Rogue's Reward Page 3

  “Very well, the long gallery as soon as I’m presentable.”

  An hour later, Eleanor emerged from her chamber and took a critical look at herself in the long mirror in the hall. She had bathed and was dressed in a fine white silk dinner gown, which was caught up beneath her breasts with a sash of pale apricot. The ends trailed down the front of her skirts to finish in two gold tassels. Small pleated sleeves gathered into apricot trimming showed off her long smooth arms.

  At least she had nice arms and hands, she thought ruefully. As for the rest, Lady Augusta was right, it certainly wasn’t ravishing—perfectly ordinary, in fact. Brown hair, brown eyes, a nose and a mouth occupying all the right places. What more could a girl want?

  She laughed at herself and walked rapidly in the direction that Diana had described.

  The long gallery was hung with portraits from one end to the other on one paneled wall. The opposite wall was lined with bookcases punctuated with tall windows. An embroidered cushion covered a window seat beneath each one.

  Eleanor perched herself on one of these and composed herself to think about Diana’s problem. It was already twilight. The room began to fill with shadows as dusk swallowed the view outside.

  “I hope you have hooked up your dress this time,” a cultured male voice said in her ear. “Have you lost another locket?”

  She spun around and leaped to her feet. As she did so, she heard a small tearing sound and looked down to see that she must have been sitting on one of her gold tassels, and in her haste she had ripped it off. She caught at it in her hand and held on to it as if it were a lifeline.

  “Of course not,” she said calmly, though her heart was pounding loudly enough to summon at least three footmen. “But instead it seems I have lost my composure and ruined my sash. May I ask what you’re doing here?”

  “I might ask the same, mightn’t I?” the owner of the violet eyes said.

  He leaned one shoulder against a bookshelf and crossed his arms over his chest. Except for a newly changed shirt and cravat, he was dressed in the same traveling clothes he had worn at the inn, his coat as dark as his head. The faintest sheen of moisture further darkened his hair, as if he had just washed it. Eleanor had to crush the most unholy impulse to reach out and see.

  “It’s raining outside,” he said dryly. “You must have noticed, since you were studying the gardens so intensely. And must I answer my own question? Though it’s probably easy enough. Lady Eleanor Acton and Lady Diana Hart were at school together? I wish I’d known.”

  “Why? Is Lady Diana another of your attempted schoolgirl conquests?”

  Tiny creases marked the corners of his eyes. “Why, do you think I’m her type?”

  “Not in the least,” she snapped. “Lady Diana has flawless taste and is guided always by the strictest propriety. She would never fall for a conceited libertine, without honor or scruple, who likes to practice idle flirtations on girls half his age.”

  “Half his age? My dear Lady Eleanor, I am only five-and-twenty. Surely you’re at least seventeen?”

  “Eighteen. Does Diana love you?”

  “I hope so, for I love her very dearly back.”

  “You’re an accomplished liar, too, I see. How did you get in?”

  “Why, the butler opened the front door in the usual way.”

  “You mean you’re a guest of Lady Augusta?” It came out as a distinctly undignified squeak.

  “I’m on my way to visit Major St. John Crabtree, as it happens.”

  “But how dare you stop at Hawksley and skulk about the private rooms?”

  “I’m really not sure that I have to answer all these questions. Don’t you have any of the social graces, Lady Eleanor? It’s more usual, isn’t it, to make small talk about the weather or some book of poetry?”

  “When first introduced to another guest, I suppose it is. But not when one’s first meeting was intimate enough to bring up a subject like blackmail.”

  “As I remember,” he said perfectly seriously, “our intimacy had very little to do with that.”

  Eleanor knew that her cheeks were flaming. “If you were a gentleman, sir, you would never refer to your despicable behavior at the Three Feathers. I assure you that I have forgotten it.”

  Laughter danced in his eyes. “Surely not, brown hen? I pride myself that my kisses are extremely memorable. Should I do it again, do you think, in order to refresh your memory?”

  He reached out one hand to gently stroke her cheek.

