To Rescue a Rogue Read online

  “I don’t regret it, Dare. I love you.” She let her eyes challenge him to evade that.

  But Simon and Jancy came abreast with them before he could react.

  “I forgot to say that I had a message from Hal,” Simon said. “He and Blanche will be at the Abbey today, too, along with Stephen and Laura. Testing the waters.”

  “No one is going to snub anyone in church, are they?” Mara asked.

  “There are always subtle ways,” Dare said, “but it’s a good testing ground. Many of the old-fashioned sort attend service there and they’re the ones most likely to be difficult.”

  They entered the ancient church to find it filled with the angelic voices of a boys’ choir. Mara remembered she’d proposed a visit here to research moldering crypts, but this was more heavenly.

  Especially to be attending Sunday service on Dare’s arm. Almost like a married couple.

  They joined the Beaumonts and Balls and during the service Mara prayed as never before—that Dare would be victorious over opium, and that they would be happily together for the rest of their lives. She remembered to also pray that the Rogues find a way to have Blanche fully accepted by society.

  They emerged into sunshine and their party became a hub for friends and acquaintances. No one seemed to treat Blanche coldly, but Mara noticed that some people kept their distance. That was probably telling, for few members of the ton would lightly ignore the son of a duke, the heir to an earldom, and a prominent politician.

  There was a preponderance of fashionable younger gentlemen in the group around them, many clearly delighted to see Dare back in the social whirl. She shouldn’t be surprised. He’d doubtless been the heart and soul of every bachelor party before Waterloo. Mara reveled in his popularity, especially as many of the gentlemen discreetly flirted with her.

  She flirted back with ease, delighted by the shower of invitations Dare was receiving. Until she realized he was hating all this.

  He needed to be rescued. She caught Jancy’s eye. Jancy said something to Simon. In moments the men melted away and their party was walking back to Great Charles Street.

  “Being with child is such a convenience,” Mara said to Jancy.

  “And Simon hinted it so delicately,” Jancy replied.

  “Which promptly terrified them. Anyone would think you were about to give birth on the spot.”

  “Probably a very natural bachelor terror of anything to do with nurseries,” Dare said.

  “Oh, what fools these men do be,” Mara misquoted, linking arms with him. He was still tense, she noted, but he’d be better now.

  Simon and Jancy walked ahead, which left Mara exactly where she wanted to be—almost alone with Dare. “That went well,” she said, “but I noticed how few of the older people came over. It’s so unfair to Blanche.”

  “It was doubtless because of me not her,” he said. “I don’t think association with me can help Blanche at all.”

  “Because of opium. That’s nonsense. Any number of people take it.”

  “And some are even addicted,” he said, making nonsense of her evasion. “None, however, quite so infamously.”

  “There’s nothing shameful about your situation, Dare, and only see how many well-wishers you had. Have you been treated coolly elsewhere?”

  “I’ve not been mixing with society elsewhere.”

  She shouldn’t have begun such a stressful subject. “I’ll find a way to sort this out.”

  “The hair, the hair,” he lamented. “Mara, don’t.”

  Like a lightning strike, memories hit—of that moment as they’d returned home from the visit to the Tower, after she’d revealed her love. She saw in his eyes that he remembered, too.

  “How can I help it?” she asked softly. “I do love you, Dare. There’s nothing you or I can do about that.”

  “Even though it’s a dread affliction?”

  “You know that’s not what I meant. And if you say you’re not worthy of my love, I’ll hit you.”

  His lips twitched. “You would, too. I do hope to prove worthy.” He came to a stop, looking beyond her, frowning.

  “What?” Mara asked, turning to see what concerned him.

  But he met her gaze and spoke. “I shouldn’t say this, but…Mara, will you wait for me?”

  She turned back, hope uncurled, then blossomed at the look in his eyes. “Of course! But why wait? I’ll marry you now. Soon, at least. As soon as you wish.”

  He laughed rather wildly. “No. When I’m free of opium.”

