A Rogue Meets His Match (The Rogue Chronicles Book 7) Read online

  “Are you interested in the earl?” Caroline’s smile suggested the idea pleased her.

  “Nothing of the sort,” Margaret reassured her even as heat crept into her cheeks. Given the fact that she hadn’t actually told anyone in her family she didn't intend to marry, it seemed unwise to share her intent to aid Edward in finding a bride. “We were discussing some of the debutantes.” There, that much was true.

  “Is he searching for a wife?”

  Margaret nodded reluctantly. “Please don't mention it to anyone,” she cautioned. “I don't think he's told Charlotte.”

  “Of course.” Despite her sister’s agreement, Margaret felt her curious gaze for a long moment and was relieved when Caroline changed the subject. “How is Father faring?”

  “Today was a good day. I read to him for quite some time. He seems to be thoroughly enjoying Annabelle's latest book.” Margaret shared a smile with Caroline.

  Although they had told their father the true identity of A. Golden, who was in truth Annabelle, their sister, his mind had difficulty holding on to the fact. But they all found it delightful that he enjoyed her books so much.

  “Oh good. I did as well. I confess I didn’t see the twist of who the murderer was until it was revealed at the end.”

  “Nor did I,” Margaret admitted. “I will never understand how Annabelle devises her plots.”

  Margaret sorely missed having her sisters at home, both to keep her company and to help share in the caretaking of their father. But never for a moment would she deny them the happiness they had each found when they fell in love.

  Margaret's mother continued to take the brunt of their father’s care, in part because she enjoyed doing so and also because Father seemed the calmest when she was with him. However, both Caroline and Annabelle, as well as their husbands, were actively involved and each spent a portion of their week with Sir Reginald.

  “How are the sketches coming along?” Caroline asked with an excited gleam in her eye.

  “More slowly than I would like, but they are progressing.” Margaret had always had a talent for fashion and enjoyed updating her family’s attire even when they’d been on a tight budget. But now she was drawing fashion plates for a magazine anonymously. “I confess that designing them with the knowledge that so many others will view them is both exciting and concerning. I think I preferred it when no one saw them except our family.”

  Caroline patted her arm. “I have no doubt they are wonderful. All of your work is. Why, just this evening, I received a lovely compliment on my gown from the Duchess of Montforte.”

  Margaret gasped. “Truly? What did she say?”

  “That she admired the color and remarked how much she loved the neckline and the shape of the sleeves.”

  A flush of excitement filled Margaret. “That is a fine compliment.”

  “Isn't it though?” Caroline glanced about, keeping her voice low. “She asked the designer's name, and I gave her the one you're using for the magazine. But what are you going to do if people start trying to find you?”

  “Thomas has reassured me that as the publisher, he will handle all inquiries and pass them along to me.” Thomas Raybourne, Annabelle’s husband, ran a publishing house that not only printed Annabelle's books but had recently started a magazine that included Margaret's fashion plates.

  “He knows how much Annabelle enjoys hearing from readers, so I’m certain he’ll address any queries as carefully.”

  Before they could speak further on the matter, Edward returned, much to Margaret's surprise. She glanced at him in question, but he only smiled politely. As if sensing he had something to say to Margaret, Caroline turned away to speak with someone else.

  “What is it?” Margaret whispered.

  “I gained an introduction to Lady Priscilla, and she seemed quite pleasant.”

  Margaret waited, expecting him to say more. “And?” she prompted.

  “We danced.”

  “Good. Who else will you ask?”

  Edward frowned as he glanced about before turning to her. “Would you do me the honor?” When she hesitated he added, “You were the one who mentioned I had to dance with more than one person.”

  I didn't mean me. But she kept the words to herself.

  “Don't you like to dance?”

  “Yes, actually I do.” But dancing with Edward seemed like a poor idea. She’d danced with him at previous balls, of course, but she didn't want anyone watching to gain the wrong impression. Yet when he held out his hand she had to take it. She truly did like to dance.

  Edward nodded and escorted her toward the floor, her hand tucked under his arm. The contact felt ridiculously intimate for some reason, making her warm all over.

  They lined up with the other guests, and the sounds of a lively reel filled the air. Margaret watched Edward for a moment, half expecting him to make an excuse to escape the dance as not many men she’d danced with seemed to enjoy the steps.

  But with a glint in his blue eyes, he offered an exaggerated bow then joined in, holding her gaze as they moved about the floor.

  He was lighter on his feet than she remembered, and his enjoyment made the dance all the more pleasurable.

  When at last they drew to a halt, both breathless, Edward smiled, his eyes holding on her and making her smile in return. Margaret’s heart did the oddest little jig, causing her to press her hand against her chest in surprise.

  She looked at him more closely. Had he felt the spark as well?

  He offered his arm and leaned near as they moved off the floor. “What of Miss Harper?”

  Margaret blinked as reality came crashing back. Of course, he hadn’t experienced the same little skip she had. She gave herself a mental shake and a stern reprimand to remember that this man was Charlotte’s brother, someone who she wouldn’t even call a friend. He was an acquaintance, nothing more.

