Too Hot For A Rake (12 page)

“Thank you, sir.” She brushed the leaves from her riding dress.

“Are you hurt, ma’am?”

“Nothing serious, sir. With the exception of my dignity, that is. My father would be shocked to learn that one of his daughters could not control her horse.”

He smiled. “I beg to differ, ma’am. The fault was not yours. My unruly dog is the villain in this melodrama. Allow me to make myself known to you. The Earl of Glynhaven at your service. My estate rides alongside of Waverley Park, you see. Will you accept my apology for this mishap?”

“Of course, sir. I am Lady Fairchild.”

“We’ve met, but I’m sure you don’t recall. It was at your betrothal ball. Chris Darlington was kind enough to invite me. He was a classmate of mine at Oxford. How is he, by the way?”

At the question, Helena turned an interesting shade of red. “He…I…we…are no longer, er…”

“I didn’t know. Forgive me, ma’am. I didn’t mean to cause you embarrassment.” He changed the subject. “How fortunate we’ve met, albeit under unfortunate circumstances. I’ve just come from Waverley Castle. I left my card along with an invitation to dinner and a ball Friday next.”

“Kind of you. I’m sure the marquis will be delighted. But how did you know I was his guest?”

He laughed. “We don’t find it necessary to read London journals for our information, ma’am. Our servants do a fine job of spreading the news.”

“I might have guessed,” she said with mock ruefulness.

“How is the marquis? I haven’t seen him since we were young lads.”

“He is well, sir.”

“The dowager?”

“On the mend. She is recovering from influenza.”

“Good news. I do hope you’ll join me on Friday.”

“I’d like that very much. I’m sure the marquis will be delighted to renew acquaintance with old friends and neighbors.”

Wednesday, the Twenty-second of April, 1818

Helena burst into Waverley’s office and said, “Waverley, you must do something at once.”

He looked up in surprise at this unexpected interruption.

“Why bother to knock, ma’am? I’m sure your visit indicates yet another crisis.” His words were mocking, for it was the fourth time she had interrupted him that morning.

“Oh, sorry. Are you in the middle of something? Well, this cannot wait.”

“Indeed. Is it a matter of life or death?”

“Don’t be ridi—Oh. You’re teasing me,” she said. “Well, no matter,” she went on. “I went out into the yard with Cook to inspect the delivery of chicken, game, and beef for our table. She is of the opinion, you see, that the man does not give us fair measure. He cheats us. Intolerable!”

“That
is
serious.” It took willpower to keep from laughing, for he knew that farmers had to resort to bribery in order to sell their produce to a large estate. “Are you angry because the Traskers are profiting from this arrangement?”

“Of course they are, but that’s not why I am here. You cannot believe what I discovered when I went out into the yard.”

He set his quill down, leaned back and crossed his arms. “No, I cannot, but I’m sure you’re about to inform me. Was someone abusing the poor cat again?”

“Worse, sir. Much worse. It’s the poulterer. That vile man was beating his helper, a poor defenseless lad, with a switch!”

“And you intervened, I have no doubt.”

“What else could I do?” she answered, her face flushed. “That odious man threatened to beat
me
instead. If it weren’t for Casper coming to my rescue, I’m sure the bounder would have done so.”

At this, the marquis could no longer control himself. He burst out laughing.

“Laugh all you will, Waverley. It wasn’t
you
he threatened with a switch.”

“No, no, love. I wasn’t laughing at you. Just at the scene your words evoked. If Hogarth were alive, he’d no doubt want to capture it in one of his paintings.” The urge to take her into his arms nearly undid him, but he managed to restrain himself.

“This is no time for levity.”

“What would you have me do?”

She rolled her eyes. “
Will
you be serious, Waverley? I removed that poor lad from the man’s clutches and now that scoundrel is demanding the boy back. Claims he bought him from the orphanage.”

“No doubt he did. Give the boy back. The lad’s his property.”

“Never. I’ll not have that poor child’s death on my hands. If you don’t do something about this, I wash my hands of you and I’ll return to London first thing tomorrow.” She folded her arms and glared at him.

“How much does he want for the lad?”
Well worth the price for her friendship.

“Too much. He says he paid ten guineas. The man’s a lying thief, I tell you.”

A costly friendship, indeed.
“What will you do with the lad if we manage to buy him from the fiend?”

“Casper says he can put the boy to work in the stables. Do come down to the yard and settle this.”

“All right, if you promise to protect me from being thrashed to death.”

She ignored this sally and stalked out of his office, the penitent marquis hard on her heels.

After a vigorous round of haggling with the outraged poulterer, Waverley bought the boy for half a guinea. When the man drove off, the marquis turned to Cook Wells and said, “Let that be the last I see of that scoundrel. Find another poulterer.” He turned to Helena and added, “Well, ma’am, the lad is in your care now.”

