Too Hot For A Rake (14 page)

“That’s the door to the wine cellar, milady. Mrs. Trasker keeps that key.” Disapproval rang in Cook’s voice.

“I see.” Helena wondered what could possibly be left in the wine cellar, considering Jennie Trasker’s love of spirits. “And that door opposite these steps?”

“That leads to the old cellar under the abbey.”

“You mean under the ruins?”

“Yes, milady, but no one uses it anymore.”

Helena noted an obvious arc on the earthen floor in front of the old door. Someone had opened it not too long ago. “Have you a key? I’d like to examine that cellar, if you don’t mind.”

“My guess is it’s flooded by now, bein’ so near the sea and all. Ah, here’s my cocoa. I have to hide it.”

“Hide it? Why?”

Cook grinned. “Harry has a sweet tooth. He eats it by the handful if I don’t put it out of his reach.” She measured a small amount into a tin she’d brought with her and put the cocoa far back on the shelf, hidden behind other provisions.

Harry has a sweet tooth and his mother tipples. An odd pair indeed.

Harry saddled his horse and rode off on a matter of business. His destination was an abandoned boathouse on an inlet where he meant to leave his mother’s letter. He reached for the door handle, but to his surprise, a masked man in a large cloak opened it.

“You’re late. What took you so long, Harry?”

Harry knew the voice, but not the man. He held out the letter without answering, for the man’s acid tongue had wounded him many times. The masked man read it once and tossed it into the flames. “Any survivors?”

“Don’t believe so, My Lord.”

“Fool! Didn’t you make sure of it?”

Harry twisted his cap in his hands. “’Twere the cap’n, sir. We couldn’t find the body. Washed out to sea, mayhap.”

“No more shipwrecks until you hear from me. Understood?” The masked man picked up his whip and strode to the door.

“My Lord?”

“Now what?”

“Me ma said to ask what yer goin’ to do ’bout the marquis.”

The masked man turned the knob. “Nothing for the moment.”

“You look troubled, Helena. What is it?” the marquis asked after dinner.

“How do you plan to survive the evening with Glynhaven on Friday?”

The question startled him, for he hadn’t given it any thought. “I suppose I can always ignore him and engage in conversation with my neighbors.”

“That would be difficult, considering the fact that he is your host. I have another suggestion.”

“And that is?”

She shifted to face him and grinned. “It comes from my mother.”

“Does the duchess hold yet another ingenious secret for dealing with this dilemma? What would she recommend to your father if he was forced to spend an evening in his enemy’s company?”

“Simple deception to confound the enemy.”

“Go on.”

“Behave as though the enemy is your long-lost friend. Ask after his estates, a topic always close to a man’s heart. Ask his opinion of the Corn Laws. What does he think of Wilberforce and his opposition to the slave trade? If your mind wanders when he answers, let it. He’ll be too enamored of the sound of his own voice to care.”

Waverley’s lips quirked. “Did his grace follow this prescription?”

Helena laughed until she cried.

“What?”

“The thing is, my mother always manages to convince him it was his own idea. She congratulates him on having confounded his enemies once again.”

He rose and helped her to her feet. “I’ll skip the brandy tonight. Don’t expect miracles, but I’ll do my best to follow your mother’s advice. She’s a wise woman and so are you.” Waverley kissed her brow.

She leaned her head on his shoulder and yearned for more than a mere kiss on the brow, but it was not forthcoming. She was forced to settle for the comfort of his arm around her and his cheek pressed to her hair.

Friday, the First of May, 1818

On the eve of the Glynhaven ball, the marquis settled his grandmother into the family carriage and said, “You shall be the most sought-after woman at the ball tonight. I fear I may have to stand guard to make sure no man steals your heart from me, dearest.”

His flirting made the dowager giggle like a young girl. She wore a gown she’d worn years ago, one she treasured. It was made of delicate ecru lace embroidered with seed pearls and featured a mandarin collar and sleeves short enough for white kid gloves. Her skirt ended in a short train, and she wore a tiara of filigree gold atop short gray curls.

