Angel Rogue by Mary Jo Putney
"Your father was a duke?"
He shook his head. "The Marquess of Wolverton. One step lower on the ladder."
"So you were on your family estate when we met." She stared at him as if he were a complete stranger. "What kind of man are you? From beginning to end you've deliberately misled me, letting me think you were a homeless wanderer, a thief, or worse. How many other lies have you told me?"
"I've always told you the truth." Robin shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his gaze not meeting hers. He was falling into the exaggerated coolness that was his reaction to nerves or guilt. Yet even knowing it was a mistake, he could not remove the calm detachment from his voice. "Though I'll admit to a few falsehoods spoken to others in your presence."
Maxie's anger exploded into pure, coruscating rage. In one smooth motion, she seized the porcelain figurine standing on an elegant end table and hurled it at Robin.
The statuette shattered on the marble fireplace inches from his outstretched hand. He didn't move, even when splinters of china struck him, but the fingers of his left hand whitened where they clenched the edge of the mantel.
"I don't care if every word you spoke was approved for accuracy by God Himself! You must have been educated by lawyers or Jesuits," she said contemptuously. "Your intent was deception, even if you appeased your delicate conscience by manipulating the truth rather than saying outright lies." Her voice broke. "What a fool I've been to believe you."
Her raw pain sliced through Robin's defensiveness with razor swiftness. Shaken, he took a deep, steadying breath. "You are right—I was using the truth to create a false impression. But I swear it wasn't my intention to make a fool of you."
"Why, then?"
She stared at him, the fine planes of her face tight, her vulnerability making him ache for having unintentionally hurt her. Distractingly, the present was overlaid with images of making love to her. Her sweetness, her generosity, her sensuality and passion.
As their gazes locked, he wanted her with crippling intensity, physical and emotional need so closely interwoven that he could not separate one from the other. He had wanted her from the first instant he had opened his eyes and found that an enchanting, forceful wood nymph had tripped over him.
That being the case, why had he acted so stupidly? How could a man noted for subtlety and perception have been such a bloody bedamned fool? As he delved into the deeper recesses of his mind, the answer became obvious. "I'm not very fond of Lord Robert Andreville," he said painfully. "If I didn't like the fellow, I could hardly expect you to. And from the moment I met you, I wanted—very much—for you to like me."
Difficult though it was, he should have tried honesty sooner. Maxie's tense body eased as her fury dissipated. Their locked gazes held for another endless moment.
"I see," she said. But if anger had gone, there was still bleakness. She crossed the room to lean her shoulder against the opposite end of the mantel, her arms folded across her chest. In a tone that echoed Robin at his most detached, she asked, "Did you bring me here to get Maggie's approval? Or did you simply want to shock her by demonstrating the depths to which you have fallen since she left you? It would be impossible to find another female as beautiful and aristocratic as she is, so I assume that you decided to go in the opposite direction. Producing a disreputable savage will certainly show her a thing or two."
"Good God, you can't possibly believe that I brought you here for any such reason!" Understanding her anger made Robin feel a little sick. "You are a woman of wisdom and character and would be a credit to any man lucky enough to win your regard. And even covered with mud and looking like you have been dragged through a bush backward, you are beautiful."
Her lips thinned. "Like a good peddler, you always know the right words. But sometimes. Lord Robert, words aren't enough."
He deserved that, but he still felt as if she had rammed her fist into his solar plexus. "I plead guilty to being an insensitive dolt. To say that I brought you here for Maggie's approval has the wrong connotation, but it's true that I wanted you to meet her. You are the two most important women in my life, and I think you might become friends."
Maxie stretched one arm along the mantel and rubbed the carving, as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. "If she disapproves of me, as she surely does, what then?"
"She won't disapprove of you." He covered her hand where it rested on the marble. Her fingers jerked at his touch, but she did not pull away.
