Redeeming a Rake (24 page)

I shall now have to try to convince myself
that Mr Williams was exaggerating and that you wouldn’t really be
happy to see me in your drawing room or I may do something foolish.
Oh my aching head, I wish it would stop pounding so I could express
properly how I feel. I pray this finds you in better health than it
leaves me. I long to kiss your blushing cheeks and soft velvety
lips. I beg you to send word that I may come and see your smile. On
my honour you shall find me a perfect gentleman. I shall prostrate
myself at your feet and revel in the privilege.

Your obedient and humbled servant,

Geoffrey

Tolerance had to restrain herself from
jumping out of her chair, running out into the hall and shouting
for the servants to prepare the carriage to carry her to London.
She wanted to be caressing his aching head without delay. She shook
herself to clear the delirium. The man wasn’t living in the small
medieval house. She couldn’t march into his town house and climb
the stairs to his bedchamber, even if he wanted her to. Tolerance
took a deep breath and started counting down from ten thousand
until she felt almost calm again. She had to be strong. She’d only
been away from London for several months even if it did feel like
several years. She slowly pulled out a piece of paper and dipped
her quill as she took a deep breath. What would happen if he did
come? Her insides lurched with pleasure at the thought. The answer
was simple; she’d get to see her friend. Her quill pen squeaked
across the paper as she allowed herself to indulge in one mad
impulse. She sent off the letter before she could change her mind
and decided that she was going to enjoy the rest of the day outside
with her son. The summer sun lit up the sky long into the evening,
casting shadows across a serene landscape. It was the perfect day
to dig weeds out of the flower beds and chase her son around the
shrubs. With her heart free of an unwanted burden, she hummed a
waltz as she carried Geoffrey’s portrait back up to her room. If he
received her letter within the next three days she might see him
within a week. It was an intoxicating thought. The servants raised
disapproving eyebrows as she whirled past smiling to herself.
Whispers flew past the linen cupboards and through the laundry
rooms into the kitchen that the fallen Mrs Spencer was pregnant
with the Devil’s child. Why else would a woman who loved wearing
colour resign herself to so much heavy black and go about dancing
like a lunatic?

Later that night Tolerance skipped into the
dream garden hoping to find her friend, but it was empty. Several
hours later she heard a faint creak from the wooden gate.
“Geoffrey! Come look at these blooms. I’m sure they were a
different colour yesterday. Geoffrey?” She turned to see if he’d
emerged into the garden but it was empty. “Geoffrey is that you? Am
I talking to the wind again?” Her only answer was the slight
shuddering of the bush. It was probably a squirrel. She returned to
examining the flowers and humming a cheerful tune. A few minutes
later she nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard a strange
noise. She turned to see the part of the yew that made up the
tunnel entrance to the garden slightly shaking again. She brushed
off her hands and got to her feet and slowly approached the
entrance. She peered around the side into the cool dark arbour to
see her friend standing with his back to the garden, his face
turned into the yew tree. “Is something the matter?” He didn’t
reply. She reached out and touched his back.

“Don’t touch me.” She ignored the imperious
command and wrapped an arm around his waist and waited. “I don’t
deserve love or kindness and I certainly don’t deserve you.”

“Why?”

“I completed the list. I wanted to be worthy
of you, but all I did was prove I never can be.”

“Did you hurt Lady Penelope?”

“No. I told her that I’d come to apologise
for what I did to her. I knelt on one knee and begged her
forgiveness. She laughed and asked if it was true that I’d
forgotten the last few years. I told her I couldn’t remember the
last four years and that I didn’t think it at all funny. She
replied, ‘I think it particularly amusing that you can’t remember
falling in love with your precious Widow Spencer. I understand
she’s left London. Would it surprise you to know she’s received an
anonymous letter detailing your sins? It was a lengthy list.’ I
could bear her insults directed at me, but then she started
sneering unrepeatable slander about you.’ The angrier I became the
more she laughed. She said she was the one who attacked me and
dared me to take revenge on her revenge. She said she’d enjoyed
kicking me in the head. She said she’d wade through hell to destroy
my last hope of happiness. I was imagining my hands around her
throat when she said…nine months after I…she gave birth to a boy
with pale blue eyes. She said he was smothered by his drunken
wet-nurse. I wouldn’t leave a dog in that woman’s care and I gave
her a child. I killed my own child.”

