Her Rogue by Charlotte Russell

 

Chapter Six

Deep into the night, after he was certain the publican at the Old Bell and Crown had finally retired, Ben crept down the stairs of the tavern and tromped across the fields surrounding Hatherden toward Rutledge Manor. On foot was the only way to go since he couldn’t chance waking the stable boy by saddling his horse.

The night was a fine one anyway, clear and warm with a breeze that made the walk a pleasant one. An owl hooted in the distance and closer to, nocturnal creatures scurried or stalked through the field around him, once even brushing up against his boot.

God willing, he would find that what he searched for tonight. A title deed to a property that should rightfully be his but was instead claimed by the viscountcy. Though he didn’t like lying to Hattie, he couldn’t tell her the truth. Her son was the viscount. Never would she allow Ben to search for—and take—that title deed. His aunt Agnes had told him the tale, when they’d been reunited earlier this year. Ben’s mother, youngest of the three sisters, had once been the mistress of the third Viscount Dunstan. According to Agnes, a solicitor had come round to her and Marian, claiming that Anna Claypool, Ben’s mother, had been deeded a property in Hampshire. Unfortunately, his aunts had lost touch with his mother, and she couldn’t be located.

If Agnes remembered correctly, the property was left to Anna’s heir, which was Ben. He’d been surprised to learn his mother had been a mistress, but not knowing her circumstances before she married his father, he couldn’t fault her. Women were often put in untenable positions. Just look at Hattie, and she was a viscountess.

If he was successful in his search tonight, he could be on his way to London and a solicitor by morning. He could be, but instead he’d probably remain and at least take his leave of Hattie and her girls properly. As he climbed a stile, he had to admit he would regret saying farewell to Elizabeth, Kitty, and Lucy. They were sweet girls who did their mother proud. As for Hattie herself, it had been good to see her again and he’d have regrets there, too. If he’d had more time, he might have been able to charm her into a brief liaison, if that scorching look she’d given him this afternoon was any indication.

Ah well, perhaps an affair with Hattie was best left to his dreams. He didn’t want to cause her any more complications than he already was.

Rutledge Manor loomed in the shadows, its dark facade melting into the night. Ben approached at an angle aiming for the rear corner so he wouldn’t be quite so visible from any of the windows. Once near enough to the ivy-covered wall, he picked his way through the darkness to the door Hattie had told him about.

She was correct. Was she ever wrong? The latch wasn’t properly secured, and Ben slipped inside without a problem. Or a sound. He could not be caught skulking around Rutledge Manor in the middle of the night. Philip Saunders would have him jailed, if not worse, and Lady P would shriek to anyone who would listen that he was a Rousseau-loving rogue whom she’d always known was up to no good. None of that would reflect well on Hattie.

No, he could not be discovered.

To that end, Ben dropped onto a footstool and wrestled his boots off.  He’d leave them here by the terrace door so he wouldn’t leave a mess and could skulk more quietly in his stockinged feet. After letting his eyes adjust to the lack of light, he skirted a divan, a table, and a chair and moved toward the corridor. He paused in the doorway, listening for any signs of movement. The house was blissfully silent.

Searching the study was his priority tonight. He slowed as he approached that room, wanting to be certain Saunders really had retired. No light streamed from the door and once again he heard nothing. He sidled up to the threshold and peered in. Just at that moment the hall clock tolled, echoing throughout the deserted ground floor. Ben didn’t jump but his heart certainly did, outpacing the measured gongs of the clock striking the third hour.

He sucked in a steadying breath and stepped into the study, reaching back to partially close the door. This was the most likely location of the title deed. Ben strode to the desk and got to work by the faint gleam of moonlight penetrating the window behind him.

Working methodically through each drawer of the desk, he examined paper after paper with no success. He had just crouched to pull open the bottom drawer when a flash of white in the hallway caught his eye.

Hattie hadn’t mentioned that the house was haunted.