"I think what you are really asking is if I would choose you over her." He tightened his clasp. "The answer is yes. Even if Maggie were wrongheaded enough to try to interfere, she would fail. You are the only one with the power to divide us."
Maxie's eyes closed and a spasm of emotion crossed her face. Unable to keep his distance any longer, Robin stepped forward and enfolded her in his arms.
Unresisting, she buried her face against his shoulder as if exhausted. No matter what their verbal conflicts, on the level of physical touch there was always harmony between them. He held her close, hoping that the embrace was soothing her as much as it was helping him.
Because of Maxie's forceful character, he tended to forget how small she was. He felt a surge of protective tenderness; her head barely reached his chin, and he was not a tall man. "Your head is heart high." With one hand he pulled the pins from her hair so that it fell down her back in a shimmering ebony mantle. "I'm a complete idiot, Kanawiosta. When we were traveling together, I wanted to block out the past and the future, because for the first time in years I was happy."
He caressed her taut spine, sliding his fingers through her silky tresses. "I knew that sooner or later I must explain myself, but I was a lazy coward and preferred to delay as long as possible. I didn't consider how unfair I was being to you. You seemed like the earth—wise, nurturing, infinitely strong. I overlooked the fact that you have scars and fears of your own."
Head still bent, she asked, "What other surprises have you in store for me?"
He thought a moment. "Well, I'm fairly affluent. Among other things, I'm the owner of Ruxton."
That caused her to look up, a flash of exasperated amusement in her eyes. "You mean you were stealing your own horses?" When he nodded, she said, "To think of the anxiety I felt!"
"I said you needn't worry."
"The duchess is right." Her voice was severe, but her lips twitched with suppressed amusement. "You are a wretch."
"Guilty." He sighed, no longer amused. "That's why it seemed such a good idea to be someone else."
Maxie looked directly at him, her expression grave. "We must talk more about that, but not, I think, tonight."
He nodded. "I wouldn't be up to it right now. Any more than you are up to deciding whether or not to marry me." The words were said lightly, but he held his breath, needing to know if the events of the evening had angered her so much that marriage was out of the question.
She shook her head, her face troubled. "I don't know, Robin. We are even further apart than I thought." Raising her hands, she fidgeted with his shabby lapels. "I don't know whether I can fit into your English world, or if I even want to try."
"We are closer than you realize, and this English world is not the only possibility." He brushed a kiss on her hair. "But now is not the time for talking about that, either. The important thing is that you are not saying no." He smiled a little. "Thank you for not hitting me with that china figurine. Perhaps you should have. I was being incredibly obtuse."
"I wanted to make a point, not damage you, but I should have held on to my temper." She winced. "I hope that statuette wasn't a cherished family heirloom." Her gaze went to his wilted shirt. "If I call you Lord Robert when I'm exasperated, what does it mean when you call me Kanawiosta?"
He said slowly, "I suppose it means that I am speaking from the heart, and hope you will listen the same way."
"That's not a bad reason." After a long silence, she glanced up with a trace of mischief. "If I married you, would I have a title?
"You would be called Lady Robert Andreville. Lady Robert for short, or perhaps Lady Robin."
Her eyes widened. "Seriously? That isn't another one of your jests?"
"God's own truth."
Maxie threw her head back and laughed. "What an absurd system! No wonder the American founding fathers discarded it."
The door opened and the Duchess of Candover entered. Seeing her guests in each other's arms, she began a hasty retreat. "Sorry. I guess you didn't hear my knock."
"No need to run off." Robin released Maxie without haste. "We've negotiated a truce."
Too wise to comment, the duchess said, "Rafe just sent a message that he will be leaving Westminster earlier than he had expected. Would you two care to join us for dinner in an hour or so? I would love to have you, but if you're too tired, you may prefer trays in your rooms."
After glancing at Robin, Maxie said, "I accept with pleasure, your grace, though I warn you, I have only one dress with me, and it will be considerably the worse for travel."