Chuckling to himself over Helena’s uncharacteristic pugnacity, Waverley stopped to visit his grandmother.

“Desmond, you naughty boy. Where were you yesterday?” In spite of her attempt to scold him, the dowager’s eyes lit up at the sight of him.

“Sorry, Grandmother.” He nodded to Nurse Hubley, who came forward to help the dowager sit up. “I had some business to attend to in Sennen Cove. I’ve engaged a secretary, Vicar Cullum’s son, Rupert. He’s a bright young man who should, I trust, ease my life.”

“What good news, dear. The vicar’s wife will be so pleased. She’s a good friend, you know.”

“How are you feeling, dearest?”

She grinned. “I sat in a chair for two hours yesterday. I shall be up and about any day now, I promise you.”

“That’s good news, but you must allow Doctor Fenwick to make that decision. All right?”

“Oh dear. Must I wait like a child for his approval?”

“Yes, indeed,” he said cheerfully. “I shall leave you now, but I’ll be back tomorrow.” He opened her door to find Helena facing him.

“I came to read to your grandmother, but if I’ve interrupted your visit, I can come back later.”

His eyes spoke volumes, yet all he found to say was, “Do come in, ma’am. I was just leaving.”

“Did you have a nice visit with your grandson, ma’am?”

“Oh yes. The naughty boy has grown into such a charming young man.”

“I met a neighbor of yours when I was out riding this morning. The Earl of Glynhaven.”

“Martin? He’s a boyhood friend of Desmond’s. I haven’t seen him in an age.”

“He’s invited us to a dinner party followed by a ball next week. I hope Doctor Fenwick says you are well enough.” Helena plumped up the dowager’s pillows.

“Hear that, Nurse? You shall have to help me recover in time for the dinner party and the ball. I haven’t been to either in years!”

Nurse Hubley nodded but did not offer an opinion, content to wait for the doctor’s diagnosis before she would commit herself.

Helena changed the subject. “I’ve had a letter from home, ma’am. My mother sends her best wishes for a speedy recovery and thanks you for your hospitality to me.” She kept the other news in Olivia’s note to herself. Darlington was betrothed to an American heiress.
He didn’t waste much time, did he?

“Have you come to read to me?” Helena nodded. “Oh, good. I’m eager to hear more of Emma’s exploits.”

“‘Chapter nine,’” Helena began, reading from
Emma,
a novel by the popular author Jane Austen.

Helena glanced at the dowager to find she had dozed off. She marked the page, put the book on the bedside table and tiptoed across the hall to her own bedchamber. She removed her riding dress and boots and lay down to rest, but sleep evaded her. Did she care that Darlington was betrothed to someone else? Not a whit. That surprised her.

Her thoughts turned to Waverley. She couldn’t deny that seeing him was the brightest moment of each day. She was happy at Waverley Castle, Darlington be damned. The American heiress was welcome to him. She noted the time and rang for Amy. It was time for her bath.

“I’ve a mind to wear my blue gown with the lace trim tonight,” she said as she climbed into her tub.

“Special occasion, milady?”

“No. Well, if you count sacking the poulterer, that’s a good enough reason for celebration.”

“You’ve done wonders in such a short time, milady. Everyone says so.” She held the towel for her mistress. “If you’re goin’ to wear your prettiest gown this evenin’, will you let me fix your hair special, the way I do in London?”

“Good idea,” Helena said. The vision of Waverley’s anticipated admiration suffused her with a warm glow. Once dressed, she was impatient to impress the marquis with a grand entrance into the drawing room, but he had not yet arrived. Disappointed, she chose to position herself near the mantel where the mirror over it would reflect her twice. She would dazzle him.

But she was wrong.

The marquis was livid. “What the devil is the meaning of this, madam?” He waved a crumpled card at her, taking no notice of her splendid attire.

“The meaning of what?”

“This…this
invitation,
written by that bloody scoundrel’s own hand, informing me that he is looking forward—looking
forward
—to renewing our friendship. Friendship? Hah! How dare he! How
dare
you accept an invitation from my worst enemy.” He came closer and thrust the card in her face. “You…you
traitor!
”

She backed away as if she expected him to hit her, but she managed to regain her poise. “Sit!” she ordered, as if she were training a pup. She took a seat and pointed to the chair opposite hers, observing him carefully. Waverley’s disheveled state—eyes blazing, hair unkempt, shirt open at the collar, neck cloth untied, vest unbuttoned, dinner coat lacking—took her by surprise. She had never seen him so overwrought.

