Page 2 of Rogue's Lady

“Might you go on the stage? When you was a girl, you used to chatter on about all the theaters you’d visited.”

During her father’s occasional stints as a musician in theater orchestras, the family had struck up an acquaintance with a number of actors and theater managers. But while she could envision becoming a musician with enthusiasm, neither dancing nor acting held any appeal.

“No, I don’t think I have the talent to become a Siddons—or,” she added, chuckling, “the desire to display my legs in breeches roles, like Vestris.”

“Well, I should hope not!” the housekeeper exclaimed, looking properly shocked. “The best thing woulda been to find a fine young gentleman to marry you, which we all was hoping the master would do. But then he fell sick…” The housekeeper sighed, her voice trailing off.

Mrs. Bessborough might never have set foot in a Mayfair ballroom, but she knew very well that with Allegra’s mother discredited by her runaway marriage, entering the aristocratic world into which her mother had been born, difficult enough a feat for Allegra with Lord Lynton’s backing, would be impossible now in the face of Sapphira Lynton’s opposition.

“I doubt Uncle Robert would have arranged a match, even had he lived.” Nor, Allegra added silently, had she any desire to insinuate herself into the closed, self-important world that had rejected her mother simply for marrying the man she loved.

“I don’t suppose you know some nice young gentleman musician?” the housekeeper continued hopefully.

Allegra’s thoughts flew back to an incident eight months ago, just before her parents fell ill. Mama had called her aside to confide that a handsome young violinist in her father’s orchestra had requested permission to pay his addresses—and been refused.

“You mustn’t think Papa is not concerned with your feelings, rejecting Mr. Walker without even consulting you,” Lady Grace had assured her. “More than most parents, we believe loving the partner you marry is of absolute importance! Had we any suspicion that your affections were engaged, Papa would have told Mr. Walker to proceed. But since we did not, with Napoleon now banished to St. Helena for good, Papa has other plans for you.”

Gratified as she was to learn of the musician’s admiration, Allegra quickly confirmed that she was more curious about her future than disappointed that Papa had spurned her suitor. But though she pressed Lady Grace to say more, with a laugh and a kiss, her mama told her Papa would speak to her himself when the time was right.

Allegra smiled sadly. Whatever Papa’s plans had been, a virulent fever had carried off both him and her mother before the “right” time arrived. Leaving Allegra unwed, unattached and alone.

“I’m afraid there’s no one,” Allegra replied, swallowing hard at that forlorn truth.

Where in the world was there a place for Allegra Antinori? she wondered. But fatigue overwhelming that despairing thought, she lifted a hand to smother a yawn.

“Shame on me!” the housekeeper exclaimed. “Here I be rattling on when I expect all you want to do is fall into that bed and sleep for a week. Things will look better tomorrow, I daresay. Now, let me help you out of that gown and let you rest. I’ll send Lizzie up in the morning with your chocolate.”

“Thank you, Bessie,” Allegra said, gratitude again bringing tears to her lashes as she turned to let the woman undo her stays. Once tucked into bed, she pulled the covers over her head and went instantly to sleep.

ALLEGRA AWOKE to pale sunlight making a faint warm square on the quilt covering her. Disoriented, she stared up at the small, high window through which the sunlight was streaming before recalling where she was and why.

The pain of remembering Uncle Robert’s death exceeded her sadness in being evicted from the blue and gold brocaded bedchamber that had always been hers and her mother’s when they visited here. Shivering in the cold, she got up quickly and dressed in a plain round gown she could manage on her own, then grabbed the lap desk Hobbs had set on Aunt Amelia’s trucks and climbed back on her bed, wrapping the quilt around her. Now, before Sapphira woke and sent for her to perform some task, she should ponder what she meant to do.

Though she had as yet only a hazy idea what that might be, she did know that she could not remain at Lynton House. She refused to jump at Sapphira’s bidding, nor did she wish to endanger her friends on the staff by making them choose between supporting her and obeying their mistress.

So what did she wish to do?

