Her Rogue by Charlotte Russell

 

Chapter Two

Hattie could have no idea how much Ben was looking forward to their clandestine meeting in the woods because the truth was, he was looking forward to it very little. Oh, he more than liked the idea of seeing beautiful Hattie again, but still, he must curse her very presence here in Hatherden.

Subterfuge was difficult to pull off when a childhood acquaintance recognized him. Somehow, he would have to convince Hattie to go along with his new identity. Lucky for him, his charm and smile never failed him when women needed convincing.

Ben let his black gelding meander down the road north of the village, giving himself time to think. He’d left his room at the Old Bell and Crown early enough that he was in no hurry. He crested a rolling hill and saw the wood Hattie had indicated in the distance. The trees were lush and full, their leaves deepened to a dark green now that July was half gone, so there was no chance he would spy her before he entered the wood. That was all well and good because that meant no one else would see the two of them meeting.

He’d had no idea Lady Harriet Danforth had married Lord Dunstan. That’s what came of losing contact with his friend Lord James Danforth. Ben and James had been nearly inseparable in their younger days, as the old Duke of Taviston had allowed his steward’s son to be educated alongside his fourth child. Eventually, though, James had been sent off to Harrow, and Ben’s father had decided to leave the duke’s employ.

Ben pulled his hat a little lower to shield his eyes from the sun. Even if he’d been wise enough to consult the Debrett’s Peerage entry of Viscount Dunstan and realized that Hattie was Lady Dunstan, he still would have come to Hampshire. His and his aunts’ future depended on it. He had to find a way into Rutledge Manor and if that meant presuming upon his acquaintance with Hattie, well then, it must be done. The trick would be in convincing her to do so without revealing what he was really doing.

After another quarter mile, Ben guided his mount onto the path that veered right. Soon enough he’d entered the wood, drawing closer to that moment when he’d have to lie to Hattie, a task he’d tried often enough in years past, though he had not usually succeeded at it. This time would have to be different.

The wood was cooler and darker, even as the sun’s rays fought to penetrate the shaded canopy of the trees. The path narrowed until there was room for just a single rider. Ben pulled out his watch and checked the time in the shifting light. One minute until eight. He had not a single doubt that Hattie would already be at the designated meeting spot. She’d always been punctual; her attire had always been impeccable; her hair always artfully dressed; her demeanor always compassionate and patient. Well, nearly always patient. He, more than James, had tried that virtue every other day. However, in the chaotic life of a family with ten siblings, no mother, and a busy father, Ben had taken comfort in Hattie’s orderly appearance and sensible character.

The path widened and curved and then he saw her, as composed and punctual as ever. Not to mention striking. Ben slowed the gelding so as to look his fill. Though he’d never given the matter a thought when he was younger, Hattie was a fine-looking woman. She stood next to a grey mare, sunlight illuminating the left side of her curvaceous body. Those curves, wrought by full tits and flared hips, were nicely accentuated by her form-fitting dark blue riding habit. Most of her auburn-colored hair was tucked up beneath a hat with a jauntily waving feather.

She’d been fiddling with the saddle on her horse but noticed his arrival just then. Ben couldn’t have said what she was feeling at that moment. She didn’t smile, but her eyes brightened with something that could have been familiarity or curiosity or even awareness, though perhaps he imagined that last one. He did not, however, imagine how her shoulders straightened, lifting her breasts higher. Ben never failed to notice things like that.

He grinned and raised his hand in greeting as the horse fully entered the clearing. Hattie tipped her head in a much too dignified manner.

Ben dismounted with more flourish than was necessary and strode over. Taking her hand, he bowed low. “My lady.”

“Benjamin, really.”

He rose, keeping hold of her hand, to find her staring at him with pursed lips. That would never do. He squeezed her hand and brought it to his lips. Bending it slightly, he exposed a bit of her wrist in the gap between her glove and sleeve and pressed his lips to the soft skin. His mouth curved in satisfaction at the small stutter of her breath.

Alas, she snatched her hand back and there was no denying the censure in her voice. “Benjamin Charles King.”

He straightened again and tipped his hat. “Good morning, Lady Dunstan. I prefer to be known as Mr. Fauntleroy now.”

She narrowed her gaze. “So I hear. Fauntleroy. Son of the king. Very clever.”

“It’s not as if I wish to deny my father. However, I have my reasons for not using his name.”

“And those reasons would be?”

“Can we not even have a chance to reacquaint ourselves, Hattie?”

She tipped her head back and shot him an annoyingly patronizing look. “I think perhaps I would prefer to assure myself of your true purpose here in Hatherden first.”

