Too Hot For A Rake (10 page)

Tuesday, the Fourteenth of April, 1818

Helena woke to face the wretched task of repairing Waverley Castle with considerable trepidation. The Traskers would sabotage her, she knew, if they could manage it. Much needed to be done to set things right within the castle’s walls, not to mention the gardens lying in ruin. She almost regretted having promised Waverley she could do so with such assuredness. She might have told him she would merely try, to save herself embarrassment later if she failed.

The thought stiffened her resolve. Fail? No. Fairchilds did not fail. The only question was how and where to begin. Could she do it? She wasn’t sure, but she was determined to find a way.

She rose from her dressing table as soon as Amy had finished fussing over her hair. The marchioness had asked to meet with her this morning. She crossed the hallway and entered the dowager’s bedchamber. The door stood open in invitation.

The marquis sat at his grandmother’s bedside, her hand clasped in his. “There you are, ma’am. I was just telling Grandmother about you. Come over here where she can see you, Helena. She’s impatient to meet her goddaughter’s child.”

Helena noted that the bedridden marchioness’ rheumy eyes were lit with joy. Her thin hand held tight to Waverley’s as she spoke. “How glad I am to meet you at last, my dear. My grandson informs me you have agreed to oversee the management of the castle and set things right again. What a mull I’ve made of it, eh?”

“Don’t fret, Grandmother. You couldn’t have known the Traskers would take such advantage of your generosity. I’ll send them packing soon enough and you’ll never have to deal with them again.”

“Oh, no. You mustn’t do that, Desmond. Jennie and her son are Banningtons. It wouldn’t do to disown your own family,” said the dowager.

Waverley frowned. “How has this come about? Refresh my memory, dearest. In what way are they related to us?”

“Jennie is the daughter of Lord Robert Bannington. He was the only child of Marcus Bannington, the youngest son of the First Marquis of Waverley, Lord Thomas. Robert died when he was two and twenty, poor boy.”

“You took Mrs. Trasker’s word for this?”

“I’m not such a goose as all that, my dear. I found Jennie’s marriage and Harry’s birth recorded in the Bannington family Bible. You may satisfy yourself, if you wish. It rests in Waverley Chapel.”

He smiled at her. “No need for that, dearest. Your word suffices.”

“There is something else I must confess to you. You won’t find it written in our Bible, Desmond.”

“What is it?”

His grandmother hesitated. “Jennie was born on the other side of the blanket, as they say.”

“Her father never married her mother and she has the audacity to call herself a Bannington?”

“Be charitable, dearest. The sins of the father shall not be visited upon the child. Lord Robert might well have married Jennie’s mother had he lived long enough. Besides, Jennie has overcome her unfortunate birth. She married in church and her son Harry is legitimate.”

Waverley was unwilling to upset her further, for she was becoming agitated. “Be easy, Grandmother. Of course Banningtons are welcome here. I shan’t turn them away if it pleases you.”

“Thank you.” The dowager closed her eyes.

Desmond rose and placed his grandmother’s hand at her side. He bent his head to kiss her on the forehead and tucked the quilt around her. “Rest, love. I promise to visit again tomorrow.”

“That’s a good lad, my dear.”

He waited by her side until her breathing deepened to indicate she was asleep, then backed away and nodded to Nurse Hubley. That good lady sat by the window occupied with her needlework. He offered Helena his arm and led her out of the room.

When he closed the door behind them, she said, “I have a lot of questions. Where can we talk?”

“Your chamber is just across the hall. It’s as good a place as any.” His eyes sparkled with mischief. “Or are you afraid I’ll ravage you?” He looked down the hall in mock fear. “Is Amy nearby with her water pitcher, by any chance?”

She bit her bottom lip to keep from giggling. “I don’t need Amy to chaperone me. I can take care of myself, but the servants…” He lifted an eyebrow. “Very well. We’ll use the small sitting room next to my chamber. It’s through that door.”

His eyes fell on her four-poster, but she tugged his arm and led him past it to the sitting room, restored to cleanliness and some sense of order in spite of its threadbare appearance.

