Gone With the Rogue Read online

  “I know you usually find your way back to London in the spring,” Wiley offered. “I’m glad you made an exception this time, but you realize there won’t be as much trouble for us to get into with most of our debauched friends off to their summer homes and the clubs and gaming halls empty of their best card and billiards players.”

  “Chances are we’ll find someone who wants to start a row.” The two men laughed. Garrett hugged the mare with his knees, urging the lazy animal to keep going.

  “To tell you the truth, I’m not going to the clubs as much as I used to,” Wiley admitted. “I want to take care of Miss Osborne properly after we wed, and if I have to give up wagers on daily card games and drinking until dawn, I’m willing.”

  “That’s probably a good way to keep her happy.”

  “So, if we’re going to get into a little trouble while you’re in Town, we should make it soon. I doubt Miss Osborne wants me to be wearing a black eye when she returns to London.”

  Garrett chuckled. “I remember the days when both of us would wear them quite often. I promise not to lead you astray. One of the reasons I’m here is to make her acquaintance and to see you are wed. That includes making sure you look your best on that day and with your pockets plump.”

  “I think you’ll like Miss Osborne,” Wiley said with an innocence in his voice that seldom showed.

  “I already do. She had the good sense to see through all your faults and decide to marry you anyway.”

  Wiley snorted a laugh and nodded a greeting as they passed an older gentleman who was also riding. “That she did. Some days I still can’t believe she agreed. I’m not sure when she’ll be back in London. How long are you staying this time?”

  That question made Garrett think. He didn’t usually stay in London more than a couple of weeks. A month at the most. He didn’t want to think about leaving right now. He knew Lady Kitson needed him whether or not she was ready to admit that. “As long as it takes to see you wed.”

  “Good. She’ll write once her parents have decided when they’ll be returning.”

  “But before Christmastide?” Garrett asked with a grin.

  “You can be sure of that.”

  They rode in silence for a few moments before Garrett said, “There’s another reason I came to London.”

  “My wedding wasn’t reason enough?”

  “Of course, but I want to buy a house.”

  “Really?” Wiley’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as he looked over at Garrett. “In London?”

  “Why does that surprise you?”

  “Why wouldn’t it? You’ve never wanted to stay in London long enough to have a home. Does this mean you’re finally ready to put your traveling boots under just one bed and keep them there?”

  For now? Yes. Forever? Garrett didn’t know. He couldn’t explain it to himself and he wasn’t going to try to make Wiley understand. Garrett was all right with that uncertainty for now. Buying the house where he grew up was what mattered. Not what brought him to that reasoning. Lady Kitson crossed his mind. Yes, right now he only wanted his boots under her bed. He didn’t know when that would happen, but he was willing to wait for her.

  He gave Wiley the only answer he could. “I don’t know.”

  “Fair enough. It’s always good to have you in London no matter how long you stay.”

  “I want to buy the house on Poppinbrook Street from my cousin.”

  Wiley brushed his hair from his forehead and tucked it under the brim of his hat. “You look serious about this.”

  The sun beat down on the back of Garrett’s neck. “I am.”

  “You can buy any house in London you want, but believe me, you don’t want that house.”

  “I do want to buy that house.”

  “Then you’ll need to talk to someone other than your cousin. The house was sold to Mr. Peter Moorshavan over a year ago.”

  Garrett took in that information. It hadn’t crossed his mind that the house might now be owned by someone else. That could be a wrinkle he hadn’t expected but he hoped not. “I don’t know of the man, but it might be easier to buy from him than from the old earl.”

  “I’m not sure about that.”

  Wiley pulled his horse up short and stopped him so Garrett stopped, too. Both horses nickered and pulled against their bridles.

  “I never met him, but from what I heard everyone thought Moorshavan was simply a wealthy man from the Americas when he moved into the house. Many of his neighbors befriended him. Until, according to rumor, it was learned the man had opened a hidden brothel in the house.”

