Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

R afe adjusted his coat, admiring the bottle-green hue and how well it suited him. He wasn’t a dandy by any means, but he did prefer to cut a fine figure when he wished to impress a lady.

His hands stilled at the edges of his coat. Did he want to impress this stranger Isla seemed so taken with? He honestly didn’t know. Isla hadn’t met many women, other than those in his family.

“Is everything all right, Mr. Lennox?” his valet inquired as he lifted up a small brush and ran it over Rafe’s back to remove any dust that might mar the coat’s perfect appearance.

“Yes, it is, thank you, James.” He and James had been together for years, through the leaner times when Rafe had little to his name. James was of a similar age, and while he could have taken his talents as a valet elsewhere, he had chosen to stay loyal to Rafe. He was the only other person who knew about his career as a highwayman outside of Rafe’s family, and the only person aside from Will and Caspian who knew he was still working as a highwayman. The valet had guarded the secret well and had earned Rafe’s trust completely.

“Sir?” James, as always, could sense something was off with him.

“Apparently, there is a young lady downstairs whom Isla wishes for me to consider marrying.”

James’s eyes softened. “Ah. The wee mite wants a new mother?”

“Yes.” Rafe touched his perfect cravat and then sighed. His valet’s gaze met his in the mirror as they shared a knowing look.

“Someday, when ’tis safe, you’ll marry,” James said, referring to his other life without risking saying the words.

“But not yet,” said Rafe. “Not until I have enough to care for a wife and a child.”

With a nod, James left the bedchamber, his arms full of Rafe’s clothing from last night’s ball.

Rafe was still weary from last night, but he could not deny Isla’s wish that he meet this “pretty lady,” so he headed downstairs. No doubt it was another one of Rosalind’s friends. The Scottish hellion was talented at making friends wherever she went, and they often came to visit her at the country house. It was also possible that the young woman was here by design. Ashton and Rosalind were set on getting him married. No doubt those master schemers would be throwing eligible women in his path left and right, hoping he would trip and stumble his way right through the church doors with a marriage license in his hand.

“Rafe, a word.” Ashton’s voice, cold and hard, made him stumble on the bottom step of the grand staircase. That voice was the way his brother used to sound when he spoke to Rafe, before Isla entered their lives and softened Ashton’s heart. His elder brother stood in the doorway of his study, arms crossed, a deep frown carving lines in his face.

“A word?” Rafe couldn’t fathom what he’d done to incur Ashton’s displeasure... unless, of course, Ashton, clever as he was, had figured out Rafe had gone back to robbing coaches. Lord, he hoped it wasn’t that.

He stepped into the study, and Ashton closed the door behind him. His brother then went around the side of his desk and stood beside his chair.

“You told me you were finished,” Ashton said.

“Finished?” Rafe asked carefully. “Finished with what?”

Ashton pushed a paper across the desk and tapped his index finger at an article. “ This .”

Rafe read the article’s title aloud: “Gang of Highway Thieves Strikes Again. Lord Caddington States He Is Determined to Catch Them.” He read the rest of the article in silence, and a chill ran deep through his bones. Caddington was the man who had caused their father’s death—not that Ashton knew that. Rafe had done everything to avoid that man since that awful night. The very sight of his name was enough to make Rafe ill. Feeling faint, he gripped the back of a nearby chair so hard his knuckles went white.

“Rafe?” Ashton’s voice lost some of its cold harshness. “What’s wrong?”

“I...” He bowed his head, breathing slowly to calm his racing heart in order to prevent himself from retching all over his shoes. “Sorry, Ash, I feel suddenly rather unwell,” he confessed.

His brother ushered him into the chair, then leaned back against the edge of his desk. “So you have been robbing again?”

“What? No.” Rafe pointed at the article. “Look at the two dates the thieves struck... I was here with you and Rosalind.” That was not a lie, at least. Whoever had robbed those coaches hadn’t been him or his friends. It was someone else using their methods, even their pseudonyms.

Ashton picked up the paper again and seemed to be doing some mental calculations. “You’re right. I hadn’t given a thought to the dates, only the areas where the robberies occurred. They are in your known territory.” He placed a hand on Rafe’s shoulder. “I apologize for the accusation.”

Rafe nodded. His stomach lurched and he closed his eyes. He tried not to think about the fact that he technically was lying to his brother and that he was still robbing coaches. Just not these specific two incidences.

“Rafe, what’s the matter? If it’s not about the robberies, then what is it?”

