Jo Beverley - [Rogue ] (17 page)

Lord Middlethorpe watched her and his friend in fascination. This woman was not the one described by his mother. She was handsome, with natural grace and charm. In the occasional glances shared by the couple he saw warm feeling and understanding. There was a harmony there. He found he wanted to learn more about Eleanor.

For her part, Eleanor was drawn to the dark young man with the gentle eyes and was soon talking easily with him. He was not as exciting as the marquess, but neither was he as challenging. She also felt a little protective of him, for among this group of strong, healthy bucks he appeared fine-drawn, almost delicate.

"Have you known my husband long, Lord Middlethorpe?"

"Since we were at school. We all formed a defensive pact at Harrow."

"Defense from what, if you please?"

He smiled as he remembered. "Remember Psalm 91?'From the terror by night, the pestilence that walketh in darkness and the destruction that waiteth at noonday.' In other words, bullies and cruel masters. You can have no idea of the potential for horror in a boy's school."

"No indeed," she said, thinking the young Lord Middlethorpe must have been especially vulnerable to such horrors. "Was it very bad?"

To her surprise he shook his head. "No. I'm painting too bleak a picture. There were good times, some of the best. But both boys and masters can be cruel. While we were at Harrow there was a riot, lead by the famous Lord Byron, as it happens, to protest injustices. Nicholas had already taken less flamboyant action to defend himself and others. He gathered together a group and we resolved to avenge tyranny against any of the members. We called ourselves the Company of Rogues."

"How many were you?"

"Twelve. Three are away in the armed forces. Two have died for their country." He sobered. "We cannot defend each other from every peril, you see."

He felt it dearly, and she placed her hand over his instinctively, then hastily withdrew from such intimacy.

"But you succeeded in school?" she asked quickly.

"Very well. We didn't object to just punishments, you see, only to bullies. They soon learned to seek out easier prey."

"It sounds unbelievable. Like a jungle."

He smiled and considered her words. "I suppose it was, in a way. Perhaps that's why our schools produce excellent soldiers and diplomats. They can practice on a miniature world before they set to work on the real one. You should have heard Stephen lecturing on the state of the food."

Sir Stephen threatened to rise then and there and orate, but was physically restrained by his neighbors.

Mr. Cavanagh broke in. "Were you ever at school, Mrs. Delaney? How does a girls' school compare with a boys'?"

Eleanor laughed. "I was at school, yes. But I doubt whether Miss Fitcham's Academy for the Daughters of Gentlemen ever had much in common with the place Lord Middlethorpe just described."

"Do you say so?" said the Irishman thoughtfully. "And I had always suspected that little girls were just as nasty as little boys."

Eleanor admitted the truth of this but added, "Older girls are not generally cruel to the younger except in thoughtlessness, and the mistresses at Miss Fitcham's were a sorry lot. Hardly to be feared at all."

"Well then," said Lord Middlethorpe, "there must be some profound significance there as to why little girls grow up into sweet gentle wives and mothers whereas little boys grow up into the likes of us."

There was general laughter, but Nicholas joined in the conversation at that point to say, "Francis, if you still believe such rubbish as that, I had better introduce you to the majority of my female acquaintance—who are certainly not sweet and gentle. And though some of them are wives and mothers, it is generally a fate they do their damndest to avoid!" He turned hilarious eyes on Eleanor. "My dear, I think you should throw me out for a speech like that!"

"On any number of counts," she agreed cordially, "but I will forgive you if you will admit that none of these ladies was likely to have passed through the hands of Miss Fitcham."

At this there was a roar of laughter, and Nicholas raised his glass to her in acknowledgement.

Elevated by a feeling of triumph, Eleanor turned once more to Lord Middlethorpe. "I understand you have traveled with my husband, my lord."

"I took a jaunt with him once to Ireland. On my life, it took me months to recover. Now I plead my responsibilities as head of the family and stay comfortably at home."

"Mrs. Delaney," drawled the marquess, "don't believe a word of it. He's the coolest devil for all he looks so romantic. Dead shot, I assure you."

Eleanor turned reproachful eyes to her right. "Lord Middlethorpe, I believe you have been obtaining my sympathy by false pretenses." She was enjoying herself tremendously.

"It's Arden who's leading you astray, my word on it. I can take the pips out of a playing card any day, but I've never aimed a pistol at a man. I doubt my nerves would stay cool for that."

This led to a story by Lord Darius Debenham, the only member of the group who admitted to taking part in an affair of honor, though Eleanor could not believe that in all his adventures Nicholas had never fired a serious shot. As Lord Darius' affair had been bloodless it made a witty tale, and as the company had demolished a dozen bottles of wine, it caused uproarious mirth.

When the servants started to remove the dishes, Eleanor looked at her husband to see if she should leave, but he shook his head. He had drunk as freely as his companions and was certainly not sober, but she did not think him in any danger of losing his wits. He must have his reasons.

She watched the approach of the port, uncertain how to behave. The marquess hesitated when it came his time to pass it but then smoothly directed it to her. Reminding herself that she was supposed to be spreading her wings, Eleanor poured a little into her glass. A number of eyebrows soared upward.

As Hollygirt followed the last servant out, Eleanor suddenly felt very uncomfortable in this male preserve. Ladies never stayed with the gentlemen after dinner; there was often speculation as to what actually went on, what was said. She noticed Viscount Amleigh break off a joke when he noticed her there. She again looked anxiously at Nicholas and again he smiled reassuringly.

He swung the conversation around to reminiscences of their school days and they all recounted their favorite exploits of the Company of Rogues.

"But hey," said Lord Darius suddenly. "Look at this. Here we are telling our secrets, and Eleanor's not a member."

"Ought to be," said Sir Stephen ponderously. "Make her a member. Why not?"

