Rogue's Honor (35 page)

Luke stared after her with a frown. Now what
the devil had she meant by that? He would call upon her later and
find out. Right now, he'd best alert Marcus to expect a call from
Bellowsworth's second, whoever it might be. Grinning in
anticipation, he vaulted into the saddle.

* * *

"I should never have gone there. You were
right, damn you. I was so certain you must be mistaken."

Wallis Knox sat at his ease in the small
tavern where he had told Bellowsworth to meet him, dispassionately
watching his confederate as he threatened to dissolve into a puddle
of nerves.

"Then it is as well that you went, is it
not?" he asked dryly. "You would not have wished to marry the girl
while she was carrying on an intrigue with my nephew."

Bellowsworth propped his elbows on the table
and dropped his head into his hands. "No, I suppose not. But now I
must fight a duel with the blackguard, and I've no doubt he means
to kill me."

"You challenged him? Good for you! I didn't
think you had it in you." It was just what Knox had hoped for, in
fact, though from what he knew of Bellowsworth, he'd rather
feared—

"No, he challenged me. I could hardly refuse,
could I?"

Knox stared. "
He
challenged
you
? And how did that come about, may I ask?"

Haltingly, Bellowsworth related the entire
conversation between himself and the upstart Lord Hardwyck. At the
conclusion, Knox's mouth twisted unpleasantly.

"He was right, you know. You're
not
worthy of her." The marquess' head came up in protest, but Knox
waved him to silence. "Fear not, however. You'll be in no danger.
I'll see to that."

"But . . . how?" Resentment battled with hope
in Bellowsworth's pale brown eyes.

"I've been making inquiries, and have even
put to use certain information you have given me, of which you
apparently missed the significance. All things considered, it is
entirely possible that we can have young Hardwyck taken up by the
authorities before your dreaded meeting takes place."

"Taken up . . . ? On what charge?"

Smiling, Knox took a long draught of ale
before answering, enjoying the other man's impatience. "My dear
Lord Bellowsworth," he answered at length, "I have every reason to
believe that Luke Di Santo, now styling himself Earl of Hardwyck,
is none other than the notorious Saint of Seven Dials."

Pearl was still seething when she rounded the
corner of Mount Street. How dared Luke risk their future this way?
Couldn't he see that Bellowsworth was not worth any such sacrifice?
She focused on her anger, refusing for the moment to consider the
significance of his final remark.

Looking up, she saw John Marley waiting for
her atop the bay gelding. His relief when he spotted her was
obvious. "I'd begun to worry you'd gone home by a different way, my
lady," he commented, falling into position behind her.

"My apologies, John. I found riding
particularly exhilarating today, so continued longer than I had
intended." Much of her earlier exhilaration and contentment had
been swamped by anger and worry, however.

The Duchess emerged from the breakfast room
as she entered the front hall. "So you return at last," she said by
way of greeting. "Do not tell me you were riding until now, as your
abigail informed me."

"I was indeed, your grace. The morning is
exceedingly fine. I brought a groom, for propriety's sake." Pearl
kept her voice pleasant, though it cost her an effort.

"Get upstairs and change out of your habit at
once," her stepmother said then, abandoning the argument before it
could begin. "Morning callers may arrive at any moment, and you
will wish to look your best— particularly for Lord Bellowsworth,
who I daresay is still somewhat offended by the attention Lord
Hardwyck paid you last night."

"I daresay," Pearl echoed, a spurt of
amusement lightening her mood briefly as she remembered the look on
Bellowsworth's face twenty minutes since. "If he does not call, we
will know just how offended, I presume."

Before Obelia could do more than gasp in
outrage, Pearl headed up the wide staircase, anxious for a few
moments alone with her thoughts. Hettie was waiting in her
chambers, however, so her musings had to be put off while her maid
scurried to divest her of her habit and help her into a
primrose-yellow morning gown. Brushing out Pearl's hair, Hettie
regarded her mistress knowingly in the glass.

"You've had quite a morning, I take it, my
lady," she commented.