Ben laughed to himself but then sobered. He didn’t believe in ghosts, which meant he’d either just imagined that blur or someone was afoot. He rose and edged around the desk, keeping himself to the closed side of the door to avoid detection from whoever was out there. Once directly behind the door, he stopped to listen.

At first, nothing. Then... Was that? Surely not. Grasping the doorknob, he leaned against the edge of the oak, concentrating.

It was. A child’s voice, softly muttering.

Ben peered around the door and spied a nightdress-clad wraith disappearing around the corner. He hesitated. If he closed the door, he could return to searching without anyone knowing he was here. Or, he could make certain whichever Rutledge child that was came to no harm in their ramble in the dark.

He blew out a breath. There was really no choice at all. He stole down the hall in pursuit of the gadabout and found it—her—in the dining room staring into the empty fireplace. She was still mumbling.

“Miss Lucy?”

She didn’t move. Her arms hung straight down, and she stared unflinchingly at the stray remains of the last fire. Ben sank to his haunches and lightly touched her shoulder. Still, she didn’t react.

“Lucy, it’s time to return to your bed.”

He dare not raise his voice above a whisper but she didn’t seem to hear him. Or see him. Her vacant grey eyes worried him. One of his young nephews had been prone to walking in his sleep and had fallen down the stairs one night. He’d broken his arm and given his parents a scare.

Perhaps if he led Lucy to the nursery, she’d go back to sleep. Then Ben would tell Hattie about this episode tomorrow.

Ben took her hand—a little chilly and very slack—in his and straightened. She allowed him to lead her out of the room. She even surprised him by climbing the stairs without stumbling. They’d made it to the first floor, traversed the length of the house, and were halfway up the staircase to the upper floor when Lucy suddenly stopped. Her hand tightened around Ben’s and her head dropped.

Then slowly she looked up at him and blinked. “It’s nice to see you, Mr. Faun- Faunle-” Here she gave up and succumbed to a yawn of worthy proportions.

Such manners in the dead of night. He could only reciprocate. “Good evening, Lucy.”

Her brow furrowed as she stared at the step again. “You aren’t wearing any shoes.”

True, but also awkward. “You aren’t either.”

That got her to examine her own bare feet. With a shrug, she asked, “Where are we going?”

“It’s very late. I’m escorting you back to your bed.” Please don’t question my presence in the house at such an hour.

She nodded as if this were a very ordinary occurrence. “Will you please carry me? I’m very tired.” As if to offer proof, she yawned again.

Since carrying her would speed the matter to a conclusion and allow him—hopefully—to finish searching the study, Ben didn’t hesitate to swing her into his arms and pad up the rest of the steps. She looped one arm around his neck and laid her head on his shoulder.

The nursery door was open. It was quite a matter of indignation that Lucy still slept in the nursery with her little brother while Kitty and Elizabeth shared a bedchamber on the other side of the schoolroom. She had apprised Ben of this unfortunate situation, at length, just yesterday after they’d finished a lesson.

He peeked into the room. Fortunately, it was dark and quiet. He knew the nursery maid, Janie, slept in the adjacent room but young Lord Dunstan had a cot in here in a corner of the room. The goal now was to get Lucy settled and not wake her brother in the process.

Ben slid over to her small bed. The slackness of her body told him she was at least halfway asleep once more. Good. He lowered her to the feather mattress and pulled the soft coverlet up.

Lucy sneaked out a hand and patted his cheek. “You are a nice man. Are you someone’s papa, Mr. Faunleroy?”

Ha, at least there was one Rutledge lady who considered him old. Ben smiled down at her. “No, I’m not. Now, off to dreamland with you.”

He tucked the coverlet around her again. As her eyes drifted shut, he leaned over and kissed the top of her head. He regretted the action almost immediately, for it surely wasn’t appropriate tutor behavior.

But then Lucy let out an adorable sigh as she turned over and muttered, “I hope you find your shoes.”

Ben barely strangled his laugh. With a shake of his head, he rose and headed for the door. His hand was inches from the latch when a small voice cried out.

“Lu!”