“Question,” she began when they were seated. “What made you run away from home?”

“You want my life story?”

“That would be a good start.”

“Merely a good start? Do you have plans for a suitable finish, then?”

“Be serious, Desmond. It would be a good idea to know something about you before I set about my work on your behalf. What if the Traskers question me? I don’t want them to suspect we’re perfect strangers. I’d much rather be prepared with answers.”

“Oh? So it isn’t mere curiosity, is it?” He raised his eyebrows to feign innocence.

She pursed her lips. “Don’t be cheeky. If you prefer your past to remain a deep, dark secret, that’s your own affair.”

He looked mournful. “Now I have ruffled your feathers, haven’t I?”

“How s…silly.” She burst out laughing. “You are incorrigible.”

“That’s better! You have a charming laugh. Do it more often. You’re far too serious much of the time.” He sat back, buried his hands in his trouser pockets, stretched his legs out and crossed them.

“You want to know about my past? I was fourteen when my mother died. I suppose I added to my father’s grief by running wild.”

“What do you mean?”

“I bedded a willing country lass from Sennen Cove, the daughter of a farmer. She accused me of impregnating her. I wasn’t the only one she bedded, mind you. I didn’t deny it, for I foolishly expected the real culprit to step forward. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the gumption. Instead, the coward allowed me to take the blame. Cost my father a fortune to buy the family off to avoid scandal. He was furious with me and wouldn’t believe me when I confessed the truth. Took me to London until things at home cooled off. But there, I got into even more mischief. I had an affair with a married woman—the wife of an earl. Mistaking a boy’s natural lust for true love, I begged her to leave her husband and run away with me. The lady laughed in my face and recommended that I take myself off to the devil for all she cared. She had no intention of sacrificing her elegant life for a randy schoolboy, you see.”

“How humiliating,” she said, fresh from the sting of her own rejection.

“I know you felt that way when Darlington cried off, but you’re wrong. Do you want an impartial observer’s opinion?”

“What is that?”

“In the long run, you’ll come to see that Darlington did you a kindness. He saves all his passion for his diplomatic career. Did it never occur to you that marriage to the daughter of a prominent duke was all he cared for?”

She hung her head. “That may be, but it hurts just the same.”

“I felt the same when my paramour rejected me, but I can no longer recall her face. I thought my life was over then. I know now how fortunate I was she chose to spurn my suit. My father did not agree. He packed me off to India on the first merchant ship that would have me.”

“Why did you never return to England?”

Grief creased his brow. “I had no reason to return. I wrote to him begging his forgiveness, but he never answered any of my letters. He wanted nothing more to do with me, so I stayed and stumbled onto my fortune instead. After a time, boredom with the life I was leading in Calcutta overcame me. I left for the continent and wandered from country to country. The life of an expatriate is not a pleasant one. I felt like a fish out of water.”

“You needn’t go on if it pains you,” Helena said.

“There’s not much more to tell. I was living in Paris when Darlington found me. He escorted me back to England to take up my duties as Marquis of Waverley. I was reluctant to return, for I had many friends and lived a life I enjoyed. It was the news that my beloved grandmother was still alive that changed my mind.”

The candle guttered, casting the small sitting room into shadows. After a brief silence, Helena said softly, “How terrible for you not to be given the opportunity to make your peace with your father before he died.”

A look of anguish crossed his face. “I’ll have to live with that for the rest of my life, a bitter legacy indeed.”

She reached out and soothed the creases on his brow. She allowed a moment to pass. Her eyes never wavering from his, she began to unbutton her bodice.

“No, Helena. I can’t let you do this.”

“It’s not your choice, my lord. It’s mine.”

He covered her hands with his to stop her. “You mustn’t tempt me. You already know what they called me in Paris:
le roué Anglais.
I fully lived up to that reputation, I assure you. Aside from that, I will not seduce you. I promised….”

She put one finger on his lips to silence him, took his hand and pressed it to her bared breast. Heat coursed through her at the feel of his hot hand. “You have no choice in the matter, love. It is I who mean to seduce you. You cannot be so boorish as to refuse a lady’s request, can you?”