  “You have no shame at all, have you? How can you speak so to me when you have been writing to Lady Diana? If her fortune is your goal here, then I give you notice right now that I shall do everything in my power to put a spoke in your wheel.”

  “Ah,” he said. “Hawksley. Quite a dowry for such a rattlebrain as Diana.”

  “You will never get it. I shall tell her of your behavior to me.”

  “Now that I would rather you didn’t do. She is dreadfully fond of me, you know, and would be shocked to think I could behave with so little probity.”

  “I imagine you care nothing for her feelings, or anyone else’s. Hawksley Park is your only aim.”

  “It would be dishonest if I claimed not to love Hawksley, but I don’t begrudge it. And I have no intention whatsoever of stealing it from Diana. How could I?”

  “By marrying her, of course. No wonder she won’t tell Lady Augusta about your attentions! You wouldn’t dare ask proper permission to address her only daughter, would you? What do you intend to do? Elope to Gretna Green with the heiress?”

  His smile was full of delight. At my expense, thought Eleanor, almost blind with fury.

  “Who exactly do you think I am, Lady Eleanor?” he asked seriously.

  “I must suppose you are a certain Mr. Downe,” Eleanor said. “Diana told me about you. You have been acting toward her with a complete lack of honor.”

  “Have I?” he said. “How very odd! As a matter of fact, I am not poor Walter, who is actually the Honorable Mr. Downe, I am—”

  “Lee!” Lady Diana Hart squealed, hurtling into the room and straight into the man’s chest.

  Her golden hair was bright against his dark coat as she crushed him in her arms. Eleanor had to annihilate the humiliatingly ungenerous feelings that rose in her breast.

  “I’ve just been hearing that you’re a paragon of feminine rectitude, Di,” he said, hugging her, then holding her at arm’s length to plant a kiss on her forehead. “Firstly from your humble faithful knight, the Honorable Walter Feveril Downe, and now from your furious friend. Then the minute you see me you act like a fishwife. What would Lady Augusta think?”

  “That you’re a bad influence, but then she’s thought that for years. Why is Eleanor furious?”

  “She thought that I was the suitor, come to steal away the heiress.”

  “Oh, Eleanor, you didn’t?” Diana laughed. “How could you be such an idiot? This is my half-brother, Leander Campbell, and next to Walter I love him more than anyone in the world.”

  Chapter 3

  “Your half-brother?”

  “Pray, don’t gape, Lady Eleanor,” he said with the smallest of winks. “Alas, it’s true. Such accidents happen in even the best of families.”

  He walked across to the shadowed portrait that hung in pride of place above the fireplace. Eleanor had paid it no attention until this moment. But Leander Campbell lit a brace of candles and held them up before the painting.

  A young man in the dress of some twenty years before stared down at them. The flickering light played over his high cheekbones and carved nostrils and brought out deep blue highlights in his eyes. He wore an elegant high-collared green brocade coat with matching breeches. One hand caressed the head of a hound and the other sat on the hilt of a sword. The beautiful long fingers were identical to those that supported the candlestick. And it was the same face, with an echo of the same charm and the same infuriating arrogance.

  Beneath the painting lay a small gilt plaqu
e: “Gerald Arthur Richard Hart, fifth Earl of Hawksley.”

  “My father,” Leander Campbell said cheerfully. “And Di’s, of course. An embarrassing likeness and we share more than our looks. He was, like me, an infamous reprobate.”

  “Oh, fiddlesticks,” Diana said. “Everybody was in those days. You would never behave as recklessly as he did.”

  “Wouldn’t I? You have a rosy view of my character, dear sister. But Lady Eleanor doesn’t know what we’re talking about. She’s beginning to look worried and it’s becoming impolite to leave her in the dark any longer.”

  Diana turned to Eleanor. “My father met Lee’s mother in Scotland on his Highland tour. He returned to England just in time for the Season and never went back. But she, poor thing, was left in an interesting condition without benefit of a marriage ceremony. It was ages before he married Mama.”

