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

  He left the barrister's office, realizing the knot in his stomach was worse than when he'd arrived. The anger he felt toward his father for leaving the estate in such a mess made him long to punch something. Why the late earl had left everything to pile up rather than dealing with it was a question to which Edward would never know the answer. He found that maddening.

  “Where to, my lord?” his driver asked as he hopped down to hold the door at Edward’s approach to the carriage.

  “Madam Gaston’s.” While the hour was early for a game of cards, it was the most likely way to earn enough blunt for roof and fence repairs. Anything was better than the helpless feeling that currently filled him.

  Though he’d considered selling some of the more valuable items in their home, he didn’t want to without his mother’s agreement, something he preferred to avoid. Especially not when she was still working her way back to normalcy. Watching her emerge from the long shadow his father had cast was both rewarding and painful. How had he not realized how much she’d isolated herself over the years, giving up friends and many activities she once enjoyed? Charlotte had seen it, but he’d been so caught up in his own tumultuous relationship with his father that he’d ignored all else.

  His attention had been firmly fixed on the next card game, drink, and woman—often in that order. But his roguish ways had come to an abrupt end upon his father’s death.

  He didn’t think he was truly ready to marry. Last night had proven that. While Margaret Gold’s remarks hadn’t encouraged him, he couldn’t place the blame for his lack of interest on her. In truth, he appreciated her honesty, although he had no intention of telling her that.

  He supposed he needed to ask Charlotte’s advice eventually as well. She attended more functions and therefore knew more people than Margaret, but she was heavily involved in preparations for her wedding and her new life. Besides, if he told her his requirements, she’d realize how dire their financial situation was. He didn’t want to burden her with it. It was his responsibility, not hers.

  The carriage drew to a halt and he alighted. “Return in two hours’ time.” That should be long enough to see if luck was on his side.

  He would take care and ease into a game with caution since he had little money to spare. The weight of the debt he owed to James Crosby, Viscount Redmond, his soon-to-be brother-in-law and friend, regardless of whether Redmond chose to acknowledge it, sat heavily on Edward’s shoulders. But not nearly as heavily as the long list of repairs and improvements the tenants needed.

  Redmond had taken it upon himself to pay a gambling debt the late earl owed to Lord Samuelson directly after the earl’s death. Edward was grateful for that because there hadn’t been enough funds for him to do so.

  To think his father had intended to have Charlotte marry Samuelson to settle the debt was beyond the pale. Samuelson’s agreement was as well. Was it any wonder that he, his mother, Redmond, and Charlotte had all confronted the earl to protest his plan?

  Edward was slowly paying Redmond back, though he insisted it wasn’t necessary. Edward knew Redmond felt the same guilt Edward did—that he was responsible for the late earl’s death. That was something he, Charlotte, their mother, and Redmond would have to live with.

  Edward had seen what needed to be done when he’d spent a fortnight at Wynn House, the family seat, in Herefordshire, visiting with tenants alongside the steward. He wanted them to know he intended to take an active role in managing the estates.

  Many had been loyal to his father despite his obvious lack of interest in them. Edward was still working through ways to gain their trust, especially considering he didn’t have deep pockets to provide even the most basic repairs and improvements. He hoped the harvest was plentiful this year as it would help everyone.

  He shook his head as he opened the door to the gambling establishment. Now he worried about weather and crops rather than opera singers or the next demimonde party. How quickly one’s life could change.

  Within a few minutes, he’d gotten a drink and moved into the card room where a lively game of whist was being played. After watching for a time with the hope of shifting his thoughts to the cards, he joined in, pleased when he won the first hand.

  Unfortunately, he lost the second. Winning was easier when it didn’t matter. But with Mr. Johnson and Mr. Ward firmly in mind, not to mention all the other tenants, pressure to play the proper card at the right time had him hesitating and second guessing his moves.

  With more determination along with another drink, he won the next three hands, winning a tidy sum.

  “Another round?” he asked Lord Calverton.

  “Certainly,” the older man answered. “Your luck can’t hold forever. I intend to win back my money.”

  “You can try.” A certain feeling of knowing often came over Edward when he was winning. Only once had he allowed the feeling to overcome good sense, resulting in him betting too much. He’d lost heavily that night and vowed to never allow it to happen again.

  He often wondered what had happened when his father had lost to Lord Samuelson, creating the debt that had nearly cost Charlotte her future. Had his father been desperate because he knew what poor condition the estate was in? Or had he simply been overconfident and played recklessly?

  Then again, it didn’t make any difference. Edward had his own set of rules that worked for him when it came to cards, and he had no intention of changing them because of what his father had or hadn’t done. They were two different people—something Edward continually reminded himself. He didn’t want to be anything like his father.

  He played four more hands, winning three of them, when he felt a presence at his elbow.

  “I didn’t expect to see here this early, Wynn.” Redmond nodded at the other men at the table.

  Edward nearly flinched. He had yet to become accustomed to being called his father’s name, especially by his friend. “What brings you here?”

  “I was in search of you.”

  “Oh?” Edward frowned as he glanced at him. “Is something amiss?”

