Saved by a Rake (5 page)

Chapter Seven

Rebecca had been at the garden party for around an hour when she saw him. The Duchess of Pembridge had been talking for what seemed like forever about her new barouche, when a dark blue coat and red hair caught her attention.

The Earl of Newthorpe stood near a summer house a short distance away, talking to an elderly gentleman, whom Rebecca did not recognise.

Cold dread gripped her insides and her head started to spin. Through the haze of pain and fear
, she could see him glance haughtily at her. Even from a distance, with all manner of awful thoughts flooding her mind, his sneer was cold and hateful.

“
Excuse me,” she said politely. She could not see her mother anywhere. As panic assailed her, she looked around for someone else she knew intimately. Maybe she should have stayed in the duchess’s company, but it was too late now.

Spotting a wrought iron bench near the entrance to the rose garden, she hurried over to it. Someone would come and sit with her if they saw she was all alone. Keeping a watchful eye for a friend or relative who could help her
, she carried herself as quickly as decency would allow.

S
till her mother was still nowhere in sight. She nearly tripped down the grassy slope that led down to a large ornamental pool, but she caught herself in time and made it to the bench, thankfully without breaking into a run and drawing attention to herself.

Once seated, she looked around the company and was relieved to see Miss Claremont heading in her direction.
She smiled at her friend, who lifted her hand slightly. But then her friend’s smile froze and, with an apologetic grimace, she turned and sailed off to another group of guests in a rustle of mint green satin.

Rebecca did not need to look around to know that Lord Newthorpe was the reason for her friend
’s change of heart. She damped down the shiver that snaked up her spine and threatened to steal her breath.

“
Well, my darling Rebecca. How are you?”

“
I am well thank you, my lord.”

“
May I?” He indicated the seat beside her. She was willing to put on a façade of politeness for the throng of people who would be watching avidly, but she would not be polite in words.

“
I would rather you did not sit, my lord. I have nothing to say to you.”

“
I will take that as a yes.” His nasally voice dripped with something that Rebecca could not put her finger on. She felt dirty all over again as he leered at her, raking his gaze up her pink gown and resting on her breasts. How she wished she had worn a fischu to hide her décolletage, but she had decided against it. They were rather old fashioned and it would have ruined the look of the dress that she had picked out especially because she would see Lord Ramsey.

Newthorpe sat beside her, slightly closer than was appropriate. She gripped the handle of her reticule as if the tiny bag might save her from the brute.

“Please, Your Lordship, this is not proper and people will talk.”

“
They are already talking. I had to do something when you sneaked out of my house like a thief. Then you told your father, and he withdrew his consent for me to pay my addresses to you. I was willing to have your hand in marriage despite your pitiful little dowry.”

“
I did not sneak out of your house. And…” She had no idea why she was defending her actions to this hateful man. How did he have the nerve to approach her at a perfectly respectable entertainment after what he had done? She was beginning to wish her father would take his sword to the blaggard. “And it was my mother who told my father.” She lifted her chin and glanced up the garden. Still no sign of her mother.

“
So you ran to dear mama to tell her of the big bad man taking what would be rightfully his as soon as an agreement had been reached with your father.”

“
I would never have agreed to marry you, my lord. Not after what you did.”

“
We could have been so good together, Rebecca.”

“
Please, my lord, I have not given you permission to make free with my given name.”

“
Even after I took your innocence. Oh, Rebecca. Now you will always be mine.”

He placed his hand on the metal bench between them and brushed her thigh with a finger. She shifted in her seat, moving her leg away from him.

“It seems that you have managed to escape ruination despite the fact I made a few suggestions in the gentlemen’s clubs that you are less than chaste. I still want you to be my wife and bear my heirs.”

“
Never,” she hissed, looking around, only to see that everyone in the garden was surreptitiously watching. “My father will not allow it. And even if he did, I would not.”

“
He will if the alternative is to see you die an old maid and be ostracised. Your dowry is barely worth collecting, my dear. So be a good girl and stand up.” His lip curled in a sneer as he grabbed her arm tight. “Let us pretend that the last few days have all been a misunderstanding, and stop acting like the miserable little whore you are.”

“
Newthorpe, old chap!”

Rebecca moved her head to see Lord Ramsey round the corner next to their seat, a big grin on his face. Rebecca groaned inwardly
, but was relieved that the gentleman’s presence caused Newthorpe to release his hold on her arm. Would he think they were courting again? He probably would and so would most of the
Ton
. “How are you?” He bowed to the Earl then faced Rebecca. “Lady Rebecca, I hope you are well.”