  “The lady sets the date, sir.”

  “In a normal world, the gentleman proposes.”

  She gripped his arm. “But I want to help you in the fight and how can I do that if we’re apart? Soon Simon will take me to Marlowe House.”

  “Mara—”

  “I always get my way—you know I do. Three weeks. Time for banns. We’ll marry at home—Brideswell, I mean.”

  “If we marry, then yes, it must be at your magical home.”

  “It is magical, isn’t it? And once you’re married to me, we can spend as much time there as you want. It will heal you.”

  “Or I will pollute it.”

  She stilled. “Never say anything like that again.”

  “But—”

  “Never.”

  The resistance in his eyes, the self-doubt there, terrified her into pushing harder. “So in three weeks?”

  “I will not marry you while in this state,” he said.

  “I would marry you in a far worse state.”

  “But I won’t let you sacrifice yourself for me.”

  Mara rolled her eyes. “It wouldn’t be a sacrifice, you dolt. Do you love me?”

  He hesitated, his eyes anguished, but then said, “Yes.”

  Mara paused to savor that precious gift.

  “Would you reject me if I became sick?” she asked, as calmly as she could.

  “No. But—”

  “But this is exactly the same.” She wanted to insist on a hasty wedding—she wanted him entirely in her protection and care—but she managed a light “At least we’re betrothed.”

  “No, we’re not.”

  “My lord, are you jilting me?”

  “Mara—”

  “What are you two arguing about now?” Simon asked.

  He and Jancy had walked back to see what was delaying them.

  Mara looked at Dare and took the most dangerous plunge of her life. “Dare just asked me to marry him,” she told her brother. “And I said yes.”

  She saw Dare’s lips go tight and Simon’s do the same thing.

  “He should have spoken to Father first,” Simon said.

  “And will. Yes?” Mara asked Dare, who looked as if he had a blinding headache. Oh, Lord.

  “If you wish,” he said, but sounding as if he’d make the same response to the question “Will you shoot yourself?”

  “Let’s get home,” said sensible Jancy. “We can talk about the details there, but you have my congratulations, Dare.”

  “Mara is a ruby beyond price,” he said flatly, “and I am truly unworthy of the honor.”

  The rest of the journey passed in a silence that even Mara was afraid to break. She became more and more afraid of the situation she had created. As they approached the door, she whispered to Dare, “There’s no need to make our betrothal public yet.”

  “It will be as you wish.”

  “Stop that,” she hissed. “Stop agreeing to everything. Stop being cold and distant. If you don’t want to marry me, say so.”

  “I am not in the habit of lying.”

  She stopped. “Well, then…”

  “I also want to throttle you,” he said with shocking sharpness and walked ahead of her into the house.

  Simon handed his hat and gloves to the footman. “Dare, we need to talk.”

  “Of course.”

  Mara wanted to insist on being part of the discussion, but Jancy took her arm and drew her upstairs to her parlor.

&nbs
p; “Did he really ask you?” Jancy demanded as soon as they were in the room.

  “He asked me to wait. Isn’t that the same thing?”

  “Not precisely.”

  “A fig for precision. He admitted he loves me.” Sudden joy burned through everything else. “He loves me!” Mara flung herself into Jancy’s arms and danced her around the room. “He loves me! He loves me! He loves me!”

  Jancy extricated herself laughing, bonnet askew. “Stop it, you madwoman. Simon’s furious, you know.”

  “Of course I know. He’s my brother. But I don’t know how he can be. Dare’s his closest friend.”

  “And you’re his sister. He wants only the best for you.”

  “The best is Dare.” Mara whirled around the room alone. “It has always, always, always been Dare!”

  Chapter 17

  In the library, Dare eyed his friend, considering how to stave off a physical attack without doing too much damage. His training with Ruyuan had made him dangerous.

  Simon, however, ran a hand through his hair. “Did you ask her to marry you?”

  “How can I say no and still be a gentleman?”

  “So you didn’t. She needs whipping.”