  Garrett digested that bit of information as he remembered the house where he was raised. It was small—the drawing room, the front lawn, and the back garden. All of it. But it was something that his father had said could never be his. Did it bother Garrett that the house had been turned into a brothel? No. It wouldn’t change his plans.

  “I’m not one to judge any man or woman about how they choose to make their living,” Garrett said.

  “Most would agree. And while many gentlemen in Society might on occasion have reason to visit such a place, none of them want to be associated with anyone who actually owns one—and they especially don’t want one on their street. I heard the Lord Mayor and a few other gentlemen paid Moorshavan a visit and he and his women were gone the next day.”

  “So he should be willing to sell?”

  “I don’t know. Others have asked about him, but no one has heard from him since it was discovered what he was doing.”

  “Then he’s probably ready to get rid of it.” After being a sojourner for so long, needing a home wasn’t something Garrett could explain. He had stayed in inns as grand as the Holcott-Fortney, run-down taverns with rooms only big enough for a makeshift bed, and slings in the bottom of a ship. Now he wanted his own home. He wanted his first house to be the one his father could never have dreamed of owning, because of the life his father chose to live at the mercy of his wealthy relatives.

  “I want the house on Poppinbrook Street,” Garrett said again.

  “All right. I can ask around the clubs about the man and see if anyone has heard from him, if you want to buy it and live there.”

  “I don’t want to live there,” Garrett said. “I want to tear it down.” It wasn’t something he could rationalize and he didn’t try to. Perhaps it was that in doing so he would also demolish the old guard rule that a man couldn’t be a gentleman and a tradesman. It was time for him to move beyond the past. He was committed to removing every board of it and replacing it with a house that reflected the man he was today.

  Garrett nodded. “Yes. See what you can find out.”

  Wiley rested his forearm on the horn of his saddle. “I’ll keep you posted.”

  Garrett knew Wiley had questions but he kept them to himself. “What do you know about Lady Kitson Fairbright?”

  “As much as anyone, I guess. Why are you asking?”

  Garrett’s horse snorted and shuddered beneath him. He nudged the mare to start walking again. “I met her here in the park.”

  “Hmm.” Wiley brushed his hair again and moved his horse alongside Garrett’s. “I didn’t know she was back in London. I haven’t seen the duke at White’s or heard about him being in Town. Usually everyone is on their best behavior when the Duke of Sprogsfield’s around.”

  Garrett wasn’t interested in the duke. “What do you know about Lady Kitson?” he asked again.

  Wiley looked away and seemed to ponder what Garrett asked. They passed a lady and gentleman walking and acknowledged them by lifting their hats off in greeting.

  “I probably don’t know much more than you, since you saw her. She’s lovely, widowed, and has a son. She and two of her friends are benefactors of a girl’s school in St. James.”

  “What else?” Garrett asked, eager to hear something about the intriguing lady that he didn’t already know.

  “She’s fond of animals.” Wiley chuckled. “Why don’t you just come out and
ask me if she’s available to pursue?”

  Fair enough. “Is she?”

  “Not from what I understand.”

  Garrett’s stomach squeezed and his hands tightened on the reins. “She has a lover?”

  “I haven’t heard about one if she does.”

  “Then what the devil would make you say she’s unavailable?” Garrett asked, feeling a sudden rise of impatience to know all he could about Lady Kitson.

  “Because she brushes off every man who’s tried to openly court her or have a secret affair with her. I’ve heard the talk. Believe me, men have tried. I mean—why wouldn’t they? She beautiful, young, and from what I understand has quite a substantial amount of property in her own right.”

  “What are the rumors as to why she rejects all offers?”

  Wiley shrugged. “It’s anyone’s guess. Some say it’s because the duke controls her life and forbids it.”