  Thank goodness she wouldn’t have to remain in close contact with him for long, or she might forget all the reasons why they didn’t suit.

  Chapter Two

  Margaret rose early the next morning and looked in on her father, pleased to see he still slept. He lay on his side, facing the door, one hand tucked beneath his pillow, his white hair unruly, and his face relaxed in slumber.

  Sir Reginald was slowly losing bits and pieces of himself as time passed. The progression of his failing mental health broke Margaret's heart. Though the situation had been going on for several years now, it certainly hadn’t become any easier.

  She hated the confusion that crept over his face when he realized he’d forgotten something. Those were the worst moments. Other times, he was blissfully unaware of what he had forgotten, sometimes even failing to remember his daughters. Those were the very worst moments.

  Unfortunately, the doctor could do little to aid him. In truth, Margaret's mother and her sisters had discovered through trial and error what worked best. They kept to the same routine as much as possible and made very few changes in the house. Shifting the position of a chair or moving a painting to a different wall could result in confusion. He often got angry when he didn't understand what was happening. They did all they could to avoid such scenes, keeping his upset to a minimum for the benefit of them all.

  She shut the door quietly and moved to the small sitting room down the hall where she could still hear if he rose earlier than normal. He didn't always sleep through the night. Her mother, their beloved butler, Barclay, and Margaret took turns checking on him during the night.

  Since Margaret had returned home late from the ball, she’d slept unusually hard. That was one more reason she only attended a few events. She felt terrible when she missed helping her father.

  The tall windows in the sitting room blessed the space with light much of the day, and Margaret found the warm colors pleasing. She’d left her drawings in the room the previous day and settled into a chair next to the half-moon table along the wall. She opened the escritoire, which held her supplies, and retrieved paper, pencil
, and water colors. A sense of peace fell over her as she studied the drawing she’d started the previous day.

  Her love of fashion had started from a young age and had grown partly due to necessity. Her father's diminishing mental abilities had resulted in a few bad decisions financially. Her family had been in dire straits until her oldest sister, Caroline, had married the Earl of Aberland.

  Before that, Margaret had modified their gowns to keep up with the latest style. Caroline's goal had been to marry well and having the proper clothing to attract a good husband had been of paramount importance. Especially since at the time, she’d hoped for an offer from a duke. Thank goodness that had never come to pass and Caroline had married the earl, whom she loved dearly, instead.

  While Margaret had been too young at the time to join her sisters for the Season, she’d still taken an active interest in supporting her family the only way she could. She changed necklines, dyed gowns, fashioned rosebuds out of ribbon, and modified sleeves with great determination. And she loved every moment of it.

  She wasn't certain where her ability to look at a person and know what sort of style or color of clothing they should wear had come from, but she was grateful for it. Whether it was the colors or the lines or a combination of both, she knew immediately what would look best or what was wrong if it didn’t. She’d pored over the fashion magazines from Paris they’d borrowed from the lending library, critiquing those as well.

  Margaret had saved her family a great deal of money by making old, outdated gowns look new and done all she could to ensure her mother and sisters were always well-dressed. She made the best of what little they had and took pride in the challenge of it. She also earned extra money by assisting some of her mother’s friends with selections from their dressmakers.

  Now she had Charlotte’s wardrobe to consider. Her friend had shared that her budget was tight, and so selecting gowns with style but within a certain price was a task Margaret eagerly accepted.

  But she also had another project. Her other sister, Annabelle, had married Mr. Thomas Raybourne, who owned the publishing company that published Annabelle's books. Thomas had offered Margaret the delightful opportunity of drawing fashion plates for a new magazine he was to publish. Of course, her work had to be done anonymously to save her from ruin. Heaven forbid any member of the ton dirtied their hands in trade.

  She was thrilled at the idea of seeing her fashions featured in the magazine but nervous about having other ladies discuss them. While it was somewhat annoying not to be able to take credit for the designs, she wasn't the only one in her family with that problem.

  Annabelle wrote marvelous mysteries under the name A. Golden. The books and her series in the news sheet had become very popular, but only a handful of people knew A. Golden's true identity.

  How could Margaret complain about having to remain anonymous when Annabelle had been doing it far longer?

  The challenge with the fashion plates for the magazine was that she had to draw the person who was wearing them as well. However, they couldn't look like anyone she knew. The models were to be shown doing various activities that hinted at the purpose behind the particular garment. She enjoyed the assignment more than she could say.

  She intended to create a gown for Charlotte, based on her latest drawing. That would make Charlotte appear as if she were on the cutting edge of fashion—something that only she and Margaret would know the reason behind.

  Margaret retrieved her pencil and started on the lines of the skirt first. This one needed to be neither too narrow nor too wide. The trim along the hemline would create a border that would be accented by a similar embellishment at the waist. But what to do with the neckline?

  She withdrew a previous drawing from her desk and turned it over. Paper was precious and not to be wasted so she used it as efficiently as possible. After several attempts, the perfect neckline came to her and she added it to the other paper.

  The door to the sitting room opened wide, and Margaret looked up.

  “Good morning, dear.” Her mother smiled and drew close to place her hand on Margaret’s shoulder, studying her drawing. “You're working already?”

