Page 3 of Tender Rebel


  Frances shivered, despite the warm summer night. “You’re not making this up, are you?”

  “I wish I was, Frances, I really do. Gramp always hoped Geordie would marry, but he never did. Gramp knew he had just been biding his time, waiting for the day I’d be left alone with no one to protest very loudly if he forced me to marry him. And he’s too big for me to fight, even if I am right handy with a dirk and keep one in my boot.”

  “You don’t!”

  “Oh, I do. Gramp made sure I knew how to use it too. But what help would a little dirk be if Geordie hired help to abduct me? Now you know why I had to leave Scotland so quickly, why I’m here.”

  “And why you want a husband.”

  “Yes, that too. Once I’m married, there’s nothing Geordie can do. Gramp made me promise I’d marry, and quickly. He planned everything, even my escape. Geordie will search Scotland first before he looks for me here, so I have a little time to choose someone, but not much.”

  “Dash it all, it’s not fair, none of it,” Frances said with feeling. “How can you fall in love in such a rush?”

  Roslynn grinned, remembering Gramp’s stern admonishment. “Protect yerself first, lassie, wi’ a ring on yer finger. Ye can find love later.” And how she had blushed, understanding exactly what he’d meant. But he had also conceded. “Of course, if love falls into yer lap, dinna be pushing it off. Hold fast and dinna let go, fer it could work, and then ye’ll have nae need tae be looking fer it later.”

  Gramp had had other advice too, about whom she should consider. “They say a rake makes a dandy husband, that’s if a bonny lass can catch his heart—no’ his eye, mind ye—his heart. He’s sowed his oats, ye see, more than sowed them, plowed the whole field, sae tae speak. Sae when he settles down, he’s ready tae do just that.”

  “They also say, once a rake, always a rake,” Roslynn had been compelled to point out. This bit of advice from Gramp she hadn’t been at all thrilled with.

  “Who says sae? If that’s sae, then the heart hasna been caught. Ye catch the heart, lassie, and ye’ll be glad of it, ye will. But I’m no’ talking ’bout the young hellions, nae, nae. Ye want tae find a mon wi’ enough years on him tae ken he’s had his wild days aplenty and doesna need more. But ye dinna want him jaded either. Be careful of that.”

  “And how do you tell the difference?”

  “If he still has feeling. If ye can excite him—och, never mind those blushes, lassie. Ye’ll be exciting more young bloods then ye’ll ken what tae do wi’, and enough rakes as well, sae ye’ll have plenty tae choose from.”

  “But I don’t want a rake,” she had insisted.

  “Ye will,” Duncan predicted. “Happens they’re the ones the lassies canna resist. Just make sure ye get the ring afore ye allow—”

  “Gramp!”

  He snorted at her exclamation. “If I dinna tell ye, who will? Ye need tae ken how tae handle such a mon.”

  “With the back of my hand, that’s how.”

  He chuckled. “Now, hinny, ye’re no’ being open-minded about this,” he cajoled her. “If the mon attracts ye and sets yer heart tae fluttering, are ye going tae ignore him simply because he’s a rake?”

  “Yes!”

  “But I tell ye they make the best husbands!” He had turned to shouting in the face of her stubbornness. “And I want the best mon fer ye, even if ye willna have much time tae find him.”

  “How in the blue blazes do you know, Gramp? Just tell me that, if you can.” She wasn’t angry, just flustered. Gramp didn’t know she already had knowledge of rakes through Frances, and as far as she was concerned, they were to be avoided like the plague.

  “I was one myself, and dinna look sae surprised. I’d had sixteen years of plowing the fields afore I met and married yer grandmother, and I was faithful tae the lass until the day she died.”

  An exception. One exception. Certainly not enough for Roslynn to change her mind about that particular breed of gentleman. But she didn’t tell Duncan that. She let him think he had made his point. Still, this was one part of his advice she wouldn’t follow and so made no promises about.

  To Frances and her question about love, Roslynn shrugged. “If it doesn’t happen right off, then it doesn’t. You managed to live through it.”