  That comment made Garret’s stomach twist. He didn’t like the idea of anyone forbidding Lady Kitson to do anything. And he’d wager a gold coin she wouldn’t like it, either. She wanted to hide something—probably from the duke. Garrett was more determined than ever to find out what it was and to help her.

  “Everyone knows how devoted the duke is about all his family following the strict dictates of Society,” Wiley continued. “He’s disowned more than one nephew for not living up to the high standard he expects. But I think most agree Lady Kitson is involved with only one male and that’s her son.”

  “What about her marriage? Was she happy?”

  “As far as I know.” Wiley shrugged again and gave Garrett a sideways glance. “How am I to know? I wasn’t a close friend to her husband. I only know that her uncle wanted her to marry a man twice her age, but she eloped with Lord Kitson instead.”

  Nudging his horse to move, Garrett smiled at Wiley’s comment. He could see Lady Kitson having the courage to elope with the youngest son of a duke. And he could also see the duke being extremely upset about that.

  “Can you get me an invitation to Lady Hallbury’s party Saturday afternoon?”

  “Did Lady Kitson just happen to mention she’d be there?”

  “No. Someone else did.”

  Wiley laughed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Chapter 7

  “Thank you for going slow,” Julia called up to the driver before stepping into the coach.

  She was a fusspot when it came to how animals were treated. If it were in her power to see it done, she wanted them given the same care and provisions all people should receive. Pulling a carriage all day was tiring for horses, so she always insisted the driver take his time—even if she was running late for an appointment or an event.

  Julia settled her skirts around her as the coach took off with a lurch and a rattle. She looked over at Brina and smiled. “Thank you for coming by for me.”

  “It was the least I could do after I said you’d be joining me for Lady Hallbury’s party when you didn’t even know about it. Besides, I always want you to be my companion when you’re in Town. It gives me an opportunity to be away from Mama for a while.”

  “I know, and I am looking forward to the party,” Julia said earnestly. “It’s just that the past three days have been difficult.”

  “I know you were searching for the duke’s documents. I take your comment to mean it hasn’t gone well and you haven’t found them.” Brina leaned forward. “But please tell me you didn’t get caught.”

  “No. I’ve been very careful. It’s frustrating I haven’t found the incriminating deed to the property so I can prove the duke owned the Eubury-Broadwell Gaming House.” Julia sighed quietly. “I’ve managed to thoroughly search one section of the duke’s book room walls, and the flooring—except for the space under his desk, which is impossible for me to get to.”

  “What about his private chambers?”

  “Not yet, and I still have hope I’ll find a hidden space behind the books on a high shelf and won’t have to go into them. It would be difficult. Mrs. Desford never leaves the house. Mr. Leeds takes care of all her errands outside the house. For now I’m still opening each book and looking at the wall behind it. It’s time-consuming as some of the books are quite large and difficult to move and there are so many.”

  “Oh, Julia, you must let me help you search the house,” Brina insisted. “You can invite me over for dinner and I’ll come up with a reason to stay late.”

  “I doubt I could persuade Mrs. Desford to retire before you left. I am making headway through the books, but it’s just not fast enough for me because I don’t know what day the duke might return.” Julia pressed into the back of the plush velvet cushion and sighed. “The worst thing is that now I am having to cope with the tutor the duke sent for Chatwyn’s lessons. It’s been an absolutely disastrous situation.”

  “I was there when he arrived but, of course, didn’t meet him and you couldn’t say much about him before I left. I don’t understand this. Chatwyn should be under Miss Periwinkle’s care for a few more years.”

  “Yes, and he will but Mr. Pratt brought me a letter from the duke saying he thinks it’s time to begin a more formal education for Chatwyn to start preparing him for Eton. Including his religious training. The man he sent is simply a beast, and unrelenting in wanting Chatwyn to sit in a chair for six hours a day and practice lettering and numbers. We’ve had more than one row about it and, of course, Chatwyn cries and clings to me. This perturbs Mr. Pratt. He tries to insist I leave the room but I’ve refused to leave Chatwyn alone with the man.”

