Rogue's Honor (32 page)

"Yes," she said softly, still not meeting his
eye. "I begin to realize that perhaps no price would be too great
to avoid a lifetime with Bellowsworth . . . and his mother." She
smiled then, dispelling her sudden seriousness. "I'd thought if
nothing else, he would be an easy man to direct, but wresting his
reins from her grasp may be more than I can accomplish."

"And scarcely worth the effort," Luke assured
her with an answering smile. His way was clear now. "Cheer up, my
sweet. You will make no such sacrifice. His mother should be
delighted, as she seems a woman unwilling to share."

"But—"

"Meet me here again tomorrow and I will
explain," he said with a wink. "One more canter?" Without waiting
for her reply, he urged his mount forward. She hesitated only an
instant, then side by side they rode the length of the path to her
waiting groom.

"Tomorrow, then," she said. Luke thought she
looked happier than he had seen her in some time, reassuring him
that he was doing the right thing.

"Oh, I'll see you before then, my lady, never
fear."

Her eyes flew wide in surprise, but instead
of explaining, he merely touched his hat and cantered back up the
lane, then rounded the curve, continuing on until he was certain
she was gone. Another ten minutes or so, and he would return home.
He had a campaign to plan.

* * *

Pearl returned to Oakshire house in excellent
spirits, which for the moment she preferred not to analyze.

"Your ride appears to have done you good, my
lady," Hettie commented when she reached her apartments.

"Yes, I believe it has," she replied
cheerfully. "I have missed regular exercise. Has the Duchess asked
for me?"

Hettie shook her head. "She won't have left
her chambers yet, nor his grace, either. Come, let me brush out
your hair."

Pearl allowed her maid to help her out of her
habit, then seated herself at the dressing table, clad in her
shift. As Hettie plied the silver brush in long, smooth strokes,
she allowed her mind to wander back over the past, pleasant
hour.

Luke had all but promised to save her from
the bleak future that had stretched before her only yesterday.
Soon, she knew, her natural curiosity —and desire to control her
own destiny— would reassert themselves, but for now she was content
to simply trust him and be happy.

"I do hope you plan to ride often, my lady,"
Hettie commented, laying down the brush and catching up the gown
she'd laid out for Pearl's morning wear. "It's put the sparkle back
in your eyes."

Pearl smiled at her reflection in the glass.
"Yes, I plan to make it a daily habit, weather allowing." She
wouldn't miss tomorrow's ride— or Luke's promised explanation —for
the world.

Her cheerfulness carried her through
breakfast, even though her stepmother spoke of nothing but wedding
plans. The Duke excused himself rather quickly, pleading urgent
Parliament business, leaving Pearl to smile and nod noncommitally
at Obelia's various pronouncements about trousseaux and guest
lists.

As had become his habit over the past few
days, Lord Bellowsworth appeared almost the moment they repaired to
the parlor, the first of their morning callers. "Mother's feet are
much better today," he told Pearl by way of greeting. "I knew you
would wish to know."

"Of course," she replied, still trying to
cling to the remnants of her earlier good mood. "I trust the drive
was not too much for her, apart from that?"

He shook his head dolefully. "It's too soon
to tell, she says. Though she didn't specifically tell me so, I . .
.
believe
she enjoyed meeting you, however."

"And I her, of course," responded Pearl
automatically, her thoughts already straying again to the Park this
morning —and tomorrow morning.

"How nice that you two get along so well,"
Obelia exclaimed. "Don't you think so, my lord?"

"Yes, I do— particularly as I have promised
Mother that she may reside with us after our marriage. She was
prepared to move into the Dower House, but its main prospect is
east, and I know the morning sun often gives her the headache, so I
would not hear of it. I knew Lady Pearl would not mind, so well
known as she is for compassion toward those less fortunate."

This news brought Pearl back to earth with a
thud. Share her future home with Lady Bellowsworth? Being talked
about as though she were not there every day of her life? Surely,
no scandal could be too great to avoid such a fate. She hoped
Luke's plan, whatever it was, would be successful —and swift.

