Julia Justiss - Rogue's Lady

“Oh no, Sapphira isn’t…temperamentally suited for the role. Besides, she must be in deep mourning for at least six more months, while by the time the Season begins, you need only don black gloves. I shall invite Cousin Letitia Randall to stay with us. She knew your mother well. That is, if you will agree to a presentation?”

Her immediate response was to decline, but she bit it back. Rob was being kind and extremely generous. Though she had decidedly mixed feelings about entering society, with the arrogance of one born to that privileged world, he would never understand why she would not leap for joy at this chance to claim a place within it. And despite his assurances, he must know that he would need both determination and perseverance to overcome what she suspected would be a rocky reception by the ton if she accepted his offer.

Unless…

She recalled the look of heated appreciation in Rob’s eyes. Suddenly her mind was overwhelmed by a resurgence of the wild hope she’d never quite managed to extinguish. Only one thing would make Rob’s generous offer truly a dream come true.

Dressed in lovely clothes, hair upswept and her mother’s pearls about her neck, might she capture the heart of this “parfait, gentil” knight for her own?

If she could, if she could bring Rob to realize that the wild girl of whom he’d always been fond was now an accomplished, desirable woman, one with whom he wanted to share his life, it would be a more marvelous resolution to her dilemma than she dared believe possible.

Instead of going alone into the world, she’d be able to remain here with Rob, Bessie and Hobbs, the only people still on earth who knew and appreciated her—and not as a servant, but as a daughter of the house. Marrying some ton gentleman so as to reclaim her mother’s place in society held little appeal, but if that ton gentleman were Rob, she would gain not just social acceptance and a secure future, she would have won her secret heart’s desire and a love to last a lifetime.

A love like her parents’.

Despite the difficulties her mother had experienced because of marrying her father, Lady Grace and her husband had been happy. Having grown up in the charmed circle of their devotion, Allegra couldn’t envision marrying someone, as Sapphira obviously had, only to secure wealth and a comfortable position in society. Nor did she think she could tolerate marrying a man who deigned to give her his name and heirs but not his loyalty or affection.

If she married, it must be to a man she desired, respected and loved without reserve. A man who pledged his love and fidelity in return. Someone trustworthy, steadfast and honorable—like Rob.

Could she win his heart?

“Well?” Rob interrupted her racing thoughts.

“I…I’m not sure,” she said, her mind still entrapped in glorious speculation.

He grinned. “Then say ‘yes.’ I’ll write Cousin Letitia tonight. You’ll doubtless want her assistance in purchasing that wardrobe of gowns and such. With the Season soon to start, you need to begin on that at once. Lady Ormsby’s rout is barely a month away.”

He rose to his feet. “If you’ll excuse me, I must go wait upon Sapphira and inform her of our plans.”

Allegra shook her head, sure of only one thing about Rob’s audacious scheme. “Sapphira is not going to like this.”

Rob laughed out loud. “No, I expect not,” he said as he advanced to the door. “I knew the Lord would send some ray of sunshine to brighten the bleakness of father’s passing.” Pausing on the threshold, he looked back to add, “By the way, I told Bessie to move your things back into the blue bedchamber.” He snapped her a salute. “Welcome back to the family, Allegra.”

For long moments after Rob walked out, Allegra sat motionless, hardly able to believe her entire circumstances had changed so dramatically in the space of a single day.

There was no reason not to accept this offer. If her fondest desires about Rob were not realized, if she found society not to her liking or the ton rebuffed her, she could always use Uncle Robert’s legacy to purchase the property for which she’d been pining and carve out a life for herself there.

Either way, she would have a permanent home of her own that no one could ever take from her.

No more creeping down service stairs, suspended between two worlds. Uncle Robert had loved her as she loved him. He’d appreciated and valued her enough to leave her an inheritance, thought her deserving of a place in her mother’s society. Perhaps deserving of his son’s love?

A deep gratitude sharpened the pangs of loss. How she missed that gentle, quiet, loving man! Knuckling the tears from her eyes, she vowed she would justify the confidence he’d placed in her, make Rob proud he’d welcomed her back into the family.

And just maybe, she concluded with a tremor of exhilaration and longing, she would gain Rob’s love and a secure place to belong.

THREE WEEKS LATER, Will sat at Lady Domcaster’s dinner table, a smile stamped on his lips as he cut his gaze to the head of the table, trying to catch his cousin Lucilla’s eye while giving nominal attention to the young lady seated beside him.

“I declare, Lord Tavener,” Miss Benton-Wythe exclaimed in her flat, nasal voice, “when the governess opened her door and the chicken Harry had hidden flew out, flapping and squawking, she shrieked so loud we were like to die laughing!” Apparently envisioning that occasion, she went off into a fit of giggles.

Wincing, Will turned to his other side to address the honoree of the evening, Miss Cecelia Rysdale, daughter of Lucilla’s friend Lydia. “Miss Rysdale, do you recall any similar amusing events from childhood?”

Color came and went in the young lady’s cheeks as she hastily dropped her eyes to her plate, muttering an unintelligible syllable Will took to be “no.” ’Twas about the extent of the response he’d been able to eke from her during the course of this interminable dinner.

Having no idea what one talked about with young ladies, he’d first mentioned the progress of the peace accords in Vienna, then asked about the current offerings of the Philharmonic Society, then attempted to elicit opinions on the performance of Hamlet now at Covent Garden. After these conversational overtures evoked puzzled silence, a rather desperate compliment about the young ladies’ bonnets finally drew a response from Miss Benton-Wythe.

Though not even the mention of fashion managed to entice Miss Rysdale into speech, her companion more than made up for her silence. Miss Benton-Wythe launched into a detailed description of the design and construction of her headgear, and having begun, needed no encouragement whatsoever to keep on chattering.

Will calculated that over the course of this dinner, Miss Benton-Wythe had produced enough words to fill three conversations, all delivered in a penetrating voice and punctuated by high-pitched giggles that were giving him the headache. He wished he’d stuck to a monologue about diplomacy.

Finally catching Lucilla’s attention, he cast her a beseeching look. Though she returned him a stern glance, the corner of her mouth twitched as she rose, signaling it was time for the ladies to leave the table.

Will leapt to his feet. “Ladies, my pleasure,” he told the two girls as he bowed.

“La, my lord, ’twas my pleasure, too,” Miss Benton-Wythe said, giving him a frankly assessing look.

Hard-pressed to suppress his relief, Will watched Lucilla lead the women from the room. Thank heavens all the attendees at this dinner were proceeding to other engagements, sparing him the necessity of sharing brandy and cigars with the male guests, mostly fathers of Miss Rysdale and her friends and mostly unknown to him. He understood now why Domcaster, despite his obvious affection for his wife, had chosen to return to the country.