She curtseyed.
“I am, thank you.”

“
Good, then let us talk quietly. Lady Rebecca, do you wish Lord Newthorpe to continue his attentions towards you?”

She looked at him, shocked.
But his eyes were warm and encouraging, and she knew in her heart that she could tell him the truth.

“
I would prefer not, my lord.”

“
Now see here, old chap. The lady and I were just…”

“
Finishing your conversation and you were about to leave.” His voice was tight and low and his brown eyes, which had been soft a moment ago, were narrowed, his gaze like steel.

“
I do not think…”

“
Clearly, thinking is not your strong suit, Newthorpe. But since I overheard you insult Lady Rebecca, you shall be punished. Meet me in Jackson’s in one hour and be prepared for a bloodied nose, at the very least.”

“
Oh, Lord Ramsey!” She did not know whether to be pleased or horrified.

“
Please stay out of this, Lady Rebecca. It is my duty as a gentleman to guard your honour. I will not have my friend’s sister or any other lady spoken to in the manner that the earl did just now. May I escort you back to your mother?”

“
Oh, thank you. Though I do believe you were going to show me the rose garden.” Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment, and she needed some time to catch her breath and steady her nerves before seeing her mother again.

“
I do believe I was.” He held out his arm, and she placed her gloved hand gently upon it. She dared not look at the Earl of Newthorpe, though she was well aware of the other guests looking at them out of the corners of their eyes, curious to find out what was going on. Daniel leaned slightly towards the earl, his voice sounding like a growl. “One hour, in Jackson’s and be grateful you are not staring down the barrel of my pistol.”

****

They walked for a few minutes in silence as Daniel glanced back every so often to check that Newthorpe had indeed left. He felt like a coiled spring as anger pulsed through his veins. He had wanted to punch the earl, right there in the garden, but due to the presence of ladies, propriety had prevented him. He bunched his free hand into a fist and ground his teeth once more.

The buzzing of the bees
among the roses mingled with the polite chatter drifting on the wind soothed his anger slightly. He breathed in the delicate scent of the still young rose blooms and forced his body to relax. Quite a feat considering he was nearly shaking with rage. Had Rebecca not been through enough? And did the Earl of Newthorpe have no shame?

“
Did you really hear what he called me?” she asked suddenly, her eyes bright with unshed tears. Then she whipped her gaze away from as if scared of his answer.

“
I am afraid I did. Though I am more distressed that you had to hear such vulgar language.”

“
Do you think ill of me?”

“
I believe his charge against you is unfounded, my lady. And no true gentleman would ever use such language in front of a lady.”

She sighed
, and he bunched his fist again. How could any human, never mind a peer of the realm, cause such pain to an innocent? He should be above reproach in matters pertaining to his treatment of others. Daniel’s anger boiled inside, but he breathed in slowly, hoping to remain outwardly calm at least. However, Newthorpe would be lucky to get out of the boxing match alive, at this rate.

Lady Rebecca stopped to admire one of the roses. Still a relatively young bloom she cupped in her hand.

“It’s so beautiful… so pure and undamaged.”

“
It is well protected from the elements here. But flowers which are not so well protected are just as beautiful.”

“
But not pure.” He blanched. She sounded defeated—as if by his insult, Newthorpe had stolen the last of her fight. He waited a moment, choosing his words carefully.

“
There are different kinds of purity, my lady. I believe purity in heart and mind are the most important. A flower may have a blemish which was caused by a vicious storm, but its fragrance will remain sweet and its beauty intact.”

“
There we must agree to differ, my lord. I believe once the bloom has been damaged, most people would think the entire plant in need of pruning.” Sadly she was right, especially if she was referring to the
Ton
. Unfortunately their society was wholly unforgiving on certain matters, and the purity of their young ladies was one such matter. How awful she must feel. Again he considered for a moment before replying.

“
But not I, my lady. Its mere survival brings out a beauty that purity alone can never afford it. If one was to paint a flower such as this, it would be like hundreds of other paintings of a rose. But if one were to paint a blemished rose, it would be unique and therefore, without doubt, much more precious.”

Where the devil had that little speech come from?
Daniel had never thought of himself as the poetic type. And between his need to pummel Newthorpe into the ground and his desire to pull Lady Rebecca into his arms and hold her and take her pain away, he should receive a sainthood for standing here discussing roses, even if the discussion was much less about roses and much more about her situation.