Pearl frowned at her abigail's reflection.
"Why do you say that? Simply because I am so late returning?" In
truth, it had been the most momentous morning of her life, but she
could not tell Hettie that— not yet. Not until she had puzzled
things through.

"That and . . . other things. You have a
different look about you, somehow. I hope everything is all
right?"

"I hope so too," said Pearl with a sigh.

Hettie did not probe further but completed
Pearl's toilette in silence, then left her in much-needed solitude.
Pearl knew that the Duchess would be sending for her the moment
their first caller arrived, but she was determined not to go down
beforehand. Instead, she went to the window near the fireplace and
gazed sightlessly down at the gardens below.

We won't have to elope after all
.

The words she had avoided contemplating
returned the moment she dropped her guard. Surely . . . surely he
had meant that if Bellowsworth released her from their betrothal,
they could marry more conventionally? But he had not said so. He
had only suggested an elopement when no other way out of her
predicament presented itself.

Now it seemed he was eager to grasp at any
alternative, even at grave risk to himself. He would sooner risk
death or arrest than sacrifice himself on the altar of
matrimony.

Pearl tried to tell herself she should be
pleased. A quick elopement would have meant giving up Fairbourne,
as her birthday was still more than three weeks distant. Now it
would be secure. Somehow, though, that reflection brought her no
satisfaction. The thought of living on, managing, the estate—
alone— seemed unutterably dreary. With whom would she share her
successes? To whom would she turn for advice and reassurance?

It seemed she was not quite so independent as
she had believed. Vainly, she tried to summon pride to her aid, but
even pride failed her. Without Luke, her sense of purpose seemed to
have evaporated. Listlessly, she turned from the window just as a
tap came at the door.

"Her grace bids you join her below, my lady,"
came a maid's voice through the panels. "Callers are arriving."

With a spurt of hope that one of the callers
might be Luke, here to dispell her worries, Pearl checked her
appearance one last time in the glass and left her chamber.

Luke was not below, however. Old Mrs.
Haverstock, widow of their former vicar, was the only caller,
joined shortly by Lady Wittington and Miss Chalmers, who apparently
spent every morning of their existance calling upon others. Over
the next two hours, a fair number of ladies and one or two
gentlemen came to pay their respects and exchange gossip, but there
was no sign of Luke —nor of Lord Bellowsworth.

At length everyone had gone and Pearl
followed the Duchess to the dining room for luncheon. She was
famished, as she had completely neglected to eat breakfast. Her
stepmother's first words took the edge from her appetite,
however.

"I knew it. You have offended Lord
Bellowsworth more severely than I feared, else he would have called
this morning."

This time the memory of this morning's
encounter brought no amusement with it. "So it would seem. Or
perhaps his mother required him."

But what kept Luke away?

As the afternoon drew on, Pearl again allowed
herself to hope that he might appear to invite her for a drive —but
he did not. Nor did he make an appearance at Lady Wittington's
ridotto that evening. Bellowsworth was absent as well, though he
had originally planned to meet Pearl there.

Though the Duchess clearly considered this a
most ominous sign, Pearl was quite grateful for
his
absence,
as any meeting right now would be awkward in the extreme, and
perhaps even disastrous should he find himself unable to hold his
tongue about what he had seen this morning. But it did not make up
for Luke's failure to appear.

The next morning, she arrived at their
accustomed path in Hyde Park even earlier than before. John had
insisted on remaining with her this time, after Hettie had
impressed upon him the importance of doing so, but Pearl did not
care. Just a few private moments with Luke would be necessary to
allay her fears . . . she hoped.

But though she waited for well over an hour,
cantering up and down the lane, he never joined her.

Riding slowly back to Berkley Square, Pearl's
imagination ran riot with wild fears. Had the duel already taken
place? Had Luke killed Bellowsworth after all, and been forced to
flee the country? Or perhaps Bellowsworth had ordered his arrest
for challenging him, coward that he was. Could a peer be arrested
for such a cause? She did not know. But how if that peer were also
accused of thievery? Just how much did Bellowsworth know?

