Jo Beverley - [Rogue ] (40 page)

"I consider it my job to make you happy, Judith. I will."

Judith wanted to make a suitable reply, but sleep stole her voice and sucked her down.

* * *

"When she woke, Leander was already gone, his side of the bed cold. She hurried downstairs to breakfast and found she was the slugabed. It was nearly ten o'clock and everyone else had breakfasted. Nicholas and Leander had already left, but Leander had spoken to Bastian, who already seemed to be putting his strange adventure behind him.

"Papa Leander's going take care of that man for good," he said with pride and relish.

"I think Papa Leander's ever so brave," said Rosie. "He climbed that big tree."

"I climbed that big tree, too," said Bastian.

"But it's harder for old people."

Judith bit her lip and hoped Leander never heard that. She sent the children off to play.

"You don't think Leander and Nicholas are in any danger?" Judith asked Eleanor anxiously.

"I doubt it. Your Timothy Rossiter doesn't seem to be a very bold character when it comes to facing grown men, and they can handle themselves well. They have both been in far more hazardous situations."

She entertained Judith with some stories of the Rogues, including a little matter of breaking and entering a few months past. Judith couldn't help thinking it would be a good idea to keep Leander out of contact with his friends, but then she knew it would be as impossible as keeping her divorced from her family.

That reminded her that Leander did now have a family of his own, and the beginning of a comfortable relationship with them. They would surely all get together over Christmas, as families should, gathered around a table at the Temple.

Christmas at the Temple, she thought, hope rising in her breast. She could do it, and she would.

* * *

Leander and Nicholas left early and arrived at the Fiddler Inn when the place was barely stirring. Davy, the groom, greeted them with the news that their quarry had showed no sign of life as yet.

Nicholas turned to Leander. "Do you want to take charge?"

Leander's jaw flexed, but he said, "Better not I'd kill him on sight."

"You can if you want," said Nicholas calmly.

Leander looked at Nicholas, startled. "Have you ever killed anyone in cold blood?"

"In cold blood? I recall being angry... But yes, I have. There are some people who cannot be let live. However, I doubt Timothy Rossiter is quite that dangerous."

"No, you're probably right." Leander sighed. "Pity."

Nicholas laughed. "Bloodthirsty, aren't you? A family will do that to you. Speaking of cold, I think we might as well await our friend over coffee." He led the way into the inn.

They took a small parlor, and ordered coffee. Direct questions revealed that the only other guest was a gentleman calling himself Mr. Swithin, who had ordered breakfast in his room at eight o'clock. Nicholas checked his watch. "Ten minutes."

Leander took a sip of coffee, but then leapt to his feet to roam the room. "Why don't we go up now?"

"Disturb the man before he's dressed? Lee, where have your perfect manners gone?"

Leander let out a sharp laugh. "God, Nicholas. I've missed you."

Nicholas smiled. "We had good times, didn't we? And so damned innocent."

"But back then we thought we truly were imps from hell."

"And so we were, but since then some of us have visited hell in very truth. I like your Bastian. A promising Rogue. I like your wife and daughter, too."

"Yes," said Leander, and realized he was smiling. He glanced rather self-consciously at Nicholas.

Nicholas said, "There's no need to be embarrassed about loving them, you know."

"Love?"

"A strange affliction, that makes other human beings essential to one's happiness."

"Ah, that love." Leander looked down to his coffee. "I am very fond of them of course..."

"But you could watch them walk out of your life tomorrow without any great concern."

Leander looked up sharply. "Judith's my wife. She's not going anywhere." Then he groaned. "Hell, have I gone and fallen in love with her?"

"I would say so. It presents a problem?"

"You could say that." Leander made a fist and beat once on the table. "She's still in love with the wonderful, romantic Sebastian Rossiter. I only persuaded her to marry me by assuring her that I'd not bother her with sentimental nonsense." He raked his hand through his hair. "How am I to hide it from her?"

Nicholas shook his head. "I doubt it's possible."

"I'll not embarrass her with it."

Nicholas knew a great deal about Leander's family but he only said, "It's a problem that will keep. Let's first deal with Hamlet's ghost."

They walked into Timothy Rossiter's room without knocking. Though they had pistols with them, they did not have weapon in hand, for this villain seemed unlikely to pose such a threat.

Indeed, he rose to his feet, startled but unaggressive. "Gentlemen? This is a private room." He was still in a dressing robe over shirt and breeches. It was a fine, expensive velvet robe. In fact, every one of his possessions appeared to be of top quality, though the man himself was weak of chin and chest.

Nicholas sat opposite him at his breakfast table. Leander closed the door and leant against it. Rossiter's weak eyes flickered between them.

Nicholas said, "My name is Nicholas Delaney, of Redoaks, a house nearby. The other gentlemen is the Earl of Charrington."

Rossiter's puffy face blanched, but he blustered. "So? I do not know you."

Leander smiled icily. "You called at my house not many days past."

"You have the wrong man. My name is Swithin."

"Ah," said Nicholas. "You follow your Bible, sir, wherein it says that a good name is rather to be chosen than riches. Pity you were not so wise before. Sit down."

Rossiter gaped but obeyed.

Nicholas rose and went to Rossiter's valise. Despite a feeble protest, he opened it and extracted a blond wig. He dangled it before his prisoner. "Rejoice. Your nephew Bastian is alive and well and so we don't have to kill you. But Bastian would prosper better with his rightful inheritance, don't you think?"

Rossiter struggled to his feet again, mouth working. "I... I will call for help!"

Leander lunged over and hauled him to his toes with a strangling hand in his cravat. He shook him like a rat. "Call, and we'll prosecute for attempted murder, you shit sack."

Nicholas allowed a moment or two before saying, "Lee."