  Simon wasn’t serious, but even so, rage stirred. “No. And don’t berate her, either.”

  “She’s my sister.”

  “And my betrothed.”

  “You’re going to let her do that to you?”

  Dare laughed. “Accept imposed heaven?”

  Simon stared. “You love Mara?”

  “Is it such an impossible notion? I’m sure men have been falling in love with her since she left the schoolroom. I’m the fortunate one she claims to love in return.”

  Simon’s eyes narrowed. “Are you being honorable?”

  “I hope always to be honorable, but in this case, no. I had no intention of coming this far this soon, but I precipitated this. Seeing her the center of attention”—he paused, trying to make sense—“I was suddenly very afraid that some other man might snap her up before I had the chance. So I asked her to wait.”

  “Wait for what?”

  “Wait for me to be free of the beast.”

  “And if you don’t break free, you’d let her go?”

  Dare turned away. “I would have to. If I can’t free myself soon, I doubt I ever will.”

  “That’s no reason—”

  Dare turned back. “Yes, it is. It would be a crime against heaven.”

  Simon sighed. “I’m not having Mara labeled a jilt, so the betrothal must remain private.”

  “Of course.”

  “Dare, you know there’s no one I’d rather welcome into the family.” Simon made himself say the words. “Even opium addicted.”

  “I think I’d rather slit my throat than take opium at Brideswell.”

  “That’s nonsense. It’s in Mother’s medical chest.”

  “You know what I mean. It’s a daily defilement.”

  It was too close to noon for this. Body and mind were turning restless, making it hard to think. Or to think of anything but the ease the beast could bring. He poured brandy for himself and Simon. Sometimes it acted as a substitute, for a while.

  “I am going to return to Long Chart as soon as Marlowe House is ready for you,” he said. “This visit to Town isn’t serving as I’d hoped.”

  Simon drank some brandy, watching him with burdensome concern. “What did you hope for?”

  “I’m not sure anymore.” Brandy burned down, a distraction for mind and gut. “To escape a place where everyone was so damnably considerate of me. To test my ability to be with strangers. To test my control where opium is available everywhere.”

  “All those have worked.”

  Dare drained the glass and refilled it. “There’s another problem.”

  “What?” Simon asked.

  “Didn’t you notice how some people avoided us after church?”

  “Because of Blanche, I assume. Not a good sign.”

  “Because of me.”

  “Because of opium? That makes no sense.”

  The glass was empty again, but more wouldn’t achieve anything except embarrassment. “That and my mysterious absence. My association with a dubious woman.”

  “What dubious woman? As far as the ton is concerned, you were cared for by a respectable Belgian widow.”

  “Who is not here to bolster the story. Many wonder why it took so long for me to contact my family. We’ve claimed I was unaware of my identity all that time, but it’s hard to swallow. Now I’m wondering if it’s leaked out that my rescuer was The´re`se Bellaire.

  There are plenty of men who remember her brief but brilliant sojourn in London.”

  “Ran the best brothel the town’s ever known. I’m sorry to have missed that.”

  “Don’t be.”

  Simon winced. “Sorry. Scene of Nicholas’s journey to hell, I know. But I don’t see how that can be known.”

  “Which leaves us with a general belief that I didn’t return because I was happily addled with opium. Which, leaving aside the happily, is mostly true.”

  Simon looked at his glass and put it aside. “Don’t you want to stay in Town until we decide what to do about Blanche? It’s clear there’s a bit of a challenge.”

  “What good can I be?” But Dare shrugged. “Very well. I’ll do what I can while I’m here. God knows, the Rogues have done much for me. But I must go. This is another reason, Simon. My times of true sanity and civility are very limited.”

  Mara had no taste for dealing with her brother just yet, so once she’d shed her outer clothing, she picked up the piece of paper with Chinese writing on it and went in search of Dare’s Chinese friend. In daylight it seemed easier to find the right door.