A maudlin-profound discussion started about the technicalities of this.

Nicholas interrupted to say, "I hardly think Eleanor would want the honor. There is the initiation ceremony, remember."

Lord Middlethorpe moved suddenly, almost oversetting his glass. "Good lord, Nick, that was just schoolboy nonsense. No need for that at all."

Nicholas would have spoken but Eleanor forestalled him. She was annoyed that her husband obviously did not want her to be part of his childish group. "I disagree, Lord Middlethorpe. If I were to be invited to become a member of this select company then it would have to be done properly. If I cannot face the ceremony, perhaps because it would be indelicate, then I cannot join."

After a moment there was a great shout of approval, and Eleanor realized what Nicholas had meant by the occasion becoming a maudlin drunk. She hardly felt she was doing her restraining part and realized that, even though she had been moderate, she had consumed far more wine than was her custom. She looked apprehensively at her husband but he seemed unconcerned.

"Eleanor, Eleanor," he said to her, "you are hastening where the wise would hesitate, I warn you. But there is nothing indelicate about the initiation. As Francis said, it is schoolboy nonsense. We scarred ourselves on our right palm with our penknives. I think we were fortunate none of us developed a purulent infection."

Lord Middlethorpe and the marquess both extended their right hands to show a small scar on the center of their palms. Eleanor hesitated, unsure of her best course of action, then she extended her own, which also had the same scar.

"I do believe, gentlemen, I am already a member, albeit an unofficial one."

There was amazement and loud demands for explanation. She glanced at Nicholas to see how he was taking this development, but he was blank-faced, so much so that she knew he was hiding his reaction. She couldn't decide whether this augured well or poorly, but she had no opportunity to consider the situation as she was forced to provide the explanation they demanded.

"Gentlemen, please," she said, looking around at the circle of faces. They all looked back with wine-induced good humor and curiosity, all except her husband, who seemed to be fascinated by the play of candlelight in the ruby glow of port in his glass. She felt a spurt of defiance. What right had he to disapprove of what was taking place? She was coping with an unusual situation as best she could.

"I was an unhappy child," she told them all, "frequently at odds with my brother and my parents. One day we visited a large house. It was a fete or garden party of some kind. I do not remember exactly what occurred, but my parents were displeased with me and I felt misused. I ran off to hide in a sunken garden, crying at the injustice of the world. A boy discovered me there and was kind—insofar as young boys ever can be kind to crying girls."

They all laughed at this observation. Eleanor fortified herself from her glass. "The boy obviously thought me a poor hinny, but he brought forward any number of solutions for my problems. I could not quite contemplate the notion of running off with the gypsies, however, or attempting to poison my family so as to be left an independent heiress. We had run out of ideas when he offered me protection if I would submit to an initiation ceremony." Eleanor looked into her own glass as if it were a magic bail, carrying her back to that half-forgotten occasion.

"I was completely willing," she said. "Being a few years older than myself, the boy had taken on the nature of a god. I would happily have jumped into the lake on his say-so. But, alas, when it came to it and I had his knife against my hand, my nerve failed. He was disgusted by my squeamishness, I remember, and had to do the act for me. As soon as I started to bleed I lost my nerve entirely and ran off screaming. I told my mother I had fallen and cut myself, and received another scold. I have had the scar ever since."

She looked around at her audience. "I have no clear recollection of the boy. I assume it must have been one of you rogues."

Sir Stephen rose to his feet as if in the House of Commons. "Gentlemen. We have here before us evidence... evidence... of a most serious breach of the vow of secrecy." He hiccupped but did not let that break his oration. "This is a most she... serious matter and deserves ret... retribution." He resumed his seat with the special care of the highly inebriated.

Lord Darius was even more on-the-go than Sir Stephen, but he managed to make it clear that the oath had specified the punishment.

The other gentlemen all chorused out, "Boiling in oil, devouring by worms, and penalties too horrible to mention!"

All except Nicholas, who seemed to be playing the part of observer.

Relishing the role of judge, Sir Stephen sonorously demanded that the guilty party render himself up for judgment.

"Here now," said Lord Middlethorpe. "It could quite well have been one of our absent members."

This was true, but the men all looked at each other with humorous suspicion.

"If he is here," said the marquess, who seemed to have a hard head for drink and still be in complete control of his faculties, "he should confess his sins forthwith."

There was a moment's silence, and then Nicholas rose to his feet—quite steadily, Eleanor was interested to note—and bowed to the company.

"'Twas I, my friends, 'twas I."

This struck the other men as hilarious, so much so that Lord Darius fell off his chair. Nicholas's rueful smile was acknowledgement of the situation, but Eleanor, who was still reasonably sober, saw a peculiar look in his eyes, as if he were reassessing her.

This evening was perhaps not going according to his plan. If so, she was the puppet who did not move to his strings. She felt a tremor of alarm, but there was also a stirring of excitement. She had spent her younger years dreaming of that godly boy in the garden, imagining him coming to rescue her from her plight. How strange it all was.

Nicholas spoke to her and his expression was now completely friendly, as if the previous emotion had been an illusion. "You, my dear Eleanor, had carroty plaits and a missing tooth. I thought you very weak-spirited. My apologies."

She replied, "For my part, I cast you as a hero, even if you did draw blood, but I could never remember what you looked like at all. I suspect because I was such a watering pot at the time."

Sir Stephen broke up this exchange. "Ain't good enough! Must be a penalty to pay. Not only did he break the vow of silence, he injured this lovely lady!"

"I can't accept the second charge, Steve," protested Nicholas. "At the time we all thought girls the lowest creatures on God's earth."

"That," drawled the marquess, "makes offering her membership even worse." Eleanor saw a humorous challenge flash between Nicholas and the marquess. She suspected the latter was the least likely to dance to her husband's tune.