When the Rogue Returns (5 page)

Trying not to stiffen visibly, Victor managed a bland smile. “Since I was only seventeen at the time and wet behind the ears, I imagine I was.” He made his tone crisp and professional. “Now, perhaps we should discuss the situation regarding your son.”

She stared at him, then sat back with an exaggerated sigh. “I only mentioned the war because my husband and I toured Waterloo in later years. Since we’d traveled all over Belgium, I found Mrs. Franke’s claim of being
from Brussels rather suspicious when she didn’t seem to know much about it.”

That made sense. Isa had never been to Belgium. Assuming Mrs. Franke was Isa, that is.

“I see.” He drew out a notepad and a pencil. “When did your son and Mrs. Franke first become acquainted?”

“Acquainted? I fear it’s more than that. With her being so much older than Rupert—”

“How much older? Or do you know?”

“She looks to be thirty at least.”

Isa would be twenty-eight. “And they’ve known each other how long?”

“Only a year. They met when my son brought my jewelry into her shop to be cleaned.”

“But she’s lived here for ten. Are you sure he didn’t meet her before?”

“He was in school. He only came home after he reached his majority.”

“Ah, of course.” He scribbled notes in his pad. “Can you tell me anything else about Mrs. Franke that’s not in the materials you sent Manton’s Investigations? I gather, from your use of the term
siren
, that she is attractive.”

Her ladyship examined her fingernails. “She’s pretty in a vulgar sort of way. I’m sure you know what I mean.”

“Not really.” He began to dislike the baroness. And feel sorry for her son. “In my experience, women are either pretty or plain, and I find both sorts equally distributed in all walks of society.”

Her gaze turned piercing. “Indeed? In
my
rather
more vast experience, vulgar women lack the fine features and graceful movements of a woman of true breeding.” She leaned close again, as if to betray a confidence. “She walks like a man, as if she’s always in a hurry to get somewhere.” Her voice turned cynical. “And we both know where she’s in a hurry to get: into my son’s fortune.”

He took out the file he’d brought with him and made a show of flipping through it. “My understanding is that she’s a partner in a jewelry shop that does quite well.”

“Exactly!” she said. “A woman in trade? The very idea is appalling!”

“My point is, madam, that she has no need of your son’s fortune.”

“Oh, please do not insult my intelligence.” With an elegant roll of her eyes, Lady Lochlaw laid her arm along the back of the settee. “Any woman would leap to snag a rich young baron like Rupert, but especially a woman of her sort, grasping enough to go into trade.”

Inexplicably, that raised his hackles. “What did you expect a widow to do after she was deprived of the husband who’d provided for her? Starve?”

The minute he spoke the words he regretted them, for her ladyship’s gaze narrowed on him. And why was he defending the wife who’d deserted him, who had set him up to pay for her crimes? Mrs. Franke might not even
be
his wife. He must remember that, and stop antagonizing the woman who was going to pay Manton’s Investigations.

“Forgive me,” he said. “I have a tendency to speak
too bluntly. All those years in the army made me ill-suited for the company of ladies ‘of true breeding’ like yourself.”

She softened. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say ‘ill-suited.’” Her gaze trailed down him. “Even ladies of true breeding sometimes enjoy a taste of wild game, if you take my meaning.”

He stifled a sharp retort. “If you don’t mind, my lady, I have a few more questions about the case.”

Her eyes glittered briefly. Then she managed a smile. “You are all business, aren’t you, Mr. Cale?”

“It’s what I do best.”

“Well, then, I hope that in the midst of your dogged pursuit of the truth, you will do me one teeny-tiny favor.” As he stifled a groan, she bent nearer to whisper, “I need you to keep your true reason for being in Edinburgh secret.”

Oh,
that
kind of favor. Thank God. “I assure you I am always discreet.”

“Of course,” she said hastily. “You see, I don’t want my son to guess why I’ve brought you here. Technically, he holds the purse strings, though he loans them out to me without a thought. But I should not want to give him a reason to take them back.”

“Right.” He was beginning to get an interesting picture of this baron—young, impressionable, entirely under his mother’s thumb.

Except for his interest in Mrs. Franke.

Lady Lochlaw flashed him her shark’s smile. “But I need you to join us on several social occasions, so you
can observe him and Mrs. Franke together. Tonight we three are going to the theater, and I’d like you to accompany us. I was hoping you could pretend to be someone . . . well . . . more appropriate.”

“Like who?” he said coolly.

“Perhaps a distant cousin, come from London to visit me.”

“Don’t you think your son will know that I am not your cousin?”

She waved her hand dismissively. “He pays no attention to such things. I have a hundred cousins.” A scheming smile crossed her lips. “And if you play one, then you can be the concerned male relation, asking questions that no other man could.” Her eyes lit up. “Except, perhaps, a suitor. You could pretend—”

“No, my lady,” he cut in. “I would never presume.” Clearly he’d be using that phrase quite often with his new client. “And if a stranger suddenly appears in your life as a suitor, your son will not only grow suspicious, but may start investigating
my
suitability for
you
.”

Her face fell. “I hadn’t thought of that.” She gave an exaggerated sigh. “Very well, a cousin it is. You needn’t change your name—there must be a Cale somewhere in my line.” She glanced at him. “You don’t mind, do you? The client who recommended Mr. Manton’s services said that your employer actually had to do a bit of playacting to find out his information.”

“I’m accustomed to that,” he said truthfully. “I used to serve as an agent for an investigator on the Continent.” Only occasionally, though she needn’t know that.
“But your story won’t hold water for long if your son grows curious.”

“It won’t need to hold up long, because you are going to make sure the matter is resolved quickly. We’re having our annual house party at Kinlaw Castle next week, and I want to have every bit of ammunition against Mrs. Franke by then.” Her voice took on an edge. “In case my fool of a son decides to announce an engagement to her.”