This was not going to be easy. Then again, he wasn’t ten years old anymore. Ben looked down at Hattie’s disapproving grey eyes.

Hmmm. No, he certainly wasn’t a lad any longer. He had more weapons in his arsenal. He cocked an eyebrow at Hattie and began to circle her slowly.

She bristled and seemed to grow at least an inch. “What are you doing?”

“Admiring the view from up here.” He stopped and grinned down at her. “I do believe I was at least a foot shorter than you the last time we saw each other.” He swept his fingers along the underside of her jaw. “I like what I see from this angle.”

She swatted his hand away. “Why are you here, using a different name?”

The suspicion in her tone banked the flames of lust that had just begun to flare. Just as well. Time to be honest. To a degree.

He offered her one hand and waved the other toward a fat log which, from the looks of it, hadn’t stood upright for over half a century. “Would you care to sit?”

She hesitated only a moment before letting him guide her over to the makeshift seat. Once she had settled in and arranged her velvet skirts, Ben lowered himself next to her. Hattie glanced his way and shifted an inch in the opposite direction.

He let that go without remark. If she felt the need to put distance between them, she wasn’t completely unaware of him. Thank God, because a plan had just begun to take shape in his mind.

“Can I trust you, Lady Dunstan?”

She straightened her spine. “I cannot recall a time when you didn’t. I hope my character has not changed that much.”

Ben leaned his head a little closer to her. “Do not take umbrage, Hattie. I just need to be certain. You see, I am here in Hatherden on a very delicate mission.”

“Oh.” She turned her face to him then. “That sounds intriguing. What sort of mission?”

Ben swept his gaze around the clearing and, despite the presence of two horses and no other humans, lowered his voice. “I must find something.”

“Something in particular? Or will that primrose over there do? Or perhaps the bark of that oak?”

She was laughing at his dramatic overtures. He should probably take offense but the amusement brightening her eyes was beguiling. The longer he looked at those practical lips of hers, the more he wanted to lure them into hot and wild impracticality. He leaned closer still.

“Well, Benjamin?”

With an effort, he swallowed a huff of frustration. Hattie resorted to pronouncing his full name in that sharp tone whenever he got too near. On the bright side, he was affecting her. He’d let that simmer for a while.

Leaning his forearms on his thighs, he watched her mare nibble on a plant. “I’m looking for a piece of artwork. A stolen painting, as a matter of fact.”

“That is intriguing. Was the painting stolen from you?”

“No.”

“Then why do you care about its recovery?”

The silent groan echoing through his head was so loud he feared Hattie would hear it. Not only did he happen to be acquainted with Lord Dunstan’s widow of all people, but she was also too intelligent for his own good. God save him.

With no other choice, Ben plucked an imaginary thread from the recesses of his brain and began to weave a tale. “I’ve been commissioned by the owner of the painting to find it. Over the course of the last few weeks, the trail I’ve pursued has led me here, to Hatherden.” He glanced at Hattie out of the corner of his eye. “As a matter of fact, I believe the painting is currently at Rutledge Manor.”

She stiffened. “You think Rutledge Manor houses a stolen painting? That is a bold charge to make against my in-laws.”

“Therefore, I do not intend to make the charge public. I am fairly certain the painting is hidden at your home. In an attic, perhaps. Hidden behind another painting, maybe. Possibly, probably, locked up somewhere.  I do not necessarily contend that your in-laws stole the painting, and truthfully, that is not for me to decide. However, the gentleman I am working for wants his property returned.”

Ben wasn’t looking for a painting, but there was something secreted in Rutledge Manor. Something that must be returned to its rightful owner. He just needed an opportunity to search the ancestral home of the Viscounts Dunstan.

“You won’t tell me the name of this person who sent you on this mission, will you?” Hattie asked.

“No.”

She turned to him then, a furrow in her fine alabaster brow. “Why are you doing this for him, whoever he might be?”

Ben laughed, a reaction that startled Hattie. “For the money he will pay me, of course. We cannot all be the children of wealthy dukes who in turn marry wealthy viscounts, my lady.”

She blinked twice and just like that, practical equilibrium resurfaced in her grey eyes. “Do you often accept such commissions then?”

“I do. The seventh son and tenth child of a steward must survive somehow.” Ben offered her a sheepish smile, relieved to have spoken at least one truth. He did accept payments to find things or information for those who were looking. He’d become skilled at prevarication, could dissemble at the drop of a hat, and usually succeeded in his quests, much to the gratification of those who employed him.

