Scoundrel (Lost Lords of Radcliffe Book 4) (8 page)

“I suppose we’ll finally head for England.”

“But you’re in no hurry.”

“No,” he said. “I’m having a grand time, and even if I had the chance to depart, I’d never leave Mr. Hubbard here by himself.”

“Why is that?”

“He needs me.”

“Does he?” she asked. “He seems rather independent and quite satisfied with his lot. If you left, are you certain he’d miss you?”

“I’m certain he wouldn’t, but
I
would miss him dreadfully. We’ve become so close the past few months. I couldn’t imagine spending a single second without him.”

“You almost sound smitten. If you were a female, I’d say you absolutely were.”

“I’m incredibly fond of him. And so grateful.”

“Why?”

“Must you ask? He saved my life over and over again.”

“Really? How?”

“On the ship, when the pirates attacked? Oh my, you should have seen him! He was so brave and heroic.”

“He fought them?”

“To the very end. Even when it was clear that all was lost, that we couldn’t hope to prevail, he battled to the last man.”

“My goodness.”

“Then when we were in the water, he was the one who made me hold on. He was so dashing and commanding, and he refused to let me give up. I owe him everything.”

“My goodness,” she said again.

“I’ll stay with him for as long as he chooses to remain.”

She liked that he was so loyal to Mr. Hubbard, that he’d support Mr. Hubbard through thick and thin. It was a far cry from the conduct of the women at the convent. They all had little in the way of material possessions or power, so they hoarded their petty property and bickered over status. The least change in routine, even such minor issues as rearrangement of the seating chart at supper, had people fuming for weeks.

Did Mr. Hubbard realize how fortunate he was to have Mr. Robertson’s total devotion? Probably not. He was terribly self-centered.

She shoved the chess board away and put her elbows on the table, leaning forward so she was nearer to him. On their lengthy journey to Rome and back, she’d crossed paths with many men, but Mother Superior had watched Rowena like a hawk, so she hadn’t been able to chat with any of them.

But she was alone now and on her own, and while Faith wouldn’t approve of any transgression, she wasn’t Rowena’s parent or chaperone. She could counsel and advise, but she had no authority over Rowena at all.

“Would you call me Rowena?” she asked. “Not
Sister
Rowena. Just Rowena?”

“I would be delighted to call you Rowena.”

“While I’m here, I want to be as daring as you. I want to pretend I’m someone else from who I actually am.”

“Is that what I’m doing?”

“It’s how it seems to me.”

He pondered, then grinned. “Yes, you’ve perfectly described my situation. Generally I’m a tedious, orthodox dolt. I’ve never rocked a boat or broken a rule in my entire life.”

“May I call you Ralston?” she boldly inquired.

“You’d better.”

“Let’s act as if we’ve always known each other, as if we’ve always been friends.”

“If that’s the plan,” he said, “you should tell me a bit about yourself so I can readily spew a few facts.”

“I’ll tell if you will,” she retorted.

“My history is so dull I’ll likely put you to sleep.”

“Dull! Aren’t you the intrepid adventurer who survived a pirate attack?”

“It’s the only extraordinary thing that ever happened to me, and with my having experienced the
extra
ordinary, the just plain ordinary will suit me from now on.”

“Where are you from?” she asked.

“A small town southwest of London. My father was the vicar.”

“Ooh, a preacher’s son! Lovely.”

“Why would you deem it to be lovely? I’ve always thought it the most dreary circumstance imaginable.”

“Preacher’s sons are supposed to be very wicked. Preacher’s daughters too.”

“From my perspective, there was never an opportunity to misbehave. We spent an awful lot of time in church and being sermonized.”

“Was your father horrid?”

“No, he was actually a marvelous fellow. I never could bear to disappoint him.”

“Did you disappoint him?”

“Never. I was the most obedient child ever born. My brothers vexed him though.”

“How many brothers do you have?”

“Five older, two younger, and three little sisters.”

“Eleven!”

“Yes, we definitely had a houseful.”

“Your poor mother.”

“Money was always tight, and we wore a lot of mended stockings and hand-me-down clothes, but we were a happy bunch.” He leaned forward on his elbows too, their arms not quite touching. “How about you? Were you happy?”