  “Four and a half years to be exact. Which hardly excuses him, does it?” he said. “Her name was Moira Campbell. Her father, Ian Campbell, tried to hide the family scandal by shipping me off to Ireland as a baby. I was left in a convent, which smelled of herbs, as I remember—and sanctity, of course. The scrubby orphan was rescued and brought back to England by a passing soldier. Our neighbor, Sir Robert St. John Crabtree, as it happens—”

  “—who turned up here at Hawksley Park with the foundling,” Diana said.

  “Only to find that the heedless younger son who had seduced my mother had become Earl of Hawksley when his brother died unexpectedly. The new earl married Lady Augusta, but was then careless enough to break his neck, leaving his widow alone in her turn to produce Diana. I wonder when he found time to have his portrait painted?”

  “You remember all this?” Eleanor said a little unsteadily.

  The violet eyes filled with amusement. “Only the nuns,” he said. “They wore white sails on their heads sufficient to blow them unaided out to sea. Now don’t you think we should go downstairs? We stop only long enough to pay our respects, then my friend and I hurry on to Deerfield.”

  “A friend?” Lady Diana said, turning pale, then pink. “Not Walter!”

  “Of course Walter,” her brother replied. “I came up to warn you so that you wouldn’t swoon when you found him in the house. Though it took an ungodly amount of persuasion for me to overcome his finer scruples, which is why we sojourn with Sir Robert and not here. Not even my mesmerizing talents could make Mr. Downe stay at Hawksley, and it seemed perhaps a trifle impolitic to ask Lady Augusta to be his hostess. What do you think?”

  “You brought him here? He said he would come. I think I love you to distraction,” Diana cried. “But don’t tell me you have left him with Mama in the drawing room.”

  “Don’t worry! Lady Acton is there to protect him and your mother believes him just a casual friend of mine. She’s being condescending and gracious and asking him about his family.”

  “You mean she’s being absolutely horrid and trying to make him feel inferior that his father’s only a viscount.”

  “Which is proving a source of great concern, isn’t it? Never mind! I told him to elope with you.”

  “Lee! How could you?”

  “Of course he has far too much moral fiber and my attempts at corrupting him seem to be falling on deaf ears. So I suppose it’s to be the drooping offshoot of the Duke of Maybury? Just don’t ask me to dance at the wedding.”

  “If you don’t stop this instant, I shall never forgive you!”

  “You could always go hand in hand to Lady Augusta and ask her permission for a love match, dear child,” he said gently. “I believe that beneath all that starch and venom, she does care for you.”

  “She would never—oh, Lee, it’s hopeless, truly.” Diana’s blue eyes filled with tears.

  “Then the only possibility is for me to undermine your lover’s finer principles, isn’t it?” he said.

  They went together to the doorway, which he held open for each of the girls in turn. As Eleanor passed him he leant down and whispered in her ear.

  “You see, I told you I was a bastard.”

  Which left Eleanor with nothing to say. She was unreservedly relieved that at least he wasn’t the Walter Feveril Downe who had stolen Lady Diana’s heart. Yet it would appear that the men were friends. Eleanor bit her lip. She could never discuss anything about the infuriating Mr. Campbell with Diana. For how did you tell a friend that her beloved illegitimate half-brother had kissed you like a chambermaid in an inn and even offered to blackmail you over it?

  * * *

  As promised, Leander Campbell did little more than bid a polite farewell to the company in the drawing room before he hustled Walter Feveril Downe back out to their carriage. Diana, however, had first made a point of clinging to Lee’s arm and introducing him to Lady Acton as her brother. Eleanor’s beautiful mother had no problem at all in instantly leaping to the correct conclusion.

  “My dear Augusta!” she cried with considerable glee, as soon as the young men had left. “So the infamous Mr. Campbell is actually connected with your family! Gerald was more than a little indiscreet before he became earl, wasn’t he? But I had no idea—Campbell? Was she Scottish? It was all the rage when we were young to tour the Highlands and admire the clans. I don’t suppose Gerald was the only man to leave such a mark of his admiration behind. But what a cross for you to bear!”

  “I am surprised that you would move in such circles in society that you would have made Leander’s acquaintance,” the dowager shot back.