This time, though, he worked for no other. His search was personal, and not even dear Hattie would stand in his way of finding what he’d come for. And well she might stand in his way, now that he knew she was Lady Dunstan. Still, he would take what belonged to him. His future would be set, and he’d be able to provide for his spinster aunts when they most needed him. Which happened to be now since his aunt Marian had taken a turn for the worse. Though he had those aforementioned nine siblings, he was the only one who was the product of the marriage of his mother and father. As Agnes and Marian were his mother’s sisters, his siblings were not inclined to help with supporting them.

Hattie cleared her throat and pulled a small purse from the folds of her skirt. “If you need assistance, Benjamin, you need only ask. I can—”

Chuckling, Ben moved in front of her, settling on his haunches and covering her hands—and the purse—with his. Most men would be offended by her offer of money. Not Ben. He was happy to see her nature was still a generous one.

“I am not in need of your coins. As a bachelor with very few obligations, I do quite well for myself.” Besides, once he located what he searched for, he would never again need to accept a commission. Nor would Agnes and Marian need worry about where they would spend their dotage. He squeezed her hands and then turned beseeching eyes up to hers. “I do, however, my dear Hattie, need your assistance. Can I count on you?”

He did not like the shadowy shrewdness that crept across her face. “How may I help you then?”

Ben held her gaze. “I need access to Rutledge Manor in order to search for the painting.”

“That is no small thing to ask. Well” —she pulled her hand away and patted his topmost hand— “I suppose I could have you to tea one day and introduce you as an old acquaintance. I could offer you a tour of the house, for it is rather grand. The upstairs gallery—”

“Hattie.” Ben stood and paced a few feet away before turning back to her. “It’s possible my search might be quite in depth. I might need to come back. Again and again.”

Her eyes clouded. “Benjamin, I am not certain I should get involved with your scheme. The house is not mine, and I really must maintain a cordial relationship with my in-laws.”

“They needn’t know why I am there, and to that end, I have the perfect plan to disguise my true purpose.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I can help you after all.”

He would not be deterred, and he would not ride away from Hatherden without finding what he sought. His aunts were depending on him. They deserved a home of their own. Somewhere they truly belonged. Their future, and his, was at stake.

“You must help me.”

Hattie straightened to what looked like an uncomfortable degree. “No, I mustn’t.”

This encounter was not going as pleasantly as Ben had hoped. There was one thing, however, which might bring recalcitrant Hattie to his aid. Once again, he crouched before her. “You owe me, Hattie.”

“We haven’t seen each other in fourteen years. How could I possibly be beholden to you?”

He held her gaze for a long moment before finally poking at her memory. “As I recall, it was a warm evening much like last night. You were discovered missing from your bed. Your mother worried you’d been taken for nefarious purposes. Your father complained about your secretiveness. James helped them search the house. I said I would too but instead I stole out to the garden, where I’d seen you meet the stable boy not a half hour before.”

Even now, fourteen years later, a glossy flush suffused Hattie’s cheeks.

Ben smiled at that and continued, “I sneaked you back into the house, claimed I’d found you sleep-walking in the attic, and I never, ever told anyone what you’d done. Not even James, and especially not your father.”

She sighed with an air of nostalgia. “You were an unexpectedly good friend that night. I thank you again.”

“I kept your secret, and I helped you out. Won’t you do the same for me, Hattie?”

“I…” Her shoulders relaxed from their painfully straight position. “Yes, of course I will.”

Ben grinned in relief. He stood and pulled her up with him, keeping her hand in his. He leaned in closer, all his attention on Hattie. She tipped her head back. He lowered his head, never looking away. When his mouth hovered a mere inch from her, he dipped his head to the side and whispered against her ear, “I would be honored to court you.”

Her hands went slack, and she stumbled back. “I beg your pardon?”

“A courtship is the perfect solution,” Ben said with a wide grin. “I can visit you daily. Perhaps you might even invite me to dinner a time or two. After I’ve found what I’m looking for, I’ll break your heart.” He spread his hands out. “In the eyes of your family and neighbors anyway.”

He’d expected a dash of surprise, hoped for a sliver of desire, but instead her expression twisted into one of confusion and... No. That couldn’t be horror. His power of observation must be off.

“You want to court me?”

Ben couldn’t help it; he puffed out his chest at her disbelief. “Yes. As I mentioned, I’m a bachelor. Not titled of course, but I’ll have you know Bennett Fauntleroy hails from a renowned, well-respected family in the north and has three thousand pounds a year. And you are a widow. It’s a grand plan.”

A shadow passed through her eyes, and she stared at something beyond his shoulder. Ever so slowly she pulled her gaze back to him.

“Please, Hattie.” Ben was never too proud to beg. That magic word please always worked wonders on the female sex. In fact, he recalled its use had sometimes swayed Hattie into turning a blind eye to his harebrained plans in the past.