"My maid can brush and press it for you." The duchess's gaze fell on the fragments of broken china, and her face lit up. "How splendid! You broke that ghastly replica of the Laocoön."
Maxie's face flamed. "I'm sorry. It was entirely my fault. I will replace it as soon as I can."
"Don't you dare!" The duchess smiled impishly. "It was a wedding present from one of the Whitbourne cousins who disapproved of Rafe marrying me. Three people being eaten by snakes is hardly an amiable gift, don't you agree? I've been leaving it on the edge of the table in the hope someone would accidentally knock it off, but with no success."
Maxie chuckled. It took a real lady to make a guilty guest believe she was doing her hostess a favor. "If you have anything else you wish broken, I shall be happy to oblige."
"Done!" The duchess turned. "Shall I take you to your room now? There is time for a bath or a nap if you wish."
Expression set, Maxie followed the duchess upstairs. It had been hard enough to imagine that she and Robin could resolve the personal issues that separated them. Now she had been plunged into an alien world where few would welcome her. The sooner she learned whether she could live in it, the better.
Chapter 27
After Maxie emerged from a luxurious bath, the duchess sent her own French maid to assist. The well-trained maid, Lavalle, did not betray disapproval of such an irregular guest by so much as a single twitch, though there was a pained expression on her face as she handed over the newly pressed gown. Maxie's fluent, if Canadian-accented, French soon won Lavalle over.
Maxie donned her plain white muslin gown, then sat patiently while the maid twisted her dark hair into an elegant chignon. The result was presentable. Nonetheless, Maxie took a nervous glance at the mirror when a footman came to summon her. Then, head high, she followed him downstairs to the small salon.
Robin and the duchess were talking casually, their golden heads close together. His clothing had also been refurbished in the last hour, and a fresh shirt and cravat had been conjured up from somewhere, probably the duke's own wardrobe. He looked so perfectly at ease that Maxie's qualms returned. He might belong in a duke's house, but what the devil was she doing here?
Robin glanced up and stared, his azure eyes glowing. As he rose and came forward, he said softly, "You look absolutely delectable."
Maxie colored, but his admiring gaze warmed her right down to her toes. "It's good of you to say so, but this dress would not be fashionable even in Boston, much less London."
"Believe me, men are much less interested in fashion than in the total effect, which in your case is ravishing." He took her arm and guided her to a seat between himself and the duchess. "Mind you, I may be prejudiced because that is the first real dress I've seen you wear."
Robin's appreciation and nonsense relaxed her to the point where she could join the conversation without self-consciousness. The duchess was wearing a dress as simple as Maxie's own, another example of the other woman's exquisite tact. Robin had also given warning of Maxie's drinking habits, because she was offered lemonade, even though her two companions were drinking sherry.
The duchess was frowning at the mantel clock when the door opened. Maxie knew instantly that it was the Duke of Candover who entered. While Robin was a chameleon, capable of playing a thousand roles, the duke was unmistakably an aristocrat, incapable of ever being anything else. He was also quite staggeringly handsome, a fit mate for the glorious Maggie.
"Sorry to be late, my dear," the newcomer said, "but Castlereagh waylaid me just as I was leaving." Seeing the visitors, he paused, a broad smile spreading across his face. "Robin, you rogue. What brings you to London?"
The two men shook hands warmly. Then Robin introduced the duke to Maxie. As Candover bowed over Maxie's hand, she saw that his hair and complexion were as dark as her own, but his eyes were a cool northern gray, with humor and friendly speculation lurking in the depths.
"Collins," the duke said as he straightened. "Are you related to the Collins of Chanleigh?"
"The present Lord Collingwood is my uncle, your grace."
"Then we're some sort of cousins, the second or third degree." Candover gave her a smile that for pure, paralyzing impact almost equaled Robin's. "It's always a pleasure to meet a new cousin, especially an attractive one." Offering his arm, he added, "Since I'm unfashionably famished, perhaps we can go right into dinner. I'm a great deal more amiable when I've been fed."
