Naughty in Nottinghamshire 02 - The Rogue Returns (31 page)

People leave. I’ve learned to move on…

She leaned her head against the squabs and wept.

The third day, she wept more, her only relief the small bits of disjointed sleep that overcame her.

When they reached London, the two deputies were jovial and chatting between themselves. They no longer feared they were being followed.

Roane was gone, if he’d ever been there.

Disappeared from her life. A ghost of a memory, now. A mere shadow in her heart.

One Month Later

H
ELEN SAT AT HER DRESSING TABLE
and studied her reflection in the mirror. Corsets and coiffeurs, velvet and silk, she was returned to the height of fashion. And this just to go riding.

Her breeches-clad adventure through the Pennines seemed lifetimes ago. And Roane nothing more than a dream.

She sighed, picturing the flash of his smile, the tilt of his head as he teased her.

“Are you ready, Helen?” Harry stood in the doorway, dressed in buff breeches and riding boots.

“Hmmm?” She looked up at her brother, blinking him into focus. He was fresh-faced and in the peak of health. Since her departure and subsequent return, his worry for her had proved a sobering effect. He stayed in most nights with her and escorted her when she wished to go out. The cynical part of Helen believed he was just beholden to her for saving the earldom from financial ruin, but the other part of her believed he’d finally woken up.

They didn’t talk about James’s death, but it was always there between them. Maybe Harry had learned from it as well. Reformed or not, Helen still didn’t trust him with the eight thousand pounds, and thankfully he didn’t press her for control of it.

“You look ready.” Harry wrinkled his brow. He was accustomed to her strange moods these past few weeks. She’d told him a very selective version of what had happened, but he could tell something more was wrong. He’d stopped asking for details of her journey, finally just muttering he hoped she’d tell him the truth one day.

“Yes, of course.” Helen forced a smile and stood. “I’m ready.”

Mittens got up from his seat by the window and stretched.

Mittens… he was the only real memento from her adventure.

That and the endless ache in her heart. It seemed she wasn’t as adept at forging ahead as Roane was.

Did he even think of her at all?

Harry touched her arm, and she realized he’d been speaking to her. “Truly, I am growing worried, Helen. Might I finally send for the doctor?”

“No, no.” She waved her hand. She was healthy. She’d had her courses. There was no illness or…other effects from her adventure. Just a broken heart.

“If you won’t talk to me, is there anyone else? A friend, perhaps?”

Her pulse was loud in her ears. She’d been considering her plan for days, since seeing a familiar name mentioned in the gossip columns. But dare she?

Yes, yes, her heart cried. She had to talk about him with someone, someone who knew him. Otherwise, he truly was no more than a dream. “Are you acquainted with the Earl of Radford?”

Harry twisted his lips. “I’ve been introduced to him. He’s very involved in Parliament. Why do you want to talk to him, Helen? Are you in some kind of trouble?”

“No.” She shook her head hard. “It’s actually the Countess I wish to meet. I…we have a friend in common.”

Her brother narrowed his eyes. “If you think it will help with this…melancholy, let us go there now.”

She nodded, her pulse banging through her. Was she really going to talk to Roane’s sister? What in the world would she say?

Helen was halfway to the door when her brother stopped her. “Don’t you wish to change? We should take the carriage if we’re to pay a call.”

A laugh bubbled through her. From what Roane had told her about his sister, the countess would hardly care what she wore. “No, lets go now, before I reconsider the wisdom of my plan.”

***

H
ARRY BY HER SIDE,
Helen waited in the elegant foyer in Mayfair as the footman presented her card. According to the papers, the Earl and Countess of Radford had returned from the continent a few days prior.

Helen had no idea if Roane’s sister had heard from him, but she needed to ask. She needed to know that he was settled. That his arm was healed.

Anything, truly. She just needed to say his name out loud.

“The countess is in,” the butler drawled.