  Margaret smiled. “It's difficult to call it work when I enjoy it.”

  “So much talent.” Her mother pressed a kiss on Margaret’s temple. “I’m so blessed to have three talented daughters.”

  “We are the ones blessed to call you Mother.” Margaret smiled up at her. Her mother’s optimistic outlook and patience with her husband had gotten them through many difficult times. “Did you sleep well?” Her answer would share not only that but how Father’s evening had been. She tended to not sleep well if her husband had an agitated evening.

  “I did. How was the ball?”

  “Quite nice.” As relief at her mother’s restful night settled into her heart, thoughts of Edward slipped unbidden into her mind. The less she thought of him and their arrangement, the better. Her reaction to him puzzled her. She supposed until he selected a bride, that would be something she needed to be prepared to deal with. “The Duchess of Montforte complimented Caroline on her gown.”

  “Oh! Which one?”

  “The violet silk.”

  “How exciting.” When her mother’s brow puckered, Margaret knew exactly what she was going to say next. “I worry someone will soon realize the style of the fashion plates is similar to your gowns.”

  “I think it highly unlikely. My designs aren’t that distinctive.”

  “If you’re sure. We wouldn’t want anything to ruin your chances of making a good marriage, especially now that Aberland has been so generous with your dowry.”

  Margaret bit her lip, feigning interest in her drawing. While she knew at some point she would have to advise her mother that Aberland’s offer was unnecessary, now was not that time. Lady Gold would only fret over Margaret’s decision not to marry. The last thing her mother needed was one more reason to worry. She’d already endured enough of that to last a lifetime.

  “I do hope you realize your selectiveness when it comes to suitors isn’t going to aid you.” Her mother squeezed her shoulder.

  “I refuse to settle for just anyone when Caroline and Annabelle made such fine matches. I doubt I shall ever find someone to live up to Aberland or Raybourne’s examples.” That was a legitimate reason not to show interest in anyone as far as she was concerned.

  “They are both wonderful men and even better husbands, but remember that neither of your sisters believed so at first. It was only after they came to know them that they fell in love.” Her mother ran her hand along the back of Margaret’s chair. “I would caution you not to be so quick to offer your opinions. Gentlemen will think you forward.”

  That was exactly what Margaret hoped. And thus far, it had worked. She had become adept at looking directly in the eyes of those men who seemed overly friendly and saying what she thought. Outspokenness was not a coveted trait in a potential bride. Their reactions to her statements were often entertaining.

  “Perhaps Caroline should mention your dowry to one or two others so news of it spreads.” Her mother tapped her lips as she considered the benefits of such a move.

  “No need.” When Lady Gold frowned at her rather vehement denial, Margaret waved a hand in the air. “I would much rather a man chose me for who I am rather than for my dowry. Don’t you agree?”

  “True.” Her mother nodded reluctantly. “Very well then. We shall keep that information to ourselves until we see the need to change our minds.”

  Relieved, Margaret set aside her drawing and rose. “Why is it that we always seem to be keeping secrets in our family?”

  Her mother thought about it for a moment then chuckled. “I never stopped to realize that. It’s a fine thing that we’re so good at it. Shall we have our breakfast?”

  “Lovely.” Margaret sighed as she followed her mother out of the room. Their first secret had been Sir Reginald’s failing mental state. Next had been their reduced financial circumstances
, though that had been reversed. Then there was Annabelle’s writing and Margaret’s fashion designs. How many more secrets would they need to keep?

  And now she had a new one to keep with Edward and his search for a wife. Heaven forbid if her mother learned of her plan. She wouldn’t be pleased with her youngest daughter in the least.

  ~*~

  “The changes you made to the budget will certainly help,” Mr. Ravenby, the family’s long-time barrister and man of business said with a nod of approval as he examined the report Edward had marked.

  “But they won't solve the problem,” Edward finished for him then sighed. While the news was no surprise, it was still unwelcome.

  He had arrived at Mr. Ravenby’s office for their weekly meeting with the usual knot in the pit of his stomach. They had combed through expenses three times during the past few months, adjusting and eliminating items until there was nothing more to be cut.

  “True,” the barrister admitted as he adjusted his spectacles. “Additional income is necessary to take care of the rather long list of improvements that need to be made at nearly all of the holdings as well as to improve efficiency.”

  Edward shifted in his seat. While he had already decided the best—the only—solution was to marry an heiress, he didn't like the pressure he felt. Especially considering the lackluster success he'd had during his first attempt last evening to find worthy candidates for his countess. He hadn't really cared for the few women with whom he'd spoken. He wasn't certain why he’d thought the search would be easy, but it wasn’t.

  “See to the repairs on Mr. Johnson's roof. Also to the ones on Mr. Ward’s fence so he doesn't lose any more sheep. The rest will have to wait a bit longer.”

  “But we don't have funds for those repairs.” Mr. Ravenby looked over the top of his glasses at Edward, his lips pressed tight with concern.

  “I will get the money. Go ahead and order the repairs to be completed now.”

  “How will you—”

  Edward raised one finger to stop the man's question. “I will see to it.” He rose and straightened his suit coat. “I will be in touch soon.”