“Cad—” The name was a blight upon his tongue. “ Caddington . The man mentioned in the article. I know him. He’s dangerous, Ash. A man best avoided at all costs.” He couldn’t tell Ashton what Caddington had done. He didn’t want to speak of that awful night ever again, nor did he want to remind Ashton that it was Rafe’s fault their father was dead.

“I have heard of him, but I’ve never met him. He is a local magistrate, one with a reputation for meting out harsh punishments. What has he done to you?” Ashton’s fingers tightened slightly on Rafe as the brothers locked gazes.

“I met him once, years ago.” The memories clawed their way to the surface. “He is a man with no soul. His eyes are empty of all but the need to cause others pain. Promise me—” Rafe grasped Ashton’s wrist. “Promise me you will stay away from him.” Rafe had never begged Ashton for anything, but he was begging now.

Ashton’s eyes widened. “I will avoid him if I can, I promise.”

Rafe sighed and fell back against the chair. That horrible name had stolen him back to the past, when he’d been a foolish young man.

I am no longer that boy. I can protect myself and Isla, he reminded himself.

“Perhaps you should take a walk in the gardens for a bit to clear your head?” Ashton suggested.

“Yes, that’s an excellent idea.” His legs were still shaky as he stood, but he felt better.

Ashton walked with him to one of the doors that led to the gardens. “Do you want me to walk with you?”

“I appreciate the offer, but I will be fine,” he assured his brother.

“Very well, but don’t stay out too late. It looks as though it might rain this afternoon.”

Rafe stepped out into the gardens and looked to the skies. Towering dark clouds seemed to stretch forever. The afternoon sun, in defiance of the coming storm, glowed gold upon the trees and grass. Caspian had always teased Rafe since their university days about being a ceraunophile, a lover of storms. He loved the way the rain covered the earth and tapped upon the panes of glass, how the thunder shook the doors and frames while the trees bent to the might of its winds. Storms could ravage and destroy, but they also cleansed whatever they touched.

Turning toward the garden path, Rafe walked in the direction of those mountainous clouds, feeling stronger with each step. He turned his mind to the matter of this new gang of highwaymen. The thefts had been committed on nights he had been at home, and neither Will nor Caspian would ride without him. The article said three men had been involved in the robberies. Three wasn’t an unusual number, but the witnesses had heard the men’s names. Tyburn, Cambridge, and Oxford. That coincidence could not be ignored. So who were these imposters?

Rafe would find out, but that would take time, and he might even need to enlist Will and Caspian’s help. The last thing he could afford was to lose the chance to restart their thefts soon. His highwayman activities were his only source of income at the moment, and he could not put that at risk. He’d already been forced to delay his activities a month, and he’d lost all of the income that he had saved up for months prior to that since Diana Fox had stolen it all.

He circled back to the house, taking his time to walk through the maze of hedgerows, when he heard feminine voices just on the other side of the bushes where he stood.

“I thought for sure Rafe would turn up soon,” Rosalind said to someone.

“Rafe?” the other woman replied.

Rafe stilled, his breath halting.

He recognized that voice, because it was a voice that haunted his dreams with sinful fantasies. There was no way he could forget that gasp or how it had been followed by a moan as he’d pumped himself into the wet heat of her body, her legs tight around his waist. Vengeance and lust speared through him, sharp enough to steal his breath. He wanted to seize the woman, kiss her, and then reprimand her in the same breath.

“Oh yes,” Rosalind continued. “I forgot to tell you about him. You don’t remember ever meeting him?”

“No. I only ever met Joanna. I know that the eldest Lennox is Ashton’s elder sister. She married before I came out in society. Thomasina, I think it was... But as for Rafe, the name is familiar, but?—”

“He’s Ashton’s younger brother. He’s older than Joanna by seven years, but younger than Ash by five.”

“So he’s thirty?” The other woman chuckled as though she found it amusing that Rosalind would speak of a man’s age with such delicacy. “I quite forgot Joanna had another brother. She never talks about him. I met her and Regina in town just recently. And I never had the pleasure of meeting your husband until last night. Despite living nearby, my family wasn’t much for dinner parties or balls. The Mertons are the only neighbors I know well.”

Rafe was both irritated and amused to think that his little thief didn’t know him as his true self, yet she’d been a beautiful, brazen siren in his arms last night.

“Well, I must warn you, he’s a determined flirt,” Rosalind said. “But he has given up his rakehell ways. Ever since Isla came along, he’s been a devoted father.”