  Frances frowned. “I had no choice.”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have reminded you of that. But as for me, show me a fine-looking fellow who isn’t too much of a skirt-chaser and he’ll do nicely. If I think I can like him, that should suffice.” And then she grinned. “After all, I have my grandfather’s permission, suggestion even, to find love later if I don’t get it in my marriage.”

  “He…would you?”

  Roslynn chuckled at her friend’s shocked countenance. “Let me find the husband before I start thinking about the lover. Just cross your fingers for me that they turn out to be one and the same.”

  Chapter Four

  “Well, youngun? What boring bit of nonsense have you to impart? Will it do?” Anthony leaned casually against the doorjamb, watching Jeremy survey his new room with obvious delight.

  “Hell’s bells, Uncle Tony, I—”

  “Stop right there.” Anthony put on his most unnerving scowl for the lad’s benefit. “You can uncle my brothers to death if you like, but a simple Tony will do here, thank you.”

  Jeremy smiled widely, not at all intimidated. “It’s great, Tony, it really is. The room, the house, you. I can’t thank you en—”

  “Then don’t, please,” Anthony cut in quickly. “And before you go on with this bloody hero worship, be apprised I’m going to thoroughly debauch you, dear boy. Serve your father right for entrusting you in my care.”

  “You promise?”

  Anthony had to constrain the short bark of laughter. The lad had taken him seriously. “No, I do not. Good God, d’you think I want Jason down my throat? He’s going to go through the roof as it is when he learns James turned you over to me instead of him. No, I’ll introduce you to the type of female your father has forgotten exists.”

  “Like Regan?”

  Anthony’s scowl was quite real this time. “We’ll get on, you and I, as long as I never hear that name. Blister it, you’re as bad as your father—”

  “Now, I can’t let you speak poorly of my father, Uncle Tony,” Jeremy interrupted quite seriously.

  Anthony stepped forward and tossed the lad’s coal-black hair, so like his own. “Understand me, puppy. I love your father. Always have. But I’ll run him through the coals anytime I feel the urge to. He was my brother before he was your father, after all, and he doesn’t need defending by the likes of you. So keep your hackles down. I never meant anything by it.”

  Jeremy chuckled, mollified. “Rega—Reggie said you weren’t happy unless you were arguing with your brothers.”

  “Did she? Well, that puss always has been a know-it-all,” Anthony replied fondly. “And speaking of the lady, she sent round a note today. Seems she’s in town without her viscount for a change and in need of an escort for some ball tonight. How would you like the chore?”

  “Me? D’you mean it?” Jeremy asked excitedly.

  “I don’t see why not. She knows I can’t abide such affairs and wouldn’t have asked me if someone else were available. But Edward’s taken his brood up to Haverston for the week to visit Jason, and Derek’s up there too, so that unfortunately leaves you and me the only Malorys in town she can prevail upon—unless, of course, we foist the chore on your father. That’s if we could find him in time. He might be laying his pallet here for the week, but he mentioned something about looking up an old friend—”

  “Sarah,” Jeremy supplied, blue eyes twinkling. “She works in a tavern down—”

  “Spare me the details.”

  “You wouldn’t catch him going to a ball anyway, even for his favorite niece. But I’d love to. I even have the clothes for it. And I know how to dance, I really do. Connie taught me.”

  Anthony nearly choked on
that one. “Did he? Who led, you or he?”

  Jeremy grinned. “A little of both, but I’ve had practice with the wenches since, and they haven’t complained.”

  Anthony wasn’t about to ask what other forms of practice the lad had been at, for he could well imagine. Too much association with his father’s unsavory friends, obviously. Whatever was he going to do with such a charming scamp? But he would have to do something, for Jeremy was sadly lacking in the social graces, thanks to his father. A gentleman pirate—well, retired pirate—and a disreputable rake, yours truly—fine examples to choose from. Perhaps he ought to turn the lad over to his cousins when they returned to London and see if they could teach him the rudiments.

  “I’m sure Reggie’ll be delighted to dance with you, youngun, but call her a wench and she’s libel to box your ears. And she knows you well enough now, so she’ll be glad to have you for the evening. I understand she’s rather fond of you.”

