Jo Beverley - [Rogue ] (7 page)

Judith stared, her tea untouched. "But half the women in England would be willing to marry him if that's what he wants! Why me?"

"To be honest, I don't really know. I can assure you, Mrs. Rossiter, you will do yourself no harm by at least discussing this matter with Lord Charrington. He is in earnest and his plan offers you many advantages. Let us be frank. You are poor, and poverty is unpleasant. It will make life very difficult for your children. Marriage to the earl would change that dramatically."

"Too dramatically. I'm no fool, Lady Arden, and there must be a price to pay."

Beth shrugged. "I would feel exactly as you do, but I think you should at least let him speak. Perhaps he can make the price clear. Perhaps it will not be too high to pay."

Thus Judith Rossiter found herself within the hour anxiously awaiting the Earl of Charrington in the library of Hartwell.

It was a small room, for Hartwell was a small house, though many times larger than her cottage, and had a pleasant, lived-in feel to it. The carpet was even worn in places, and the leather chairs had the shine of long use. Many of the shelves were slightly disarranged and missing a volume. Three books lay on a mahogany table looking as if they had recently been opened and enjoyed.

A fire burned in the hearth. Judith went over and held her hands out to the heat, more for comfort than for warmth. She didn't know what to do.

She had allowed Lady Arden to persuade her to this appointment. The marchioness had brought her back in the carriage, insisting that the children come, too. Bastian and Rosie were now being entertained by the marquess and marchioness in the stables, and Judith wasn't at all sure this wasn't a subtle form of pressure.

Bastian's eyes had shone at the mere thought of being around horses again, for his pony had been sold on Sebastian's death. Judith couldn't ignore the fact that as Bastian's stepfather the earl would surely provide him with another one. For that, almost any sacrifice seemed worthwhile.

But she wouldn't allow herself to forget that there was always a price to pay, and it might not just be herself who paid it. If she married Lord Charrington she would be putting herself and her children in his power, and he was undoubtedly powerful. If things went wrong they could end up in an even worse situation than at present, and perhaps with more children to be hurt....

The door clicked open and she whirled around.

He halted, hand still on the knob, expression very serious. "My dear lady, I cannot have frightened you so badly, can I?"

Judith pulled herself together. "Of course not, my lord. You just startled me."

He closed the door and came over to join her. "That was only too obvious."

She knew he referred to the day before, not the present, and felt color in her cheeks. Her reaction had been entirely reasonable, but she feared she had ranted like a fishwife. She had no intention of apologizing. She glanced at him, trying to study him without being ill-mannered.

"Please," he said, extending his hands gracefully. "Look your fill. It is only natural."

That hardly helped her compose herself, but she raised her chin and did exactly that.

He was only a little taller than she. His build was slim, but his shoulders were wide, his legs strong, and she had noticed that he moved with lithe ease. His face had a fine-boned elegance, but no remarkable feature except his eyes, which were of a bronzish color and caught the light. Set a little deep under elegantly curving brows they had the power to capture the attention.

In looks he was not extraordinary, and yet he had
presence.
He seemed like a creature from another world, more so even than the marquess. Lord Arden was very handsome and had the air of the
haut ton,
but he was somehow comfortably
English.
Without ever having met a foreigner, Judith sensed that Lord Charrington was
foreign.

He also appeared to be completely in control of the situation. The impetuous young man of the day before had gone, and in his stead was this polished aristocrat.

"I am twenty-five years old," he said calmly, "wealthy, of equable temperament, and with no particular vices. I was born in Istanbul, raised in many places with English attendants, and educated at Harrow. I did not go up to university here but spent brief spells at Utrecht, Lucerne, and Rome. I served with Lord Silchester, mainly in Russia, before joining the Guards. I fought in the Peninsular, and then at Waterloo. I was wounded three times but only slightly. I have scars but no lingering disability."

Judith looked at him during this astonishing recital thinking that this surely must be a fevered dream.

Matching his tone, she said, "My dear sir, I am twenty-nine. I will be thirty in two months. I have two children and have never been more than fifty miles from this spot. I have no remarkable features or accomplishments other than housewifery. What can you possibly want with me?"

He was undisturbed and even smiled. He gestured to a chair. "Please, Mrs. Rossiter, be seated." When they were settled he said, "As I told you yesterday, I wish to marry you. I cannot explain my reasons in full but I assure you there is nothing in them that will be to your disadvantage. To be blunt, I wish to marry and settle down, and I do not want a bride who will expect more from me than I am able to give."

Judith's instincts told her he was telling the truth insofar as it went, but she could hardly believe it. She was almost afraid to believe it. She had not admitted to herself how much her situation frightened her until now when a door was just possibly being opened, being opened to a blindingly bright future. "And what is it that you are able to give, my lord?"

He considered it carefully. "Respect, care, and kindness."

What more could anyone want? "And what will I be expected to give in return?"

"I hope for the same, but the bare minimum of good manners will suffice."

She took in a deep breath. "You ask so little. I must question this."

He raised his brows."Very well then. You will curtsy to me when meeting, prepare my food with your own hands, and dance naked before the fire for me every night."

She thought she saw teasing humor in his eyes, but she wasn't entirely sure. It was nervousness that made her laugh at his words. "Can you not make it make better sense of it for me, my lord?"