Meanwhile, she felt obliged to make some
small effort to assert herself, against that plan's failure.
"Certainly I would not expect her to vacate the home she has been
used to at once, my lord," she said. "But I have often heard that
two women attempting to run one household is less than an ideal
situation."

She did not look at the Duchess as she spoke,
but Obelia's faint snort only served to reinforce her words, though
that was doubtless not her intention.

Bellowsworth frowned, but before he could
voice his concern, a footman entered with an enormous arrangement
of spring flowers —the largest Pearl had ever seen. "For the Lady
Pearl," he said, looking to the Duchess for direction on where to
place them.

"How thoughtful, my lord," Obelia exclaimed
to Lord Bellowsworth. "Here on this table will be fine, James."

Pearl, noting that the frown had not left
Bellowsworth's face, rose to pick up the card that accompanied the
flowers.

"Read it aloud, my dear, do," her stepmother
invited, with a conspiratorial smile at their guest.

"For Lady Pearl, with my undying admiration,"
she read, "from Luke, Lord Hardwyck."

Obelia's smile vanished. "Well that is
inappropriate, I must say. Even as new to the social scene as he
is, he must realize that."

"From what I have seen of the fellow,"
Bellowsworth commented sourly, "I rather doubt he cares."

Pearl said nothing, keeping her back to them
both as she carefully replaced the card, to hide the smile playing
about her lips. She had no doubt Luke had timed the arrival of the
flowers to coincide with Lord Bellowsworth's visit. But then she
sobered. Gallantries alone wouldn't be enough get her out of this
wretched betrothal.

"Lord Hardwyck," Upwood announced, even as
she turned back to the others.

Luke himself strode into the room, pausing to
sweep an elaborate bow that encompassed both Pearl and the Duchess.
"I give you good morning, your grace, my lady, my lord. Ah! I see
my small offering has arrived."

With not the slightest trace of apology, he
moved to Pearl's side, raising her hand to his lips. "Lovely as
always, my lady," he declared, pressing a lingering kiss to the
back of her hand.

The heat of his lips burned through the thin
lace of her fingerless mitten, flustering her enough to keep her
from grinning back at him. Just as well, as both Obelia and
Bellowsworth were watching them with something close to
outrage.

"Will you not have a seat, my lord?" Pearl
said, as primly as she could manage.

Without hesitation, he moved to the chair
Pearl had just vacated, next to Lord Bellowsworth, leaving the
chair on Luke's other side for Pearl. Bellowsworth made a motion as
though to protest, but then contented himself with a scowl. Pearl,
pretending to be oblivious to the interchange, seated herself by
Luke, carefully arranging her sprigged muslin skirts about her.

Luke turned to Bellowsworth. "I trust your
mother has recovered from her outing, my lord?" he asked affably,
ignoring the other man's frown.

"I, er, yes," the marquess responded, clearly
caught off guard by the innocent question. "She will be fine after
a day or two of rest."

"How are you finding Hardwyck Hall, my lord?"
the Duchess asked then, disapproval clear in her voice. "Will you
be making many changes there?"

Luke's smile did not waver for an instant.
"I've already made a few small ones, your grace. Needless to say,
it's a far grander house than I've been used to, but I hope to make
it livable in time. I mean to ask Lady Pearl for her advice on some
of my plans for it, in fact."

"Indeed?" Obelia infused the word with ice.
"That scarcely seems appropriate, as she and Lord Bellowsworth are
soon to be married."

"Is it not?" he asked innocently. "Her taste
is impeccable by all accounts." He shot a glance at Bellowsworth,
one raised eyebrow implying that she'd perhaps had
one
lapse
in judgement. "I feel I can trust her implicitly in such
matters."

"Now see here, Hardwyck," Bellowsworth began,
his face reddening.

Quickly, Pearl broke in. "I am honored by
your faith, Lord Hardwyck, and would be happy to assist . . . by
giving you the names of the best professional decorators."

"I suppose I must content myself with that—
for the present," Luke replied with a comically wistful sigh.
"Should I have specific questions, however, would you be so
gracious as to answer them?"

"Of course," she said, her lips twitching
again. Really, he was behaving most outrageously, and she was
enjoying it far too much. "I am flattered that you value my opinion
so highly."