“No, not for a single minute.”

“I’m sorry to hear it.” He looked truly sympathetic, and it was wonderful to be chatting with someone who listened. “Why did you join the convent? Was your family terribly religious?”

“Gad, no. My parents locked me away against my will.”

It was a hideous deed that still galled her.

She had one sibling, a sister who was perfect in every way, pretty and charming and adept at all the social graces. Rowena had tried to imitate her, to be docile and modest, but she simply couldn’t tamp down her worst impulses.

She liked to laugh and sing and play. When she was angry, she liked to shout with fury. When she was sad, she liked to weep with dismay. She had a large, loud personality and had never been able to rein it in—much to her parents’ chagrin.

Her early years had been full of scolds and spankings and being sent to bed without supper. As she’d reached adolescence and had started to develop a woman’s body, she’d grown even more unruly.

She had beautiful chestnut-colored hair that was thick and luxurious, and her eyes were big and brown and expressive. Her figure was curvaceous and shaped to draw a man’s attention.

She’d reveled in the excitement of naughty flirting, but when she’d been caught sneaking off with the local squire’s son—an inappropriate boy who’d been far above her in rank and station—she’d been packed off to the convent so fast her head was still spinning over it.

One day, she’d been a loose, frivolous girl in a comfortable home where she’d had pin money to spend and no duties to plague her. The next, she’d been swaddled in black clothes and scrubbing floors for grumpy older women she couldn’t abide.

She’d gradually adapted to her quiet world with only female companions. She’d stumbled on a calling of sorts in the nursery, caring for babies. They sheltered unwed mothers and helped them to either locate husbands or place their children out for adoption.

She was clever with children, and her skill was the reason Mother Superior had let her travel to the convocation in Rome. She’d needed Rowena to act as nanny to Mary, Martha, and Millie on the way back.

Rowena had wrangled a marvelous adventure for herself, and many times during the journey, she’d thought about running away. It was an easy scheme to ponder, but in reality the prospect of traipsing off alone with no funds or friends was incredibly daunting, fraught with peril, and most likely to end in tragedy.

She hadn’t run. She’d stayed with Mother Superior and Faith, had been pleasant and biddable and thoroughly delighted after the girls joined their tiny caravan.

But the lure of freedom was beckoning, and with Mother Superior deceased, there was no authority figure to demand restraint. Rowena would welcome any chance to walk down a different road.

As she gazed into Ralston’s kind, handsome face, she definitely believed he could be her ticket to a new life. Why not? He was a bachelor from a good family. He was loyal and steady and true. There was no rule or law to prevent her from trying to persuade him.

“They locked you away?” He appeared suitably aghast.

“Yes. They claimed I was too wild and would ultimately embarrass them by getting myself into trouble with a neighbor boy.”

“Would you have?”

She shrugged. “I never had the opportunity to find out. Plus they refused to pay for a wedding for me. They’d frittered away all their money on my sister.”

“That wasn’t very charitable of them.”

“I agree.”

“Would you think me horrid if I said I hope I never have the misfortune to meet your parents? I’m sure I wouldn’t like them.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t either.
I
don’t like them, and I’m their daughter.”

“Why haven’t you taken your final vows? Is it because you don’t feel called? Don’t you care if you become a nun or not?”

“I never wanted to be a nun, and nothing’s changed my mind—even after so many years have passed.”

“How many years has it been?”

“Five.”

“Five! How old were you when they sent you away?”

“Fifteen. I’m twenty now.”

“You were just a child.” He was indignant on her behalf, which made her love him.

“I keep expecting something will happen to provide me with a better fate.”

“Your Mother Superior wasn’t upset by your delaying over the vows?”

“She would never force anybody. That’s not how it works. You have to be ready and you have to proceed freely and without coercion.”

“And you’re not ready?”

“No, and I never will be.” Brazenly she reached out and stroked a finger across his hand. “How about you? What future awaits? With so many brothers, you must not have many options through your family.”

“No, I have to earn my own salary. I was employed as clerk for a wealthy grain merchant.”

“He was thrown overboard when you were?”

