How To Build The Perfect Rake (25 page)

‘It only hurts a little bit now. Sort of
throbs, actually.’

‘I’m sure it does, it’s almost the size of
an egg!’

‘A robin’s egg, not a duck egg. Sit down, do
and let me finish. I’m perfectly all right.’ When her brother had
reluctantly subsided back into his chair, Olympia took up the reins
once more. ‘So apparently he put me into a coach he had hired for
an hour or so – there were some waiting about at the party, you
know – and took me off to that place you found me at. How did you
find me, incidentally? I thought I would have to beg a ride back to
town.’

‘You were seen with Howe leaving the
party.’

‘Oh!’ A hand came up to cover her mouth.
‘And I had been so hoping that nobody had observed us.’

‘It was that red headed girl… what’s her
name? Gaffney? Well, it was her silly friend actually, the plump
blonde. She saw Howe lead you off. I don’t think you have much to
worry about,’ he added soothingly, ‘for Miss Gaffney seemed to have
the situation in hand.’

‘Evangeline,’ Olympia said in relief. ‘Thank
goodness. She may be depended on to shush dearest Helena who really
is quite bird-witted.’

‘Anyway, Luc put the situation together
pretty quickly and had the bright idea of getting the address from
Howe’s manservant.’

‘How did he even know the place
existed?’

‘Three weeks of tutoring, apparently. And
Lord Howe’s fondness for the bottle. I don’t believe discretion was
high on the man’s agenda.’

Olympia smiled. Trust Luc to have kept a
clear head. And trust him to have remembered all the sordid details
that his lordship had let drop. While she had had the situation
well in hand, it was enormously comforting to know that he had been
riding to her rescue all along.

‘I feel rather guilty that he is going to
break off his engagement with Carisse tomorrow. Because of me,’ she
said now, with a shake of the head. It seemed almost as a heroic
thing to do as his chasing after her tonight.

‘Don’t be ridiculous. They would make each
othe miserable in no time. He’s doing the sensible thing and will
be arriving a free man in the morning.’

‘I really
do
hope his courage
doesn’t fail him.’

Jasper looked at his sister. ‘Do you think
it will?’

‘Have you met Mrs. Houghton?’

‘You may rest assured; he will brave a dozen
Mrs. Houghtons. St James was set to run Howe through with a sword,
tonight. I swear, he would have done it. I have never seen a man so
driven.’ Jasper shook his head. ‘Not the easygoing fellow I’m used
to seeing. The mouse turned into a lion. I fear I have rather
underestimated him.’

‘He has always been very courageous.’

There was a noise in the hallway, a door
opening and the sound of Aunt Flora’s voice, greeting a sleepy
footman. She appeared in the doorway almost immediately, attracted
by the candlelight within.

‘My dears! You are still awake.’

‘We were agog to hear how soundly you beat
the disagreeable Lady Bartlett,’ Jasper assured her.

Aunt Flora clasped her hands together
happily. ‘Oh, but I did! It was an excellent evening. The woman was
utterly furious! And after Jasper said that you were going, that
nice Miss Gaffney came by to check that I knew you had gone home
with your brother. She’s a very pleasant girl, I must say.’

Dearest Evangeline, Olympia reflected. She
really had proved to be a most reliable friend. She would be sure
to see Miss Gaffney before returning to Warwickshire and thank her
for her kindness. ‘I am very glad you had such a lovely night, dear
aunt.’

‘But why did you leave so early, child?’

Olympia hesitated, then opted for the truth.
‘I had a headache. I feel better now.’

‘Well, then. I shall be off to bed and I
suggest you do the same for there is nothing that sets a body right
faster than a good night’s sleep.’

After their aunt had gone, brother and
sister rose to their feet. ‘I can’t help but feel anxious about
what happens in the morning,’ Olympia sighed as they headed for the
stairs. ‘What if Carisse has hysterics? What if Luc cannot bring
himself to break it off? Or changes his mind because they pressure
him? I do not think I could accept it now. Not now, when Luc has
finally discovered what he really wants. I have quite made up my
mind that he should not marry Carisse.’