Leander reluctantly relaxed his fingers, and dropped Rossiter to choke in his chair, then brushed his hands distastefully.

"You're mad," Rossiter gasped, clutching his throat.

"Cease," said Nicholas with a sigh. "Timothy Rossiter, have no doubt we could convict you of attempting the life of your nephew, Bastian, on three occasions. It's certain that we can prove that you have been defrauding your brother, his widow, and his heir. A visit to Mister Algernon Browne should inform us as to the amount earned by Sebastian Rossiter's poetry over the years."

Rossiter's face collapsed into a confession of his guilt. "I never wanted to hurt the boy," he whimpered. "It's just... It's all right for you," he spat sullenly. "Born to riches. Idle wastrels..."

Leander snarled at him, and he hunched back in his chair, pallid as a corpse except for the terror in his eyes.

"We're not going to kill you," said Nicholas with disgust. "You're not worth the effort I'll even stop the earl from beating you to a pulp if you do precisely as we say."

The bulging eyes fixed on him in feint hope.

"We are going to London," Nicholas informed him. "There we will check the accounts, and every penny will be returned. If there is not enough money—and I fear you have been living extravagantly, sir—then all you have must go against your debts."

"But..."

"But how are you to live?" asked Nicholas, almost kindly. "I fear you'll have to work. As Horace said, 'Life grants nothing to we mortals without hard work.' Time you learned that, isn't it? And in view of your unfortunate plotting, your labor will have to be well away from your brother's family. You are going to travel, Mister Rossiter. You may choose the destination—Canada, the United States, South America perhaps, or the West Indies. Perhaps you would care for the East Indies? Many opportunities to make a fortune there. Or even Australia. A few people are choosing to go there without the force of law. So much cheap labor."

The man's mouth was working and he looked close to tears.

"You needn't fear. Your generous nephew will provide enough for your passage, and some money to keep you going until you find your feet." He rose to his feet and slapped Rossiter's shoulders with false bonhomie. "Cheer up, man. As the sage said, 'Roam abroad in the world, and take thy fill of its enjoyments before the day shall come when thou must quit it for good.' " He hoisted Rossiter to his feet with an ungentle hand. "And that day shall come with remarkable speed if we see your face on these shores again once you have quit them."

Rossiter was like a puppet in their hands as they dressed him, packed his bag, and thrust him into his coach. They left their horses and joined him there for the journey.

* * *

At Redoaks, Judith could not help but be anxious, but Eleanor's lack of fear did much to soothe her. She would not, however, let the children out of her sight and kept them busy making Christmas treasures—wreaths, kissing boughs, and lanterns.

When they tired of that, they all helped Eleanor decorate Redoaks with her own Christmas treasures. Little Arabel trotted happily about, entangling herself and Magpie in a length of red ribbon. Rosie abandoned handicrafts to play with the infant.

It was a peaceful, cheerful time, but Judith missed Leander badly, and knew how deep her love had rooted. The thought of trying to conceal that love for the rest of her life was depressing, and she knew she would have to tackle the problem one day soon, but she was frightened. Would he be so distressed he would send her away? It seemed ridiculous, but she knew his feelings on such matters—grown from his difficult childhood—ran deeper than reason.

She didn't know how she would bear losing him, but even worse was the knowledge of what he would lose. He needed her. He needed a companion, a helpmeet, someone able to connect him to his world. Then she doubted herself. Leander Knollis, Earl of Charrington—soldier, diplomat, linguist, earl—surely did not need Judith Rossiter.

On the second day the groom returned from Hope Norton with the news that Nicholas and Leander had captured Timothy Rossiter without difficulty, and taken him off to London. Judith relaxed her vigilance over the children a little and allowed them to play in the grounds near the house.

She stood by the window, however, watching them. "It's terrible," she said to Eleanor. "I don't know when I'll feel at ease with them out of my sight. I used to allow Bastian to wander about the countryside without a care. What if Timothy had taken it into his mind to dispose of him then?"

Eleanor came and wrapped an arm around her like a sister. "He didn't. He's a paltry villain, not inclined to action until cornered. You will overcome this fear, and Leander and Nicholas will handle everything."

"I am not used to having someone to take care of things," Judith confessed. Then she realized that it was disloyal to Sebastian. Sebastian, however, had been all too like his brother. Now Leander had all her allegiance, for he had earned it.

"Nor was I," said Eleanor, "until I married. It's rather pleasant, isn't it? But I don't regret my hard years, for they taught me to stand on my own feet, and gave me strength to take care of Nicholas when he needs me."

"Does he?" asked Judith. "Need you?"

"Oh yes. And I'm sure Leander needs you, perhaps even more." She drew Judith over to a sofa, and poured tea for them both. "Nicholas has been concerned about him."

Judith looked up in surprise. "I thought they hadn't met for years."

"True enough, but that has little to do with it. Nicholas tries not to run people's lives these days, but he finds it hard to resist." She laughed. "One reason we live down here in the West Country is to remove temptation. He still keeps a watching brief over all the Rogues, and he took the death of Lord Darius Debenham hard. He died at Waterloo, you know, and Nicholas, being Nicholas, feels that in some way he should have prevented it. Anyway, he has often spoken of Leander, worried about his aloneness. I gather his family was not particularly sound."

Judith decided to be blunt. "I think his parents sound awful."

"Nicholas met Leander's father abroad a few times, and found him to be totally self-centered. He said the man's ability in matters of diplomacy was rooted in an uncanny ability to read people's minds and a habit of viewing them as trained animals, to be made to jump at his command. I'm surprised Leander turned out so well."

Judith nibbled a biscuit. "I suspect he was fortunate in that his father ignored him except for occasional lectures and discipline." She looked suddenly up at Eleanor. "Do you think boys should be beaten?"