Dangerous Joy (27 page)

Felicity still had Gardeen in her arms and was a little surprised that the cat hadn't insisted on going with Miles. But then Gardeen II had never shown the same devotion to Miles as her previous incarnation-or dead sister-had.

Sighing, she shrugged off her cloak, bunched it on a chair, and put the cat in the still-warm folds. Gardeen curled into a sleepy ball. Felicity knew just how she felt. She'd dozed a little on the journey, but most of the time she'd been faking sleep to avoid talk. Now she, too, wanted nothing so much as to curl into a ball and forget the world.

The maid helped her out of her dress so she could wash. The fire was already warming the room, but Felicity shuddered with the chill of exhaustion. She hurried into Beth's nightgown. Then the maid gave the bed a final sweep with the warming pan before leaving. When Felicity slid between the sheets, she was able, like Gardeen, to curl up in comfort and fall instantly asleep.

Miles woke when shaken. "Up you get, Miles! You've had six hours, which must be enough to tide you over."

Miles rolled over groggily to see Lucien de Vaux's aristocratic features and blond hair made macabre by a single wavering candle.

"Hell. All right. I'm awake. Don't drip wax on me!"

The marquess moved away to light a branch of candles near the bed and to throw some extra coals on the fire. "Dinner's in half an hour, and we need to talk as you dress."

Miles saw that Lucien was already in elegant evening clothes. "Why is my presence at table so essential?" But he sat up and shook his head rubbing his chin. "I need a shave. I probably need a bath, but I doubt there's time. However I must have a shave."

"True. I assume Hennigan's as exhausted as you. I'll call for my man."

As soon as it was arranged he said, "The thing is, Miles, this guard on your ward has Beth uneasy. You know how she is about the oppression of women, and she considers even protection oppression at times."

Miles groaned and rubbed his gritty eyes. "I can explain it all, Luce. Just give me a moment to get my wits together."

But in those moments, Lucien's valet appeared with hot water and set up, ready to shave Miles. The two Rogues settled to talk of safer matters.

"Who's here?" Miles asked as the valet scraped the sharp blade over his cheek.

"Hal and Blanche."

"Oh, yes. Beth said. "

"That creates a problem."

"For you and Beth?"

"No, not for me and Beth. Do get your wits together. As I said, Hal has Blanche with him-he's taking a rest from the stage just now. Beth has no problem with that, but you might."

"Why? You must have even Melton in a flurry with both mistress and wife in one house, but it don't bother me."

"Ex-mistress," said Lucien firmly. "Think about it. As a conscientious guardian, you just might have a problem with your innocent young ward meeting the White Dove of Drury Lane over breakfast."

"Oh God," Miles groaned.

Blanche Hardcastle was a gifted actress, but she was known to have made her way out of poverty on her back. She'd been Lucien's mistress for a number of years until his marriage. Recently, she had become the mistress of another Rogue, Hal Beaumont.

Though Blanche's earlier years could not bear close scrutiny, her morals were now quite strict. She had been as faithful to Lucien as any wife and was now completely faithful to Hal.

Her presence did, however, create a problem.

For a man to have his ex-mistress in the same house as his wife was brow-raising, even when the two ladies were the best of friends. To bring a young, ostensibly innocent lady into such a m‚nage could be considered a scandal.

"Damnation. I do need to have Felicity here for a while. Luce. It's not just that I want to enjoy some hunting...."

"Then perhaps it will be best if Hal and Blanche leave."

The valet had stopped wielding the blade, so Miles felt able to shake his head. "No. I think Blanche might be able to help. And to be honest, when this all works out, I'm not sure minor social irregularities will matter much."

"Oh-ho. This sounds like a very Roguish matter."

"It is."

As the valet wiped away lather with a warm cloth, Lucien eased into another subject. "Did you hear Leander married a few weeks ago? A widow with two children, no less. We're falling like coconuts at a shy."