‘You worry too much,’
Jasper put an arm around his sister’s shoulders. ‘And you have no
need to do anything of the kind. Luc will turn up in the morning
and you can tell Aunt Flora your happy news. She will be beside
herself with delight. Just think of
that
before you go to
sleep.’

Which made Olympia smile. Aunt Flora really
would be overjoyed. She would be sending her niece back to
Warwickshire with a fiancé and an excellent match into the bargain.
And if he just happened to be the Grayson’s closest neighbor… well,
a marriage was a marriage, after all. She would undoubtedly take
the credit for the union and Olympia was happy to have it so.

If only all went well at Luc’s interview
with the Houghtons…

Standing on the spotless front steps of the
Houghton residence, Luc felt a little ill. His neckcloth was too
tight, his clothing uncomfortable, making him shift about in a
manner that suggested that his tailor had let him down. It was an
unseasonably early time to be paying a call but he could not bring
himself to wait for the afternoon. He needed to tackle the thing
head on. More to the point, he needed to stop Carisse and her mama
from broadcasting the – soon to be cancelled – engagement to the
world.

Pray God he was not too late.

He had requested an interview with Carisse
and was shown into a front parlor to wait but it was not Carisse
that joined him some ten minutes later, but Mrs. Houghton. She
offered him a smile that seemed to hold an element of strain.

‘Mr. St James. How nice to see you.’

He was fairly sure that
she wouldn’t be saying
that
in another few minutes. ‘Mrs. Houghton. Thank you
for seeing me at such an early hour.’

‘Oh! Yes, it is early, isn’t it? Won’t you
sit down? Would you care for some tea?’

‘No, thank you,’ accepting tea would surely
be an abuse of hospitality, considering his mission. Besides, a
shot of brandy to brace his nerves would have been more to the
point. ‘I was hoping to have a word with Carisse.’

‘Carisse?’ Mrs. Houghton repeated vaguely,
as if she was trying to place the name. She had perched on the edge
of a chair as if she might suddenly take flight at any moment.

‘Yes please.’

She looked at him for a moment, moistening
her lips. ‘I’m afraid she is still in bed.’

‘Oh.’ He hadn’t thought of this eventuality
although he probably should have. It was only gone eleven o’clock,
after all and he had not pegged the Beauty as being an early riser.
‘When do you think she’ll be up?’

‘Up?’ Mrs. Houghton repeated
uncomprehendingly.

‘Yes.’ This was proving to be a surprisingly
difficult conversation and they hadn’t even reached the truly
awkward part yet. When his hostess continued to look at him
blankly, he felt the need to elaborate. ‘Out of bed and receiving
visitors.’

‘Oh well…’ she gave a small, almost
breathless laugh. ‘She is such a slug a bed some mornings, it is
difficult to say.’

This was disheartening. He had really hoped
to get this interview with over as soon as possible.

‘I suppose I had better call back this
afternoon.’

Mrs. Houghton hesitated.
‘The thing is, Carisse is feeling a little delicate this morning. I
think it best if she remain – ah – very quiet for the rest of the
day. Perhaps tomorrow you could return and she will be…’ her words
trailed off when the sound of a commotion in the hallway came to
them. There came the sound of a raised voice, a female voice that
had an edge of hysteria to it and then the door burst open and a
very peculiar sight more or less tumbled into the room. The
intruder was a middle-aged woman, her hair unbound around her
shoulders, dressed in a dark blue gown edged with gold that
certainly had
not
been produced from the more traditional needles of the London
dressmakers. It had a foreign look about it, which went well with
the embroidered satin slippers with their turned up toes that could
be seen peeking from beneath the curious outfit.

‘What have you
done
with
him?!’

Mrs. Houghton rose to her feet and gaped at
the new arrival in dismay. ‘I am sure I don’t know what you
mean.’

‘My son! What has your jezebel of a daughter
done with my son?’

Some of Mrs. Houghton’s hesitation
disappeared at this attack on her beloved daughter. She seemed to
swell a little, cold blue eyes warming considerably. ‘My daughter
has done nothing. It is your son who is at fault. Filling my
Carisse’s head with nonsense, spouting all kinds of folly. It is
your son who is to blame for all this, not my daughter.’

‘To blame for what?’ Luc inquired,
bewildered.