  The man who opened the door was dressed in the red monk’s robe, and like the figurine was completely bald. He wasn’t old, however, and his height and broad shoulders suggested strength. He had steady slanted eyes in a rugged, wide face.

  Mara stepped back, suddenly nervous.

  “I may help you?” he said.

  “I’m Lady Mara St. Bride. I’m staying here.”

  “I am aware, my lady. May I help you?”

  He wasn’t inviting her into his room, which was hardly surprising, and Mara wasn’t sure she’d want to go in, but she felt awkward hovering in the corridor. She offered the paper. “I received this. I wondered if you could translate it. I think it’s Chinese. Are you Chinese?”

  He took the paper. “I am, my lady.”

  He was addressing her correctly and Mara hadn’t been as polite. “I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t know the correct way to address you. Mr. Yan?”

  “My name is Feng Ruyuan,” he said, showing no upset at her mistake. “In my country the first name is the last. Thus in your usage I am Mr. Feng.”

  Mara dipped a curtsy. “Then thank you, Mr. Feng.”

  He smiled and looked at the writing. “Who wrote this note to you, my lady?”

  “A merchant.”

  “Are you promised in marriage to him?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Then be wary. This message says, ‘Have this made into a robe, my love, in preparation for our wedding night.’”

  Heat swept up Mara’s body into her face and she snatched the note back. “Thank you! Please, you won’t speak of this?”

  “This moment never occurred, my lady. But that is not a suitable message from any man except your promised husband.”

  He was right, but she was promised in marriage to the sender. It had to have come from Dare!

  Mara hurried back to her room, even doing a little dance in the corridor. Dare must have asked Laura or Serena about something she’d seemed to want and not bought. The wondrous thing was that he’d been thinking of marriage before they’d left for church. She hadn’t forced or tricked him into anything!

  Then she remembered Simon. She still couldn’t deal with him right now, so she rolled the paper into a tube and slid it bet
ween her breasts and slipped upstairs to the nursery.

  She enjoyed her time with Delphie and Pierre—soon to be her stepchildren—but couldn’t hide forever. She went down to lunch braced for battle, but the meal passed peacefully enough. Jancy talked calmly of commonplace things, Simon didn’t refer to the betrothal, and Dare didn’t appear.

  That daunted her spirits, but she was sure he’d recover.

  Afterward, they left to visit Ella and George. Mara enjoyed her sister’s company and playing with little Amy, though it reminded her of Ella’s objections to Dare’s children.

  That would end when they were Mara’s stepchildren. No one in the family would tolerate exclusion. The marriage would be so good for Pierre and Delphie. Everyone would adore Delphie, and Pierre would revel in the flock of noisy male St. Brides.

  Her relaxation shattered when Major Berkstead entered the room. She had been vaguely aware of the footman coming to say that someone had called, but had been absorbed in dressing a doll with Amy.

  Caught sitting on the floor, she flashed a look at Ella, who winced back. George must have invited him up. Mara decided to stay where she was so Berkstead couldn’t sit by her.

  She did her best to ignore him, but he persistently addressed questions to her. When talking about international affairs, he said, “The blessings of peace. Wouldn’t you agree, Lady Mara?”

  Attention focused on a tiny bonnet, Mara replied, “Peace must always be a blessing, Major.”

  Conversation moved on to fish. “Like a piece of Scotch haddock myself. What’s your favorite fish, Lady Mara?”

  Mara looked at him and lied. “Eel.”

  He beamed. “Very tasty, eel. Did you enjoy the play the other night, Lady Mara?”

  The wretch was daring to remind her of that message.

  “I thought it ridiculous,” she said pointedly.

  His expression flickered. “Perhaps you prefer tragedy. Star-crossed lovers.”

  “I think Romeo and Juliet a sad waste of two young lives.”

  “Indeed,” Ella interrupted. “Thank heavens such things no longer happen. More tea, Major?”

  Berkstead allowed her to refill his cup, but his attention remained on Mara. “Do you agree, Lady Mara, that true lovers cannot be kept apart in our modern age?”