Helen stepped forward, motioning for Harry to wait. “I’ll be but a moment.”

Her heart in her throat, Helen entered the well-appointed drawing room. The Countess of Radford was seated on a chintz-covered divan.

“My lady,” Helen said with a quick curtsey. “Thank you for receiving me. I fear you may find me horribly forward, for we have never met, but I must ask something only you could know.”

Lady Radford raised her dark brows. “You have intrigued me, Lady Helen. Please, sit.”

Helen perched on the edge of a chair. It took a number of breaths for her to gather her courage. “I made the acquaintance of your brother.”

“My brother?” The other woman drew back, surprised.

“Yes. Mr. Gratham.” For a frozen moment, Helen worried that Roane had lied about his relationship to the countess. They certainly did not look like brother and sister. Roane was golden, with blond hair and light amber eyes. He looked British through and through. Lady Radford, on the other hand, had darker coloring, with sable-brown hair and almond shaped eyes.

“You know Mr. Gratham, Lady Helen?” The countess tilted her head. “I shouldn’t be so surprised. Roane is forever shocking me. Would you care for tea?”

“No, thank you.” Helen was far too nervous for tea. “I must…that is…have you heard from him? Is he well? I last saw him a month ago and the manner of our parting was rather…abrupt.”

The woman frowned, obviously confused.

“I fear I hurt his feelings,” Helen rushed to add, lest Lady Radford think ill of her brother.

Her hostess relaxed back with a warm smile, as if readying for a long chat. “Oh, I must hear this.”

Helen wondered how much to reveal. “We quarreled, you see. He wanted to…run from an awkward situation. I wanted him to stay.”

“Good for you.” Lady Radford nodded. “I do think I like you, Lady Helen. Tell me, have you brothers?”

“Two.” An ache passed through her heart as she thought of James.

“Then you know what trouble they can be.”

Helen would have laughed, were she not so nervous. “All too well. I cannot understand why Ro—Mr. Grantham would
choose
trouble. But, I fear I pushed him and, well…”

The other woman patted her hand. “I did get a letter from him. A most welcome letter, truly. He was in Lincolnshire when he wrote.”

“Did he purchase his land, then?”

“I believe he did.” Lady Radford waved to someone in the hallway. “Cat, do come in and meet Lady Helen Gladstone.”

A beautiful blonde woman entered wearing a green riding outfit in the height of fashion. “A pleasure to meet you Lady Helen Gladstone…” She tilted her head, her blue eyes warm and kind. “I know your brothers. I was sorry to hear of the earl’s passing.”

“Thank you.” Helen said quietly.

“Lady Helen was just asking about Roane.”

“She was?”

The countess studied Helen, making her palms sweat in her gloves. “I do believe he broke her heart.”

***

H
OURS LATER,
Roane entered his sister’s drawing room, resisting the urge to loosen his cravat. Mazie was holding her curly-haired toddler, little Peter, and speaking with one of the servants.

War was about to start.

Well, not war, but a ball.

He’d prefer war.

“I’ve never seen you suffer such nerves.” Mazie glanced over at him with a smile. “Or appear so well-dressed. You look very handsome.”

Roane crossed toward her and tousled his nephew’s hair. “I’ve faced worse. But having you by my side is all the support I need.”

“I will always be by your side.” Mazie kissed him on the cheek, then leaned down and kissed Peter on the cheek as well. “Mommy and daddy will tuck you in later,
chouchou
. It is time for you to sleep.”

“I go with Mommy.” Peter frowned and popped his thumb into his mouth, obviously tired.

“May I take you to the park tomorrow?” Roane touched his nephew’s chubby little hand. “I’ll show you how to climb a tree.”

“He’s a bit young for climbing trees.” Mazie shot him a reproving look. Roane repressed a laugh—she was obviously a doting mother. “But that is a lovely idea. Tomorrow we will all go to the park, even baby Evelyn.” She kissed Peter’s cheek again. “Now off to bed, or you will be too tired to ride the carousel.”

