Ready Set Rogue Read online

  He’d simply have to warn his cousin away after dinner. That was all there was to it.

  “Stop scowling,” Serena said from his other side in a low voice only he could hear. “You look like you’re going to leap across the table and strangle him. And while I sympathize with your fondness for Miss Wareham, I hardly think he will seduce her in front of a room full of people. Not to mention the fact that Ivy does not strike me as the sort of lady to give herself to one man in the morning and another in the evening.”

  Serena’s words made Quill feel like an ass. It hadn’t occurred to him how unfair to Ivy his jealousy was until she put it that way.

  Taking a healthy drink of wine, he turned to her with a rueful smile. “I suppose I am being a boor, but I was hoping for a swift decision from her. And didn’t count on Maitland and his charms to distract her.” Before she could speak again, he raised a hand to ward off her scold. “I know it’s asinine. Believe me, you can’t chastise me more than I do myself.”

  Serena’s gaze softened a little. “Have faith, Quill. If the way he and Lady Daphne are looking at each other is any indication, you have nothing to worry about. And aside from that, Ivy keeps looking at you when you aren’t watching her. I don’t think you have anything to worry about from my brother.”

  Frowning, Quill turned and caught Ivy watching him. As their eyes met, her cheeks colored and she turned her gaze back to her plate.

  The reminder of what lay between them was enough to dispel any doubts he had, and Quill vowed to do as Serena asked and have more faith. Having grown up with a mother who often flouted her own lovers before his father’s eyes, however, it was difficult to acknowledge that not all women were like that.

  “Is the fish to your liking?” he asked, wishing for an iota of whatever it was that made Maitland so easy at conversation. “I must admit Mrs. Mason’s Trout Almondine is one of my favorites.”

  “It’s quite good,” Ivy agreed, then proceeded to take another bite. “I was looking forward to it as soon as I smelled it downstairs.”

  At that he frowned. “Why were you downstairs?”

  “I went to ask about Lady Celeste’s maid,” Ivy said in a confidential tone. “Because of the tisanes.”

  He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that she was back to looking for his aunt’s murderer, Quill thought wryly. Here he’d been mooning away over her like a lovestruck schoolboy, and Ivy was thinking of solving a murder.

  “And what did you learn?” he asked, intrigued despite his pique. “Anything of use?”

  “Apparently she was quite secretive about what she put in them,” Ivy said, pausing as the footman removed her plate. When they were back out of earshot, she continued, “And Mrs. Bacon said that she took a position with Mrs. Northman, Squire Northman’s wife. Do you know them?”

  At the mention of Mrs. Northman, Quill felt a pang of panic. Not only did he know Squire and Mrs. Northman, several years ago when he’d been young and foolish he’d engaged in an illicit liaison with the bored wife of the local landowner.

  * * *

  Aloud, however, Quill did not betray that he was more than distantly acquainted with the Northmans. “I believe I have met them when they were here to dine a few times.”

  The mention of his former lover so soon after his own unwarranted jealousy of his cousin could not be a coincidence. At least, not insofar as the Almighty was concerned. And Ivy’s next words only confirmed it. “I believe I will pay a call on Mrs. Northman tomorrow,” she said firmly. “I will ask about the tisanes and see if she will allow me to speak with Elsie. Surely there can be nothing objectionable about that.”

  Quill could think of a dozen things to object to in the notion of Ivy paying a call at the home of a man whom he’d cuckolded, but he could hardly say so aloud.

  He was saved from reply by Serena however, and almost laughed aloud at her words.

  “Are you speaking of the Northmans? For I received an invitation this afternoon asking all of us to dine in their home tomorrow evening. Mrs. Northman accounts herself to be a leader of local society—though to be honest, I think she will give herself more airs now that our aunt is no longer here to outrank her.”

  “You and I outrank this lady,” said Daphne bluntly as the whole table turned their attention to Serena. “So, she has no reason for smugness, I think.”

