Page 13 of Scoundrel Take Me Away (Dukes in Disguise #3)
Chapter Six
Lucy was still fuming about it the next day as she sat at Bess’s bedside, reading aloud from Northanger Abbey .
The words fell from her lips, while internally all she could do was seethe about Thornecliff.
The nerve of the man! The sheer, galling, overweening arrogance.
What made it all the worse was that she still hadn’t been able to turn him down.
The opportunity he offered was too intriguing. The chance to see a side of London no pampered debutante or proper society matron would ever dream of—Lucy couldn’t pass it up.
Surely someone, somewhere in London’s vast, shadowy underworld would know the true identity of The Gentle Rogue.
She’d told her Rogue that she would rather he choose to tell her his name, but that didn’t mean Lucy couldn’t delve a little deeper into the mysteries surrounding him. And where better to search for clues to the identity of a famous highwayman than the demimonde of London?
In the back of her mind, the specter of Sir Colin Semple loomed, mysterious and threatening. The Gentle Rogue had been active for years—why was there suddenly an agent of the Crown sniffing about?
Despite her faith in The Gentle Rogue’s abilities, Lucy was worried. The urge to unmask him mingled with her fears for him should Sir Colin be the one to discover his true identity.
Perhaps if Lucy followed the trail all the way to The Gentle Rogue, she’d be able to convince him to exercise enough caution to avoid Sir Colin’s clutches.
Coming to the end of the chapter, Lucy surfaced from her thoughts and gave Bess a speculative glance.
Her friend lay on her side, one hand tucked beneath her cheek and her eyelids drooping.
She seemed to spend a lot of time drowsing at this stage midway through her pregnancy, Lucy observed worriedly, but even as she contemplated rising to her feet and tiptoeing from the room to let Bess rest, the pregnant woman opened her brown eyes and smiled.
“That was wonderful, Lucy. What an amusing writer that Miss Austen is. Is your voice tired?”
“Not at all,” Lucy denied, “but would you like a nap? Or a bite to eat? I could ask Monsieur Anatole to put together a tray for you!”
“You would brave Monsieur Anatole for me!” Bess grinned, some of her sparkle returning, and Lucy smiled back, relieved to be teased about her longstanding terror of Ashbourn House’s temperamental Parisian cook.
“He seems more keen on me now that my French has improved,” Lucy said. “And anyway, I know he would do anything for you, just like all the rest of the staff here. They adore you, Bess.”
“Your mother taught me her trick for ensuring the loyalty of her staff, and it has stood me in good stead since I became a duchess.”
“Treat them like human beings? Yes, ridiculous how far that alone will get you. But it’s more than that, Bess. Everyone here truly loves you. You’ve really made a life for yourself as Duchess of Ashbourn.”
“I’ve made a life with your brother,” Bess corrected her gently, in that way she had of never sounding as if she was correcting one. “And of course, with Kitty, our dear little scamp. You know the title never mattered to me.”
That was something of an understatement. As far as Lucy had been aware, young and caught up in her own emotional turmoil as she had been, the title had been a fairly large stumbling block in Bess and Nathaniel’s romance.
“I’m just glad you’re so settled and happy,” Lucy said, reaching over to clasp her friend’s hand affectionately.
“I would love to see you as settled and happy as I am,” Bess said, pressing her hand. “Was there truly no one you liked? No foreign gentleman turned your head? Once or twice you mentioned a gentleman friend in your letters, but it never seemed to come to anything.”
“I met a lot of interesting people, and had…some interesting times,” Lucy said, skirting around the details. It was a bit more awkward to gossip with Bess now that Lucy had the distinct impression that whatever she said might be shared with her elder brother.
They had come a long way in their relationship, but Lucy still had no desire to discuss her love life with him.
“But no one special,” Bess sighed.
“No one as special as—” Lucy cut herself off, biting her lip, but it was too late.
Bess’s eyes sharpened on her face. “Lucy. Do not tell me you are still obsessed with that awful highwayman!”
Lucy set her jaw stubbornly but tried to keep her voice light. “All right then, I won’t tell you.”
“Dear Lucy, you know you can tell me anything.”
I used to be able to , Lucy thought with a pang of sadness that she shook off with a determined smile.
She wondered what Bess would say if Lucy confessed that she’d had scandalous affairs—plural!
—with men on the Continent, and not one of them had made her feel a tenth of what she felt for The Gentle Rogue.
That even when she was in the arms of another man, her thoughts had strayed to the highwayman and the connection she felt with him.
