How to Marry a Rake (12 page)

‘How fortunate,’ she corrected. ‘I assure you, I am perfectly familiar with and capable of performing all the duties of a lady—it’s just that I am capable of much more, as well.’

Clearly he did not know what to say.

She smiled. ‘Many girls get a new gown for their sixteenth birthday. My father gave me two weeks to sort out the dreadfully mismanaged books of a bankrupt warehouse that he had just purchased.’ She grinned. ‘I had the best time of my life.’

‘I see.’ The words came out faintly.

‘So perhaps I would invest in your stud, if your bloodlines and your projected profits warranted it.’

Lord Banks heaved a deep sigh. With a rueful smile he turned to her and took her hand. He bent over to kiss it. With detachment, Mae realised that there was none of the pulse-pounding excitement in the air that had been present when Stephen had done the same thing, just yesterday afternoon.

‘I regret that I shall have to change my plans, Miss Halford.’ He gently released her hand. ‘You are lovely, and clearly a woman of many talents. It’s just that I am not prepared to take on such a … challenge in a wife.’

Mae wondered that she did not feel sadness, or at least a bit of regret. Instead she was left only with a sense of relief.

‘I am sorry,’ he said.

‘Don’t be,’ she assured him. ‘I need a man who is up to a challenge.’ She smiled to ease the sting of her words. ‘Why don’t you head back to the party? I will
follow along in a moment.’ She turned towards the stream. ‘Good day, Lord Banks.’

‘Goodbye, Miss Halford. And good luck.’

Chapter Ten

T
he world had indeed turned upside down. Toswick had no idea how true he’d spoken this morning. And it was all thanks to Mae Halford. Mae Halford who had tossed them all arse over teakettle.

It was hard to tell just what the ladies of Newmarket society were up to this morning, but easy to see that Mae was in the thick of it. Stephen had been amazed at how she’d tamed the crowd of cackling women. In a matter of minutes, right in the middle of a social event, she’d organised an impromptu but thorough lesson on the subject of racing.

All about him, men had watched in awe. Some had looked disapproving, some amused. A few had been so thoroughly absorbed that Stephen was sure they were learning something. But they’d all been impressed with the swift transformation Mae had effected.

And just look at what she’d done to him. He’d been getting ready to take his leave, but he’d seen her go off—alone—with Banks and his gut had started to
churn. Soon after he’d seen Banks come back—alone—and his feet had started to move.

Upside down. He’d spent a lifetime running from Mae Halford; now, for the second time in twelve hours, he found himself chasing after her.

He found her sitting on a seat next to a tiny stream. She glanced back at him over her shoulder, then turned back to contemplating the water with a sigh.

‘Have you come to upset me, too?’

She was all covered up today, in a soft green walking dress under a darker green spencer. Part of him appreciated the effort. The other part knew that the tightly fitted garment was a wasted effort. The feel of her yielding curves lived still in the palms of his hands.

But as he drew closer, he slowed. She looked lost, sitting there. Smaller, somehow. Not like Mae at all.

‘Yes, indeed I have. But I’m annoyed to hear that someone has beaten me to it.’ Light words, but the emotion underneath was true enough. ‘Who’s been upsetting you?’

‘No one. Everyone. Or perhaps just me.’

He sat beside her on the bench and stretched his legs out. His feet came within inches of the dancing water.

They sat in silence. The babbling stream did the talking for them. All about them birds twittered and rustled while the faint buzz of party chatter drifted towards them along the path. Stephen felt tension flow out of him. Maybe it would float downstream to burden some other poor sot.

His eyes fell closed. He always had been able to sit like this with Mae, in companionable silence, but
never before had there been this slurry of excitement and anticipation thrumming low inside of him. The memory of their kiss hung bold and vivid in his mind right now, but so did the peace of the scene in front of him. He sat still, enjoying the pleasurable contrast.

Mae broke the silence at last with a heavy sigh. ‘I’ve always known just where I’m going, what I want. Now, there are too many ideas, too many voices telling me how to get there. I don’t know who to listen to.’ A heartbeat of silence passed before she said tentatively, ‘Today I listened to your friend, Matthew Grange. I think I’m glad I did.’ She paused again. ‘He seems a lovely man.’

Stephen pretended not to notice the question hidden inside that innocuous statement. Was she asking for his opinion? Because she was considering Matthew as a potential suitor? Matthew was the best man he knew—but he couldn’t force words to that effect past the lump of anger lodged in his throat. How could she kiss him so fervently last night and talk of other men today? Besides which, Matthew was
not
the man for Mae.