Diana gave a short gasp. “Oh! Isla is his child?”

“Oh yes,” Rosalind replied.

“I thought she was one of your brothers’ children. She’s Scottish, isn’t she?”

“Isla was born in Scotland, yes. She only came to England a year ago.”

“Oh... I see. How very silly of me.”

“Nonsense,” Rosalind chuckled. “It was quite a rational assumption.”

Rafe heard the gravel shift on the path as the two women resumed walking. Then, when he was certain they were coming his way, he sped up, taking the corner at a brisk pace, determined to collide with them. And he did. His body smacked into the nearest woman, and he caught her in his arms, holding on to her.

“Oh! I’m terribly sorry.” He now stood face-to-face with none other than his little thief. Her honey-brown eyes were lit with shock, and for an instant he thought he saw a flash of recognition in them. But then it was replaced with confusion and embarrassment.

“Rafe!” Rosalind cried out, forcing him to remember he was playing the polite gentleman. He released Diana and stepped back to a proper distance.

Rosalind rushed to make an introduction. “Diana, this is Mr. Rafe Lennox. Rafe, this is Miss Diana Fox.”

“Diana?” He watched her eyes closely but saw none of that first sign of recognition there. Of course, when he used Tyburn’s brogue, he didn’t sound like himself at all. What a difference an accent could make.

“A pleasure to meet you.” Diana ducked her face slightly.

His little fire drake was shy? How interesting. He decided in that moment he didn’t want her to know who he was, not yet. Tyburn was her dark shadow lover, but what would she think of Rafe? A gentleman, a father, a former rakehell who was utterly polite to the ladies? Would she like him for who he was, or would she lose interest? It was torture to test her interest, but he needed to know that what existed between them wasn’t simply the stuff of midnight dreams and the thrill of danger.

“It is a pleasure to meet you as well. Are you one of Rosalind’s friends from London?” he asked. How different she looked now, almost sweetly demure, her cheeks pink, her lashes downcast, when at night she came alive with challenge, her gaze unflinching, her lips insistent, her hands hungry. He wanted to peel off this layer of politeness along with her clothing and carry his little hellion off into the gardens and slake their mutual lust upon the manicured lawns.

“No, I live at Foxglove Hall, the estate just beyond the Merton lands. Do you know it?”

“I believe I heard it mentioned, but I have not visited there.”

Rosalind smiled warmly at Diana. “We’ve only just met, but Diana is certainly a friend.”

Diana blushed at the compliment, and Rafe adored the sight of her flushed skin. She was even more beautiful in daylight. The dark fall of her hair was pulled back with ribbons in a tangled tumble of rich color, and her eyes were so bright and warm. Candlelight had adorned her last evening, but sunlight was enraptured by her and made her glow. His lungs suddenly burned as he forgot to breathe. When he realized Rosalind was watching him with wide eyes, he cleared his throat.

“Any friend of Rosalind’s can be counted among mine,” he said, unable to keep the pleasure out of his voice.

Diana’s eyes locked on his as she spoke, her voice slightly airy. “Rosalind said that you have a daughter?”

He nodded. “Ah. Have you met my little kitten?”

“Yes, a short while ago. She is an adorable child.”

“She takes after me, winning hearts at every turn,” he teased, and Rosalind snorted a laugh.

“She’s a better gambler than you, Rafe,” Rosalind said, then winked. “At least in winning hearts.”

“She’ll soon be better than me at whist, but the child has a knack for reading faces. She can always call a bluff.”

“We were just about to have tea on the terrace, if you wish to join us.”

“I most certainly would.” Rafe gestured for the ladies to precede him. Partly because he was a gentleman and partly because he wanted to watch Diana’s backside sway in that lovely rose-colored gown.

At the terrace they were met by the nanny, who was introduced to her as Mrs. Chesterfield. The nanny held little Malcolm in her arms, and Isla, who clung to her skirts with one hand.

“Oh, you simply must meet my son, Diana.” Rosalind pulled Diana toward the nanny, and she took the baby from Mrs. Chesterfield and showed his little face to Diana.

“Oh, he’s a darling ,” Diana answered with honest admiration.

Isla ran to Rafe, and he scooped her up in his arms.

“See? ’Tis the pretty lady, Papa,” Isla whispered in his ear.

“Yes, I see,” Rafe replied. “What do you think of her?”

“She’s verra nice.”