He suspected that deep down she would know James had told him of her attack. And he hoped he had given the beautiful young woman dressed in a pale pink day dress, who clung to his arm as she raised her chin away from him, trying to hide her tears, a little comfort.

Chapter Eight

James sat on the stool at the corner of the ring in Gentleman Jackson
’s Boxing Saloon a few minutes before Newthorpe’s hour was up. He half hoped the blaggard would not show up and give him an excuse to slap a glove in his face and then shoot a bullet into his heart.

He had stopped in at White
’s to collect James, whom he had known was playing cards that afternoon with a few of their friends. Daniel was glad that Lady Rebecca Eversley and the garden party had been a much more pleasing prospect. He had rescued a frightened young woman from a coward who preyed on the weaker sex.

He had been impressed by Lady Rebecca
’s spirit though. She had refused to be bowed by Newthorpe until he had called her a whore and that would have shocked even the most worldly-wise ladies of the
Ton.

“
Now remember, he is slow on his feet and much more of a slugger than you, so you need to be light, bounce around, and never leave yourself open as a target. And for God’s sake, protect that face of yours. You are terrible for dropping your guard. And keep moving.”

“
James, you already told me to keep moving. I know.” He punched the air a few times for effect and to keep his muscles loose.

“
I am trying to keep you motivated,” said his friend, twirling the handle of his quizzing glass. God it was a very annoying habit that James had.

“
Oh believe me, the look on your sister’s face when he called her a whore is motivation enough for me. How dare he even speak her name, never mind speak
to
her.”

“
You should have challenged him to a duel on my behalf.”

“
James, there were ladies present. And I would no sooner cause more concern to your sister than pluck my own eyes out.”

“
I know. And this is your fight. I will, at some time in the future, exact my revenge. I have just not worked out how.”

At that moment, the door opened and Newthorpe swaggered in, alongside Piers Montague, a gentleman of questionable repute. Montague was known for bedding innocents
, and the mamas of the
Ton
tended to keep their precious daughters away from him. If Daniel ever had a daughter, she would never be allowed near such a man.

Newthorpe was already undoing his cravat and peeling of
f his coat. He was a sturdy fellow with a mop of shocking red hair, freckles and greasy skin.

Once he was ready, Daniel nodded to him and looked around. A large number of other patrons of the establishment had gathered round
—word having got out about the impending bout.

A number of friends were picked out to be Daniel and Newthorpe
’s bottle men and another couple chosen to referee. Daniel noticed Gentleman Jackson in the doorway watching proceedings but not getting involved. He had a feeling that former boxer would only interfere if things got out of hand. But they were going to stick to Broughton’s rules, and they would wear gloves as Jackson himself always preferred.

A number of gentlemen muttered unofficial wagers on the outcome of the match, keeping their voices low enough that Jackson would not hear.
However, Daniel suspected that Gentleman Jackson would be aware of the wagers. Again, as long as it did not get out of hand, he would turn a blind eye—something he would never have done for a prize fight.

This may not be billed as a prize fight, but for Daniel, the prize was Lady Rebecca Eversley
’s honour.

He still struggled to understand why any man would force himself on a lady, especially when, as rumour had it, they had been close to agreeing to an engagement.

“Ready?” one of the referees asked. Both men nodded.

“
Keep moving,” whispered James—much to Daniel’s annoyance.

“
All right. You know the rules. Fight.”

The
boxers moved warily from their corners. Newthorpe’s eyes were narrowed and there was a snarl on his lips. Daniel could tell the man would not be an easy opponent.

Newthorpe
was built like a Clydesdale horse–larger and powerful. Poor Rebecca had not stood a chance.

Another rush of anger ripped through him as he breathed in the scent of the saloon and centred himself. Sweat, leather and polish heightened his senses
, and he stepped sideways, forcing Newthorpe to do the same in order to remain square on to him.

H
e moved slightly closer, into Newthorpe’s arm span, his hands covering his face. Newthorpe cracked first, throwing a punch at his chest, but Daniel blocked it easily and jabbed at Newthorpe’s now undefended face. The thwack of the glove off Newthorpe’s cheek gave him a thrill. But he had let down his guard—just what James had warned him against. Newthorpe punched him on the side of the head then caught his chin in an uppercut. Daniel staggered backwards into the crowd of gentlemen but did not fall. A number of hands steadied him and the crowd retreated.