  Despite his dyspepsia at the idea of sitting at the Northman dinner table, Quill couldn’t help but grin at Maitland’s wide-eyed astonishment at Lady Daphne’s words. That young lady’s plain speaking took a bit of getting used to, even if she was beautiful in her way. He himself was partial to redheads, but he could see that Daphne’s willowy blonde looks were handsome enough.

  Still, if Maitland meant to fix the attentions of someone like Lady Daphne, the sooner he became accustomed to her blunt talk the better. Otherwise he would live in a perpetual state of open-mouthed shock. Though come to think of it, paired with Maitland’s own charm, Lady Daphne’s talk might not seem so impolite.

  “That is perhaps true, Daphne,” said Serena with a speaking look, “but it is not the thing for you to say it aloud.”

  “But you are the one who mentioned that this Mrs. Northman puts on airs,” Daphne protested with a frown. “I don’t see what is so wrong about my own words. We do outrank her. Why is the truth so often the very thing it is impolite to say?”

  Quill waited for Serena to explain, but she was forestalled by her brother who said gently, “Perhaps because the truth is so often that which hurts most, Lady Daphne.”

  Daphne frowned as if thinking over the suggestion. “I suppose that might be true,” she said thoughtfully. “I certainly do not like being told I’ve made a mistake in an equation, no matter how true it might be. Is that what you mean?”

  “Something like that,” Maitland agreed with a nod. “Though in this case, I believe it’s because to say you outrank someone is considered impolite.”

  Daphne sighed. “I will never understand what is and is not considered to be polite. Why can I not simply ask where Ivy and Quill sheltered from this storm this afternoon without being shushed by Sophia? And why is it impolite of me to point out that the mud on their boots was dry when they returned? It was the truth. And I fail to see how mud can be polite or impolite. Mud simply is.”

  A silence fell upon the table as the duke eyed Quill with a gleam of speculation in his eyes. So much for giving Ivy a couple of days to sort out her feelings on the matter, he thought while exchanging a chagrined look with her.

  “It most certainly is,” Maitland agreed with Daphne.

  “Why don’t we allow the gentlemen to their port, ladies?” Serena said, rising, though some of them hadn’t yet finished dessert.

  Wordlessly, the other ladies followed, and though Quill wished to reassure Ivy, he let her go with them.

  Once they were out of the room, he moved to sit beside Maitland who was grinning like an idiot.

  “Don’t say anything,” he warned the other man with a shake of his head. “For you of all people have no room to cast aspersions.”

  Picking up the port Greaves had just poured for him, the duke raised it in a toast. “To my dear cousin, who despite being the most disagreeable fellow imaginable still manages to charm the ladies.”

  “It’s only one lady in particular I’m concerned with at the moment, Maitland,” Quill said with a scowl. “And I’ll thank you to stay away from her while you’re here. I’m having enough difficulty convincing her to set aside her freedom and marry me without having to compete with your damned Viking charm.”

  But his cousin only laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of it, old fellow. I’m just shocked to see you caught in the parson’s mousetrap by dint of something as innocuous as a rainstorm. At the very least I hope you were able to kiss the chit during this tryst.”

  Quill’s silence told what had happened in the little cottage more loudly than his words might have done.

  Maitland whistled. “So, it’s that way, is i
t? I’m surprised, I must admit. I always thought you were the more controlled of us two. I certainly never expected a pretty redhead to tempt you into giving up your freedom. Though she does possess the most spectacular pair of ti—”

  His voice broke off as Quill’s hand gripped him by the neck. “Mind yourself. That’s my future wife you’re speaking of.”

  When his cousin nodded, grin still intact, Quill removed his hand.

  “My apologies,” said Maitland with a huff of laughter as he straightened his cravat. “Won’t happen again, I assure you. I was trying to assess your degree of affection for the girl. I think your grip on my throat speaks volumes.”

  “And I suppose you couldn’t just ask like a normal person?” Quill groused. He didn’t like losing control and he’d done so quite thoroughly twice already today. This was getting to become a habit.

  “Where’s the fun in that?” Maitland laughed, running a hand over top of his blond hair. “At the very least I know the truth now rather than the polite fiction I suspect you’d have given me if I asked. You like to play these things close to the vest.”