  “Aye, she took right to me the day we abducted her.”

  “Must you remind me of that? And it was only after she knew who you were that she took to you, dear boy. Good God, for James to go to so much trouble to even the score with the viscount, then to find Reggie had married him.”

  “Well, that changed everything.”

  “Of course it did. But he shouldn’t have dragged you along in this quest for vengeance anyway.”

  “It was a matter of honor.”

  “Ah, so you know about honor, do you?” Anthony said dryly. “Then there’s hope for you, I suppose if we can manage to remove ‘wenches’ from your vocabulary, that is.”

  Jeremy blushed slightly. It wasn’t his fault he had spent the first years of his life in a tavern until his father discovered his existence and took him in hand. Connie, James’ first mate and best friend, was always on him about his speech; now here was another one determined to correct him.

  “Perhaps I’m not good enough to escort—”

  “There you go taking what I say to heart again.” Anthony shook his head at the boy. “Would I have suggested you escort my favorite niece if I didn’t think you were capable?”

  Jeremy was frowning now, but for a different reason. “I can’t do it. Hell’s bells, what was I even thinking of? Of course I can’t. If it was anyone else—no, I just can’t.”

  “What the devil are you mumbling about?”

  Jeremy stared at him intently. “I can’t take her to no ball if I’m to be her only protection. What if someone like you bothers her?”

  “Like me?” Anthony wasn’t sure whether he wanted to laugh or strangle the whelp.

  “You know what I mean, Tony, someone who doesn’t take well to a ‘no’ when he hears it. Not that I wouldn’t gullet anyone who dared—”

  “But who’s to take a seventeen-year-old seriously?” Anthony finished with a scowl. “Damnation, I can’t tolerate those bloody affairs! Never could, never will. But you’re quite right. I suppose we’ll have to compromise. You escort her, and I’ll keep an eye on her, too. The Crandal ballroom fronts a garden, I believe, so I ought to manage it without actually making an appearance. That should satisfy even her overprotective husband. Does that suit you, young Galahad?”

  “Aye, as long as I know you’re there and can step in if she has any real trouble. But hell’s bells, Tony, won’t you be bored stuck out in the garden all night?”

  “Assuredly, but I suppose I can suffer it for one evening. You don’t know what the alternative is should I actually show up at one of these affairs, and don’t ask. It’s the bane of my life, but it’s the life I choose, so I’ve no complaints.”

  And with that cryptic remark, Anthony left Jeremy to settle into his new quarters.

  Chapter Five

  “Well, m’dear, do you believe me now?” Frances whispered, coming up behind Roslynn, who stood in a circle of admirers, none of whom had left her alone since she arrived at this ball, the third such affair in as many days.

  The question was innocent enough, if anyone had heard, but no one had. Though the eyes of the gentlemen present returned continuously to Roslynn in her teal satin gown, their attention was momentarily engaged by a friendly argument about some race that was supposed to take place tomorrow. She had started the argument, which seemed the thing to do since it broke up the previous argument about who was to dance with her next. She was quite tired of dancing, especially with Lord Bradley, who must have the biggest feet this side of the Scottish border.

  Fortunately, or unfortunately in Roslynn’s case, she didn’t need to ask Frances to explain her question. Frances had asked it once too often in the last days, quite thrilled that she had been right about Roslynn’s reception by the ton and Roslynn had been wrong. She was rubbing it in good, taking Roslynn’s success personally, as if it were her own.

  “I believe you.” Roslynn sighed, hoping this would be the last time she would have to say it. “Honest to God, I do. But however am I to make a choice from so many?”

  Frances pulled her back a few steps to admonish her. “You don’t have to choose any of them. Heavens, you’ve only just begun the hunt. There are other eligibles you haven’t met yet. You’re not going to jump into this blindly, now are you?”

  “No, no, of course not. I don’t intend to marry a complete stranger. Well, he will be one to me in actuality, but I mean to learn everything I can about him first. I believe in knowing my quarry as well as possible to avoid mistakes.”

  “Quarry indeed.” Frances rolled her eyes dramatically. “Is that how you’re looking at this?”