Peter tried to protest as his nurse carried him upstairs, but he was half-asleep already. Mazie watched him go, then turned her full attention to Roane. “I still cannot believe you just appeared on my doorstep yesterday. I feel as if I am dreaming. I missed you terribly.”

“And I missed you. I promise never to be gone for so long again.” Roane pulled his sister to his side and gave her a squeeze. “I came as soon as your boat docked.”

He’d come as soon as he’d gotten his thoughts straightened out.

He wasn’t the type to push through life with brute force—he bent life to him, he coaxed the river.

After the Harrington incident, however, he’d begun to fear the river couldn’t be changed. That one could erect a dam, try to alter the flow of the water, but one good storm and the river resumed its original course.

He feared he’d always be an outlaw, living on the fringes. And what kind of life would that be for a family?

Mazie leaned into him. “You are certain about this?”

“Absolutely.” Roane shifted on his feet. “Remember that night in the gardens, the night Radford found us? You told me you wanted to be
mossy
.” They shared a strained laugh. It had been a difficult night, each of them fighting for what they thought was best. In the end, Roane had been captured and deported to Australia and Mazie had stayed to face her challenges with the man she loved. “I thought you’d gone daft, I mean,
mossy
? But then you said a rolling stone gathers no moss and…I….well, now I understand. I feel the same. I am done running—there is nothing to run from anymore but myself.”

“You want to be mossy, too?” she teased.

“Covered.” He smiled, knowing his sister would understand. “There is a lot I have to answer for. And I can only hope—but yes, I am ready. I want to be mossy.”

“Being mossy is wonderful, but it is not easy.”

“I don’t need life to be easy. I’ll take the wonderful and difficult over being a bastard. Or being a convict and a rogue.”

“Roane, you aren’t any of those things.”

“I am those things, or I was, but they are not me. They are not the heart of me.” Helen was the heart of him and he’d let her go. “I am ready to begin my future in truth.”

Mazie patted him affectionately on the arm, pulling away when her butler entered with a couple that Roane did not recognize. “The Marquess and Marchioness of Forster.”

Mazie laughed. “You needn’t announce family, Sterns.”

The butler lifted his chin in the air, but Roane could swear there was a smile in the man’s eyes. Mazie’s husband followed the couple into the room.

Roane nodded to his brother-in-law. Their reunion had been difficult yesterday, but Mazie’s joy had eclipsed the awkwardness. Roane supposed he could get along with the earl one day, if his sister loved him as much as she seemed.

“I’m glad we are all here now.” Mazie leaned up to her husband as he gave her a kiss. “We’ve a plan to discuss.”

***

H
ELEN SMOOTHED OUT HER SKIRTS.
Her dress was red, a daring color she never would have worn before. It was hardly appropriate, given her unmarried state, but she couldn’t wear another pastel. She’d rather scream.

As she watched the dancers form a cotillion, she wondered how long it would be until her life felt like hers again. How long would everything feel muffled? Nothing touched her. Nothing
stirred
her.

That was the problem with adventure, she was learning. It wasn’t the danger one faced, or the unknown. It was returning home. It was realizing you could never forget what you’d experienced.

She looked out over the crowd, searching for something to entertain her. Anything.

And then she found it.

Her heartbeat sped up, and she pressed to her toes to better see. The Countess of Radford and her handsome husband, the earl, had come. The woman had been so kind that morning. Perhaps Lady Radford would be amenable to another chat. They could talk more about—

Roane.

Helen froze. The blood drained from her face, then returned with a burning rush.

He was here. In the Lancaster’s ballroom. He smiled at something the Marchioness of Foster said, but his eyes were on his sister. Helen fell to her heels and struggled to catch her breath, each inhale an effort, each exhale a dizzying rush.

Had he seen her?

She shrunk back behind a group of elderly men.

She should run. She should stay. She should—