He took his hand away and said in a voice tinged with bitterness, “I’m a rake, my dear. I promised not to ruin your reputation. I gave your brother-in-law my word on it. I mean what I say, for if it were known, you would be subject to further scorn from those in Polite Society. You are here because you were forced to run away from one scandal. Isn’t that enough? You are an innocent, Helena. Don’t force me into taking advantage of your innocence.”

She shoved his hand away when he attempted to refasten her bodice. “Reputation be damned, Waverley. I want you. Doesn’t that count for anything? I thought you felt the same for me.”

His mocking words cut like a knife. “I have feelings of lust for every pretty lass who comes my way. I have a reputation to uphold, you see.”

“Is that all I am to you? Just another pretty lass?”

“You’re making this hard for me, Helena. I’m trying to assume the mantle of a gentleman, but it doesn’t sit easy upon my shoulders. Earning a reputation as a rake was far easier, in fact. Don’t you see? I cannot allow you to squander your virtue. What if you find yourself with child?”

Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Don’t you want me?”

He barked a bitter laugh. “Want you? Don’t tempt me any further, love, lest the consequences destroy us both. You have your reputation to protect, and I want to retain my resolve to reform.”

In desperation, she wrapped her arms around his neck and attempted to kiss him.

“Damn you, wench!” He lifted her in his arms and strode through the door of the sitting room into her chamber. He threw her onto her bed and tore off everything she wore.

Her body was trapped under his. The heat within her grew stronger in spite of the pain, for he was by no means gentle. His tongue parted her lips and delved deep, demanding a response, one she could not help but give. His mouth turned to feast on one breast while his hand caressed the other, causing blood to course through her veins. One knee drove her legs apart.

She felt herself melting in a pool of lust. Why did her knees quake? Why was her breath so short? Her bare breasts heaved. She crossed her arms over them.

“No, no. Don’t cover your breasts.” He stripped off his shirt, revealing muscled arms and chest. He kicked off first one boot and then the other before he dropped his breeches.

She was unable to turn her eyes away. The sight of his engorged member sent shivers through her. She heard herself moan when he ran his tongue over her body.

His hand found the pulsing place between her legs. His fingers curled around the hair and she arched her back. He touched her in places that brought short gasps of passion from her lips. The loud beating of her heart seemed to fill the room like thunder.

She gave a hoarse shout. “I love you, Desmond.” But her cry had just the opposite effect.

He wrenched himself away and lay on his back gasping for breath. “Bloody hell, I’ve gone far enough!” Yet as he spoke, need addled his brain. The lust inside him raged still. He wanted her. He needed her. He was torn apart by indecision.

“Please,” she begged in a whimper. She writhed beneath him, urging him with her body, slick with sweat.

Abruptly, his mind sabotaged all desire.
Good God! Is this a test to challenge my resolve? Am I so weak willed? I gave my word. I can’t do this. I can’t take her no matter how much I desire her.
He rolled away from her and reached for his trousers.

She sat up, panting for breath. “You…you’re leaving me? At a time like this?”

Wild-eyed, Waverley stopped to stare at her as if he didn’t know who she was. Without another word, he got up, wrenched the door open and fled the room.

“Desmond! You can’t leave me like this.”

The door slammed shut behind him.

Wednesday, the Fifteenth of April, 1818

When dawn lit her chamber, Helena gave up the struggle for sleep, feeling as if she had been tossed about all night in a hurricane.
How dare he abandon me so cruelly? That makes two failures. First Darlington and now Waverley. Am I that unappealing?

She rose and rang for Amy, nearly tearing the ancient bellpull out of the wall in the process.

“Yes, milady?” Amy’s hair was in disarray, her gown not fully fastened in her haste to reach her mistress’ chamber.

“Don’t stand there gaping at me, you goose. Help me dress. There’s work to be done today.” She bounced out of bed to her washstand, glanced at the water, and aimed her anger on her abigail.

“Can you explain to me why you haven’t changed the water this morning? Clearly, this abomination has been here since last night. Move, girl. At once!”

