When the Rogue Returns by Sabrina Jeffries Page A

foot. Victor turned his head to get a good look at the man and got quite a start.
    Lochlaw looked nothing like his mother. Dark-haired and spare, he wore wrinkled trousers and a coat with small holes in one sleeve. He had the rawboned features of a youth just coming into his own. But there was no denying how his eyes lit up as he came abreast of the phaeton . . . and Isa.
    It chafed Victor keenly.
    “I’m glad I ran into you, Mrs. Franke,” the baron said in a rush. “I went to your cottage to borrow Dalton’s book, but your maid told me you’d gone to Mother’s. So I figured you might need rescuing. I know how she can be.” His gaze flicked to Victor, but though curiosity shone in his eyes, he was apparently too well bred to ask who Isa’s companion was.
    In his place, Victor wouldn’t only have asked; he would have demanded an answer. But then, Isa was his wife, no matter how much she wanted to escape the connection.
    “Rupert,” Isa said hastily, “I’ve just been making the acquaintance of a cousin of yours.” She shot Victor a taunting glance. “Mr. Victor Cale.”
    Lochlaw blinked. “My cousin?”
    “Your distant cousin,” Victor gritted out.
    “Yes,” Isa said. “Your mother introduced us. Apparently, he’s here visiting your family. I suppose you haven’t had the chance to meet him yet.”
    The young man looked intrigued. “I didn’t know I had a cousin named Victor Cale. Though the name does sound familiar.”
    Thank God Manton had made Victor study the Debrett’s entries for the Lochlaw family before he left London. “My mother was a Rosedale,” he lied, “so our connection is very remote. I believe she was your third cousin, once removed. Or was it second cousin, thrice—”
    “I shall look it up,” the baron said brightly.
    “No need to go to that trouble,” Isa put in. Was she trying to protect her husband? Or herself?
    “But it’s no trouble at all,” Lochlaw protested. “I enjoy looking things up. Almost as much as I enjoy experiments.”
    “Experiments?” Victor couldn’t help asking.
    “Rupert is a chemist,” Isa explained. “A very good one.”
    The man colored to the tips of his ears. “Well, only an amateur chemist and not very good yet. But I hope to be.” He cast her a worshipful glance that set Victor’s teeth on edge. “Mrs. Franke inspires me.”
    To do chemistry? What did Isa know about chemistry? And why the devil was she “inspiring” this stripling to do it?
    Lochlaw studied Victor. “I wonder why Mother never told me you were coming to visit. That’s odd indeed.”
    Damn Lady Lochlaw for insisting that her son would never question her subterfuge. “It was a sudden thing. I had some business in Edinburgh, so I paid a call on her. Family courtesy, you know. Your mother and I actually only met for the first time today. She was kind enough to overlook the fact that my mother married beneath her and was cut off from your family.”
    That was sort of true, though in reverse. Victor’s mother had married far above her station, and his father had been the one cut off from his family. Or rather, he’d cut himself off with his own unthinkable act.
    Lochlaw was gaping at him now. “My mother overlooked that?” He eyed Victor more closely. “Are you sure you met my mother? Because that doesn’t sound like her. She’d be more likely to give you the cut direct. Mother can be . . . well . . .”
    “Unpredictable,” Isa supplied, as if she performed such a service often.
    “I was going to say rude,” Lochlaw retorted, “but I suppose one shouldn’t call one’s mother rude. Even if she is.”
    Victor couldn’t begin to know how to respond to that. The baron was proving even less what he’d expected than the dowager baroness.
    “So how long do you mean to stay in town?” Lochlaw asked with seemingly genuine interest. “I’d be delighted to introduce you about, show you some ofthe sights, bring you to visit the Royal Society of