“Is she?” He’d only seen passion and fire from Diana before. Now he had a chance to see her softer side. Could she love an orphan he had adopted? If she could not, then he would have to end his obsession with her. He fought to keep the frown off his face at that thought but failed. Isla traced that frown, which made him smile. She giggled in delight and he squeezed her, kissing her forehead, then set her down.

“Go on and have some biscuits,” he said, giving her a little push. Isla rushed straight to Diana and tugged on the woman’s skirts. Rafe waited to see if she would ignore the child and continue cooing over the baby. But she immediately knelt down and gave Isla her full attention. Isla soon led her by the hand to the table and put her in one of the chairs, along with her doll, Mrs. Crumpet. Perhaps his little dragon had a tender heart after all?

Diana focused on helping Isla with her glass of milk and biscuits and kept her gaze away from Mr. Lennox... Rafe .

Good heavens, the man was bewitchingly handsome. When he’d grabbed her in the gardens she’d been utterly lost in his eyes. She’d seen what she’d yearned to see. Tyburn . Her mysterious lover. But she had to remind herself it was another trick of her mind, just as Lord Lennox had been. This English gentleman was no Scottish rogue. He lived in a fine house. He had no need to rob anyone.

And he had a daughter. A man with a darling child would never risk his life on something foolhardy, like being a highwayman. And a man with Isla in his life could never be lonely the way her wicked highwayman was.

Still, when she looked at Rafe Lennox, something in her became very quiet, very still, except for the wild flutter of excitement in her belly. What the devil was the matter with her? She’d never been fixated on men before, and now she had two men she couldn’t stop thinking about.

She accepted the cup of tea a footman had poured for her and glanced surreptitiously at Rafe, who had chosen the seat closest to her. The bottle-green coat he wore made his blue eyes somehow even brighter than the sun, and his pale-gold hair was bronze beneath the sun’s late-afternoon rays.

“Isla, kitten, why don’t you come and sit on the other side of me?” Rafe patted the seat of the open chair on his other side. “I’m sure Miss Fox doesn’t wish to be bothered?—”

“She’s quite fine, Mr. Lennox, I assure you. I would be delighted to sit with her and Mrs. Crumpet.”

Rafe’s blue eyes were warm and gentle, full of concern for his daughter. This man wasn’t Tyburn. Tyburn had no children, or else she would not have heard that hint of hope when he’d asked if she had become pregnant from their first night together. Rafe Lennox had his child. He had a legacy. He was the farthest thing from lonely.

“See, Papa?” Isla whispered to her father, and she giggled. He made a little grunt that sent the girl into another fit of giggles, and Rafe cleared his throat. Rosalind carried Malcom across the terrace, cooing softly as she rocked him, which gave Diana and Rafe a few minutes alone.

“So, Foxglove...” He seemed to be struggling for small talk, and for some reason that set Diana at ease.

This man was rather too perfect in his looks, and his smooth voice could have seduced a woman out of her clothes in seconds. He wielded far too much sinful power for her not to be affected by him. Diana needed something about him that failed to reach perfection so she wouldn’t feel so disadvantaged. She prayed he wouldn’t notice how old her gown was or wonder at the odd placement of the embroidery that was designed to be patches over the torn and frayed areas of the fabric. But even if he did, she knew he would be a gentleman and not mention it. Still, the idea of him wondering about her circumstances filled her with fresh embarrassment.

“Yes, that’s my home. I run the estate now that my father is gone. It keeps me quite busy.”

“I offer my condolences about your father.” He lifted the little blue-and-white porcelain bowl of sugar cubes and offered them to her. She shook her head. She’d gotten accustomed to denying herself such small pleasures if it helped the cook save money. When they did use sugar, it was for the necessary recipes and not for tea.

“He passed a little less than a year ago. My mother died when I was fifteen. I’ve become accustomed to being...”

“Accustomed to being what?”

“Being on my own,” she added, avoiding the word lonely . “And you?”

“Me?” He raised a dark-gold brow.

“Er...” She blushed and sipped her tea, having realized what she’d just asked, but then she decided to go ahead and ask the difficult question. “Isla’s mother, is she...”

“Gone,” Rafe said quietly. “A year ago in Edinburgh.” He looked into the distance, and her heart ached in sympathy.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned it?—”

Rafe managed a smile. “It’s quite all right. Isla knows her mother is gone and that she loved her very much.”

Isla watched them both with grave, silent eyes as she ate her biscuits. Diana felt wretched for asking such a painful question in front of the child.