“Yes. Dear Mr. Fitzwilliam. I was sort of an apprentice to him, and he didn’t have any sons of his own. He might eventually have promoted me to a position of authority.” He sighed. “It’ll never transpire now. I’m certain he’s deceased, and it’s the reason I’m dawdling here in Africa. If I rushed to England, there’s naught for me there. I’d be starting over from scratch.”

For a girl who was eager to latch onto a viable fellow, the news was distressing, but she wouldn’t let it dim her enthusiasm. He was the first man she’d met in ages who might someday be able to supply exactly what she needed. She wasn’t about to be thwarted by a small disaster such as a boss’s death or the lack of prospects.

“How about your personal life, Ralston? Since you’re in no hurry to go home, there must be no fiancée pining for you to arrive.”

“No, no fiancée. How could I court anyone? In light of my penury, I couldn’t make any promises.”

She concurred, but he was bright and capable, and she was positive he’d land himself in a stable situation. It might take some time, but he’d get there.

“I’m so dreadfully hot,” she said. “Would it shock you if I remove my veil?”

“I’ve been living with Mr. Hubbard for months. I’ve become unshockable.”

She tugged on the pins that kept the heavy headdress in place. With a flick of her wrist, she yanked it away and pitched it on the floor. Some nuns shaved their hair or wore it very short, but she refused. Her glorious chestnut tresses flowed down her back in a curly wave, and she watched his reaction, being thrilled to note a gleam of male appreciation.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“About what? About your hair?”

“Yes.”

“It’s so pretty.”

“What a lovely thing to say.” It was the sole compliment she’d received from a man since the squire’s son had tossed out flattery when she was fifteen. She grinned.

“You don’t cut it?” he asked. “I’d have thought you would have.”

“Many nuns do, but I’m not much of a nun.”

“I can tell that about you.”

“May I shock you again?”

“You didn’t shock me the first time.”

“That’s right. You weren’t shocked, were you? How about this? The moon is up and it’s such a beautiful night. Could we go down to the sand and walk on the beach?”

“Yes, certainly we can, but I’ll only agree if you’ll take off your shoes and stockings so we can wade in the surf.”

“Why, Mr. Robertson, you naughty thing, you. Are you hoping to catch a glimpse of my ankles?”

“Yes,” he unabashedly replied, and she laughed and laughed.

Ooh, she liked him very much, much more than she should, much more than was wise.

They stood and went to the stairs, but before they could climb down, he turned and frowned at her.

“Are you sure we should, Rowena?”

“Absolutely sure. Why?”

“I feel I should caution you, that’s all. It’s what I do for Mr. Hubbard. I’m his conscience.”

“Why would I need you to act as my conscience? I’m an adult. I’m fully capable of choosing for myself, and I
choose
to walk on the beach.”

“I understand, but since I’ve arrived at the villa, I’ve found that the spot has an odd way of making it seem that misbehavior is allowed—and even encouraged. I’d hate to have you engage in conduct you’ll regret in the morning.”

“It’s just a moonlight stroll, Ralston. I may get my toes wet in the process, but I doubt I’ll regret having wet toes.”

He studied her, then smiled. “No, I don’t suppose you will.”

As if they were adolescent sweethearts, he reached for her hand and linked their fingers. They started down together.

CHAPTER FIVE

Faith was walking down a deserted hallway, enjoying the shade, when the sound of swords clanging together brought her up short.

The villa was usually very quiet, with the servants seeing to their duties as if they were invisible. The rattle of steel crashing on steel unnerved her, left her worried that trouble was brewing.

She tiptoed out onto a small balcony. Down below, there was a grassy courtyard, and Mr. Hubbard and Mr. Robertson were fencing. Mr. Hubbard was obviously the better of the two, and he was steadily forcing Mr. Robertson to retreat.

They were dressed in trousers again, most of their torsos bared to the hot sun. Their pants were the flowing, silky sort she always observed them in, the ones she imagined a sultan might wear when visiting his harem. She wondered if they realized how far they’d moved from moral behavior.

Though she knew she should go back inside, she couldn’t stop watching. They were so fit and agile, so deft at parry and thrust. It was thrilling to view their muscled arms, their heaving chests, the sweat on their brows. And of course, the longer she studied them, the more meticulously she recalled how Mr. Hubbard had looked with no clothes at all.