Kiss From A Rogue

Chapter 3-1

Chapter 3

“You’ve gone stark raving mad,” Alistair muttered as they watched Ben’s coach head back to town.

“Entirely possible,” Tony said with a grin. He slapped Alistair on the back and they set off walking in silence, save for the chirp of birds, the crunch of their boots on the road, the occasional coach or cart rumbling past them.

Tony breathed deeply. Not the miasma of London, but the fresh clean scent of tilled earth. Blue sky above, not four walls and a ceiling. Fields stretched in every direction. Already, London was just a memory.

His decision to join Alistair was precipitous, yes, but the right one.

He wasn’t completely unprepared for the journey. Perhaps he’d made his decision as he’d dressed that morning, without realizing it. He’d placed the entire remainder of his quarter’s allowance in his purse, much more money than he normally carried. Since he refused to sacrifice comfort for the sake of fashion, his boots and clothes should hold up well. He could buy toiletries and a change of linen when they stopped for the night. And he’d asked the coachman to relay his request to Ben to have bank drafts waiting at points along Alistair’s planned route, just in case he ran short of funds.

“How do you think your brother will react when he learns you’ve rejected Lord Dunwood’s offer?”

Tony reluctantly gave up his contemplation of the clouds. In a fair fight, Ben could probably still pound him into the floor. Which wasn’t much incentive to fight fair, or to go home again.

“Perhaps his real intent all along was simply to goad you into doing something, just as you did. Force you to do something with your life.”

“You think Ben is that calculating?”

Alistair shrugged. “I’m just saying I know how difficult the last six years have been. If you want to play truant and explore England with me for a while, that’s fine. Maybe you’ll find your life’s calling along the way.”

Find his life’s calling. Good one.

The day passed quickly, the miles eaten up beneath their boots. It was nearing dusk when hunger finally made them stop at an inn.

“This evening’s special, whatever it is, and a mug of ale for each of us, please,” Alistair said to the serving wench when she approached their table. He immediately turned his attention back to Tony and their interrupted conversation, teasing him about running away from home.

The young woman lingered long enough to witness Alistair’s smile, and Tony knew she was a goner. She stared at Alistair over her shoulder as she returned to the kitchen.

Tony pointed his finger at his friend. “You still have no clue of the effect you have on them, do you?”

“What effect, on who?”

“Never mind.” They chatted until she returned and set their platters down. Tony couldn’t resist a spot of mischief. He lowered his chin and looked up at her through his lashes, the way he’d often seen his friend do it, and kept his voice low. “Would you mind terribly bringing us more ale, miss?”

She melted before him. “My pleasure, Brown Eyes.” She was back in less than a minute with full tankards. “Anything else you fancy?” She leaned over, offering Tony a peek down her gown, almost to her navel.

That was just too easy. Or she was. Tony cleared his throat. “Um, thank you, no, we’re good.”

“I’m sure you are, ducks.” She walked away, her hips swaying provocatively.

“If you’re that desperate for company, I’ll make myself scarce.” Alistair dug into his food.

“What? Her? Oh, good heavens, no. Just, no.” Tony certainly didn’t mind a little company now and then, but he did mind being one among many. “I was just conducting a little experiment. And it worked.” They ate the indifferent stew the wench had brought. “Actually, she did remind me of something Ben said yesterday.”

Alistair pushed his empty platter aside. “Oh?”

He pushed his platter aside, as well. “Accused me of becoming a rakehell.”

Alistair coughed. “You?”

“You needn’t look so shocked. I did kiss the new countess.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Perhaps that’s my life’s calling.”

“You got away with it once, but your brother will certainly call you out if you try that again.” Alistair took a deep drink. “Not to mention Lady Sinclair would likely plant you a facer herself if you tried it. Behind that pretty smile, she strikes me as someone not to trifle with.”

Tony silently agreed. Jo, er, Lady Sinclair, seemed sweetness personified now, but in her previous position as Ben’s secretary she’d confronted merchants who’d conspired to steal from a peer of the realm. She had a spine of steel. “No, you dolt. I meant, perhaps my life’s calling is to become a rakehell.”

Alistair spewed ale.

“It’s not that far-fetched. I’m fairly good-looking. I may not have your extraneous height and fallen angel looks, but some women like a more compact package. She certainly did.” He pointed over his shoulder at the wench, who winked at him as she served another table.

“Not that I’m disagreeing in the slightest with your appeal to the fairer s*x…”

“However…”

“However, I think if one has to make the conscious decision to become a rake, one is not really a rake, but merely a poseur.”

Hmm. Perhaps Alistair had a point.

“Sleep on it. Maybe your calling will come to you in your dreams.”

* * *

Later that night, dreams stayed just beyond his reach as Tony fidgeted on the lumpy mattress, trying to find a position that didn’t aggravate his sore shoulder.

Nick had served his country with his ship during the war, and Alistair was trying to prove something important in the field of astronomy. Was there any subject that stoked his own fire?

Giving up on sleep, he pulled on his breeches and shirt and climbed out the window, up to the peak of the roof where Alistair sat, silhouetted against the night sky, telescope raised to one eye.

“If only I had a more powerful scope,” Alistair said softly. “I could measure the seas on the moon. Unlock the secrets of the universe.”