He whipped around. Though the shadows were murky, he could just make out Lord Dunstan standing in his cot, reaching over the side.

Ben thought, but didn’t speak, a pithy curse.

He laid his hand on the door latch. He could slip out and no one would be the wiser. What could a child of nearly two say to implicate him?

Said child sucked in a breath, prelude to a hue and cry that Ben recognized from time spent with his own nephews. The baby couldn’t implicate him, but if Lucy awoke again so soon, she could easily tell the nursery maid about Ben’s midnight visit.

He shot across the room to the cot. Clearly surprised, William choked back his sob and stared up at Ben with big wet eyes. Up close, the little lord was a sweet cherub with round cheeks and tousled hair a shade darker than Lucy’s.

The two males eyed each other for a long moment, Ben praying the youngster would miraculously lay down and go back to sleep, William thinking God knows what. Thank goodness he was too young to realize how odd it was that a strange man was in his nursery.

Ben listened hard but didn’t hear any sound from the maid’s room. Unsure what to do, he took a step back. William grunted a protest and reached both arms out.

No. Ben wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near this little boy. Besides, he still had a study to search.

William stomped his feet and waved his arms, but Ben was made of stern stuff. He shook his head. The baby opened his mouth and let out a cry of despair. Ben snatched him up before he could even finish.

Holding the child in the crook of his arm just as he’d done with Lucy, they again scrutinized each other. The boy was not as tall as Lucy, but he was nearly as heavy. Ben thought William bore a strong resemblance to his father, if the gallery painting of the previous Lord Dunstan was at all representative of the man.

“Lu seep?” William pointed a chubby finger toward his sister’s bed.

“Yes,” Ben whispered, “Lucy’s asleep. And you should be too.”

William shook his head back and forth violently. Ben reached up and cupped the back of his head. The last thing he needed was another outburst.

“No seep,” the boy declared.

“Now see here. I know you are a lord of the realm, but even peers need their rest.”

“No.”

That denial was louder than the previous one. Ben looked over his shoulder toward the maid’s room.

“No!”

That did it. Ben tightened his grip and strode out of the room with the child. At least here in the corridor they’d be less likely to wake anyone.

William’s wide eyes surveyed the gloomy hallway. “Down.”

“I don’t think that’s wise.” Ben stroked his cheek in the hopes it would lull him. “Listen, my lord, I completely understand your imperiousness. You have been a viscount since the day of your birth, you have three older sisters who dote on you, and your mother thinks you’re an angel sent from heaven. But...”

William copied him, lifting a hand and running it over the stubble on Ben’s cheek, giggling as he did so.

“Very well, I might agree you are a sweet boy, but still... You cannot always have your way. Right now, you need to go back to sleep.”

“No.”

“Benjamin, why on earth are you trying to reason with my son outside the nursery at half past three in the morning?”

Both Ben and William jumped at the sound of Hattie’s fierce whisper.

Then an adoring smile broke across William’s face. “Mama!”

“We were discussing the relative merits of sleep,” Ben explained in a low voice. “I am in favor of it, especially at this hour and especially for small children, but Lord Dunstan vehemently disagrees. Perhaps we should wake Lady Dunstan and see what Rousseau has to say on the subject.”

Hattie tiptoed the rest of the way down the hall, her nightdress swishing back and forth over her carpet slippers. She hadn’t donned a wrapper but had thrown a light shawl over her shoulders. Ben dared not look any more closely at her attire, or lack thereof. Instead, he focused on the child in his arms, who was rubbing his eyes in a sign of defeat at last.

“What are you doing up here?” Hattie demanded, ignoring his attempt at humor. “You can’t possibly think the painting is on this floor. But even if you do, you certainly can’t search here in the middle of the night. You could give the children a fright. I thought you had more sense, Mr. Fauntleroy.”

The meager light from a nearly gutted wall sconce was enough to illuminate the annoyance dominating Hattie’s features. Her words inspired a reciprocal feeling in Ben.