Tears began to flood Amy’s face. “Ye-yes, milady.”

“Why on earth are you crying? Stop it this instant. Are you not happy in your position as my abigail?”

Without answering, Amy curtseyed and disappeared before another onslaught of hateful words came raining down upon her.

“That’s better,” Helena muttered to herself. “High time someone cracked the whip around here.”

“Here you are, milady.” Amy set the fresh water down and reached for a towel. “Let me help—”

“I don’t need your help to wash. Do you think I’m as helpless as the old marchioness? Set out a morning gown for me and leave me be.”

Amy stood frozen in her tracks. Was this her kind, sweet lady? No. This was some monster. Someone she didn’t know. Her mistress had never treated her with such haughty disdain before. What had set her so out of sorts? “Yes, milady. At once, milady.”

“Don’t you ‘yes’ me to death, you lazy—” Amy’s quick sobs stopped her cold and Helena breathed a sigh of frustration. “Now what? Why are you blubbering?”

“You’ve never before…”

“I’ve never before what? Out with it. And stop that caterwauling, for heaven’s sake. You’re giving me a headache. I mean to accomplish the impossible, which is to turn this bloody castle into a decent, respectable,
clean
establishment. Exactly what it was meant to be. Wipe your tears and help if you’ve a mind to, for heaven’s sake, and stop sniveling like a child.”

“Yes, milady,” Amy answered in a barely audible whisper. She began to pull the covers off the bed in order to remake it with clean linens.

“No. Leave that for later. Summon all the staff to the Great Hall. Ten minutes. I mean to set them to work at once.” Amy flew out of the room.

Helena finished her toilette and dressed herself. Anger and guilt etched her face as she realized she’d been far too harsh on her abigail. Yet once begun, she had not been able to stop her diatribe. Lack of sleep and her humiliating encounter with Waverley last night had propelled her fury and turned her mood black. She felt ready for war with anyone who dared to step into her path.

Who did the marquis think he was, abandoning her like that? Why did he raise her expectations only to change his mind, something he managed to accomplish each time he made love to her? Yesterday he behaved more like an enemy and less like a lover. Was she so unattractive? Darlington thought her wanton. Did the marquis think so too?

“Just you wait, my lord marquis. I don’t know what your game is and I don’t care. But I’ll eat you for dinner and spit you out again, and then, when you fall hopelessly in love with me, I’ll abandon you just like that. What will you do when I leave you high and dry, my man? Women have their ways, you know.”

Having heard her mistress’ last sentence when she entered the room, Amy looked mystified. “What ways, milady?”

Helena looked up in surprise, unaware that she had spoken aloud. “Nothing. I was just talking to myself. Are the servants assembled?” Amy nodded. “Then let’s get on with it. We’ll take the back stairs. It’s quicker.”

She swept out of her room, head held high, determination writ large on her face. Amy had to hurry to keep up with her. The dust covered everything but the open bottles of spirits lying around, just the way she’d seen the place last. Cobwebs still hung from the ceilings and cornices. As before, visible stains clung to the carpets, and every room retained the odor of stale wine.

When she reached the front hall, Helena was astonished to see a mere ten servants facing her. Only ten? Fairchild House in London had a staff of seventy during the Season and Heatham in Brighton kept a hundred servants busy when the family was in residence.
What do these so-called servants do all day? Drink themselves into a stupor? Most likely, if the oaf asleep in that chair is any indication.

Helena didn’t believe for one moment that they were properly trained servants. It was obvious to her these disreputable associates had been hired by the Traskers. But for what purpose, she wondered. She yearned to send them all packing, but she knew the difference between reality and fiction. She needed to discover whether any of them could be relied upon.

The footmen scowled like the thugs who had attacked Waverley on the road to Land’s End. Surly under maids lounging in various insolent poses, seemed impatient to be off to their own pursuits. With the exception of Amy, Trudy, and Emma, none of the others was dressed in proper livery.