  “Because they’re nobody’s business but my own,” Quill said heatedly. “You always were too damned nosy by half.”

  “Not nosy, cuz,” said the duke. “Concerned. If I thought you’d been nabbed by a fortune hunter whom you held in contempt, then I’d see to it that she was paid well and sent on her way.”

  At the idea of Ivy as a fortune hunter, Quill laughed. Hard. She might be many things, but he rather thought that if she could be locked away in Aunt Celeste’s library for the rest of her years, she would be happier than a young Maitland in the dancer filled green room of the Royal Opera House. If she could come to care one tenth as much for him as she did for one of her Greek fragments, he’d count himself a lucky man.

  “I can see then,” Maitland said with a grin, “that my fears are misplaced. You can’t blame me though. These four chits with their bluestocking tendencies who were chosen by who knows what means by Aunt Celeste could all murder us in our beds tonight. From what Serena has told me, you know only what they’ve told you.”

  “And what the notes from Celeste’s investigation revealed,” Quill said firmly. “She was no fool, Aunt Celeste. Whatever her reasons for choosing these four, she made sure she wasn’t bringing anyone likely to steal all her artifacts and burn the house down.”

  “Perhaps not, but I’ll keep an eye out on them just the same,” Maitland said with a grin. “The lovely Lady Daphne in particular.”

  “I’d watch myself if I were you,” Quill said with a warning note. “Lady Daphne is lovely, but she could cut a man down with a word without a flinch.”

  “Oh, I certainly hope so,” Maitland said wolfishly. “I like a challenge.”

  “So do I,” Quill answered, “but I like my ballocks right where they are, thanks.”

  But his cousin waved away the warning. “You just mind yourself and your little redhead. Leave the sharp tongued Lady Daphne to me.”

  “With pleasure,” Quill said raising his glass.

  Chapter 19

  “What a handsome man the duke is, don’t you think?” Daphne asked the other ladies after they had retired to the drawing room.

  Lady Serena had gone up to check on Jeremy before bed, though Ivy was quite sure Daphne would have said the same whether their chaperone was with them or not.

  “You’d best watch yourself, Daphne,” Gemma said with a hiss. “He’s far too charming by half. I don’t trust him one bit.”

  “What has trust to do with anything?” Daphne asked, puzzled. “I’m not looking to marry him, after all.”

  Despite herself, Ivy was once again shocked by the ease with which Daphne spoke about men. Now that she’d actually experienced what being with a man that way entailed, she couldn’t imagine doing it with someone for whom she felt nothing. Though she didn’t think she could call what she felt for Quill love, she certainly held him in some affection. And though her first instinct had been to ask for more time when he said they should marry, she was beginning to see that refusing to marry him might prove as difficult as marrying him would. And what if there was a child? She was just as unhappy at the thought of it being born out of wedlock as he was. No matter how she might believe in the institution itself, it was far more beneficial for men than it was for women.

  “Don’t fret, dear,” said Sophia, putting a comforting arm around her shoulders. “It will work out. I promise.”

  “No thanks to Daphne,” said Gemma with a frown at the blonde. “I thought we’d agreed not to divulge what we knew about happened with Ivy and Lord Kerr this morning.”

  Daphne frowned. “I don’t see what the big secret is. I daresay the servants are all chattering about it as we speak.”

  “That’s not the point,” Sophia said with a sigh. “Now not only we know, but Lady Serena and her brother the duke know too.”

  But Ivy had a good idea that Lady Serena had known before Daphne’s outburst, at least that was what she’d guessed on seeing the chaperone’s lack of surprise at Daphne’s words. She wondered if Quill had spoken to her or if she’d guessed on her own. It would be just like Quill to confess to her, she thought with a grimace. Despite his promise to give her time he would have felt the mark on his honor keenly. It was an insult to Lady Serena for him to have seduced Ivy, no matter how much Ivy might be loath to admit that’s what it had been, and he would wish to unburden himself on her.

  “And what has that to say in the matter?” Daphne asked.

  “It means that Ivy will have to marry the marquess whether she wishes to or not.” Sophia said.