It took a moment before he moved to obey her command, though it seemed to her like an eternity. He threw himself into the nearest seat, thrust one leg straight out and bent the other knee. He gripped the arms of the chair until his knuckles turned white and stared at her with fury.

She gave him a few moments to collect his wits before she began to speak. “That’s better, my lord. I met the Earl of Glynhaven yesterday on the riding trail that leads to Sennen Cove. I was enjoying a brisk trot with Casper when the earl’s dog frightened my horse and I was thrown into the shrubbery. He came to my rescue and introduced himself as your friend. How could I possibly know otherwise since you never informed me you considered him an enemy? How many more enemies have you?”

“Only one,” he muttered.

She added reasonably, “You see, when he extended the invitation, he said that he was entertaining some of the local gentry and I thought…”

“Just like him, the sneaky sod! Dressed to the nines, no doubt. Always was a dandy.”

“What did he do to vex you so, Desmond?”

The sound of his name on her lips brought him to his senses. He stared at her as if for the first time. “You look lovely tonight.”

Helena laughed. “That’s better! When you stormed in here clutching that invitation, I feared I was about to be locked up in the Tower of London only to be scheduled for execution in the morning.” Her attempt at humor brought a thin smile to his lips.

“Dinner, milord,” announced their new butler.

“Thank you, Paynter,” Helena said. “Tell Cook the marquis needs a bit more time to make ready. He shall need…?” She looked to Waverley for an answer.

“Fifteen minutes.” He flung himself out of his chair and left the room without another word.

Oh dear. He’s so angry. How could I have known how he felt about Glynhaven? What happened between them, I wonder?

The marquis returned to the drawing room half an hour later as if this were his first entrance. Every hair was in place; his neck cloth was tied in the latest London fashion; and his long-tailed dinner coat was worn over tights, ribbed silk stockings and velvet evening shoes. Indeed, he was dressed as if for a ball, clad all in black except for his white shirt and neck cloth.

Funereal black, Helena thought, not without amusement. “You look smashing, my lord.”

A tiny smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “Can I help it if my valet insists on proper dress for dinner?”

The dining room table was set for three. Waverley frowned. “Are we expecting a guest, Paynter?”

“Yes, milord.” He opened the door and, to their surprise, the dowager entered, supported by a footman holding one arm and Nurse Hubley holding the other.

“Grandmother!” Waverley said, astonished. “How is this? Are you well enough?”

“Certainly,” she answered, feigning indignation. “I had hoped to be made to feel more welcome, Desmond.”

Helena rushed to her side as the footman and her nurse helped her into her seat at the head of the table. “More than welcome, ma’am. I, for one”—Helena stopped to glare at Waverley, who seemed to have developed feet of clay—“am delighted you have joined us for dinner.”

“I am, too, love.” Her grandson came to his senses and went to her side. In a gesture of chivalry he raised her hand to his lips. “Forgive my shock at seeing you, dearest. How glad I am that you are at last well enough to dine with us.”

“Bad boy,” the dowager chided, with a twinkle in her eye. She examined the bowl set before her. “Turtle soup? My favorite.”

Waverley and Helena sat on either side of her and picked up their spoons. At the end of the first course, the dowager said, “I read the note from Glynhaven this afternoon. Said he looked forward to welcoming us next week. I’m so glad Helena accepted his invitation.”

“If you don’t care for it, Grandmother,” interrupted the marquis, “we can send regrets.” He refrained from glancing at Helena.

“Nonsense, Desmond. I’m looking forward to it. I haven’t been outside these walls for an age.”

Helena shot Waverley a triumphant glance as if to say, “I told you so!” but he took no notice, preferring instead to drain the wine in his glass. The dowager, innocent of the tension between them, marveled at the improvements Helena had accomplished within the castle.

“You’ve done wonders, my dear. And in such a short time! It does my heart good to see my home being restored to its former glory. Don’t you agree, Desmond?”

“What? Oh, sorry, Grandmother. My mind was elsewhere.”

The old woman folded her hands in her lap and sighed. “I’ve caused you both so much trouble, haven’t I? Can you ever forgive me?”

“No need for forgiveness, love. I was happy to help.” Helena turned to Waverley, one eyebrow lifted as she awaited his response, but none was forthcoming. Instead, he behaved as though he hadn’t heard the dowager and downed another glass of wine.

At the end of dinner, Helena asked, “Shall we retire to the drawing room, ma’am? No doubt, the marquis will join us after he’s had his brandy. I want your opinion on the fabric for new drapes. I’ve several samples, and I can’t decide which are best suited.”

The dowager’s face lit up. “Yes, I’d love to help you.” When Helena came to her side to help her up, she added, “There’s a dear.” Helena signaled to the footman, who took the dowager’s other arm.