She smiled and accepted his arm, thinking that on the contrary, the duke could hardly have been more congenial. Perhaps Robin had been right to bring them here.
As the duchess had promised, it was a simple family dinner by British standards, though there was ample food, all of it superbly cooked. Maxie was grateful not to have to deal with the endless courses considered essential at Chanleigh. She had feared there might be some beastly London dining customs that would show her for an ignorant provincial, but her concern was unfounded. She had seen more forks and spoons in Boston.
Conversation was also easy as the three Britons unobtrusively made sure that the American would not feel excluded. Maxie was touched at the consideration, and a bit amused as well. Had she been so obviously overpowered by Candover House when she had first arrived? Apparently so, though not necessarily for the reasons that the duchess thought.
The men passed up the pleasures of port to join the women for coffee in the drawing room. Maxie was glad; even though the duchess had been everything amiable, Maxie was not quite ready for a tête-à-tête with Robin's mistress. Former mistress.
When the Candovers became involved in a discussion of an impending trip to the country, the guests drifted over to the French doors with their coffee cups. Behind the house was a garden so lush that it was hard to believe they were in the heart of one of the greatest cities in the world.
Maxie studied their hosts. There was a bond between the duke and duchess so powerful that it was nearly tangible. "Even if she married him for his money," she murmured, "there is a good deal more than that between them now."
Robin gave her a quizzical glance. "Where on earth did you get the idea that Maggie married Rafe for his fortune?"
"From you, that morning at the Drover Inn. You said that your Maggie had gone to a man who could give her more than you could." She gestured expressively at their surroundings. "All this, and a ducal title as well. It is rather a lot. Still, it doesn't ring quite true. The duchess doesn't seem especially mercenary, and by your own admission you are also a wealthy man."
"Another case of me accidentally misleading you. Your instincts are quite correct. Maggie is not a woman who can be bought, only won." He turned and looked out the glass doors. "When I said that she went to someone who could give her more, I meant emotionally, not financially. Money and position were never the issues."
"Is it still so painful, Robin?" she asked quietly. "Now that I've met her, I understand why she is so hard to forget."
"The
It was Maxie's turn to stare outside. They seemed to be moving in a complex emotional minuet. One of them would find and share an insight, then they would swing apart and absorb what had been said before coming together again. Then there would be another moment of revelation, and another stepping back. But each time they moved together, they came a little closer.
Perhaps it was necessary that they learn about themselves and each other in small steps. Certainly she wasn't ready to comment on Robin's latest remark. Too much had happened.
She shifted her gaze so that she saw her own reflection in the glass rather than the darkened garden beyond. In her simple dress and restrained coiffure, she could almost have been an elegant Boston lady. Her lips quirked upward. "Covered with mud and looking as if I had been dragged through a bush backward?"
"Not the most poetic compliment, but true. The first—" Robin chuckled, "or rather, the second, thing I noticed after you jumped on me at Wolverhampton was how beautiful you are."
"I did not jump on you," she said indignantly. "I tripped. If you hadn't been lurking there like the serpent in Eden...!"
He grinned, then drained the last of his coffee and set the cup and saucer on a table by the French doors. "For someone who had misgivings about London society, you seem quite at ease."
She arched her brows. "Surely you don't expect me to believe that everyone in the beau monde is like the Candovers."
"They would be exceptional anywhere," he agreed. "But society is merely a collection of individuals, and London has great diversity. One can find a congenial circle and ignore the rest. For that matter, one needn't even spend time in London."
"My experience of society has not always been so fortunate." Maxie heard the brittleness in her tone. She considered stopping there, but on impulse she continued. It was time for another step in the minuet. "Though America is a republic, there are those who are fascinated by the aristocracy. As the son of a lord, with considerable wit and education, my father was welcome in the homes of many of what are called the 'better families.'