Nurse Hubley was in attendance as well, but she planned to visit the Glynhaven housekeeper, an old friend, during the festivities. She would be near enough to the dowager should she be needed.

When Helena glided down the front steps, Waverley lost his voice. She wore a yellow sarcenet gown over pale satin molded to her figure. It fell to just below her ankles, revealing matching slippers. Silk ribbons cinched its high waist. Her dark hair had been swept high, its long curls falling, tendrils framing her face, yellow ribbons artfully visible. Long white gloves further accentuated her exotic color.

She wore no jewelry, he noted with approval. A classic beauty like Helena had no need for jewels. “I seem to have misplaced my wits, ma’am. You dazzle me.”

“Why thank you, my lord.” She eyed his dress. “Well done, my lord! Such sartorial splendor.”

Indeed, he presented a dashing figure, appropriately dressed for the evening’s festivities in black, except for the crisp white linen shirt and fashionably tied neck cloth.

As she stepped into the carriage, she said, “Don’t forget your promise to me. Behave yourself.”

His eyes were lit with mischief. “Since I am escorting the two most beautiful women in all of England tonight, how can I fail?”

They reached their destination in high spirits. When the earl’s butler led them into the drawing room, their host hurried to greet them.

“Good evening, Lady Waverley.” The earl kissed the dowager’s hand. “I am honored that you are well enough to join us this evening. Let me help you to a seat by the fire.”

Waverley said pleasantly, “Hello, Martin. You look well. I haven’t seen you since we were exploring the caves for whiskey. Do you recall?”

Glynhaven laughed. “How could I forget? There hasn’t been a single dram since that tasted as good to me as the stuff we cadged from the caves.” To Helena he said, “You look a vision tonight, ma’am. May I beg the honor of your hand for the first waltz?”

Before she could answer, Waverley said, “Lady Fairchild has promised that honor to me, old man.” He caught Helena’s raised eyebrow, which prompted him to add, “But it shall be my pleasure to relinquish my place to my host.”

“Most generous, Lord Waverley,” Helena said in approval. She turned to Glynhaven and added, “I look forward to our waltz, my lord.”

The earl made them known to the other guests he had invited to dinner: Vicar Elbert Cullum and his wife; Squire John Hawkes and his wife; Magistrate George Wyndham, a widower; and Baron Andrew Swively, his wife and his daughter Eliza. The plump young lady reminded Helena of Jane. She made a mental note to remind Waverley to stand a country set with her, for she suspected the poor girl would not be much in demand at the ball.

At dinner, Helena was seated between Vicar Cullum and Baron Swively. Waverley was seated on the opposite side of the table, between Eliza and the vicar’s wife. His grandmother was having a grand time enjoying the attentions bestowed upon her by Glynhaven and Magistrate Wyndham, seated on either side of her.

“Lord Saltash and his guests plan to join us later this evening, Waverley. Are you acquainted with him?” the earl asked.

“We’ve never met, but I’ve heard of him,” he answered. He masked his irritation by engaging Eliza in conversation. This turned out to be frustrating, for the child was so in awe of his exalted station, she was able only to stammer brief answers. Though the food was excellent, the wine impeccable, the service
à la russe,
the dinner lasted too long.

Squire Hawkes was a man of few words, while the vicar, seated on Helena’s left, gave her a detailed account of last Sunday’s sermon, rather one of his best, in his modest view. When she ventured to glance at Waverley, he rolled his eyes and she had all to do to keep from giggling. She did not look his way a second time.

By the time the dinner guests repaired to the ballroom, the musicians were tuning up their instruments for the evening’s entertainment. Local bucks critically examined young ladies of marriageable age, who were escorted by their parents. The prettiest lasses filled their dance cards easily, but the lads took their time before requesting a dance from far less attractive girls lining the walls. Asking the girls to dance was something a gentleman was obligated to do at least once during the evening.

Glynhaven found Helena and said, “I’ve come to claim you for the first waltz, ma’am.” He offered his arm and led her onto the dance floor.

As he watched them waltz, Waverley couldn’t help but wonder why the earl had invited Saltash, considering his well-known reputation. Indeed, all of Paris knew of Saltash and his risqué entertainments. His guests, never of the first rank, would be the only ones accepting his invitation. London was still in Season this time of year and such people would not be welcome by the
ton
.