Helena lifted her eyebrows in astonishment when one of the under maids, wearing a gown covered by a none too clean apron, sneered at her. “Watcher want? Make it quick, milady. T’day’s my day off.”

The others snickered, but Helena kept an even tone. “What’s your name?”

“Belinda. Wot’s it to ya?”

“By all means, take your day off. Be sure to pack your things as well. You needn’t bother to return.”

“You can’t sack me. I was took on by Mrs. Trasker. I takes me orders from her.” Belinda looked around at her cohorts as she nodded triumphantly, her eyes blazing with victory.

Helena turned to Amy. “Fetch Mrs. Trasker.”

“She’s busy,” said one of the footmen. His red nose hinted that the only work he did was the work of hard drinking.

Helena glared at him but addressed herself to Amy. “Inform Mrs. Trasker that Lady Fairchild wishes to see her in the library at once.” Her eyes swept the hall, taking in each rebellious servant in turn. “Where is the rest of the household staff?”

“Wot you see is wot you get,” said Belinda.

Helena’s hands itched to wipe the insolence off the maid’s face, but she didn’t move a muscle. “If you value your positions, remain where you are until I return.” She walked toward the library door but turned back to face them. “Should any one of you decide to disobey my orders, you may return to your room and gather all your things, since your services here will no longer be required.” Her knees turned weak as she advanced into the library. Before she shut the door, she heard loud murmurs of indignation. She didn’t have long to wait for Mrs. Trasker to appear.

“Wot’s goin’ on? Why’re you shtirrin’ up trouble wi’ my help?” A slightly inebriated Mrs. Trasker slammed the library door behind her. “Wha’dya mean upshettin’ the shervants? I’m in charge here, not you. And don’t you forget it.”

Helena drew herself up, an icy glare trained on Mrs. Trasker. “You are wrong, madam. You are no longer in charge. If the marquis has not so informed you, I will see to it he does before this day ends, I promise you. It wouldn’t surprise me if he charges you with neglect of his grandmother and hauls you in front of the magistrate. Rest assured, he possesses the power to do so.”

“I don’ believe you.” Yet clearly she did, for she sobered quickly enough for her speech to show marked improvement. “You jus’ wait till my Harry comes back.” She put her hands on her hips, in a vain attempt to maintain the upper hand, a familiar tactic. “My son won’t let you sass his ma like that.”

“Don’t try my patience, Mrs. Trasker. You and your son have run this castle near to ruin. The marquis has asked me to restore order to Waverley Castle.”

“You think you can manage this drafty old place better’n me and Harry?”

Helena held her head high, willing her knees to stay strong. She knew it was a gamble to speak out, yet she had no choice but to risk it. “Of course I do. I mean to see to it that my orders are carried out and I expect your cooperation.” She paused to let her words sink in, then added, “You had better march out there with me and inform your staff that they are to obey me without the insolence I faced this morning. Inform them that if they don’t follow my orders, they will be sacked without a reference.”

In a flash of insight, it dawned on Helena that Mrs. Trasker well understood she had a great deal to lose. The housekeeper couldn’t risk allowing the marquis to dismiss the servants she had hired. Once more Helena wondered why.

“Well, Mrs. Trasker? Do you mean to cooperate?”

In a final effort to save face, the housekeeper whined, “If I agree, you’ll not sack the ones already here? You see, they’s kin, sort of.”

Helena savored her victory, but she kept her elation in check. She wondered how much swallowing her pride had cost the older woman. There was no need to humiliate her further. “You may retain their services if that is your wish, Mrs. Trasker. But in return I expect you to stand with me while I instruct them in their proper duties.” In a flash of inspiration, she added, “I plan to hire more help, for Waverley is woefully understaffed. You will be obliged to hand over all household accounts to me. I’ll manage domestic affairs from now on. Agreed?”

The woman nodded, such a look of defeat etched in her brow, Helena sweetened her tone. She’d need to make friends of both mother and son no matter how odious a task.

“We are not enemies. You and your son are Banningtons, part of the family, Mrs. Trasker. We all have a duty to the marquisate, do we not? Let us present a unified face to the servants, shall we? They will be more manageable that way.”