The Duchess tried again to turn the
conversation to less personal channels. "Lord Bellowsworth, think
you that the weather will hold fair for tonight's excursion to
Vauxhall?"

"I believe so, your grace," he responded,
though rather sulkily, Pearl thought. "Rain is less of a danger now
that June approaches. If it should threaten come this evening, we
can always modify our plans."

"Vauxhall Gardens! The very place I'd planned
to spend the evening myself," Luke exclaimed, beaming first at the
Marquess, then at Pearl and her stepmother. "I've never had
occasion to visit it before."

"Our carriage comfortably holds but four,"
the Duchess snapped, having apparently given up all pretence of
civility.

He blinked at her in surprise. "I did not
mean to impose myself upon your, ah, family group, your grace! But
perhaps I will be fortunate enough to encounter you there." He sent
Pearl an almost imperceptible wink, which she did not dare to
acknowledge under two sets of censorious eyes, though it stole her
breath.

A moment later, Luke rose to take his leave,
apparently deciding he had stirred things up sufficiently for the
present. The Duchess thawed slightly when he bowed over her hand,
thanking her profusely for her hospitality. "I have so few friends
in Town thus far, that I fear I have a tendency to impose upon
those few," he concluded.

"No imposition, of course," she replied
coolly. "I trust your acquaintanceships will multiply rapidly."

"You are too kind, your grace. Well,
Bellowsworth? You were here before me, so I presume you'll be going
as well. Perhaps you can advise me on a pair of carriage horses I'm
considering purchasing."

Lord Bellowsworth rose with obvious
reluctance, taking leave first of the Duchess, and then of Pearl.
As he took her hand, Pearl thought for a moment that he would say
something either of warning or blame, but he merely nodded curtly,
then joined Luke in the foyer. As they headed for the front door,
she could hear Luke already discussing horseflesh with
animation.

The moment the front door closed behind them,
Obelia rounded on her. "I will not have you encouraging Lord
Hardwyck, Pearl. He may be unfamiliar with the proprieties, but you
have no such excuse."

"What have I done to encourage him?" Pearl
asked reasonably.

But her stepmother would not be sidetracked.
"You had your chance to marry him, and chose Bellowsworth instead.
Now you will have the grace to live with that decision. Lord
Hardwyck may be wealthier, but he has not a fraction of the
influence Lord Bellowsworth has, nor so high a rank."

Pearl could not suppress a laugh. "Do you
honestly believe any of that matters to me?"

The Duchess' glare held pure venom. "I will
not be made a laughingstock. Society will have no cause to assume I
have not raised you properly. You will honor your obligations."

"Yet you seemed willing enough to expose me a
week since," Pearl pointed out. "Would that not have achieved the
same effect?"

Obelia's lips tightened ominously. "I knew it
would not come to that. Had you been willing to wed Hardwyck, all
would have been handled quietly. No breath of scandal would have
escaped these walls."

"So you were bluffing." Now it was Pearl's
turn to become angry. "One might even say you deceived me— tricked
me— into agreeing to this match."

"Bellowsworth was your own choice," Obelia
reminded her. "I suggested Hardwyck from the first, if you
recall."

"You suggested
forcing
him to wed me.
A fine foundation for a happy marriage that would have been," Pearl
shot back bitterly.

The Duchess merely shrugged. "Men always need
a nudge of some sort. What matter whether it is subtle or overt? In
any event, you are committed now. I daresay you can contrive to be
as happy with Bellowsworth as with anyone, if you put your mind to
it. It's a course I recommend, for you will not be permitted to cry
off, I assure you."

Pearl took several deep breaths, striving to
bring her temper under control. Much of her anger, she knew, was
directed at herself. It was clear now that had she only spoken with
Luke before taking this step, all might have been avoided. Still,
that did not excuse Obelia's hand in this.

"Very well, I shall not cry off. However,"
she continued sweetly, "should Bellowsworth wish to end our
betrothal, for whatever reason, I will make no effort to dissuade
him."

That her stepmother understood her was clear
from the sudden alarm in her blue eyes. "You know he would only do
such a thing in the face of gross impropriety on your part. I
cannot think you care so little for scandal as that. Do you wish to
be shunned by the world?"