally. If you don’t go, and you disappoint all those people who are expecting you, she might not think quite so well of you.”

That point seemed to perturb him.

Isa heard a knock at the door and then low voices in the hall. “That’s probably her right now, since her great-uncle is driving us out there.” She cast him a sly smile. “Of course, if you brought your curricle, she could ride with
you
, and Mr. Gordon and I could just follow behind you.”

That obviously flummoxed him. “I . . . I suppose that would be all right.” He steadied his shoulders. “
If
I go, I mean.”

“Come now, lad, you have to go,” a voice said from the door.

Isa caught her breath. Her husband was here at last!

Tensing, Rupert faced Victor and scowled. “Why do
you
care if I go?”

“Because I’m going, too. And while I may not really be your cousin, I could use your friendship.” When Rupert looked skeptical, he added, “From what my wife has told me, you’ve learned that I’ve only been part of English society for a few months. I still find that world difficult to navigate. It would mean a great deal to me if you would help me figure out how to behave.”

Rupert snorted. “You don’t need me for that. You’re a duke’s cousin.”

“I wasn’t born knowing I was a duke’s cousin. And I certainly wasn’t raised as one.”

When Rupert looked surprised, Victor glanced to her, and she smiled her encouragement.

With a heavy breath, he explained, “My father was a soldier, so I grew up on the fields of battle. I know how to load a cannon, but not a dealer’s box for faro. I learned how to hunt for food, not for sport. I’ve never even been on a fox hunt.”

“You don’t say!” Rupert exclaimed, clearly shocked.

“I can drive a sword through a man’s heart, but not dance. I write reports, not verses. All the songs I know are too vulgar for the company of ladies, and I know no sonnets at all. Every time someone of high rank enters a room, I still need a friend to explain how I am to address them.”

Irritability crept into Victor’s voice. “And could someone please tell me what it means to ‘smell of April and May’? I can only assume it has something to do with flowers.”

“It means that two people are courting. Even I know that, cousin!” Rupert caught himself with a frown. “Sorry. I keep forgetting you’re
not
my cousin.”

“No, but I hope you’re my friend,” Victor said earnestly. “Because I will certainly need one to make it through this house party, since your mother insists that I attend.”

“She’s good at insisting.” Rupert’s tone turned sullen. “She’s good at ruining my life, too. It looks as if she’s managed to separate me from Mrs. Franke—I mean, Mrs. Cale—after all.”

Victor gave a tight smile. “Your mother didn’t do that. My marriage to Isa ten years ago did. And you didn’t want to make a bigamist of her, did you?”

Rupert shot Isa a furtive glance. “She would never have married me anyway. She made that very clear just now.”

“She
couldn’t
have married you without breaking the law,” Victor countered. “But it’s just as well. Because Mr. Gordon drove up with Mary Grace as I was arriving, and she’s waiting for us outside. Waiting for
you.
I daresay she would be very unhappy to see you married to anyone.”

Rupert gazed at Victor for a long moment, then sighed. “Oh, all right, I’ll go to the house party. But only on one condition.”

“What’s that?” Victor asked.

“You take my curricle, and you let me drive your phaeton there.”

“It’s not my—” Victor caught himself. “Of course.” Even as Isa was wondering if she should warn Victor about Rupert’s driving, Victor asked, “But why?”

Rupert colored. “Miss Gordon is sure to be impressed with a phaeton.”

Isa doubted that Mary Grace knew a phaeton from a dogcart, but if it made Rupert happy, why not?

“Ah.” Victor stepped forward and held out his hand. “Well, then, we have a bargain.”

Rupert stared down at Victor’s hand and hesitated. When he shook Victor’s hand, Isa let out a long breath. A friendship between Victor and Rupert would go a long way toward making her deception a bit more palatable in Edinburgh society once it became widely known.

Victor turned to her. “If Lochlaw is driving Miss Gordon up to Kinlaw Castle, there’s no point in Mr. Gordon driving you there. You can ride in Lochlaw’s curricle with me.”

“That would be wonderful, thank you,” she said and took the arm he offered.

“Is the estate far?” Victor asked as he headed for the door. “Will we need a picnic basket?”

“It’s a couple of hours away,” she told him. “And I’m sure they’ll have a big dinner waiting for us when we arrive.”

“Wait!” Rupert cried from behind them, his voice
sounding panicked. “What do I say to Miss Gordon?”

“About what?” Isa asked.

“About anything.” Rupert came up to her. “I don’t know how to talk to women.”

Isa smiled at him. “You talked to me perfectly well. And I didn’t even understand all the nonsense about atomic theory, whereas she finds it fascinating. So why not start there?”

“I don’t think you’ll have to speak much, anyway,” Victor said dryly. “A lovely bouquet of roses showed up at her house this morning, courtesy of the Baron Lochlaw. She’ll be happy just to sit beside you and blush.”

Rupert’s eyes went wide. “But I didn’t send her any flowers.”

“I know,” Victor said with a wink at Isa.

When Rupert still looked perplexed, Isa said gently, “Victor is saying that
he
did.” She shot her husband an arch glance. “It was the least he could do, after deceiving you at the florist two days ago.”

“Ohhh.” Rupert glanced at Victor, his gaze friendlier this time. “Thank you, old fellow!” Then he cocked his head. “Are you
sure
you need my help at the house party?”

Victor chuckled. “Trust me, it wasn’t my brief sojourn in society that taught me the fine effects of sending flowers.” He patted Isa’s hand. “I learned that from my wife years ago. All women like flowers.”

“Do they?” Rupert said. “I shall have to remember that.”

Isa had no doubt that Mary Grace would make sure he did.
“One other thing you should remember.” She flashed him an encouraging smile. “You are the Baron of Lochlaw and a fine young man. Both Victor and I think so. Don’t let your mother’s machinations keep you from having a life of your own, on your own terms.”

Rupert gazed at her uncertainly for a moment, then nodded. “All the same, I don’t think Mother will approve of my riding out to the house party on my own instead of in the carriage with her, even if it is in a phaeton.”

“Which is precisely why you should do it,” Victor said, clearly suppressing a smile. “It will show her that you mean to behave as you please from now on.”