Both ladies ignored him, glaring at each
other, breasts heaving. Luc felt at a definite disadvantage and had
an urge to take refuge behind the divan he was sitting on for the
very air itself seemed to crackle with animosity.

‘I told him not to go anywhere near her,’
the peculiar female spat out, ‘I said that she was nothing but
trouble and now look what has happened. Squandering his talent on a
foolish, empty-headed creature. He did not come home last
night!’

Mrs. Houghton hesitated, eyes sliding
towards Luc, suddenly remembering that she had a guest. ‘I think we
need to discuss this in private -’

‘I wish to see my son! Where is he?’

‘I have no idea where he is. I wish I knew
where he was for if I could get my hands on him I would wring his
wretched neck!’ So much for discretion.

‘But this means…’ the woman paused, eyes
narrowing.

‘Let us not be hasty. It might not mean
anything of the kind.’

‘How foolish of you to
think so. If they have run away together, then surely they have
gone to Gretna Green and we are undone,’ the woman sucked in a deep
breath, saying in sonorous accents, ‘and we are to be
family
.’

What the devil?
Luc rose cautiously to his feet. He was beginning
to get a sense of the situation now but wanted to go slowly, just
in case he had it wrong. Although if he didn’t have it wrong, then
he had just encountered the most fortuitous piece of luck that any
man could hope to have. ‘You’re Mrs. Falstaff, are you not?’ She
had to be. Liturgical dancing, a taste for peculiar clothing and a
son who had unaccountably disappeared.

‘I am Valeria Falstaff,’ she agreed,
suddenly seeming to realize that Mrs. Houghton had not been alone
when she had erupted into the room.

‘Endymion’s mother?’

‘You know my son?’

‘We’ve met,’ Luc assured her gravely. He
glanced at Mrs. Houghton who was standing very straight and stiff,
as if waiting for a physical blow to befall her. ‘Is Carisse really
in bed?’

His hostess bit her lip. ‘I am sure there is
some dreadful misunderstanding…’

‘Mrs. Houghton, please be honest with me.
Have Mr. Falstaff and Miss Houghton run away together?’

‘They have,’ Mrs. Falstaff huffed. ‘Endymion
left me a note. He thought that running away together would be the
height of romance and he finally convinced that female to accompany
him. He has,’ she added incredulously, ‘obtained a special
license!’

Luc could share a measure of the woman’s
astonishment for Endymion did not seem to have had the foresight
for such a thing. He turned to Mrs. Houghton who was looking at him
in anguish.

‘Naturally, I only wish what is best for
Carisse,’ he told her gravely, ‘and I can see that I have come at a
most unfortunate time. I will relieve you of my presence but
please, when you see Carisse tell her that I hope she is very
happy. I am sure that Mr. Falstaff will make her an excellent
husband.’

If the expression on Mrs. Houghton’s face
was anything to go by, she did not share this sentiment but,
manners being what they were, she remained silent about Mr.
Falstaff’s matrimonial aspirations, merely inclining her head
stiffly in acknowledgement. ‘I would take it as a kindness if you
did not mention any of this,’ she said grimly, ‘if you please.’

‘Not a word shall pass my
lips, I can assure you.’ To none but his beloved. He simply
must
tell Olympia. He
knew she would be agog to hear about the entire affair. Carisse
running off with Endymion; it defied belief. ‘And now, if you will
excuse me.’

‘Mr. St James,’ Mrs. Houghton curtsied, ‘I
am most deeply sorry.’

‘Thank you, Mrs. Houghton.
I trust we will meet again in happier circumstances.’ They
would
definitely
meet again in happier circumstances, for he would not longer
be engaged to the wrong woman. He offered a bow to Mrs. Falstaff on
the way past and she gave him a curt nod in return. As he headed
for the door, he could almost feel sorry for Mrs. Houghton who
seemed to have finally met her match.

Having walked up the steps a man bowed by
the weight of the world, he practically bounded back down them,
lighter of heart than he had been in days.

He did
not
love Carisse and he never had,
ridiculous infatuation aside.

He
did
love Olympia and suspected that
he had for some time.

And he had been fortunate enough to have
been given a chance to escape with no damage to himself. ‘Oh
Endymion,’ he murmured, striding down the street, ‘if you were here
now I swear I would embrace you!’