Waverley sought out Miss Eliza Cullum, the vicar’s daughter, and begged the honor of her hand for the first waltz. He attended to his partner on the dance floor, but his eyes searched for Helena and Glynhaven at the same time. “Have you brothers and sisters, ma’am?”

“Only one brother,” she answered shyly. “He is just down from Cambridge.”

“My secretary Rupert?”

She blushed, searching for an answer. “My parents and I are pleased he is in your employ.”

“You may be proud of him, my dear. He’s a clever fellow.”

“Oh yes, my lord. We all are. He received the highest honors, you know.”

Glynhaven was an accomplished dancer, much appreciated by Helena, for she loved to dance as well.

“You look enchanting this evening, ma’am.”

“Kind of you to say so, sir.”

“I mean more than kindness, dear lady. Much more. I have thought of nothing else but you since we met.”

A startled laugh escaped her lips. “A bold statement for such a short acquaintance. We’ve met only once before.”

“That was enough for me to fall in love with you. Will you give me reason to believe you will accept my hand in marriage?”

The music stopped and he led her off the floor, which gave her a moment to collect her thoughts. “I’m sorry, sir. I cannot encourage your suit.”

“I’ll find a way to win your heart, ma’am. I promise you.”

She struggled to maintain her dignity. “You take too much for granted, for such short acquaintance, sir. I must remind you again that we’ve met only once before.”

“The first of many meetings, I’ve no doubt. May I call on you to further our courtship?”

“You presume too much, sir. We are not courting.”

“We shall begin courting as of this moment, then. Women, I have heard, often say no the first time. Allow me to call on you so I may begin to persuade you of the advantages of marriage to me.”

“The marquis would be delighted to receive you so you may renew your acquaintance with him.”

“Don’t toy with my affections, ma’am. Allow me to speak plainly. My request was meant for you, not for Waverley.” He answered casually, yet his eyes turned cold.

“I am merely a guest at Waverley Castle, my lord. You must petition the marquis if you wish to visit his home.”

“Then allow me to invite you to Glynhaven. Are you free for dinner tomorrow evening? I’ll send my carriage for you. We won’t be alone. Lord Saltash and his…”

Before he could finish his speech, a footman approached and whispered into his ear. Glynhaven turned to her and said, “Will you excuse me, ma’am? Lord Saltash and his guests have arrived and I must greet them.” He hurried off.

Feeling somehow violated by his presumption, Helena scanned the room for Waverley. She found him on the opposite side of the dance floor seated next to his grandmother. She circled round the dancers and made her way through the crush of guests to reach them.

A handsome woman, unfamiliar to her, wearing a beaded black gown and a powdered wig, reached his side first. Mystified, Helena stopped and hid behind a pillar, wondering who she was.

She observed Waverley rise and heard him stammer, “M-madame Z? What brings you to England?”

The woman rapped his hand with her fan. “For shame! No kiss on the hand? Are you not glad to see me,
mon roué Anglais?
Or have you forgotten your Paris friends so soon? I am sad for it, especially since I have brought your alphabets—Amelié, Babette, and Colette—all the way from Paris to entertain you.” He stood frozen in place, while his former courtesans took turns kissing him on the lips.

Madame Z spoke in her native tongue, but Helena’s French was excellent. She understood every word. She recalled Darlington’s words. Hadn’t he found Waverley at Madame Z’s salon? Hadn’t Chris said he’d found Waverley in bed with three courtesans? She wheeled away and stalked off, her cheeks burning, her soul sunk far below the depths of hell. Nothing would have made her happier than an opening in the middle of the dance floor that would obligingly swallow her up.

What a fool I am! How could I let myself fall in love with such an incorrigible rake? One whose mistresses follow him all the way from Paris? Waverley must be quite a lover! Once a rake, always a rake. Isn’t that what they say? I seem to have a special talent for falling in love with the wrong man. What’s wrong with me? Sorry to disappoint you, Father. I’m just not capable of success. I am doomed to failure when it comes to love.

