Chapter 8
Before Rosamunde had time to collect her thoughts, Diana popped out of her bedroom, snatched the tray to place it on a table, then dragged her into the room. “Brand Malloren!” she whispered.
“Yes.” Rosamunde’s mind was still dazed from her encounter. Why couldn’t she allow herself a lover, just once in her life? Wasn’t it every woman’s right?
Diana was staring at her. “You have no idea, do you?”
“About what?”
“About the Mallorens!”
Rosamunde slumped on the window seat and prepared to face the truth. “What has he done?”
“Done?” Diana’s fine brows tangled. “I’d think you’d know that better than I.”
“Away from here, I mean.”
Diana shook her head and settled elegantly on the other end of the cushioned seat. “Lud, I forget that you never go anywhere. I don’t suppose you read newspapers either, do you?”
“He was in the newspapers?” Rosamunde felt rather sick. She’d never been inclined to think of highwaymen as romantic. They were, after all, just thieves, and often murderers. But perhaps if he was the dashing kind of highwayman it wouldn’t be too bad. “What crime did he commit?”
“Crime?” Diana came close to gaping. “Rosa … ! No, as far as I know Brand Malloren hasn’t been in the papers. But his brother has. Often. You must have heard of Rothgar.”
“What’s Rothgar?”
“Not what. Who. The Marquess of Rothgar.”
Rosamunde stared at her. “Are you trying to tell me that he,”—she waved in the direction of her prisoner’s room—“is a marquess?”
“I dread to think where your brain is.” Diana leaned forward. “Pay attention. If he’s Brand Malloren, his brother is the Marquess of Rothgar. His oldest brother, of course.”
“Of course,” echoed Rosamunde. “But his clothes are so simple. I don’t understand….”
“Nor do I. But the Mallorens are famous. Or infamous. Lord Bryght—”
“Lord?” Rosamunde exclaimed.
“Lady Elf is a very pleasant lady,” Diana rattled on. “She’s the only one I’ve actually met—”
“Diana!” Rosamunde shouted to get her attention, then lowered her voice. “Are you saying I have a lord in that room?”
“If you have Brand Malloren, you have, but—”
“That’s terrible!”
“Well, he’s not a real lord. He doesn’t have a seat in Parliament or anything.”
“Is that supposed to be consolation?”
Diana suddenly laughed. “Oh, love. I doubt he’s going to haul you into court. And you certainly have fine taste when it comes to capturing love-slaves.”
“I rescued him.” Rosamunde didn’t, however, doubt his rank for a moment. It explained so much. There wasn’t a servile bone in his confident body.
“Rescued, captured …” Diana waved a glittering hand, for she always wore an abundance of rings. “You relieve my mind! You’ve become so dull, but this is fully worthy of our childhood exploits. A Malloren as a lover. What a brilliant choice.”
“I didn’t choose him,” Rosamunde protested, knowing her cheeks were red.
One of Diana’s arched brows quirked. “Are you saying that as soon as you hauled him out of the ditch, you thought, ‘A man. Good. I’ll have him in my bed by tomorrow.’”
“Of course not!” Rosamunde leaped up to pace out her embarrassment. “Very well. I did decide that he was … not unbearable.”
“Quite. What on earth, though, was Lord Brand Malloren doing drunk by the side of the road in simple clothing? I don’t know the man, but it seems unlikely.”
“Perhaps he’s been cast off.”
“The marquess is rumored to be very protective of his family. In fact, you’d best pray Lord Rothgar does not take offense at your treatment of his brother. He’s said to be merciless on such matters.” She lowered her voice. “Some say he’s mad.”
“Mad!”
Diana laughed. “I’m teasing, sweetheart. I’ve never met the marquess, but I haven’t heard of him foaming at the mouth. I gather it was his mother who was mad.”
Rosamunde stared. “Lord Brand’s mother was mad?”
“Oh no. They’re half brothers.”
Rosamunde sagged. “Thank heavens!”
“Well really. Isn’t it unfair to be judging someone by their parents? Has Lord Brand seemed insane to you?”
Rosamunde wondered if she knew what sanity was. “No, but—”
“Then judge him on himself.”
“I’m an animal breeder, remember?” She suddenly hugged herself.
“Just think! I could have made a child who carried insanity in its blood. I thought about the physical, but I never considered his sanity or moral qualities. Temperament can be bred for, you know, as well as physical form. You did say you’d heard nothing bad about him? About Lord Brand?”
“No, but he doesn’t seem to move in society.”
“He said he manages estates for a nobleman.”
“There you are, then. He’s a country bumpkin like yourself. He’ll probably delight in talking about crop rotation, turnips, foot rot, and such.”
“I’m more interested in whether his child will.”
Diana rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you’ll make certain it does, poor thing.” She rose and twitched her skirts into line. “I am concerned, however. We have to make sure the Mallorens can’t find you once this is over.”