  “Not at all. Although I wanted to speak with you about something.”

  “Of course.” He smiled at the others at the table as he gathered his winnings. “Thank you, gentlemen.”

  He followed Redmond out of the card room, curious as to what his friend wanted to discuss.

  Redmond frowned as he met Edward’s gaze. “What are you doing?”

  “How do you mean?” While Redmond knew the problems plaguing Edward, he didn’t know the extent. No one other than Mr. Ravenby did.

  “I hope this,” Redmond gestured toward the card room, “isn’t something you’re doing with me or Charlotte in mind. It’s one thing to entertain yourself, but I sense a certain determination behind your actions.”

  Edward scowled. “Am I so easy to see through?”

  “I know you better than most.”

  “Yes, well, until I find an heiress anxious to marry me, a card game or two will have to suffice to help repair my tenant’s roof.”

  Redmond’s brows rose in surprise. “Marriage? Truly?”

  Edward ignored the hint of panic the question brought. He couldn’t imagine living with one woman for the rest of his life and feared having a marriage as miserable as his parents. He’d always known one of his duties as earl would be to marry, but he would’ve liked to have more time to find a woman he admired and respected. Instead, the most important requirement was wealth.

  “Yes, though I’d appreciate you keeping the information to yourself until I have a chance to share it with Charlotte myself.”

  “Of course.” Redmond smiled. “I hope you are as lucky in love as I am.” Happiness shone brightly in the viscount’s eyes.

  Somehow, Edward doubted that was possible, considering the urgency of his situation.

  “I advise you make certain it’s a match based on more than convenience.” Redmond shook his head. “Choose wisely, my friend. A lifetime is a long time.”

  Pe
rhaps it wasn’t such a bad thing that Margaret insisted on aiding him. With her guidance, he hoped to avoid making a serious mistake when it came to choosing his countess.

  Chapter Three

  Margaret settled into the reading room at Artemis Lending Library to view the latest issue of the Ladies Monthly Journal. She’d turned in her drawings to Raybourne the previous day but was anxious to see what fashion trends one of the more popular magazines offered.

  She glanced behind her to see her maid, Lizzie, settled in a chair by the door to wait. Margaret had asked Charlotte to join her this afternoon, as looking over magazines was something they liked to do together, but she had another engagement. Since Margaret hadn’t wanted to wait, she’d come without her.

  Soon she would see her designs in a publication like this. The realization sent a flurry of excitement through her.

  Magazines weren’t organized in any particular order. Publishers pieced together however the items fit on a page with articles on a new museum or about travel to far off lands beside book reviews with fashion plates in between. The lack of organization bothered Margaret’s orderly nature. It would’ve been more logical to have the items grouped by topic. That way, the reader could better enjoy each category without overlooking anything. She made a mental note to mention the idea to Raybourne to see if he’d be receptive to it.

  Margaret had been fortunate enough to travel to Paris the previous autumn with Caroline and Aberland and had visited the House of Worth along with other notable fashion designers. The experience had both broadened and refined her tastes.

  While she better understood what was possible in design, she also had a firmer idea of what she did and didn’t like. The subtle color changes from one year to the next, the new emphasis on sleeve embellishments, and the ever-changing level of waistlines were among the items she studied as she turned the pages in search of the fashion plates.

  The reading room was less than half full, perfect as far as she was concerned. Most of the other patrons, mainly women, were focused on reading, though a few had gathered for conversation with friends.

  She was nearing the end of the magazine when she looked up at the weight of a stare. The sight of Edward standing before her had her frowning in disbelief. “My lord?”

  “May I join you?” he asked as he dipped his head in greeting.

  “Of course.” She glanced about the room then back at her unexpected companion. “I didn’t realize you were fond of books.”

  “Actually, I am. But I came in search of you. Charlotte said you’d be here.”

  “Oh?” His explanation did little to ease her confusion. Then again, part of that confusion was due to the man himself. The handsome lord unsettled her. Telling herself that he was merely Charlotte’s brother didn’t help. Her breathlessness along with the heat in her cheeks refused to subside.

  He looked around with interest. “Isn’t this your brother-in-law’s lending library?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Interesting.”

  She closed the magazine, deciding nothing more could be gained by looking through the rest of the pages. Not with Edward nearby. When he said nothing further, she asked, “Were you in need of something?”

  “You didn’t attend the Bolton Ball last evening.” His eyes held on her steadily as he took a seat across the table.

  “No, I didn’t.” She’d enjoyed an evening at home, reading to her father.

  “I wanted your opinion on someone.”

  Margaret ignored her disappointment at his remark. Of course, that was why he’d sought her out. What other reason could there be? “Who?”

  He clasped his hands on the table and leaned close. “Lady Josephine Felspar.”

  An image of the woman filled her mind. “She is an heiress?”

  “I’m not certain, though her jewelry last evening suggested a certain wealth.”

  Lady Josephine possessed generous curves and a sweet disposition though Margaret had a difficult time imagining Edward and her as a couple.

  “What do you know of her?” Edward asked.