  “Oh, my dear!” The Countess of Acton laughed. “I have never personally met him before, of course. But I have two sons who have been known to decorate the ton with their talents. And a husband who isn’t averse to visiting the gaming dens when we’re in Town. Mr. Campbell’s a very high flyer, I understand.”

  “It’s not a connection in which I take pride, Felicity, but I believe I have done my duty—more than my duty. And although I don’t acknowledge him in Town, he is Diana’s half-brother and always allowed to visit Hawksley.”

  “Such a handsome young man!” Lady Acton sighed, though she still seemed closer to laughter. “He’s very like Gerald as I remember him. And like his father, if all accounts are true, he’s taken to reckless gaming and vice. His situation is most unfortunate, of course, but one would think there are any number of respectable trades in which he could engage.”

  “I am forced to admit that I believe him entirely profligate,” Lady Augusta said sternly.

  “How can you say so, Mama?” Diana was incapable of hiding her rising indignation. “You know that’s not true.”

  She blushed scarlet as the two countesses fixed her with their gaze.

  “Diana, you know nothing at all of the matter. He was a charming child, of course. But now he throws away his life on the most worthless of pursuits. I do not deny you your relationship with your half-brother. And when we are in the country and our kind neighbor sees fit to entertain him and his friend, Mister—what was his name?”

  “The Honorable Mr. Feveril Downe, Mama,” Diana whispered.

  “Yes, Mr. Downe. When we are in the country, I say, I see no harm in it, but you must begin to distance yourself from your brother. Lord Ranking will not expect Mr. Campbell to come calling at Maybury Castle.”

  “Yes, Mama.”

  Diana looked in dismay at Eleanor who had been sitting quietly beside her on the ottoman during the entire conversation, thinking how extremely awkward it was going to be if the handsome Mr. Leander Campbell came calling again at Hawksley Park.

  * * *

  The carriage splashed through the night toward Deerfield. Leander Campbell lounged comfortably in one corner with his booted feet crossed on the opposite seat. He realized that an observer would have judged him simply bored, but in fact he was thinking very seriously about Manton Barnes. The tragic circumstances of the man’s death filled Lee with both rage and a very real grief. Whatever it took, he was determined to uncover the truth and avenge it.

  For a moment at
the inn it appeared that Lady Eleanor Acton could be the lady Barnes had referred to in his note, but that was absurd. He had no idea why an earl’s daughter had risked wandering about in an interesting state of undress long after dark, but he knew now just how innocent she really was.

  Yet it had been essential that he make certain. So he refused to dwell on the resulting recollection of his own behavior—or on the absolute loveliness of her response. Lady Eleanor Acton was beyond his reach and could be dismissed from his concerns.

  The lady referred to in Barnes’s note could only be her mother. But what was the connection between Lady Acton, Manton Barnes, and blackmail? And why was the countess in Norfolk?

  After a while he looked across at his yellow-headed companion.

  “If you sigh one more time, Downe, I shall simply slaughter you in your seat.”

  “She does care for me, doesn’t she? You’re her brother—has she told you anything?”

  “She doesn’t have to. You look at each other like paupers staring into a gingerbread stall. But my sister is very much under her Mama’s thumb. If you were not both such pillars of respectability, the answer would be simple.”

  “You still mean elope with her? Are you really so lost to everything, sir?”

  Leander Campbell laughed. “Of course!”

  Walter looked down and frowned. “I’m sorry, old chap. My affairs are no concern of yours. What were you thinking about?”

  “As a matter of fact, about how I shall tell Major Crabtree that his nephew Manton Barnes is dead.”

  “Did he care for him?”

  “Very little, I should think.”

  “Will you tell him it was suicide—about the blackmail?”

  “Certainly not!” Lee leaned back again and closed his eyes. “No, I am more interested in what Crabtree might be able to tell me about Barnes and his connections. But right now what I should really like to know is: What the devil are Lady Acton and her daughter doing here?”

  “Visiting old friends, of course. Lady Diana and Lady Eleanor were at the same school. It’s odd, isn’t it, that Lady Acton is such an outstanding beauty when her daughter’s so ordinary?”