Newthorpe
stomped forward but a quick shake of his head and Daniel was ready, blocking the big man again before punching him in the stomach with all his might. An “oof” from the big redhead spurred Daniel on, and he found an opening in order to land a perfect right hook.

Another punch on the nose and Newthorpe reeled back towards his own corner. But he was not down
, and Daniel advanced. Then Newthorpe crouched onto one knee. A coward’s tactic to allow him time to regroup. Someone started the countdown from thirty.

“
Come on, you miserable coward. Face me like a man. Or do you only hit women?” His voice was barely a whisper, but he knew that Newthorpe had heard, even if no one else had.

On the count of twenty
-five, Newthorpe rose to his feet. Daniel jumped out of his way as the brute attempted to land a right-handed punch to Daniel’s jaw.

As
a left hook thwacked against Daniel’s jaw, he realised too late that he had dropped his fists again. He toppled over and landed on the wooden floor with a thud, the breath forced out of his lungs.

James rushed to his side as the countdown started.

“All right?” James asked quietly. Daniel could barely hear it over the roar of the gentlemen watching. He tried to nod, then took a deep breath before dragging himself back up. James melted back into his corner as Daniel started onto his feet on the count of ten. The crowd bayed and shouted, urging him up to continue the bloodthirsty sport. He was upright on the count of eighteen.

He put his fists against his face before Newthorpe could punch again. Newthorpe was look
ing altogether too smug for Daniel’s liking. It was time to finish him off.

Newthorpe advanced and started to pummel Daniel with his fists. There was no finesse to his boxing, just sheer brute force. But Daniel was nimble and avoided as many punches a
s Newthorpe was able to land.

Meanwhile
, he used strategy. A quick jab to one side of the face followed by a hook to the next. Another jab, then another, before an uppercut sent him staggering. He knew it was only a matter of time before he made Newthorpe unsteady enough to fall, and he suspected the big coward would not have the strength or courage to continue.

As his opponent let his arm drop to his side, Daniel took advantage. Using all his strength, he whacked Newthorpe.

This one is for Rebecca.

The big redhead wobbled, then fell backwards. Some of the audience jumped out of his way. But Daniel could not rest yet. It was not over until the cou
nt was finished. He bounced up and down, waving his arms, keeping warm as the count continued. Newthorpe stirred, wiped his bleeding nose with his sleeve and then swore. He tried to sit up and groaned before lying back down. Ten seconds left and his opponent pulled himself into a sitting position. His men tried to haul him up, but he was having none of it. He waved them away.

When the coun
t reached thirty, a cheer went up from the assembled gentlemen with shouts of
well done
and
damned good sport, I say
.

Daniel gritted his teeth and turned towards a delighted James.
But he was still pent up. He still wanted to pound the blaggard into the ground. A duel would have been a much better way to avenge Rebecca.

He ripped off his gloves and dropped them on the floor.

Newthorpe stirred behind him, and Daniel turned to see the man stand up. His lip curled contemptuously as he looked Daniel up and down.

“
It seems that Lady Rebecca has a champion. Perhaps you could marry her. But then, perhaps not. You would not want soiled goods in your wedding bed, now would you?”

A red haze descended in Daniel
’s mind. He reacted instinctively. The next thing he knew pain seared through his fist and Newthorpe was laid out on the ground again. General mayhem seemed to be taking place around him as Daniel threw himself on the supine form of the earl. He lifted his fist to continue his assault, but someone grabbed his arms, hauling him back to his feet.

“
Leave it!” It was James from behind him.

“
You heard what he said,” Daniel ground out.

“
Yes, and you hanging from the gallows for killing a peer of the realm is not my idea of a happy ending.” Daniel struggled against James’s hold but with less ferocity this time. He kicked the earl as he shrugged out of his friend’s grasp and turned to walk away. He was shaking hands with his bottle man when further noise from the earl attracted his attention. Newthorpe coughed and spat out a bloody tooth.

“
You bwoke my jaw,” he managed, blowing a bubble of blood as he spoke.

“
Be grateful it was not your neck.”

“
You wiw pay for zis, Wamsey.”

Daniel shrugged on his coat then pulled on his boots.

“Come on,” he said to James.

As he headed for the door, he noticed that
Gentleman Jackson had gone. He was sure the owner of the club would not have approved of his final assault on Newthorpe, but hopefully he understood why. He shook his aching hand and grimaced.