She fancied all eyes were upon her, when in fact no one took any notice of her misery. To cool her fiery cheeks, she made her way to the terrace and strolled casually down the steps into the garden, trying hard not to attract attention. She sat down on a secluded bench and wrapped her arms around herself as if to embrace her wretchedness. It wasn’t enough that the pain she felt shattered her heart. She dug her fingers into her arm to punish her body as well.

How long had she been a guest at Waverley Castle? Was it only weeks? A lifetime, more like. She took no notice of loud voices signaling the approach of a group of people until one of them spoke her name.

“Lady Fairshild? Fanshy meeting you here.”

Helena looked up at an unfamiliar gentleman who wove unsteadily on his feet. Clearly, he was drunk. His male companion seemed poised to rescue him should he fall. They all wore evening clothes, but the women with them had painted faces.

“Do I know you, sir? I can’t recall having met you before tonight.”

He executed a bow that almost toppled him. “Lord Shaltash at your shervice, ma-am,” he slurred.

The two women giggled, enjoying the spectacle, but Helena sat immobile, her insides roiling, yet outwardly calm. “Nice to meet you, sir. Do you care to introduce your friends to me?”

He jerked a thumb at the young man by his side. “Mr. Tavishtock, m’coushin.”

“Pleasure, ma’am,” the young man said uneasily. “Come, Saltash. Time to retire.” He tried to take his cousin’s arm.

“Hands off, boy! I’m having fun.”

Helena smiled, trying to hide her uneasiness. “And these ladies are?”

Saltash burst out in wild laughter. “Ladies? Tha’s a good one. These tarts wouldn’ know a lady if they tripped over one. Ladies is as ladies does and these light skirts ain’t.”

He eyed Helena and tried to wink, but he had difficulty focusing. “Don’ be coy, milady. Everyone knowsh you’re Darlington’s jilt. He’s consoling himself with an American heiress, I hear. Is she better in bed than you?”

Her face ashen, Helena said in an icy tone, “You’ve had your fun, sir. Now leave me alone.”

His cousin forcibly turned Saltash toward the terrace, but the man twisted out of his arms and turned back. “Who do you think you’re talking to, bitch? Lord Shaltash, tha’s who. Let me bed you and teach you how to keep a…”

As if from nowhere, Waverley came flying at Saltash and hit him so hard, the man spun around once before he fell to the ground. He turned as if to strike the young man as well, but Helena cried out, “Waverley, stop! Don’t you dare hit that boy. He did everything he could to stop Saltash, but the man’s drunk.”

Waverley reached into his waistcoat pocket, withdrew his card and flung it on the ground. “Present that to Saltash. My seconds will call on him in the morning.”

News of the brawl swept the ballroom, thanks to the two young ladies who had witnessed the fiasco. They ran inside looking for Madame Z, screeching at the top of their lungs. This brought a large number of guests swarming about like frantic bees searching for their hives.

White with rage, the Earl of Glynhaven was the first to reach them. “What have you done, Waverley? Saltash is my guest!” He signaled to two footmen to carry his lordship to his chamber.

Waverley threw him a look of scorn and, without deigning to answer, took Helena by the arm and attempted to drag her away.

“Let me go, you…you wretched
rake!
You’re hurting me. What do you think you’re doing?”

He stared at her, wild-eyed.

“Let go of me, you fool! Everyone is watching us. Have the decency to leave me at least a shred of dignity. I am well able to walk to the carriage without your help.”

“You must give me the opportunity to explain about Madame…”

She grasped the limb of a tree and refused to budge. “I don’t give a bloody damn about your bloody Madame or your bloody French
whores!
”

He halted, his eyes and ears at once alert to his surroundings. “Stop ripping me apart, you shrew! Everyone’s watching us!”

“Really? How kind.” She twisted her head around and smiled genially. “Hello there, everyone. Having a good time? Allow me to present your neighbor, Lord Waverley. His lordship is well known in Paris, you know. They call him
le roué Anglais.
” She laughed as if demented. “Mothers, a word of warning. You had better safeguard your daughters from him lest he charm them into his bed.”