There was a question in it, and Miles answered by saying, "It's the devil being a guardian, Luce."

The valet finished and bowed out, so Miles was able to explain the whole situation while pulling on his evening wear. He didn't mention, however, that Felicity was no innocent, or that they'd become lovers.

Looked at in the cold light of sanity, it was not something he was proud of. It certainly wouldn't happen again, or not as long as he was her guardian.

"Lord, what a tangle," Lucien said at last, assisting in the arrangement of Miles's cravat. "But at least it provides an excuse for your treatment of the girl. This Dunsmore is definitely not the sort of man to gain Beth's approval. So, you think he'll follow Felicity here?" He stuck a silver pin in his creation. "Just shooting the wretch on sight springs to mind."

"Felicity is adamantly opposed to that." Miles shrugged into his jacket and flashed his friend a wry look. "I'm afraid that, in a moment of foolishness, I promised I wouldn't kill him. Or let anyone else do so."

Lucien swung open the door. "It's a bad sign, Miles, when a man grows foolish over a woman."

"Hah! It's just that Felicity Monahan has a rare ability to tie a person in knots."

The first thing Miles did on arriving in the drawing room was to check with Beth that Felicity's door was still locked. Beth was a bluestocking, and a follower of Mary Wollstonecraft, author of The Rights Of Woman. Her libertarian principles were doubtless being severely tested.

"It's locked," she said. "But will not stay that way without an excellent explanation."

"Think of it as locking someone up so they won't rush to their death in a hopeless cause."

"That," said Beth, "raises thorny questions as to who decides what is hopeless and whether a Person has a right to sacrifice themselves, hope or not." But she let the subject drop.

As Miles moved on to greet Hal Beaumont and Blanche Hardcastle, he knew it was only a temporary respite.

Hal was darkly handsome and as tall and broad-shouldered as the marquess and himself His left sleeve hung empty, however, for he had lost his arm after a military engagement in the Canadas.

Blanche was a beautiful woman with clever eyes and a firm chin. She was prematurely gray, and had turned it into a distinction by never wearing colors. Tonight, as always, she wore a white gown. Her heavy silver hair was caught up by pearl combs, and a pearl-and-diamond choker circled her neck.

She kissed his cheek. "You're not looking your best, Miles. Was your dislocated shoulder such a problem?"

"My shoulder?" queried Miles. "Recovered from that weeks ago. At the moment, I'm just suffering from a hard journey." Or a dislocated life, he thought wryly.

Ah, but it was good to be here again with friends. He couldn't help thinking that without Felicity Monahan in his life, he could have been here weeks ago, enjoying some damned fine hunting and the best company around.

But then, he could no longer imagine life without Felicity, and he dreaded to think what would have happened to her without his intervention, Beth and her scruples be damned.

Despite the formality of dress for dinner, the meal was relaxed, with servants playing little part and the talk almost entirely of hunting.

"We've been riding your horses as instructed, Miles," said Lucien. "You've a good number of potential buyers anxious for your appearance.

And the one that arrived a few days ago-Argonaut-I've a mind to bid on him myself."

"He's yours, of course, at a fair price."

They nodded, sale settled.

"Ah," said Hal plaintively, "if only I had the wealth to be able to snap up a prime bit of blood without a moment's thought."

Lucien grinned. "I give the purchase of any horse a great deal of thought."

When dessert had been served, Beth indicated that the servants were no longer needed.

Once they were free of interruptions, Lucien said, "Now, Miles, explain this problem so we can decide how best to handle it. Preferably without keeping the girl under lock and key."

Miles again explained the basic situation-that Felicity was devoted to her friend's child and determined to marry the child's wretched father so as to be able to care for Kieran.

"But your guardianship ends on February 20th?" Beth asked. "It seems to me you're just putting off the inevitable. And perhaps a person has the right to sacrifice themselves if they know what they're doing."