These and even more horrifying suppositions
occupied her throughout breakfast and another tedious bout of
morning callers, rendering her quite unsociable. The last caller
was leaving, and already Obelia was frowning in preparation for
another tirade, when a late visitor was announced.

"Lord Hardwyck," the butler intoned.

Hope, relief, disbelieving joy, all sent
Pearl's spirits soaring —until she saw Luke's face. "My lord?" she
asked uncertainly as he bowed over her hand, mindful of the
Duchess' proximity. "Is anything wrong?"

He met her eyes then, his own tired and
bleak. "Merely a matter of a missing servant, my lady," he
responded. She could hear the effort it took to keep his voice
steady. "I confess I am concerned, however."

"La!" exclaimed the Duchess. "You will find,
Lord Hardwyck, that servants can be most unreliable. If someone
offers them better wages, they are gone in an instant, with no
thought of the loyalty they owe you."

"Of course, your grace," he said stiffly,
moving to take a seat. Pearl had never seen him so dejected.

It was already past the fashionable hour for
calls, so he would likely not remain long, but Pearl was determined
to have a private word with him before he left. Under the pretext
of asking his opinion on a bit of needlework she'd done, she
managed to lean close enough to whisper without her stepmother
overhearing.

"Is it Flute who is missing?"

He nodded. "Since yesterday morning. I fear—
Yes, the combination of blue and green is most pleasing," he
concluded in a louder voice, as the Duchess turned a suspicious eye
upon them.

A moment later he rose, preparatory to
leaving. "Perhaps if you are not otherwise engaged, you might care
for a drive this afternoon, my lady?"

"Must I remind you, Lord Hardwyck, that Lady
Pearl is betrothed?" The Duchess was clearly outraged —again.

"Am I not to be allowed to take the air until
Lord Bellowsworth sees fit to grace me with his company?" asked
Pearl, just as haughtily. "I am not yet his wife, that he may order
my comings and goings. I should be pleased to drive out with you,
my lord."

"You are all kindness, my lady." Turning to
the Duchess with a deep bow, he added, "I promise to behave with
all propriety, your grace. A drive, nothing more."

Obelia sniffed, but offered no further
objection until he was gone. Then she turned to Pearl, her fine
eyes narrowed. "May I have a similar promise from you?"

Wide-eyed, Pearl responded, "Of course, your
grace. What do you take me for?"

"Perhaps the less said on that subject, the
better." With that stinging retort, she swept from the room.

Pearl, after a moment's consideration,
decided to take her meal in her chambers. Not only would that spare
her further barbs, but she wished to plan for her outing. She must
be ready for any eventuality, even a sudden elopement, though she
knew in her heart that was less likely than ever.

She remained in her chambers until Luke
arrived. There still had been no word whatsoever from Lord
Bellowsworth, which she knew must look exceedingly odd to Obelia.
She wondered whether she had mentioned it to her father.

The moment she heard Luke's voice below, she
hurried downstairs, unwilling to leave him
tête-à-tête
with
her stepmother for even a few moments.

"I'm so pleased the weather has held fine,"
she said brightly, intercepting him before he could enter the
parlor. "Here is my maid now. Shall we go?"

Luke still appeared somber and unwilling to
tarry, so with only a formal bow to the Duchess, he motioned for
Pearl to precede him down the front steps to his waiting curricle.
The groom holding the horses was unfamiliar to her, which she
presumed meant that Flute had not yet returned.

Luke took the reins, the groom sitting up
behind with Hettie, as Flute had done on their previous drive.
Though she was fair to bursting with curiosity, Pearl waited until
they were well away from Oakshire House to speak.

"Any news?"

"I'm afraid so," he replied quietly, but
whether because of lowered spirits or because he did not wish to
speak freely before the groom she couldn't tell. "He was arrested
in Seven Dials yesterday. I just discovered it an hour ago."

"Arrested?" Pearl whispered, a hand at her
throat. "What did . . . He didn't . . . ?"

"No. He was simply visiting a friend there. I
was finally able to find someone who saw what happened. I feared it
might be the case, when Argos was found dragging his lead, not far
from where I . . . from where Flute's friend lives."