  Roslynn sighed again. “Oh, I don’t know, Frances. It just seems so cold-blooded, no matter how you look at it, especially when no one I’ve met yet has tickled my interest even a wee bit. I’m going to buy myself a husband. There’s no nicer way of putting it. And it doesn’t look as if I’m going to particularly like the fellow if this is all I have to choose from. But as long as he meets the other criteria—”

  “Posh!” Frances admonished sternly. “You’re giving up when you’ve only just begun the search. What’s happened to depress you so?”

  Roslynn grimaced. “They’re all so young, Frances. Gilbert Tyrwhitt can’t be more than twenty, and Neville Baldwin not much older. The earl is my age, and Lord Bradley is only a few years older, though he acts as if he should never have been let out of the schoolroom. Those other two are no better. Damnation, they make me feel so ancient. But Gramp did warn me. He said I should look to an older man, but where are they? And if you tell me they’re all married already, I think I’ll scream.”

  Frances laughed. “Ros, you’re just rushing it. There are a number of distinguished gentlemen here, widowers, and some confirmed bachelors who I’m sure will reconsider that status once they meet you. But I’ll no doubt have to point them out to you, because they’re probably intimidated by these young bucks dancing attendance on you and feel the competition’s too stiff. After all, you are a smashing success. If you want an older man, you’ll have to give the poor fellow some encouragement, let him know that you’re interested—well, you know what I mean.”

  “Hell’s teeth, Frances, you don’t have to blush. I’ve no problem with being forward if I have to. I’m even prepared to state my case and do the proposing myself. Now don’t raise your eyebrows at me. You know I mean it, and I’ll do it if I have to.”

  “You know very well you’d be too embarrassed to be that bold.”

  “Under normal circumstances, perhaps. But under these circumstances, I haven’t much choice. I’ve no time to be wasting on a proper courtship, and certainly no time to be sitting around waiting for the right man to come along. So point out the more experienced eligibles, and I’ll tell you which ones I want to be introduced to. I’ve quite had enough of these young bloods.”

  “So be it,” Frances replied and looked casually about the room. “There, by the musicians, that tall one. I can’t think of his name off hand, but I understand he’s a widower with two children—no, three, I think it is. He mu
st be forty-one or -two, and is a very likable sort from what I hear. Has a big estate up in Kent where the children are, but he prefers town life. Is he more what you had in mind?”

  Roslynn grinned at Frances’ inept attempt at sarcasm. “Oh, he’s not bad, not bad a-tall. I like that silver at the temples. If I can’t have love, I must insist on pleasant-looking, and he is, don’t you think? Yes, he’ll do for a start. Now who else?”

  Frances gave her a disgusted look, for she certainly felt as if she were at a market selecting choice goods, even if Roslynn didn’t. It was all so unsavory, the logical and businesslike way Ros was approaching this. But then wasn’t that really the way it was, only most women had a father or a guardian to handle the particulars, while they concerned themselves merely with the happy fantasies of love evermore, or in the unfortunate cases, love nevermore. Ros didn’t have anyone to deal with the realities of marriage for her, so she had to make all the arrangements herself, including the financial settlements.

  More in the spirit of the thing now since to fight it was so useless, Frances pointed out another gentleman, and another; after an hour, Roslynn had met them all and had narrowed down a new list of possibles, this one much more acceptable agewise. But the young blades still wouldn’t leave her alone and insisted on dance after dance. Although her popularity relieved a good deal of her anxiety, a very great deal of it actually, it was becoming a bit of a nuisance too.

  Having lived so long in seclusion with her grandfather and the servants known to her for most of her life, Roslynn had had very little traffic with gentlemen. The males of her acquaintance were used to her, and those she didn’t know she very properly didn’t take notice of. Unlike Nettie, who took in everything at a glance and was well aware of Roslynn’s effect on the male gender, Roslynn was too circumspect when out and about to pay attention to what went on around her. It was not surprising that she had put so little store in her looks, which had never seemed very out-of-the-ordinary to her, and so much store in her age, which seemed inappropriate for her purpose, and had counted solely on her status as an heiress to win her a husband quickly.