“I see,” Victor said. “That’s not much time, especially if I’ll be spending part of my days and nights at social affairs, as you requested.”

Then it dawned on him. If the widow and Isa
were
one and the same, Isa would know it was a lie.

Yes. She would.

A smile curled his lips. And she would wonder what he was up to, and she wouldn’t be able to say a damned thing. He liked that idea. Let her shake in her boots for a while. That might prompt her to unveil her real purpose more swiftly.

“I’m sure you can manage it, Mr. Cale.” The baroness flashed him a sultry smile. “It’s what I’m paying you for, is it not?”

The butler appeared in the doorway. “Mrs. Franke is here, my lady.”

Victor stiffened. What the devil?

“Send her right up, if you please.” Lady Lochlaw smiled brightly at Victor. “When I got your message that you were arriving today, I invited Mrs. Franke to take tea with us. I thought you might as well get right to it, and form your first impressions without my son
around and without having to resort to subterfuge. Clever of me, wasn’t it?”

“Quite clever,” he bit out.

His heart was hammering, and his blood had chilled. He’d thought he’d have more time before he came face-to-face with her. He’d assumed he would get a chance to see her without being seen, so he could be sure it was
her
. Then he’d have time to figure out her game before he revealed his presence.

Damn! If Mrs. Franke
was
Isa, he couldn’t confront her publicly yet. He still had no proof that she’d ever stolen anything, so he couldn’t take her prisoner. And if he claimed her as his wife, what was to stop her from fleeing on the next boat to America or Canada or Italy?

Besides, he wasn’t ready to open his past to public scrutiny—it might damage Max, who’d done so much for him, or put a stain on Manton’s Investigations.

He needed to play this very carefully.

Tucking his notepad into his pocket, he rose and went to the window, positioning himself where he might get a look at her before she spotted him, since presumably she would head right for her hostess.

As if through a fog, he heard the butler announce her, and he turned to see a woman enter. For one heart-stopping moment, Victor thought it
wasn’t
Isa. Though the hair was the right color, the woman was too fashionably dressed. Isa would never have possessed the courage to wear such a vibrant red. This woman’s breasts were bigger than Isa’s had been, and she was a bit taller than he remembered.

Then she bent to press the hand of the baroness, who hadn’t bothered to rise, and he saw the high heels of her half boots. The height came from those.

But the trim, pretty little ankles were hers—he would recognize those anywhere. So when he heard her murmur, “Good afternoon, my lady, I hope you are well,” in a lightly accented voice, he wasn’t surprised that it was Isa’s—though her tone was more self-assured than he remembered.

“My dear Mrs. Franke,” Lady Lochlaw said, “we have another guest for tea today, whom I thought you might like to meet. May I introduce my cousin, Mr. Victor Cale?”

With her back to him, Isa froze.

Good. He hoped he’d thrown her into a panic. He was looking forward to seeing her alarm at being caught, after all these years. Or better yet, worried about what vengeance the husband she’d betrayed might mete out.

She began to turn toward him slowly, as if in a dream. He just had time to glimpse the porcelain skin, full lips, and other sweet features he’d found so compelling nearly ten years ago, when her gaze met his.

To his shock, it was ablaze with fury.

I
SA WANTED TO
throttle him. She’d known something was up when Lady Lochlaw, who didn’t seem to like her, had invited her for tea. But she’d never dreamed that the woman had somehow unearthed her worthless scoundrel of a husband!

How dared he show up
now
, after she’d finally accepted that he would never return? She had a good life. She and Angus Gordon had built their jewelry shop into one of the preeminent ones in Edinburgh; she had friends who cared about her; and, most important, her daughter, Amalie, was happy and healthy and doing well at an expensive boarding school in Carlisle.

Yet now, after years of abandonment, he meant to trample on all her achievements by insinuating himself into her life as her husband. As Amalie’s
father.

Oh, Lord, he could take Amalie away! It was his right under the law in every country. Especially if he revealed her part in the theft years ago.

Though he could hardly do that without implicating himself, could he?

Suddenly Lady Lochlaw’s words registered—
May I introduce my cousin . . .

Victor couldn’t possibly be related to the baroness. He was Belgian, not English.

But what reason would the baroness have to lie about it? And as her sister had pointed out years ago, Isa didn’t really know much about the man she’d once been in love with.

After a decade of parsing every interaction for clues to his real nature, she still didn’t. But the cold, calculating look in his eyes told her that he had known that she was here. He had come here specifically for her, curse him to hell.

How had he found her? And how much did Lady Lochlaw know? Was Isa about to find her business concern compromised because the baroness had learned that she was living under a false name? Or worse yet, that her family had been involved in a crime?

If he revealed that, Amalie would be taken from her for certain. Oh, Lord!

She squeezed the reticule that held the hatpins she’d made for Amalie, who was to start her new school term on Monday. Sending the girl away tore out part of Isa’s soul every time, but Edinburgh had no schools for girls, and she was determined to see Amalie well educated. Now she rejoiced that her daughter would soon be back in Carlisle, safe from her blackguard of a father.

Victor could
never
have Amalie!

Stay calm. He doesn’t know about her, and nobody else may even know about those imitation diamonds. They could still be sitting undetected in the palace in Amsterdam. And if Lady Lochlaw knew who you really were, she would have done this with Rupert present.

She relaxed. His mother had some wild notion that Isa was after her son’s fortune. So the fact that the baroness hadn’t done this in front of Rupert meant she didn’t know about Isa’s past at all.

“Mrs. Franke?” Lady Lochlaw asked, a note of bewilderment in her voice. “Are you all right?”