He shifted William slightly and fought to keep his voice at a whisper. “I am pleased to know you think me both an imbecile and a fright, Lady Dunstan.” Her eyes widened at his bitterness. He was tempted to leave it at that, for her biting comments left him less than willing to explain his presence on the nursery floor, but he couldn’t let the matter of Lucy and her night-time ramble go. “Do you know Lucy walks in her sleep?”

“Oh no.” Hattie’s face crumpled. “My brother Peyton used to do that. We once found him curled up on the terrace in the morning. Thankfully it was a warm night.” She flicked her gaze to Ben’s. “Now Lucy? Where did you find her?”

“She was roaming the halls while I searched,” he said while William yawned loudly in his ear. “I led her back to her bed and then this one awoke. I tried to sneak away but there was no hope for it. I brought him out here before he—”

“Could wake everyone else,” Hattie finished with a sigh. “I apologize. Thank you for ensuring Lucy came to no harm.”

Ben wanted to shrug off her gratitude, but William had snuggled on his shoulder, his breaths slowing into a drowsy rhythm. There was no possibility he would risk disturbing the child now with such a gesture.  He looked back at Hattie and whispered, “Why are you up here? Did we wake you?”

“No, you didn’t.” She blinked sheepishly. “I was coming to see William. Sometimes when I’m banished from seeing him, I’ll sneak up in the night to watch him sleep.”

The sadness in her voice made his chest constrict but it was the way she looked at William now, as if her love were bursting out of her heart and surrounding him like a blanket, that had his blood humming with anger. Saunders and Lady P had no right to rip Hattie’s son from her, no matter how temporary the situation. There had to be a way for her to fight back.

Tomorrow, he’d put his mind to that task. For now, this mama needed her boy. Gently, Ben transferred the now slumbering William over to Hattie, whose soft smile was worth more than a thousand words of gratitude. With one last stroke over the child’s silky hair, Ben nodded his farewell and headed back downstairs.

Stopping periodically to listen for signs anyone else in the household was awake, he returned to the study to finish what he’d started. With efficiency, he searched the rest of the desk but found nothing of interest. He turned to the shelves along the wall. Except for one that had a lower cabinet, they only held books and ledgers. He pulled the handle on the cabinet. Locked. He could pick it, but the hour was growing very late after his numerous interludes. He threw his head back and huffed out a sigh.

“No luck?” a soft voice asked from the doorway.

Ben whipped his head back up. “Hattie, what are you doing? Do none of your family know how to go to bed and stay there?”

She tipped her chin up. “Since I was awake, I thought I would see if you’d had any success. It appears, however, that I should be apologizing for all the intrusions you’ve suffered while you pillaged through the estatepapers.”

She hadn’t actually seen him going through the papers, so he would ignore that charge. He gestured at the walls. “There are paintings in here and a locked cabinet where that painting could be.”

Seeing her standing there, in a nightdress that was not so voluminous as to render his imagination blank, added to his frustrations of the night. Her auburn hair was braided but sleep-mussed and she looked utterly in need of a kiss. Or perhaps he was the one with the need.

He sharpened his gaze on the barely-clad woman before him.

Yes, he was definitely in need. In need of lips pliant beneath his. In need of her body lashed to his.

“Are you listening to me at all?”

With reluctance, Ben surfaced from his lustful reverie. “No.”

Hattie narrowed her eyes. “Why not?”

Moving to the front of the desk, he leaned against the heavy oak and crossed his bootless ankles. “Well, Hattie, I was contemplating kissing you.”

“What?”

Her indignation should have flattened his desire but there was a hint of curiosity lurking in her wide eyes that instead set his skin aflame. He remembered only too well how she’d been staring at his lips earlier in the day.

“Perhaps something more salacious as well.”

She gathered the loose ends of her shawl and pulled it tighter around her shoulders as if it were armor. “Benjamin, why do you persist in this? Anything...salacious between us would be entirely inappropriate.”

“Why?”

Never, never, never ask why. How could he have forgotten this most important credo? No good answer ever came to the question of why.