The older woman nodded grimly. “Right. Let’s have at it then.”

“Put a smile on your face, Mrs. Trasker. That will go a long way toward convincing the staff we are working together for the good of this household.”

Helena walked to the door, unlatched it and kept her smile checked when several of the eavesdropping servants nearly fell into the room.

“Why are you lot hangin’ about? Lady Fairchild has somethin’ to say to you. You’ll answer to both of us from this moment on, or find another place to work.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Trasker,” Helena said.

The older woman curtseyed clumsily. In a respectful voice, she added, “You’re welcome, milady.” She folded her hands and rested them on her stomach.

“Clean livery tomorrow morning, if you please,” Helena said in an authoritative tone. “We meet here promptly at six to discuss your responsibilities.” She spied the intrepid Belinda, one leg crossed over the other, a hand on her hip, the other resting on the handle of a mop as though it were a lamp-post. She walked up to her and knocked the mop out of her hand, nearly toppling the insolent chit. Helena picked up the mop and began to swab the floor.

Mrs. Trasker looked aghast. “Here now, milady. Not your place t’do such dirty work. Belinda, take that mop from milady and get to work.”

“But it’s m’day off,” Belinda whined once again.

Mrs. Trasker threw her a threatening glance.

“Gimme that mop.” The surly young maid grabbed it, adding a reluctant curtsey.

To Helena’s relief, Belinda’s capitulation led to a flurry of activity in the hall. Without a word, Mrs. Trasker had signaled to each servant in turn and they had begun to work feverishly, dusting, polishing, and mopping.

Helena had won this skirmish, but she knew the war was not over. Time would tell, but her heart eased somewhat and her mood changed. The distraction of setting the castle to rights was a welcome diversion from dwelling on the marquis.

Besides, she’d never had any opportunity to manage anything more pressing than her own wardrobe. She had observed her mother as a matter of course, but she’d taken for granted the methods the duchess had used to manage three large estates, tasks she performed with accomplished ease.

Helena nodded to Mrs. Trasker before taking her leave, delighted to hear the sounds of purposeful activity as she headed for the kitchen.

“Good morning, Cook.”

“Good mornin’, milady. I’m preparin’ breakfast for my marchioness. Have you a mind to join her? She’d be delighted for the company, I wager.”

“Thank you, Cook. I would like that very much.”

“Mayhap my lady would like a bit o’ chocolate while you wait for me to finish?”

Helena grinned. “How did you guess? I’m famished. I’ll have it here, if you don’t mind. The dining room is a disaster, but your lovely kitchen is warm and spotless. Let me have a slice of the warm bread that smells so delicious, and some of your lovely jam, too.”

Cook beamed at the compliment. She served Helena, bustling about the kitchen like a busy hen who knew just what was expected of her. “There’s more’n enough for you to have another slice if you’ve a mind to, milady. You have to keep up your strength. Emma and Trudy told me what you did this morning. Mighty fine work, I’d say. That lot needed to be taken in hand.”

“I agree. But I’m afraid there are far too few servants to manage the business.”

“Used to be more, but the Traskers sacked ’em all.”

“Do you think we can rehire some of them?”

“Most of them moved away searchin’ for work elsewhere.”

“Unfortunate. We’ll just have to seek more good workers like your nieces. Will we be able to find such people, do you think?”

Cook beamed at her, pleased to be asked. “Yes, milady. I be livin’ hereabouts all my life. I’ll pass the word, if you like.”

Helena swallowed a mouthful of chocolate. “Mmmm. Delicious. Yes, please. I would be indebted to you.”

Cook hesitated a moment. “But…”

“What is it?”

“No one I know will work for the Traskers, an’ that’s a fact.”

“You can tell them they’ll report directly to me. I have agreed to the management of the castle and its grounds and the marquis shall see to the tenants who farm his land.”

Cook chuckled. “News travels like the wind in these here parts, milady. Everyone knows why you’ve come. Mayhap ’t won’t be hard to find willin’ workers after all.” She added, “Breakfast for her ladyship’s ready.”