The Last Rogue. Deborah Simmons

hollow feeling in her heart as she realized that although he would gladly shelter her, she could not hide away at the vicarage, if it would cause him—or her siblings—harm.

      She blinked, determined not to weep at this horrible turn of events. She was going to have to marry him! “Oh, if it were anyone but Raleigh!” she said aloud, sinking into one of the cabriolet armchairs that were scattered about the room. Raleigh was too handsome, too frivolous, too dandified, too titled, too everything. “Why could it not have been Mr. Cambridge?” she asked, her voice cracking. “He is so distinguished.”

      “Indeed, he’s old enough to have sired your father,” Charlotte said dryly. “Raleigh is a much better match. Why, he is still in his twenties, a viscount and someday to be an earl!”

      “Don’t remind me,” Jane said glumly. She had no wish for material gain, or a life in London where people were wicked and full of excess, where married women had dalliances and men drank so much they did not know where they were sleeping—or with whom.

      “Jane.” Charlotte knelt before her and took her hands. “I know that for some reason you don’t think much of him, but Raleigh is one of the finest men I know. He is good and kind and honorable, and I am proud to call him friend.” Jane inhaled slowly. “I would be even prouder to call him my brother,” Charlotte said, her full lips curving upward at the corners.

      Jane let out her breath in a great sigh. What chance did she have against a determined Charlotte and her husband? She was surrounded by concerned family, and yet she had never felt so alone. What choice was there for her?

      “Very well,” she said, her heart sinking down to her toes. “I will marry him, if Papa will do it.”

      

      John Trowbridge looked rather bewildered when called to the Great House and presented with the special license for one of his own daughters. Leaving out the sordid details, Charlotte told him that Jane and Raleigh had been compromised, but as they had shared a fondness for each other for some time, all were in agreement to wed.

      Perhaps, if her father had been as adamant as the others, demanding that she marry immediately, Jane might have had the courage to defy them all. But, instead, Papa pulled her aside and told her very gently that she did not have to go through with anything unless she truly loved Raleigh. Ignoring the ludicrous notion of her harboring any affection for the glib-tongued viscount, Jane put her arms around her father and hugged him tight, fighting back the tears. Yes, I have to do this, she thought to herself. Not for myself, but for you, and the boys, and Carrie and Jenny. And Charlotte and Wycliffe.

      Jane was a dutiful girl, and she did her duty. She stood throughout the brief ceremony, with Raleigh stiff and unhappy beside her, and suffered the congratulations of everyone there, all of them far more pleased than either bride or groom. She pretended to eat an elaborate celebratory repast off Wycliffe’s elegant china and let the younger children fill themselves with cake.

      It was only when a servant arrived with a trunk of her meager belongings that the enormity of her action, and its consequences, struck home. Between all the chatter and preparations that led up to the wedding, Jane had not had time to really think about her future. Rather, she had vaguely assumed that things would go on much as before, with her being married in name only, while Raleigh returned to London.

      Now, abruptly, she was informed that she must make haste to leave for the viscount’s family seat. At the pronouncement, Jane stared so numbly at her husband that Charlotte whisked her off again to the yellow bedroom, which she was quickly growing to despise, ostensibly to assist her final packing.

      In reality, Charlotte had chafed her cold hands, while sending a maid to fetch some clothes to add to Jane’s poor supply. “When I think of all the times I asked you to let me have some fine gowns made for you! Well, there’s nothing for it now, but to take what you have. Raleigh will have to spring for a new wardrobe!” she said, smiling.

      Jane said nothing when the maid returned with an armful of nightrails. From experience, she knew that Charlotte’s clothing would be voluminous on her. However, this time it was not the size but the flimsy nature of the gowns that caught her attention. They were so worn as to be nearly transparent!

      “I cannot wear those,” Jane whispered as the maid left.

      “Of course you can,” Charlotte said with a forced heartiness that made Jane immediately suspicious of her motives.

      “Why are you giving them to me?” she asked.

      Charlotte blushed, making Jane even more leery. “In absence of our mother, I thought I would take it upon myself to give you some advice for your wedding night,” she said cheerfully.

      Although Jane had a vague idea of reproduction, gleaned from the animals that populated the farms and hillsides, she was appalled to learn that human procreation worked in generally the same manner. Hastily dismissing the subject, Jane turned away, but Charlotte seemed intent upon embellishing the bald facts with rather disgusting details. Refusing to listen, Jane was grateful when a knock at the door and the sound of a baby crying drew Charlotte away.

      “Jane, all I can say is that it is wonderful with someone you love, wonderful beyond imagining,” Charlotte said before taking one of the twins from a maid.

      Nodding just to be rid of her, Jane turned back to her packing, without making the obvious comment. But I don’t love him. And I never will. Swallowing against a sudden thickness in her throat, Jane resolutely packed the scandalous garments, though she knew she would never wear them.

      Nor would she permit the kind of liberties that her sister had discussed so candidly. Charlotte and Wycliffe and Raleigh himself might have gotten her to take his name, but the rest of her would remain her own.

       Chapter Two

      Charlotte stood beside her husband as they watched the coach travel into the distance. It was one of their own since Raleigh had arrived in a hired conveyance, but easily spared. Her dear papa often said that Wycliffe had more horseflesh than the entire village. He did seem to possess an excess of both steeds and vehicles, but now Charlotte was glad that she could provide a little something toward her sister’s comfort.

      Charlotte had felt a nagging disquiet ever since she had risen, but had put it down to worry about the twins. When she heard the maid scream, she had raced upstairs, filled with terror, only to know a certain relief that no one was dead or injured.

      Only compromised.

      Charlotte sighed. Although she had seen no other possible course, she had definite misgivings about the match. Raleigh was rather frivolous, while Jane was so serious. Charlotte had never known the viscount to rusticate for long, yet Jane, disdaining London, knew little else. “Do you think we did the right thing?” she asked her husband softly.

      “We had no choice,” Max said, and Charlotte took some comfort from his words. Yet she knew there were always options, and if Jane had been adamant or Raleigh unsuitable, she would not have pushed for the marriage.

      “Was Raleigh very unhappy?” she asked, remembering the usually carefree viscount’s glum countenance.

      “He will soon discover his good fortune,” Max said, and Charlotte could not help but note that her husband had avoided answering her directly. Before she could protest, he added, “Jane is a lovely girl, well-mannered and kindhearted.”

      Charlotte nodded. “I know, but she is so accustomed to being the plain one that she cannot see she has grown into an attractive young woman.”

      “Anyone would suffer being compared to you,” Max said loyally as he put his arm around her.

      Charlotte smiled, but her heart remained heavy. “And so much was made of how I resembled Mama that I fear Jane cannot recognize any other type of beauty.”

      “Raleigh has no such prejudices,