The shadow behind her eyes was long gone. Now she stood expressionless before him. In much the same manner he had the previous night, she examined him from his boots to the crown of his head. After perusing his hair for a moment, she giggled. Giggled, of all things. Then that giggle turned into a sputter and before he knew it, Hattie was bent over in hearty, humiliating laughter.

That had never happened before. His propositions, whether true or pretend, were generally met with sultry smiles, blushing cheeks, or uplifted eyebrows. Never laughter.

He raised his voice to be heard over Hattie’s guffaws. “It’s not a ridiculous plan. My presence in the house would be well accounted for.” He took a step toward Hattie, who had righted herself at last and was attempting to breathe normally. “And, you cannot tell me, Lady Dunstan, that you would not have welcomed my kiss two minutes ago.” He strode closer still. “I’d wager I could back you up against that oak right now, and you would open those practical lips on a hitched breath just a second before I’d capture them, your heart galloping faster than that mare of yours, your cheeks coloring prettily, your body flushing with anticipation. And when I slipped my—”

“Benjamin.” She jerked her head back and, indeed, her cheeks were stained an impassioned pink. “If you attempted to back me up against that tree right now, I guarantee you would find my knee placed in a most painful position upon your person.”

“Hattie!” Dear God, the woman was harsher than he remembered.

“Now, back to your…proposition. No one within twenty miles of Rutledge Manor would ever believe you and I are courting.”

He didn’t often become angry, but her hostility and denial cut through him in a way he did not like. “I could make them believe it but if you are not so certain of yourself...”

She gave him a look. “I am thirty-five years old. That makes you, my dear fellow, just shy of five and twenty. No amount of pretense will change those facts. I’m too old for you.”

He rather liked that look on Hattie. It was part superiority, part girlish charm. Very fetching indeed. And it gave lie to her claim of being old.

“Age is merely a number. Bennett Fauntleroy can court anyone he pleases.”

Hattie shook her head and stared at him.

“I need to search for that painting. I need to get into Rutledge Manor. We are both of age and free to do as we please. A courtship makes perfect sense.” Ben crossed his arms over his chest. “You cannot give me one good reason our pretense won’t be believed if we put our minds to it.”

Hattie’s smile spread across her face like the sun rising. She closed the gap between them and held up her hand, thumb across her palm. “You’re right, I can’t give you one reason. I can give you four reasons.” She ticked off her fingers as she said, “Elizabeth, Kitty, Lucy, and William.”

Ben shrugged. “And they are?”

Her smile grew, and she waggled her fingers. “My children. My four children. Not even Bennett Fauntleroy can make people believe he’s courting a woman who is ten years his senior and also the mother of four children.”

Ben took a long look at Hattie. She was biting her lip to prevent laughter from escaping again. Having grown up around her, he could easily imagine Hattie as a mother. What he couldn’t quite reconcile was that the sensual beauty standing before him was a mother. She was unequivocally attractive. Flirtation lurked around her wide lips. Passion simmered beneath her smooth, pale skin. That passion called to him. Had since their dance last night.

He couldn’t possibly be lusting after a mother of four, could he?

Hattie laughed, a throaty sound that did nothing to dispel his wayward desire. “I would venture to say this is the quietest you’ve been in twenty-four years.” When he merely grunted at that, she continued on, “I am more than willing to help you get inside Rutledge Manor. We will simply need another plan. Oh, I know. I could look for the painting for you.”

Ben was shaking his head before she even finished the sentence. “I don’t think that’s wise. I have no idea who stole the painting or why, but I don’t want you to be involved in this scheme.”

“And yet you are asking for my assistance.”

“Only to give me a reason to be there. Searching is risky and I won’t expose you to that danger.”

Her eyes widened. “This is dangerous?”

Now he’d scared her. He took her hand. “Of course it’s not dang—”

Hattie was batting her eyelashes in an exaggerated way, laughing at him again. Very well, she wasn’t a naive slip of a girl who’d just made her come-out.

“No one likes a meddler,” Ben said, attempting to keep his focus. “If I’m caught, I take the blame. I want you to be able to disclaim any knowledge of what I’m doing.”

A waft of her perfume invaded his nose, the devilish lemon and mint scent urging him to bury his face in her neck. This mission wasn’t dangerous. Hattie was dangerous, whatever her age. And mission or not, Ben wanted to kiss her. Her hand still captive in his, he pulled her forward. When she offered no resistance, he dipped his head and nuzzled her neck just below the ear. Sharp citrus, earthy woods, alluring woman. She was absolutely lovely. Hattie made a sound that Ben interpreted as a moan. When she wriggled her arms between them and pushed away, he decided he was wrong. He let her go instantly.