Rosamunde shivered. “I’ve done my best. He doesn’t know where he is, or whom he’s with.”
“True, but if he thinks to ask about men found by the roadside and cared for, you’re sunk. Admit it. My masquerade was a much better plan.”
“Probably, but with luck, most people will never know a man’s been here with me at all. The servants have agreed to keep it to themselves.”
“Can they be trusted?” Diana’s frown expressed doubt.
“I think so. They don’t want the New Commonwealth here any more than we do.”
Diana sat down, staring. “You explained it all to them?”
“Of course not! But they’re not stupid, you know. I think Mrs. Yockenthwait guessed, and my mother and Sukey.”
“Aunt Ellington!”
Rosamunde pressed her hands to burning cheeks. “Isn’t it terrible? But … but she seemed to approve. I don’t know whether that’s comforting, or proof that the world has gone mad.”
Diana blew out a breath. “Well, you might have pulled it off then. Still …” She pursed her lips, a familiar glint of mischief lighting her eyes.
“What?” asked Rosamunde with foreboding.
“It wouldn’t be hard to spread rumors. As insurance. A man found by the road by a lady. Perhaps here, perhaps near Ripon, perhaps in Niddersdale, or Airedale. By Lady Hauxwell, or Mrs. Tring, or even one of the Misses Gillsett….”
“Diana!” But even as she protested, Rosamunde was thinking it might work.
“You know that people believe the stories they’re told, then pass them on with changes.
And every dalesman believes that wickedness and wonders go on in the other dales.
When you had your accident, half of North Yorkshire thought you dead, and the other half thought you blind.
A good number believed you were running away with a lover. Or that both of us were.”
“I pray that rumor doesn’t revive. My plan depends on my impeccable reputation.”
“Which you certainly own.” Diana moved close and took Rosamunde’s hand. “It was my fault—”
“No—”
“Yes! I was the one urging speed for no reason at all. It should have been me—”
“Silly! It should have been neither. It was a freakish accident, both the coach overturning and the glass slashing me. You were knocked unconscious and could have suffered even worse from that.”
“But didn’t.” Diana touched Rosamunde’s cheek. “I do wish you’d put it behind you, love. Time has faded the scars. They really aren’t as bad as you think.”
Rosamunde suddenly saw how much it would ease her cousin if she lived a normal life. She’d never realized before how deeply Diana felt it. “I’ll try,” she promised. “But not yet. For now it’s essential that I remain respectable, reclusive Lady Overton.”
“But—”
“Thank heaven I didn’t tell anyone but you his name!” Rosamunde had to interrupt Diana. She didn’t want to think of her scars and decisions now. It would be too painful.
Diana shrugged and let it go. “It was wise. I’ll set some trusted servants to start the rumors. If word ever does leak out about a man’s presence here, it will just be one of many vague tales.”
“Thank you.”
“So, the only remaining problem is him. You can’t just wave him out the door, or he’ll know.”
“Especially as we are miles from anywhere. I have to take him somewhere.” She worried her knuckle for a moment. “I could blindfold him.”
“Would he submit to that?”
“Probably.”
“You seem interestingly sure of him. But it wouldn’t work. He’d still have a fair idea of how far he’d traveled. The nature of the land. He’d hear sounds. I’m sure he’s not stupid.”
“No, he’s not. So, O wise one, how do I confuse the poor man?”
“You found him drunk. Leave him a jug of gin, and perhaps he’ll drink himself silly again.”
Once that had been Rosamunde’s plan, but now she shook her head. “He’s never once asked for wine or spirits. Does that sound like a drunkard to you?”
“Unfortunately, no. I suppose you could knock him out, but …”
“But no! I wouldn’t have the slightest idea how, and it’s horribly dangerous. Look at how addled you were after our accident. And poor Bob Wigglethorpe, he’s never been the same since that beam fell on his head.”
“Well then, I could ask old Mistress Naisby for a potion.”
Rosamunde wasn’t happy at the thought of drugging the man, but it seemed the lesser of the evils. “Perhaps you’d better, just in case. I hate doing that to him, though.”
Diana leaned to kiss Rosamunde’s cheek. “You’re fretting again. Remember, you’ve done the main part and can’t weaken now.”
“Screw my courage to the sticking point.”
“Exactly. But remember, this is not Shakespearian tragedy. Rosie and Dinah are going to emerge triumphant. Just as long as Rosie doesn’t have one of her fatal attacks of honesty. Promise?”
Rosamunde thought wistfully of the simple beauty of honesty, but she nodded. “Promise.”
When Diana had left, Rosamunde was tempted to just sit in the window seat and fret the day away, but she had to be seen in case any of this ever came out. Anyway, she thought as she tidied herself and left the room, he wanted his clothes.