The Rogue's Reform. Regina Scott

of steaming curry soup thick with veal, and fricassee of turnips in a cream sauce, followed by a joint of mutton and boiled potatoes. As soon as he had placed the dishes on the table alongside the gilt-edged best china, Adele folded her hands and bowed her head, waiting for Jerome to say the blessing.

       “Cousin?” she heard Vaughn say with a frown in his voice. She glanced up to find Samantha’s head bowed and hands folded as well. The girl cast her new cousin a quick glance before closing her eyes in expectation.

       Jerome, at least, knew what to do. “Heavenly Father,” he began in his rich baritone, “thank You for this opportunity to come together in Your name and partake of Your bounty. May it be a blessing to all here. Amen.”

       “Amen,” Adele chorused with Samantha, raising her head. Vaughn Everard’s mouth was cocked to one side as if the entire process amused him. Jerome, however, looked more pensive and offered Adele a smile before turning toward the food.

       But no sooner had he begun slicing into the meat than Samantha raised her voice again. “My father never spoke of you.”

       Tomorrow they would have to practice table conversation. Adele eyed the girl sternly. “I’m sure what Miss Everard meant to say was that she was delighted to learn she had three cousins.”

       Across the table, Samantha had the good grace to look abashed. “Yes, that’s exactly what I meant.”

       Vaughn peered at her from under ivory brows. “So your father never told you about your family?” His gaze darted to Jerome, and Adele was certain he received the barest of nods in return. They seemed to have expected Samantha to know nothing about them. Why?

       Disappointment bit sharply. She’d feared Jerome Everard might be too much like his uncle, but she was surprised to find how very much she wanted him to be a reliable gentleman, someone she and Samantha could count on. For how could she protect Samantha and herself if he turned out to be a rogue?

      Chapter Five

      Luckily, dinner proved to be enlightening, for Adele learned things about Samantha’s family she’d never known. Jerome was adept at keeping the conversation flowing, inquiring about Samantha’s pastimes, her acquaintances and her preferences in literature and fashion, and somehow managing to make Adele feel like an honored guest instead of the governess. He also took the opportunity to express his condolences.

       “I wish we could have met under happier circumstances.” His long fingers toyed with his silver fork. “I’m sure I speak for all of us, dear cousin, when I say we share your sorrow.”

       Compassion echoed in his warm voice, and Adele nodded her support across the table to her charge.

       Samantha smiled bravely, her own dinner long forgotten. “You knew my father well?”

       “Well?” Vaughn shook his head, light from the silver candelabra in the center of the table glinting on his platinum hair. “Can the acorn know the oak? The husk of wheat the rippling field?”

       Adele raised a brow.

       “Cousin Vaughn was particularly close to your father,” Jerome drawled, although Adele thought she saw him flash the fellow a look of warning. “Uncle helped raise all of us.”

       “Don’t you have parents of your own?” Samantha asked.

       “We did, or do in Vaughn’s case,” Jerome replied easily enough, as Adele tried not to look too eager to hear more. “But if you are interested in your family history, perhaps I should start with the first Lord Everard, our grandfather.”

       Vaughn set down the crystal goblet from which he’d been drinking. “You have no sense of the dramatic,” he told Jerome, then leaned closer to Samantha. “Once, in the Grand Age before we were born, our grandfather was master of the seas.”

       “He was a privateer,” Jerome explained to Adele.

       That certainly made sense. She found it all too easy to imagine the three of them swinging from lines and grappling with pirates.

       Vaughn ignored Jerome, obviously intent on his tale. “Legend has it he braved death to rescue a certain lady who’d been held for ransom on the high seas. His Majesty the King was so grateful, he graciously granted the old fellow a barony and an estate to support it.”

       So that was how Samantha’s father came to be titled, through his own father. Adele had often wondered. Like his swordsman nephew, the former Lord Everard had seemed more dashing rogue than polished courtier.

       “Regardless,” Jerome continued, brow raised as if annoyed to find himself upstaged by his colorful cousin, “he parlayed his riches into a considerable fortune, for which we can all be grateful. He also had three sons. Arthur, Samantha’s father, was the oldest. My father, Lancelot, was second.”

       Samantha giggled. “Lancelot?”

       Adele held back her own smile. “A great many gentlemen have romantic names,” she advised Samantha. “None appreciate being snickered at.”

       Samantha wrinkled her nose, but Vaughn obviously didn’t mind laughing at the name, for he grinned at Samantha. “You think that’s tiresome? My father’s named Galahad.”

       Samantha snorted and picked up her napkin to hide her grin, but her dark eyes crinkled at the corners.

       “Grandfather named all his children after one knight or other from the days of King Arthur,” Vaughn explained. “And like the knights of old, they all distinguished themselves. Your father was our leader.”

       “When it pleased him,” Jerome said, taking back control of the conversation with a wink to Adele. “My father managed the estates, even after Grandfather died and Uncle inherited the title. My parents were on a tour of the estates when they were killed in a carriage accident. I was thirteen, Richard ten. At that time, we all thought Uncle had sworn off marriage, making me the heir presumptive, so everyone agreed Richard and I should go live with him.”

       Adele frowned. Then he’d known he was the heir before Samantha was even born. He would have been groomed for the role. Small wonder he looked pensive at times.

       Across from her, Samantha sobered. “I’m sorry for your loss. My mother died when I was young, as well.”

       Oh, no. They would not discuss Samantha’s mother if Adele had anything to say in the matter. She smiled at Jerome. “And did you and your brother take after your father, Mr. Everard, in managing the estates?”

       “I did,” he replied with a smile that could only be called proud. “Richard preferred to look after our ships.”

       “We have ships?” Samantha asked eagerly.

       “A veritable fleet,” Vaughn assured her. “Cousin Richard took command immediately.”

       “My brother rose to the rank of captain quickly,” Jerome agreed with far more humility in his voice.

       “Tragically, he lost his one true love along the way,” Vaughn continued. “Lady Claire promised to wait until he returned, fortune made, but she proved fickle and gave her heart to another. It nearly destroyed him.”

       “How sad,” Adele murmured. Even dashing privateers, it seemed, were prone to sorrow, just like far less dashing governesses.

       “My brother prefers not to dwell on the past,” Jerome said to Adele, then he turned to his cousin and tipped up his chin. “However, I’m certain you’d prefer to take up the rest of the story.”

       Vaughn shook back his white-gold hair and straightened in his seat. As if to be sure of his audience, his dark gaze traveled from Adele to Jerome to Samantha, who sat spellbound.

       “My father was the youngest,” he said, voice low as if moved by emotion. “He was a dreamy lad, head always in the clouds. No one was surprised when he ran away from home to join a traveling caravan, journeying to the farthest parts of the world and partaking of all its riches.