She spoke again and saved him from finishing that thought. He’d been successful so far at avoiding the question of just who might be the right man for her.

‘It’s not going to be easy, is it?’

He snorted. ‘Which part of all of this did you expect to come easily?’

‘I did have hope, if not expectations.’

He waited. She wore a bonnet to protect her face from the sun, but several curling locks had escaped. He could have sat there all day and watched the stray sunbeams search out the red-gold in her hair.

‘That was the smallest part of myself that I allowed to show back there. All I did was organise a flighty group of women, for heaven’s sake! Every time I allow a bit of the real me out and into the light, I face nothing but instant censure.’

He shrugged. ‘So?’

‘So, in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not fond of censure.’ She sighed again. ‘Perhaps I should go back to Europe.’

He straightened. ‘What’s this? Hiding in the woods? Talking of running away? Giving up? I don’t think you should go back at all, if this is what you learned over there. The Mae I knew was a fighter.’

Her gaze softened. The rest of her followed suit. Right before his eyes her posture changed, opened, yielded. She looked him over thoroughly. ‘Perhaps I only learned to choose the battles that are worth fighting for.’

‘And give over the rest?’ Stephen laughed. ‘I don’t think so. You’ve never yielded so much as an inch in all the years that I’ve known you.’ He paused for a breath. ‘I’ve always admired that about you.’

She tightened again.
‘Admired
me?’ A small frown of disbelief creased her brow.

‘Yes. Admired.’ He scoffed until he saw that her surprise was genuine. ‘Why this talk of voices? You’ve only ever listened to one voice, and that’s your own. Why would you change that now?’

She turned away. ‘Because I’m afraid.’

He shrugged again. ‘Everyone’s afraid. Not everyone has the mettle to do something about it.’ He stared. ‘Mae, can it be that you don’t know how courageous we
all know you to be?’ He took her soft hand. ‘Mannings and Fitzmannings alike, we know you to be incredibly brave. We took you in, welcomed you into the circle of our outlandish family and knew ourselves lucky to have you.’

Her eyes filled with tears. The sight of such a thing startled him—and touched something inside him, something elemental and entirely masculine.

‘Mae Halford,’ he said gently, ‘you are the single most courageous soul I’ve ever known. The rest of us live in hiding. We put up fronts, build walls, all the while hiding our true selves safely in the shadows. But not you. Every day you stand in the sun, flaunting everything that you are and daring the world to reject it.’ His grip tightened. ‘None of us can hold a candle to you.’

Her eyes still shone bright with unshed tears. Stephen held his breath, unsure just what he would do if she actually cried. It seemed an unnatural possibility—the sun might as well rise in the west. He feared the sight of her tears might push him into an equally unthinkable act—something incredibly unwise.

Last night’s kiss reared up to haunt him again, bathing him in a wave of heat. His nether regions, already poised in interest, began to stir. He waited.

She didn’t cry.

She took his hand. She blinked back her tears and met him eye to eye. ‘I see the real you, Stephen,’ she whispered. ‘I always have.’

God, but she had the heart of a lion. He knew that at least part of her wanted him to pull her close, to use his body to comfort her. But she didn’t take the easy
way out. Instead, she spoke the truth—and said the one thing most likely to send him speeding away.

He swallowed. If she could show such courage, then surely he could match it. It took every ounce of will he possessed to stay calm and stay seated, but he did. ‘I know.’

And he had known—it was the reason he’d resisted her so hard, for so long. For that was the ridiculous conundrum that lay at the heart of him. He longed for everyone to look and no one to see. He wanted to be seen and heard, but he could never, ever let anyone truly close.

He pushed back the mental image of his forlorn mother and pulled his hand away.

‘Why were you so upset?’ she asked in a whisper. ‘That night—our last night?’

He swallowed. He wasn’t upside down now; he was twisted into a knot. Tangled parts of him wished to snatch her close, run his hands over her and kiss her until she forgot everything she thought she knew. The twisted other part of him only wanted to ignore her question, to walk away, to leave even if it hurt her. Better now than later, better to hurt than to be hurt.

Except that he couldn’t even contemplate doing such a thing. Either thing.

‘Was it because of Charlotte’s marriage?’