“Mrs. Chesterfield, would you mind watching Isla for a few minutes? I need to walk about.” Rafe stood and bowed to Diana, just as Rosalind returned to the table. Then he strode away down one of the garden paths.

“Oh dear. It seems I’ve made a mess of things,” Diana confessed to Rosalind. “He must miss his wife desperately.”

Rosalind blinked. “Wife?” She cradled Malcolm in her arms as she leaned forward to whisper, “He’s never been married.”

“What do you mean?” Diana asked in confusion.

Rosalind shook her head again and looked at the nanny. “Would you mind taking Isla to the fountains and letting her play for a bit?”

“Yes, my lady.” Mrs. Chesterfield clasped Isla’s little hand and led the little girl off into the gardens. Rosalind turned back to Diana.

“Rafe has never been married,” Rosalind began. “Isla is his adopted daughter. She was found in Scotland by Rafe, my older brother Brodie, and his wife, Lydia. Isla’s mother died of an illness. Her body was stolen by some men who sold corpses to doctors. The men would have killed Isla because she’d witnessed their body-snatching, but Lydia rescued her and brought her home. She took to Rafe like a little chick upon first hatching, and they’ve been inseparable ever since. I’m not quite sure who rescued whom, to be honest.”

The nanny and the little girl had disappeared between hedgerows. There was something about Isla that tugged fiercely at Diana’s heart. A girl who had lost her family but had found—or rather, chosen —another. She was a strong child and would grow into a strong woman. The Lennoxes were wonderful people, the perfect family to take care of such a brave girl.

“I believe you are the first woman to ever ruffle Rafe’s feathers like that,” Rosalind said.

Diana blinked. “Pardon?”

“Rafe, my brother-in-law, is a rake—or rather, he’s in the process of reforming himself from being one—but he’s never let a woman affect him before. He always rises to a challenge, and yet at one question from you, he flees into the gardens.”

“Affect him? You mean I upset him. I asked about a woman who’d died, the mother of the child who is so clearly dear to him. I feel like I stabbed the man in the heart...” Diana’s face heated with fresh mortification.

“Why don’t you go and speak to him?” Rosalind suggested.

“I couldn’t. He left us to have a moment alone. The last thing he desires is to have me disturb him.”

Rosalind patted Malcolm’s bottom as he made soft sucking sounds with his little mouth. “Nonsense. He needs to speak about Isla’s parents. He needs to be comfortable with her past so that she may be comfortable with it as well. If you help the man, you help the child.”

Diana bit her lip. “You truly think I should go after him?”

“I do. And this little one needs to be fed and put down for a nap. So I shall excuse myself while you seek out Rafe.” Rosalind rose, and a footman opened the door to the house for her.

Diana was halfway to the gardens when she realized how scandalous it was to seek out a man on her own. However... this wasn’t London, and her married hostess had insisted that she seek the gentleman out. Not to mention that the gentleman in question was her hostess’s brother-in-law. Surely it couldn’t be that scandalous... And it wasn’t as though she had a reputation to worry over.

The clouds overhead began to eclipse the sun, and a chill wind rushed through the trees and flowers. She shivered and rubbed her arms. She was thankful she’d worn a long-sleeved gown, but the sudden loss of sunlight was like the unexpected kiss of winter on the summer day. Thunder rumbled, still distant, but walls of sweeping rain could now be seen flowing across the distant golden meadows, turning the grass a dark bronze. She looked back the way she’d come, wondering if she should go back into the house. But no, she still had to apologize to Rafe, and she was no stranger to a little rain. She would find him, and they would walk back together.

She reached a lovely fountain with a stone statue of Neptune mounted in the center, water spouting from his hands and a large carved fish at his feet. She paused to admire the work of art, but there was no sign of the nanny or the little girl she’d expected to see.

“Help!”

A scream tore through the gardens. Diana spun and ran toward the sound, taking turns around bushes until she found the nanny on the path ahead of her.

“What’s wrong?” she asked as she reached Mrs. Chesterfield.

The older woman was clutching her chest and gasping, her face red and her eyes blurred with tears. “The baby! I lost the baby!”

“The baby? Rosalind just took him inside for a nap.”

“No, not Malcom. Little Isla. She’s gone!”

Diana spun in a circle, looking for any hint of the little blue-and-white dress that Isla wore. There was no sign of her. A moment later, rain swept across the gardens, pelting the earth violently. Thunder crashed ever closer.

“We have to find her!” the nanny cried. “She’ll catch her death in this weather.”

Mrs. Chesterfield was right. They had to find Isla, and fast.