“What is it you’re trying to do, again?”

That was all the encouragement Alistair needed. Give him a willing audience, and the scholar could wax poetic about celestial bodies for hours on end. Nick could go on just as long, speaking in rapturous tones about the lines of his ship.

Tony encouraged his friends, admired and supported them, just as he knew they would support his avocation … if he had one.

He’d had one, temporarily, when he’d acted in the earl’s place. Coordinating the efforts of their estate managers, overseeing the family’s investments, supervising the running of the household — he’d been consumed every waking moment with his new duties. Willingly, gladly.

With his father barely cold in his grave, Ben off to fight Napoleon amidst gossip that he’d killed their father’s rival, and Mama plunged into deep mourning, a recluse, it had fallen to Tony to pull them through. He’d left school and stepped into the role thrust upon him, and done a damn fine job under the circumstances.

But Ben was back, life had attained a new normal, and Tony was adrift. He’d finished school, of course, but now that he was done, what was he supposed to do?

Traditional roles for a younger son were to enter the military or clergy. But after Ben’s experience, nearly dying in battle and his whereabouts unknown for weeks afterward, no one in his family wanted Tony to buy a commission. And while Tony didn’t mind accompanying his mother to church and attended services on his own now and then even when it wasn’t Christmas or Easter, he had no interest in being anyone’s spiritual leader, let alone seeing to the needs of a large group of people.

So far, the most intriguing idea was to become a rake. The family finances were in excellent condition, the estate fully recovered from his father’s enormous gambling losses and the embezzling secretary. Tony didn’t need to work, unless he found something he wanted to do. A cause to take up.

As Alistair talked about perturbations of planetary orbits, Tony’s head began to swim. So, astronomy was out of the question. The mere thought of getting on a boat again unsettled his stomach, so his calling would clearly have nothing to do with ships or the sea.

His brother’s passionate interest, aside from his bride, was helping soldiers. Too many had come home from the war to find no way to support their families. The new Lady Sinclair had been hiring ex-soldiers right and left, but Ben had taken it one step further — anonymously buying inns and putting men to work running them. Ben’s solicitor was kept busy investigating potential properties for Ben to purchase.

Perhaps Tony should involve himself in his brother’s endeavor. Alistair’s walk about the countryside was going to take them to a great many inns. Tony could evaluate the inns and send reports back to Ben.

As lifelong passions went, it wasn’t much, but it did give him something to do in the short term. Some purpose, while he tried on the role of rake.

His immediate future settled, he realized his teeth were chattering. Alistair had donned boots and coat before climbing up, but Tony’s bare feet felt like blocks of ice. Whatever cause he eventually took up, it would not require him to shiver outdoors in the middle of the night or climb up on roofs. “I’m going back in, where it’s warm.”

“You’ve no stamina at all.” Alistair grinned as he looked through his telescope.

* * *

One week after leaving London, they stopped at the Happy Jack Inn on the Dorset coast early one afternoon. Tony had scrutinized each inn they stopped at as a potential purchase for Ben and sent his notes home in the penny-post, hoping his steady flow of correspondence would allay his family’s fears and annoyance. Alistair observed the stars each night, but repeated rain showers and cloudy skies today had left him in a funk. Observations would be impossible tonight. Tony just wanted a hot meal, and to get dry.

A serving maid came out of the kitchen, bringing them the day’s special. Obviously the innkeeper’s daughter, with the same red hair and strong chin as the stout older man who’d brought their bread and ale a few minutes before. “Can I get you gentlemen anything else?” Her voice was breathy, but her dress was cut high enough her abundant charms were not on display. She flashed a crooked but innocent smile.

Tony was reminded he hadn’t done much yet to further his career as a rake. He smiled up at her. He’d never been with a redhead before. Would all her hair…

Her father appeared, filling the kitchen doorway, glowering at Tony.

On second thought, perhaps the innkeeper’s daughter was not the best idea for his first conquest. “Thank you, but this is enough.” He kept his smile pleasant but neutral.

“As you wish, sir.” She walked back to the kitchen, hardly any sway to her hips at all.

Tony returned to his rapidly cooling stew and glanced around again at the deserted taproom. The place was clean, aside from soot-stained walls and ceiling that swallowed up most of the daylight. They’d seen no employees save the innkeeper and his daughter. An older woman, who must be the innkeeper’s wife, had emerged from the kitchen doorway long enough to hand the girl the bowls of stew.

“This might be the most promising inn for Ben I’ve seen so far.”

Alistair glanced around. “Certainly could benefit from a new investor. I don’t think it’s been painted in this century.”

The outer door opened and slammed against the wall, caught by a gust of wind. A woman stepped through and struggled to close it again. A widow, given her unadorned straw bonnet and half-mourning gown of gray. Tony was about to jump up and offer assistance when she shoved the door closed. She gave an embarrassed smile when she saw the two men sitting at the corner table, watching her.

Tony’s heart lodged in his throat.

In London, he probably wouldn’t have given her a second glance. But here in the wilds of Dorset, there was something utterly perfect about her reddened cheeks and full lips, her windblown dark blonde curls peeking out from the gray ribbons of her bonnet. Her husband must have been monumentally unfortunate or criminally stupid to have widowed her at such a young age.