It did exist—buried deep, a piece of him that wanted to answer, that had always wanted to talk to Mae, let her in, let her
see.
It had always been smothered by fear, crushed by the need to protect, to shield. But he owed Mae. God knew why she wanted to examine this ugly
piece of his past, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to give her
something
for her help, her support.

‘No, of course not. Charlotte and Drew were happy, and so was I.’ What he’d been was a mass of conflicted feelings.

Silent, she waited.

‘I’d just come from Fincote. From my first visit there since my mother’s death.’ He closed his eyes. ‘It was … disturbing. The estate, the few people that were left—they were in terrible shape. Destitute.’

And he had been devastated.

‘I felt horrible. I knew I had to help them. I didn’t want to ruin Charlotte’s wedding, though. I tried to laugh, to take joy in the day.’

He’d needed to hide his failure from his family.

‘I could see that you were upset. That’s why I followed you.’

And he had been conflicted all over again. Torn between relief at being seen, and a great, terrible fear that she would see too much. It had all been too much to contain. ‘I’m sorry—I should never have been so harsh with you.’

He rose to his feet and walked a few feet away to squat at the side of the stream.

She let him go. Didn’t press the issue. He appreciated her restraint.

‘What did you do to Miss Metheny?’ he asked eventually. Just normal conversation. Nothing momentous happening here. ‘She was glaring daggers at you earlier.’

She drew a deep breath. ‘Not a thing. There was
no need. Showing up in Newmarket with my dowry dragging behind me was enough to turn her sour.’‘I’m afraid to ask what’s happening with the ladies back there. Most of them only tolerate racing, now they appear to be diving head first into it.’

‘A social experiment, I should call it. Nothing that will interfere with our plans. In fact, I’m finding it quite useful. Lady Ryeton is planning a tour of their stables on Thursday, with a picnic to follow. Who knows what I might discover?’

He got to his feet and turned to face her. ‘Lord, I hope we’re not still looking on Thursday.’ A little spike of panic went through him. ‘We’ve got to wrap this up soon.’

‘Speaking of which, I know Ryeton has his own stables here in Newmarket, but he does use a local trainer, does he not?’

‘Yes. Felton.’ Still he kept his distance.

‘Have you an acquaintance with him?’

‘No. Why?’

‘Josette has been doing her best to gain an introduction. He would seem to be a good source of information.’

‘Felton’s more than a step above a groom. It may be difficult for her to arrange.’

A fond smile spread across her face. ‘Josette will find a way.’ As he watched, her expression changed. Fascinated, he watched the transformation. She’d just gone distant. Away. This was her thinking face. ‘As will I,’ she said quietly.

‘I am terrified on Lady Ryeton’s behalf.’

‘There’s no need to be.’ With a flick of her finger
she dismissed one of the leading hostesses of the
ton.
‘It will be easy enough to speak to her during the tour or even perhaps at the racing.’ Briefly distracted, she smiled. ‘Although I am looking forward to meeting her. She sounds like a schemer. There aren’t that many of us around, you know.’

‘Who then?’ Had she come up with information he didn’t know about?

‘The mistress—Miss Hague. She will present a challenge. How shall I get to her without compromising myself?’ By her tone, she was thinking again. ‘But I am working on an idea.’

Stephen’s heart stuttered. He sent up an urgent prayer that he’d heard her wrong—although he knew he had not.

‘What?’ She had noticed his silence. Up on her feet she hopped, challenge emerging back into her eyes.

‘Get it out of your head right now, Mae.’ It was an order, sure to get her back up. But this was worth a fight. ‘You will go nowhere near that woman. I will not let you ruin yourself on my behalf.’

‘On your behalf? I thought we were in this together? Are we not meant to help each other?’ She folded her arms. ‘Not that you’ve been much help, I might add.’

‘I’ll do better,’ he vowed grimly. ‘I’ll parade a line of eligible young bucks past your bedroom window, if you wish. But you will not go near Ryeton’s mistress.’

‘Ah, Stephen.’ Dangerously gentle, her voice. ‘You really are a clodpole. I thought you’d learned years ago that the best way to get me to do something is to forbid it.’

‘I’ve heard things of this woman. She’s no Miss
Metheny, to be easily outwitted and outmanoeuvred. She’s got claws—and ripping your reputation to shreds would be but a moment’s amusement to a woman like that.’

Mae only looked intrigued.

‘No, Mae! You’ll get skewered. And if anyone hears even a hint of it—it will all be over. And there will go your dreams of marriage.’