  “I don’t see why,” Daphne argued.

  Ivy sighed. Sometimes conversing with Daphne was like beating one’s head against a wall only to have the wall change direction and hit you on the back of the head instead.

  “That’s because they’re either already married or they’ve got no reputation to preserve to begin with,” Gemma said patiently. “One indiscretion can spell ruin for someone like Ivy.”

  “Oh,” Daphne looked genuinely troubled by the news. Just when Ivy was ready to dismiss her as completely devoid of fellow-feeling, the mathematician surprised her with a burst of compassion. “I am sorry, Ivy.”

  “I don’t necessarily think that Daphne’s pronouncement means that I shall be forced to marry the marquess,” Ivy said trying to put the best face on things. “After all, his lordship and I can refute her claim. And it’s not as if anyone found us in the cottage together.”

  She looked at Sophia and Gemma to gauge their reaction to her words, but the pained smiles that greeted her told more than outright denials would have.

  “I’m sure any number of young ladies would be thrilled to receive an offer from the marquess,” Sophia said brightly. “He’s a feast for the eyes, make no mistake. Have you see the legs on that man? He does justice to a pair of breeches, doesn’t he?”

  “Indeed he does,” said Gemma fanning herself at her sister’s words. “And he’s quite handsome in a dark, brooding way. I can quite see him as the hero of a gothic novel, all glowering scowls and feats of derring-do to rescue his lady.”

  Ivy sighed, and dropped onto the nearest settee. “You can stop trying to put the best face on it,” she said glumly. “I quite agree that he is handsome. And that he is doubtlessly a prize on the marriage mart. It’s just that I wasn’t thinking to marry him myself.”

  Sophia poured her a cup of tea from the tray that one of the maids had brought in discreetly while they talked, and handed it to her, taking the seat beside her.

  “I daresay there is a great deal of scholarly work you’d thought to accomplish before doing anything as rash as marrying?” she asked quietly.

  “Unless they are of a like mind, I’ve been told by another lady mathematician,” Daphne offered as she settled into a nearby chair, “that husbands can be quite the impediment to scholarly pursuits.”

  “But that needn’t be the case,”
Gemma offered kindly. “What of Madame d’Arblay? Her husband was quite pleased with her writing and was devoted until her death. Much more so than the lady’s own father had been during her childhood.” The famous novelist, known as Frances Burney to her readers had made a love match.

  “That is quite true,” Sophia agreed with a nod, her brown curls bobbing with her vehemence. “She did not write Camilla until after her marriage, and I quite enjoyed it. More than Evelina even. Though I still have a soft spot for Lord Ormond. So mysterious and handsome.”

  “Has Lord Kerr voiced any objections to your translation work?” Daphne asked, her pretty brow furrowed. “Because if he has not, then you do not know if he will do so at all. It makes little sense to bemoan something that has yet to occur, doesn’t it?”

  “That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said this evening, Daphne,” said Gemma with approval. “In fact, we do not know what his lordship’s attitude will be toward your scholarly pursuits, Ivy. So perhaps you should put the question to him. It cannot hurt, can it?”

  “Oh dear,” said a deep voice as the door to the drawing room opened to reveal the Duke of Maitland and Lord Kerr. “It sounds as if they are plotting, Kerr,” said the duke, raising his quizzing glass to survey each of the four ladies—lingering perhaps a shade longer on Daphne than was strictly necessary. “You must divulge all, ladies, lest you get yourselves into some scrape or other.”

  His pronouncement was met with four scowls from the ladies, causing his face to fall as quickly as his quizzing glass did, bouncing on its string at his side.

  “What’s amiss?” he asked quickly, looking to Ivy’s skeptical eye like a puppy that has been chastised.

  Quill exchanged an amused glance with Ivy before saying, “Perhaps that sort of thing might charm the ladies in London drawing rooms, cuz, but I think you may have insulted this lot, who were, as you well know, chosen by our aunt based upon their artistic and scholarly abilities. As such they are likely smarter than you and I put together on our best day with a fifty-yard head start.”