"She knows," Miles admitted. "I think she fools herself that she can control Dunsmore, but she knows." He hadn't even mentioned his fear that Felicity's plan included murder. He trusted the Rogues, but if the crime ever took place, he didn't want them to have that knowledge on their consciences.

"For the moment," he continued `I want your help to keep her safely here while we find a solution."

"It's no easy matter," said Lucien, "to refuse a father his child. Is there neglect or violent abuse?"

Miles had to admit that the lad seemed healthy and well cared for. The occasional spanking hardly counted.

"It seems to me," said Hal, "that the problem is not just that she wants to protect the child, but that she wants the child for herself.

"True enough. Sometimes I think she's spent so much time with the lad that she's forgotten whose child he is. It's not a particularly healthy state of mind, but she'll get over it once she sees him happy in a good home."

Lucien refilled his wineglass and sent the bottle round. "Which won't happen as long as his father lives."

"Miles," interrupted Blanche, her face now as pale as the rest of her. "Have you thought..." As the words failed, they all looked at her in concern.

She carefully laid her knife and fork on her plate. "Let me tell you a story," she said. "Once there was a girl called Maggie Duggins. Her father was a butcher, but he also liked to drink, so there wasn't much money for the seven children. Her mother died when she was five, so there wasn't much care, either. Maggie was a wild child. Not bad, but wild. She sought kindness and attention and, of course, as soon as she was any sort of a woman, she found men would pay kind attentions if she let them."

Hal reached over and took her hand. She squeezed it and continued. "Inevitably, she ended up carrying a child. She had no way of knowing which of a number of men was the father, but she knew none of them would help her. She also knew that as soon as she began to show, her father would throw her out, probably after beating her black and blue.

"So she ran to a friend and stayed there until the child was born. Such a pretty baby...a girl..." Blanche's voice faltered, but then she carried on. "She wanted nothing so much as to keep the babe forever, but she could see how little she could give her and how little she could make of her life with a child to care for. When her friend found a well-to-do family willing to take the baby, she gave her up. But as her daughter was taken from her arms, she vowed to make the sacrifice worthwhile by making something of her life."

Blanche looked at Miles. "I hesitate to suggest that your ward...but..."

Miles was almost as pale as she was. "Dear God." He rose, tossed down his napkin, and left the room.

Beth half-rose in concern. "Is he angry with her?"

Lucien pulled her back into her seat. "He's angry with himself, I think. But, if true, it makes this problem a good deal more challenging."

Miles stopped at Felicity's locked door, leaning against the wall. How could he not have guessed?

She'd even told him Dunsmore had been her lover. Perhaps she'd been hoping he'd guess the truth without her having to say it, but he'd been too thick-skulled. He'd been so sure she nurtured an obsessive affection for another woman's child that he'd never stopped to think how little that meshed with the Felicity he knew.

And to add to his self-recriminations was the knowledge that this truth made the whole problem more difficult to solve. Of course Felicity wouldn't be satisfied with merely getting Kieran out of Dunsmore's hands.

She wanted her child back. Hers, entirely and legally.

And since Miles loved her, he would have to achieve that for her.

Or with her.

He unlocked the door.

The room was dark and cozily warm, though the fire was burning low. When his eyes adjusted, he put some new coals on the embers, stepping carefully over a small black cat. Someone had provided Gardeen with food and a dish of milk.

He turned to the bed where Felicity lay sound asleep. He'd expected that, but somehow he'd had to come here, to be with her.

With her lips relaxed and her lashes making deep shadows on her cheeks, she looked touchingly young and innocent. She was an Irish warrior-queen, though, fighting for her cause with every ounce of her strength.

Very gently, he brushed a curl from her brow. "I wish you could have found the trust to tell me, cailin," he whispered. "But I wish, too, I'd had the wit to realize for myself. Poor child you must have been when you bore him. We'll keep him safe. He'll be the start of our own family. I don't know how, but we'll do it."