Page 30 of A Remarkable Rogue

He said he’d been guarding her, and she’d witnessed it herself this morning in her garden. Surely, he’d been watching her home for days and following her everywhere she went, and not just to Barton’s but to every social call she’d made, every soiree she’d attended. Was he here at St James House, too, watching over her even now?

“My lady?”

While there was no doubt in her mind why Nate tempted her so, the man himself was a mystery. He was heralded as the hero of Toulouse, yet he did his best to avoid drawing attention to himself. He lived in a barracks when he could have had the luxury of well-appointed rooms. When she’d been in his arms, practically begging to share a perfectly good, large, and soft bed with him, he’d sent her away and chose instead his hard, narrow—and lonely—bunk.

His rejection came from more than just duty. Something deeper tortured him, and she easily recognized it. After all, she knew torment better than anyone. Not just the loss of Michael and Robert either, but the four long years of her marriage that followed. John Rowland was a cruel son of a bitch who wanted to bend her to his will almost as much as he’d wanted her money. Yet he’d never once attempted to claim his marriage right.Thank God.He’d held her in too much contempt to place himself where Michael Berkley had planted his seed. Besides, she would have killed him if he’d ever tried to force himself on her.

When he died in a drunken fall from his horse, Sydney had dutifully donned black and gone to the funeral, not to mourn but to make certain he was truly dead and buried and could never hurt her again.

“Lady Rowland.”

Startled, she glanced up to find seven pairs of eyes focused on her. “Pardon?”

With a smile, Lady Agnes Sinclair reached to pat her knee. “You are a thousand miles away this afternoon, my dear.”

“My apologies.” She covered the embarrassed blush threatening at her cheeks by taking a sip of cold tea and doing her best not to make a face at the taste. “I’m just a little distracted.”

Olivia Everett’s eyes narrowed on her. So did Alexander Sinclair’s as the earl sat close beside Miss Everett on the sofa and gazed at Sydney with a stone-hard expression. Nate said she could trust him, but could she trust anyone now, including Nate himself?

Lady Agnes, however, appeared oddly thrilled by the admission. But then, Agnes Sinclair had always been eccentric. Today she was no less interesting than usual, having donned a gauzy white frock with crinoline ruffles and a large red hat with ostrich feathers stretching nearly two feet above her head. The entirety made her resemble a gigantic chicken.

Still, Sydney liked the woman very much. She wished she possessed just half of Agnes’s exuberance.

“Lord and Lady Gantry were commenting upon the most urgent measures to be taken for the school,” Miss Everett repeated, not just for Sydney’s sake but the room at large. “Thatiswhy we’re all here today after all. To discuss the future of the Everett School.”

Lady Gantry nodded enthusiastically, while Lord Gantry appeared bored out of his mind. As the school’s two most important patrons, their opinions would be eagerly sought out and listened to, then most likely ignored, as was usual with every charity on which Sydney served with them.

Lord Hawking, the newest member to the school’s board, sat on the other side of the room next to Lord Gantry. Sydney knew the marquess well from years of serving with him on various charity boards, including the Foundling Hospital and the Orphan Working School. At social events, he’d been gentlemanly enough to rescue her from cads and dandies who pressed their attentions too far and to defend her to gossipy old hens. He’d always been kind and concerned about her welfare even when her own husband hadn’t, and she’d come to trust him even more since Rowland’s death, often asking him for advice. He’d never steered her wrong.

Alexander Sinclair, Earl of St James, was substituting at this meeting for his mother, who had agreed to help with the school’s construction. But the countess had other commitments that prevented her from attending.

Why Sydney had been invited, though, she had no idea. The invitation arrived just that morning. Yet she’d eagerly accepted in hopes of a chance to speak with Miss Everett about her brother. Guilt over Henry’s death knotted her belly.

“As you all know,” Miss Everett continued, “Lady Rowland made a very generous donation toward our rebuilding fund, and she serves on the board of many charities. We would be very fortunate to have her experience guiding us as we open the new Everett School.”

Sydney forced a smile. If they knew the real reason why she gave so generously to orphanages, schools, and children’s charities, she would be blacklisted from Mayfair, and no one in the room would ever speak to her again.

But she had no intention of unleashing the scandal of Robert’s true identity. Keeping him safe meant never acknowledging she was his mother. Not even to him.

“So the first action we would like to take,” Miss Everett announced, “is to officially invite Lady Rowland to join the board.”

Sydney froze, the teacup poised at her lips.Whatdid she just say?

Pleased smiles beamed from Lady Gantry and Lady Agnes at the idea, while Lord Gantry and Lord Hawking seemed simply amused by the proceedings and would gladly have left the whole ordeal up to the ladies if they could have found a way to excuse themselves to the billiards room. St James’s hard gaze never wavered from her.

Olivia Everett frowned, seemingly unhappy about the invitation she’d just extended. But then, could she have been happy about anything today? That the young schoolmistress even had the strength to hold this meeting in the midst of her grief testified to her love for the girls who attended the school, many of whom had no other home.

They were all staring at Sydney, all waiting for an answer. She drew a deep breath and smiled. “I would be honored.”

“Wonderful.” Yet the smile Miss Everett returned felt just as strained as her own. “Lord St James has been very generous to offer his home for the school’s use, but as you can imagine, the board is eager to find another property and to return to him his quiet solitude.”

“As am I,” he muttered beneath his breath.

As if on cue, a loud crash reverberated from the floor above, followed by stomping feet and angry shouts. St James sighed and slid a patient sideways glance at Miss Everett, who uncomfortably bit her bottom lip and wisely continued to stare straight ahead.

“Now,” Miss Everett continued, “if we can discuss our options…”

As the conversation wore on, Sydney’s attention wandered again, back to the same place it had strayed since she’d glimpsed Nate walking into Barton’s. She fought back a smile at the memory. In spite of his brocade and superfine, the young captain had been a fish out of water among the members of theton, paradoxically just as much as he’d been perfectly at home last night in the stables when he’d worn practically nothing at all.