“I can honestly say I have no idea what you are doing, Benjamin.” Hands on hips, she narrowed her eyes at him.

“I’m just trying to complete my assignment. And since you don’t seem to have an alternative to courtship...”

“Give me a minute to think,” she snapped. “Because you are not going to court me.”

She turned and walked toward her mare. The horse lifted its head at her approach and allowed Hattie to smooth its forelock. She continued to pet the horse while Ben simply watched, entranced by the shape of her hand, the uniform length of her buffed fingernails, the way her hips gently swayed.

He forced himself to look away. His enchantment with her, with everything about her, bordered on the ridiculous. She was just Hattie. James’s—much—older sister. The overbearing girl who was always telling him and James ‘Don’t jump in the pond’ and ‘Get off that window ledge.’ There was really nothing remarkable about Harriet Danforth Rutledge, Viscountess Dunstan.

“I’ve got it!” Hattie snapped her fingers and marched toward him. “I’ll hire you as a tutor.”

Ben cocked an eyebrow, and his words slipped out automatically. “I can think of many things I’d like to teach you.”

She cast him a withering glare. “I’ll hire you to tutor my children. In mathematics.”

Courting Hattie was a much better proposition. He could think of nothing more tedious than teaching mathematics to young children.

“It’s perfect. You’ll have access to the house each day for hours.” She smiled and clapped her hands together, very pleased with herself.

“I’ll have access to the house…with four children in tow.”

“Oh no, just two.”

“Two?” Already he was failing as a mathematics tutor.

Hattie nodded. “Elizabeth is ten and Kitty is eight. They will be your students. Lucy is just five, much too young. Although...” She tapped her chin with an elegant finger. “She is quite precocious. You might be able to teach her a thing or two.”

Ben sighed, for he could see that she’d set her mind on this plan. It wasn’t a horrible plan, except for the tutoring part. As for children, he liked them well enough. His nine older brothers and sisters had given him scores of nieces and nephews. So many he’d lost count as to their exact number. Speaking of numbers...

“What about the fourth?” he asked. “William, was it? Is he already beyond the scope of my tutoring abilities?”

“I’m not certain,” she with a spark in her eyes. “If he had better command of his tongue, he might be able to tell us how much he knows.” At Ben’s quizzical stare, she relented, “He’s not quite two years old, but you are welcome to try your best.”

“Oh, I could teach young Lord Dunstan a thing or two. How to climb a tree. How to sneak an extra sweetmeat after dinner. How to put a cricket in his sister’s bed.”

“I think perhaps you’d best stick with the girls and mathematics.” Hattie retrieved her gloves from a saddle bag and pulled them on. “Where are you staying? I’ll send a note round tomorrow with a time for you to come by.” Her mouth twisted. “You’ll have to meet my mother-in-law.”

“Why does it sound like you are apologizing?”

“Because I am.”

Curious. “Is she the dark-haired woman who skewered you with her stare the whole time we were dancing last night?”

Hattie nodded.

“I’ll be sure to wear my armor. I’m at the Old Bell and Crown. Are you certain you don’t want to tell me more about the children? I want to be prepared.” He didn’t want Hattie to leave. He couldn’t have said how long their interlude had lasted already but it wasn’t long enough. He still wanted to kiss her. Lord, did he want to kiss her.

“You’ll do fine. You’re not far removed from childhood yourself,” she said with a smile that did not take the sting out of that comment.

His family, too, treated him as if he’d just been breeched. He didn’t need to hear the same sentiment from Hattie. She would do well to remember he was a grown man now.

“Will you give me a hand up?” She waved toward her mare.

With a nod, he stepped behind her but instead of cupping his hand to help her up, Ben slanted his head next to hers and whispered in her ear. “Do not forget to introduce me as Mr. Fauntleroy. Since you cannot seem to remember to call me Bennett, perhaps you’d best use Ben...when we’re in private.”

“There won’t be a need for us to be in private.”

Ben huffed out a breath. The late Lord Dunstan must have possessed staggering amounts of charm in order to penetrate the icy shield Hattie wielded.

“Just promise me you will not reveal my true identity.”

She leaned back and patted his cheek. “You have my word, Mr. Fauntleroy.”

He had her promise and entrée to Rutledge Manor. That would have to be enough, despite how alluring she smelled, looked, walked, breathed. Ben cupped his hand and hoisted her onto the mare. Then he bowed. “Until tomorrow, Lady Dunstan. Please tell the children I’m looking forward to meeting them.”