He raised a hand in an expressive gesture of helplessness. Really, he spoke with his hands in a way she had never seen before. "It makes me sound a coxcomb," he said. "But... I have always had the talent of putting people at their ease. It was partly inherited, for my father possessed it, but growing up in diplomatic circles honed it. That upbringing also gave me, I am told, a Continental air which Englishmen distrust, and Englishwomen admire. I did not realize until recently, however, that my talent and my air appear to have a somewhat devastating effect on susceptible young Englishwomen."

"They swoon at the sight of you?" she asked skeptically. He was an attractive man, but hardly stunning.

"That, thank heavens, happened only once. But they lose their hearts with alarming frequency."

She stared. "Someone actually swooned at your feet?"

He smiled in self-derision. "Devilish embarrassing. I was escaping an amorous heiress and thought I'd be safe with a very dull-looking wallflower. I asked her to dance. She stood, took two steps, and passed out."

"Well at least you are trained to handle the vapors," she remarked, and his lips twitched in acknowledgment of her sally.

He shook his head. "In this case, I flunked. Her chaperone rushed to attend her and I slipped away. In fact, I slipped away to Hartwell."

Judith felt sorry for them both. "You do realize she had probably been watching you from afar, weaving private romantic dreams, safe in the knowledge that you would never even notice her existence. The reality was just too much."

"I suppose that's how it was," he said with a grimace, "but you can see why I fled. Apart from anything else I have no taste for hurting people. In fact I have an aversion to it. In the circles in which I grew up, hurt feelings and arguments could lead to massacres."

Judith was becoming fascinated. "Strange then that you became a soldier."

"Oh, fighting's not the same," he said, with a dismissive gesture. "In fact, I welcomed the honesty of it. It's hurting people's feelings I can't abide. That's why I want to marry a woman who won't expect too much."

How does one hurt bodies without hurting feelings? Judith wondered. "And you think I am such a woman?"

"Are you not?"

Judith considered him thoughtfully. It all rang true, and though she couldn't quite understand this devastating effect he appeared to have on the beauties of Almack's, she didn't find it incredible. He was having something of an effect on her with his moments of mischievous humor, his aura of sophistication, and those sleepy, catlike eyes.

It was still ridiculous. She had never even dreamt such a man existed and she was supposed to marry him?

But if this was an honest offer it was an answer to a prayer she would never even have dared to send on high.

She sickeningly realized that he was only offering this golden opportunity because of a misapprehension, and she had always been an honest woman. What was she to do?

"So you wouldn't want me to fall in love with you," she said.

"Absolutely not."

"And you don't believe you will develop such feelings for me?"

He hesitated but then said, "Correct. That is no reflection on you, Mrs. Rossiter. I simply seem to lack the faculty of romantic love."

Could she believe anything so unlikely?

Why should he lie?

She had once been a mad romantic, which was how she had ended up married to Sebastian, who had shown her that romantic love left a great deal to be desired. It wouldn't bother her at all to be free of such foolishness, especially when promised respect, care, and kindness.

And freedom from want.

She still felt there must be a fly in this sweet-smelling ointment.

"You will care for my children?" she queried.

"It will give me pleasure to do so. They seem excellent specimens."

Judith was very aware that in considering this match she was, in a sense, considering it on her children's behalf. Her marriage would give Leander a father's power over them. Even sweet-natured Sebastian had turned petulant occasionally, said hurtful things to them, and even hit them. He had once spanked little Rosie with what Judith thought most uncalled for severity.

"They are not above being naughty, my lord. What are your ideas on discipline?"

He considered her question carefully. "Being a parent would be completely new to me, and I assure you I would listen to your advice, Mrs. Rossiter. You are much more familiar with the business than I. As I see it, however, there would be two ways of dealing with such things. I could leave the management of Bastian and Rosie entirely up to you, but would not expect to do so with my own children. You do realize that I would hope to have children with you?"

"Of course." She had never expected otherwise and yet could feel her cheeks heat at the subject. It was very difficult to imagine the intimacies of marriage with this elegant stranger. This young, elegant stranger.

"However," he continued, "it doesn't seem to me desirable that Bastian and Rosie be made to feel different. I think I should counsel and discipline your children as I will those we have together."

"That seems wise," she said from a dry throat, aware of that word discipline. "Er... what form would any discipline take?"

Leander was aware that this question had some importance, and guessed it came from a mother's tender heart. Doubtless the poet had been softhearted, too, but Leander would expect to raise children, particularly boys, as he had been raised.

"You are wise to raise this before any decision is made, ma'am. If you are asking if I believe in corporal punishment I would have to say yes, particularly for boys."

Judith felt a sinking feeling. She should have known this was too good to be true. Despite some angry slaps and spanks, Sebastian had never really hurt the children. Was she now to hand them over to a man who would flog them?

"It would be cruel," she said.

"My dear lady, I think it cruel to do otherwise. With luck and perfect behavior Bastian might get through school unscathed, though I know no one who has managed it, not even the Rogues. The simple fact is that if Bastian is mischievous he will be beaten at school, and had best learn to take it like a man. I can assure you, it is not in my nature to be cruel."

Judith was distracted. "Why on earth should rogues escape?"

He laughed. "The Company of Rogues—a schoolboy group. We protected each other from unfairness, but our leader, Nicholas, was very firm that we were not allowed to gang together to escape just punishment."

The magic word
school was
beginning to penetrate Judith's mind, and her certainty that she must reject this offer wavered. "You would send Bastian to school?"

"Of course. To Harrow, I would think." Then he looked at her with a frown. "My dear Mrs. Rossiter, I know it will be a wrench for you to part from him, but it would be for the best."