  “I didn’t know all this. I’m so sorry and don’t blame you for being upset. He sounds like a monster. But, oh, what about today? Is Chatwyn alone with him?”

  “No. Never, if I have anything to say about it. When Mr. Pratt arrived this morning, I told him Chatwyn had a stomach issue and he couldn’t possibly be expected to sit still and endure lessons today. He said he’d return on Monday. So between my searching the book room, the tutor, and my wayward thoughts about Mr. Stockton—but no, no, Brina, enough about me and my troubles. Please let me hear something about you for a change.”

  “But I want to know—what it is about Mr. Stockton that has you on edge?”

  Julia smiled softly just thinking about him. “He reminds me of how I long to be free so I can have a man call on me. He has me thinking of kisses and caresses. Being held, and—no man has made me feel the way he makes me feel when he looks at me. He reminds me just how desperately I want to be free to enjoy my life on my terms.” Julia moistened her lips and took in a steadying breath. “But again, I don’t want to talk about me anymore. Tell me something about you.”

  Brina looked down and smoothed the gloves on her hands. “There is something but I haven’t wanted to tell you because I’m not sure you will approve of what I’ve been doing.”

  Brina’s matter-of-fact tone caused a slight chill to flutter over Julia even though the coach was quite warm. “I’m surprised that you think I wouldn’t support whatever it is. You wrote to me that you were going over to the school once a week to read to the girls, much to your parents’ angst. I heartily agree with that, so what is it you think I won’t approve of?”

  “This has nothing to do with the school.” Her blue eyes turned pensive. “I couldn’t mention this matter to you in a letter, but now that you are here, I would like to talk with you about what I’ve been thinking.”

  Julia felt a sudden tension in the back of her neck. “What’s disturbing you? You know you can tell me anything.”

  “I hesitate because of the seriousness of my thoughts.” She paused and looked out the window for a few moments. “I’m thinking about the possibility of joining the Sisters of Pilwillow Crossings.”

  It took a moment for the meaning of Brina’s words to sink into Julia’s mind and when they did, she stared at her, truly unable to say anything for a few moments. “But that is a—a—”

  “A convent, an abbey,” Brina said without hesitancy, “are pro
bably the best names for it. Though not all the women who serve there are nuns, and it’s really so much more than that. It’s a community of women. Good women who unselfishly do good works for unfortunate people here in London. Their doors are open three days a week to serve a cup of soup and a slice of bread to those in need. Two of the sisters spend those three days attending anyone with wounds and handing out poultices and tonics they make. All of them sew, knit, and bake bread the other four days. I suppose they have time for their services and readings, too. But they have a purpose to their lives, and that appeals to me.”

  “All right,” Julia said calmly. “You want to help them. How? You don’t know how to bake bread.”

  “But I can learn,” Brina argued, unapologetic and a bit defensive. “I want to do something more than just get up in the mornings and dress for a walk in the park, or dress in the evenings to sit at someone’s dinner table and make idle conversation.”

  “But that is what you’re supposed to do. You are well read, and because of that you’re quite engaging with your knowledge on many subjects when you are a guest at someone’s house and sit down at their table. You play the pianoforte so beautifully and with so much feeling everyone wants to listen when you entertain. I’ve read your poetry. It’s thoughtful and inspiring. You helped start The Seafarer’s School. Why would you think you have no purpose in life?”

  Brina turned away from Julia and glanced out the window before looking back into Julia’s eyes. There was a sadness in Brina that Julia knew was always there but she seldom let it show. Julia remained quiet for a few moments as the carriage rumbled over a quiet street in Mayfair dotted with white houses.

  “If I do have a purpose,” Brina finally offered, “I don’t know what it is. I don’t want to marry, so I’ll have no children to love and care for as you do. Mrs. Tallon has two helpers and really needs no more assistance at the school. Reading a book to the girls is the most I can do there.”