  “She is prone to giggle when she’s nervous and her dancing skills leave much to be desired. But she always has a kind word for others.” Margaret searched her memory, unable to think of much else to add. “I suppose I could make some discreet inquiries to learn more about her dowry.”

  “Splendid. I would appreciate it.” His gaze dropped to the magazine before her. “Catching up on the latest fashion?”

  “It’s always interesting.” Heat returned to her cheeks at the idea of being caught doing research. She didn’t want to explain why she tried to stay abreast of trends.

  “Such as?” His head tilted to the side as if he truly wanted to know her thoughts.

  “This and that.” She patted the cover of the magazine, surprised at the urge to share a few details, including how thrilled she was that her sketches would be in the coming issue of the Artemis Monthly Journal. Having a hand in influencing what men and women might wear was exciting. While she knew such things wouldn’t matter to many, including a man like Edward, it mattered to her. She enjoyed helping people look their best, and to increase their confidence.

  He continued to look at her expectantly. But she knew better than to say too much. No one could know the full extent of what she did other than a chosen few. She’d kept her secret for years and could resist the urge to share.

  His gaze dropped to the magazine and to her surprise, he pulled it toward him, turned it to face him, and opened it. He paged through it rather quickly, and she held back her amusement as he skimmed the titles of various articles.

  “Here we are.” He gestured toward one of the colored fashion plates she’d viewed earlier. “I can’t say as I like his cravat.”

  “Why not?” Margaret had never spoken with a man about fashion and was quite curious as to his thoughts. Edward always dressed with care, his clothing in good taste. He didn’t necessarily follow the latest trends, but his style was classic—neither overly fussy nor staid.

  “The cravat has far too many loops, and the points of the collar are ridiculously high. One can’t turn one’s head without poking oneself.”

  “What of the suit coat?”

  “I prefer narrower lapels, though I do like the waistcoat.” He turned several pages until he came to another one that featured several women. He considered them briefly. “Would this design suit Charlotte?” he asked, pointing to one in particular.

  “The color is wrong, but the lines of the gown would flatter her.”

  “How can you tell?”

  Margaret looked up to find Edward studying her. She quickly returned her attention to the fashion plate. How had she never noticed that the color of his eyes was like the sky after a thunderstorm—blue with hints of gray? Probably because he’d never looked at her thusly. She found it unsettling.

  “Charlotte is slim, so the extra ruffle along the neck and hem would flatter her but that particular shade of yellow would make her skin look sallow. Blue or lavender looks much better on her.”

  “Interesting. How did you come to learn such things? Is Lady Gold equally skilled in fashion?”

  “No.” Only too late did she realize her mistake. She should’ve said yes and that would’ve ended the conversation.

  “Your sisters?”

  To Margaret’s surprise, she found herself telling him part of the story. How Caroline had hoped for an offer from a particular gentleman and that making certain her gowns were flattering was an important part of that.

  “Appearances shouldn’t matter as much as they do,” Edward said with a wry smile.

  “True. Though oftentimes they reflect the inner person, don’t you think?” Margaret had given the idea much thought over the past years as she studied clothing designs.

  “I suppose I hadn’t considered that.”

  “If a person dresses poorly, showing no concern with their appearance, it can reflect a lack of respect for themselves and social custom
s.”

  Edward sat back in his chair. She couldn’t decide if he was amused or interested in her opinion. “That’s bad?”

  “Of course. Polite behavior and manners keep us civilized. We are often treated by how we’re seen by others. Although people like to pretend none of that matters, it does. Opinions are formed on first impressions.”

  “Hmm.”

  “But if one is always wearing the very latest fashions,” she continued, “perhaps they’re too focused on themselves and don’t care about things that truly matter.”

  “Such as?”

  “The plight of the poor or wounded soldiers struggling to find their place.” She glanced away, wondering if he thought her silly. After all, she did spend an inordinate amount of time thinking of fashion. He might think that a waste.

  “People are quick to judge, aren’t they?” He rubbed a long finger over his upper lip as if he were pondering the issue.

  “Unfortunately, yes. I don’t know if that will ever change.”

  “What of those who can’t afford the latest fashions?”

  “A neat appearance that reflects a nod at fashion is often all that is required. Someone clever with a needle and thread can avoid spending funds but still remain fashionable.” She didn’t share that she was one of those. While they now had the money to use a dressmaker, she often preferred to make her own clothes.

  “Interesting.” His gaze fell to her gown made of lavender muslin. Then he took in her narrow chip bonnet secured with a deep purple ribbon. “You always look perfect, a shining example of your view of fashion.”

  Warmth ran through her entire body at his surprising words. “Thank you.”

  “I’m pleased you’re assisting Charlotte with her trousseau.”

  “As am I.” Margaret had to smile. “Everyone deserves to feel beautiful, even if that moment is often fleeting.” She sighed. “It is lovely to see her so happy.”

  “On that, we are in agreement. She and Redmond seem to have found something unique.” He glanced at the magazine. “I will leave you to your reading. You’ll let me know if you find anything interesting about Lady Josephine?”