“You’re too young.” Her hand flapped in the air, as if to emphasize something about his person. “You’re just a boy, really. It wouldn’t be proper at all.”

Though he nearly choked on it, Ben swallowed his own indignant reply, and for the first time in a long while, he measured out a response. It would be so easy to say something flippant or brash, but he was feeling neither of those things and he wasn’t going to pretend otherwise.

He pushed away from the desk and closed the distance between them.

 

***

Harriet stepped back, coming up against the closed door. Fortunately, Ben stayed where he was. Anger shimmered off him, but she wasn’t afraid of him.

“I don’t know what you are afraid of, Hattie,” he ground out, seemingly reading her mind, “but that’s no excuse for you to be insulting. I’m a grown man but I’m not going to stand here and prove it to you. I don’t think there would be any harm in a liaison between us, but I will, of course, defer to your wishes. If you have no desire to feel my mouth on your lips, if you don’t ache to have my hands on your breasts, then so be it.”

A bolt of lust shot through her at his words, searing her from those very breasts he spoke of all the way down to her core. Her body thrummed with the hot craving she’d just scoffed at.

Ben hadn’t moved another inch. Though he wasn’t wearing any boots, he towered over her in dark pantaloons and a cravat-less shirt, looking like nothing less than a man. She made the mistake of lifting her gaze to his face. His eyes still burned with simmering fury but there was more. So much more. Heat and hunger and want, all barely leashed.

She was afraid.

Of recrimination. Of failure. Of her own need.

“You’re still here.” His voice was husky, and so full of promise she shivered.

What finally pushed her over the edge was that he still hadn’t budged. She could take what was offered or she could leave.

What happened next was entirely up to her.

With two steps, she was running her hands up his chest and yanking his head down for her kiss. The second their mouths touched he groaned in deep satisfaction, turning her insides molten. When his hands settled heavily on her hips, another shot of pure carnal desire scorched through her, obliterating any and all doubts and fears.

She kissed him greedily, threading her fingers through the curls at his nape in a frenzy of need. His hands roamed freely, sliding down her back to cup her bottom and jerk her against the rigid length of him. She nearly imploded when he continued to knead her cheeks.

She was shamelessly plastered against him now, her breasts aching to be in contact with his bare skin. She’d been right about his lips. They were utterly kissable and clearly capable of driving her to the edge of insanity with hot open-mouthed kisses and tantalizing nips of her lower lip.

The tolling hall clock penetrated their erotic cocoon, reminding Hattie of who, what, and where she was. Inch by inch she pulled away, trying to regain some semblance of dignity, even while her body protested the lost connection.

Loathe to see the smug and cocky look he must be wearing after she’d been so easily bewitched by his seduction, she refused to look up. That, however, left her staring at the plain evidence of his arousal, which in no way slowed the thumping of her heart. Trailing her gaze upward, past his heaving chest, she had to steady herself with a hand against the door behind her when at last she caught sight of his face.

There was no sign of the arrogant, conquering Ben she’d expected. Instead, the intensity in his green eyes bored straight through her.

“Hattie...”

The deep, gravelly way he said her name threatened to rekindle the smoldering desire still coursing through her.

He had to go. If he didn’t, she might not be able to resist having him right here and now, all fears and consequences be damned.

“You need to go,” she said aloud, fighting to keep the desperation out of her voice.

He opened his mouth as if to argue, then abruptly closed it again. After running frustrated fingers through his already tousled hair, he moved toward the door. Hattie stepped aside. He reached for the latch, and she let go of the breath she was holding. Then without warning, he cupped his hand around her cheek and drew her into a kiss. A kiss of wonder, a kiss full of questions. A kiss she couldn’t help but answer.

When he finally broke away it was to stare into her eyes and shake his head. “Damn, Hattie.”

With that he finally left, softly closing the door after him.

Hattie placed her hand against the solid oak to steady herself.

Ben King was no boy. He was all man.

Which only meant she’d need to come up with another excuse to keep him at a distance.