“Don’t worry, Bess. My interest in The Gentle Rogue is purely professional,” she lied.
“Oh yes, your Midnight Rider stories for the Observator ! I have so enjoyed reading them. Your brother is so proud of your writing, you know.”
“He told me.” And hadn’t that been an interesting letter to receive, Lucy mused.
She cherished the image of her stern, taciturn, grim-faced brother curled up with one of her outrageously romantic epics.
“The Gentle Rogue’s exploits have indirectly made me quite a tidy little sum, I’ll have you know, and my publisher says the public is clamoring for more of my highwayman.
I’ve got to figure out how to bring the story to a close, but I’ve been somewhat…
blocked. I don’t even know if I want it to have a happy ending, with the highwayman riding off into the sunset with the innkeeper’s daughter, or something tragic that will make all my readers cry. ”
“I won’t pretend to understand a writer’s needs and I’ll never know how you come up with all those wonderful ideas for stories.
All I’ll say is I hope your fixation with The Gentle Rogue, professional or not, isn’t keeping you from forming an attachment to someone real. Someone you could make a life with.”
Lucy had to swallow hard around a sudden lump in her throat. Bess had always been able to slice straight through to the heart of a matter, with such a deft touch that one didn’t feel the cut until it had already sliced one to ribbons.
Lucy wasn’t a fool. She knew there was no future with someone who insisted on going masked and using a made-up moniker. Someone who only appeared by moonlight, like a dream, which was what he was. A fantasy, come to life.
But how could she explain that The Gentle Rogue had never felt like that to her? When she was with him, it felt more real than any passing flirtation in a ballroom or dalliance with a handsome French aristo ever had.
Lucy knew she couldn’t expect Bess to understand when she hardly understood it herself.
The pain of it stung Lucy into retorting, “Someone like the Duke of Thornecliff? I still can’t believe he is welcome in this house. That you would call that scoundrel a friend!”
To Lucy’s annoyance, Bess gave her an amused look. “I’ve been wondering how your outing went. I suppose I have my answer. And of course you needn’t see any more of Thorne, if he upsets you this much.”
Lucy felt the tips of her ears go hot. “Well. As it happens, I’ve agreed to let him escort me about a bit more. He is still a scoundrel, Bess, but he doesn’t upset me. I am utterly indifferent to him!”
“Mm, yes, I can tell,” Bess murmured, eyes twinkling, but before Lucy could triumphantly reveal her proof of what an unchanged reprobate Thornecliff was, with his bold declaration of his intent to seduce her, there was a knock at Bess’s bedroom door.
It opened to admit a tiny whirlwind in a white ruffled pinafore.
“Mama!” cried Kitty, racing to scramble up onto the bed, which was so high that she needed a discreet boost from Lucy to get her chubby legs all the way up. “I’m done with my nap.”
“I see that.” Bess laughed, opening her arms to her daughter with a radiant delight that caught at Lucy’s throat. Bess cuddled Kitty close to listen to the child’s recitation of a dream that seemed to involve quite a lot of cake.
Lucy wondered if she ought to try to remove the little girl, so that Bess could rest. But Bess looked perfectly content with Kitty in her arms.
They made a sweet picture. Lucy was suddenly and inexplicably homesick, as though all the moments of this child’s life that Lucy had missed thus far were weighing on her heart.
Or perhaps Lucy merely missed her own mother.
Kitty reached the end of her tale and turned to stare at Lucy like a baby owl, all round eyes and solemn expression. “Why do you look sad?”
Lucy’s throat tightened but she gave her niece a smile. “Oh, I was just thinking how much I’ve missed while I was away. You were a baby the last time I was home; you’ve grown so!”
She winced. it was exactly the sort of inane comment she’d always despised from the adults who’d deigned to notice her when her parents threw one of their raucous parties, but Kitty appeared to take it in stride.
“I’m big now. Three and a half. There’s a baby inside Mama,” she announced. “A sister for me.”
“It could be a brother,” Bess reminded her gently. “We don’t know yet.”
“I do know,” Kitty insisted. “It has to be a girl because if it’s a boy, I’ll put him outside in the dustbin.”
Lucy felt her eyebrows climb toward her hairline—though, honestly, most adult men of Lucy’s acquaintance belonged in there, as well—but Bess remained unruffled.
“We shall love the new baby,” Bess said calmly, “even if the worst happens, and it is a boy. And we shall also love you, sweet Kittykins, as much as ever.”
Sweet Kittykins regarded her mother thoughtfully for a moment before turning to Lucy and saying, “The baby is very naughty. Sometimes it kicks Mama.”