More than anything she wanted a place to settle in and call her own…not a dreary succession of rented rooms with their mismatched and tattered furnishings which, using imagination and careful economy, her mama made into a home, only to begin all over again when Papa’s work took them to the next town and the next. Her mother might have been born a viscount’s daughter, but Lady Grace prided herself on how well she’d learned to deal with the most unprepossessing of accommodations, to direct a handful of servants when times were good, to cook, clean, mend and entertain without assistance when times were lean. Along with music, dancing, literature, needlework and the deportment required of a lady of birth, she’d made sure Allegra acquired those more practical skills, too.

Yes, Allegra thought, she’d love to have a permanent home and a position in which she could exercise her talents, perhaps provide some useful service.

Suddenly she recalled the visit she and her mother had paid years ago to Lady Grace’s former governess. After a career serving the children of the viscount’s family, that lady had retired to a snug cottage on a small parcel of land surrounded by a large kitchen garden and an orchard.

Ah, that would be security indeed, to possess a sturdy house on land of one’s own, something that did not depend upon the whims of society, that no disapproving relation could ever take away!

Perhaps she should seek work as a governess. A governess at a country estate with an extensive library and fine pianoforte, where she might spend her nights playing or reading after instructing her young charges in music, dance, literature and geography. Where she might set the little girls on her lap, as her mother had done with her, and teach them to embroider and mend, or help with the babes in the nursery. Since it was nearly certain, she thought with a deep pang of regret, that she would never marry and have children of her own.

Of course, a governess could be dismissed just as quickly as an unwanted relation, nor could one count on obtaining a pension and a house, even after a lifetime of service. She’d have to choose her position carefully.

She would begin a list of her qualifications and start looking for an employment agency immediately, she decided.

Allegra had just begun her list when, after a knock at the door, the maid Lizzie burst in.

“Oh, Miss, ’tis so exciting! Hobbs said a letter just come from France and the young master—that is, the new Lord Lynton—be on his way home!”

Rob was coming home! A frisson of joy penetrated the grief lying heavy in her heart. “When?” she demanded.

“Hobbs didn’t say, Miss, but the staff thinks ’twill be soon.” Setting down her tray, she added, “Mrs. Bessborough said to tell you to take heart, ’cause things was gonna be different around here!”

After thanking Lizzie and assuring her she need not come back to fetch the tray, Allegra gestured the maid out.

Rob would soon be here. Allegra closed her eyes and savored the thought, as comforting as the scent of the hot chocolate. Warmed by the first good news she’d heard since her parents expired what seemed a lifetime ago, Allegra sipped the frothy beverage, a wistful smile on her lips as she remembered her last visit with Rob Lynton.

Blond, handsome, five years her senior and very much on his dignity as an Oxford man, he’d discouraged her from trailing after him as she had when they were both younger, saying it was past time for her to tidy her hair, modulate her voice and behave like a proper young lady instead of a hot-tempered hoyden who argued with him at every turn. Though he’d refused her pleas for a renewal of the fencing lessons begun on her previous visit, he’d unbent enough to challenge her at chess, trounce her at billiards and allow her to ride with him in the park in the early morning when no one of consequence might observe his ramshackle cousin trotting at his heels.

The ache in her heart sharpened as she recalled that moment in the park when the romantic—and admittedly hoydenish—sixteen-year-old she’d been had suddenly decided her dearest wish was for Rob to realize she was a proper young lady, and the only lady he wanted. Casting covert, adoring glances at him as they rode, she’d envisioned him galloping up to her father’s lodgings, leaping from the saddle, declaring his undying love, and swearing his life would be meaningless unless she agreed to become his wife.

That had been…six years ago? Though she needed a gallant knight’s rescue now more than ever, she’d long outgrown that adolescent dream. Still, just knowing Rob was coming home sent a bubble of excitement and anticipation rising in her chest.

The young Rob she remembered would be a man now, a seasoned soldier who had survived desperate battles and gone on to keep the peace in a restive Paris. Decisive and commanding, he would be more than capable of prying the reins of his household from the clutches of his stepmother.

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