“Geoffrey…Lady Penelope may have made the
child up, but even if she didn’t she was the one who put the child
into the care of a slut. You can remain on the road to depravity or
you can turn and take another road. You can change. As long as you
are breathing there’s still time to become a better man.”

“I’ve been a devil too long. How can I ever
be good after the things I’ve done? You know I don’t deserve
you.”

“Find the boy you used to be and save him.
Lady Penelope was damaged by what happened to her. You did say her
brother beat her black and blue; she’s probably not right in the
head. I wouldn’t be if I was her…”

“I would never have hurt you. I’d have made
you my wife…you’d have hated me.”

“It doesn’t matter what might have been,
only what was. You set off a chain of events that nearly killed
Lady Penelope. What you did cut out her heart; hate is probably the
only thing she can feel. I’m glad she knows you sincerely regret
hurting her even if she doesn’t believe you. You can’t change what
you’ve done, but you can change what you’ll do. Help her if the
opportunity arises.”

“She wouldn’t accept my
help and I wouldn’t expect her to.”

“She doesn’t have to know it’s you helping
her. Don’t let her hate dictate your destiny. Do you want to be the
man she thinks you are or the man I know you can be?”

“I want to be the man you love.” Geoffrey
turned to face her, but stared past her shoulder. “My feelings for
you are so strong they frighten me. I wish I could be worthy of
you. I thought that if I completed the list…”

“The list had nothing to do with being
worthy of me. It was a tool to help you heal. I don’t love you any
less then yesterday or two years ago.”

“I don’t disgust you?”

“No, but if you’re going to spend the rest
of your life hiding in the bushes being morose I might think twice
about becoming your wife. I’ve never been partial to sleeping
rough. I’ll gaze at the moon with you, but don’t ask me to sleep
under the stars with biting insects or you’ll be waking alone.” His
lips twitched as if he didn’t think he deserved to smile. “Give me
your hand.” He stared at her throat for several long seconds before
his eyes inched up to meet her gaze. “I thought you said you’d do
anything to make me happy…”

“I don’t remember saying that.”

“You don’t remember a lot of things…like how
you called on me the morning after we met and ended up with clotted
cream on your face.”

“I don’t eat clotted cream.”

“So you never said you’d do anything to make
me happy, but you have said you’d do anything to win my love and I
choose to translate that as letting me hold your hand.” She
entwined her fingers with his larger ones and forcefully pulled him
into the garden.

“I’m not in the mood to be happy.”

“You will be…close your eyes and count to
one hundred and don’t skip numbers like last time or I’ll push you
into the fish pond. If you find me…you can have a kiss.”

“Only one?”

“If you’re in a mood to be happy you might
wake up with sore lips. Cover your eyes and don’t look…”

“I can hear you laughing…you’re heading for
the mint edged path…that means you’ll be hiding behind that large
box hedge…I’m sure I’ve counted to one hundred…”

“And I hear the fish laughing!”

“The poor fish are blushing. Push me in and
I’ll dry my clothes on a bush…here I come. You’d better not be
hiding under the large yew tree again…it’s freezing under
there…”

“It’s so cold it makes your lips feel warm…”
The fish ignored the odd shriek of laughter and running feet as
they concentrated on blowing perfect bubbles, unaware that their
sanctum had been briefly endangered.

Geoffrey woke to find himself twisted
uncomfortably in his bedclothes. His nightshirt added to the
torment by lumping under the small of his back, but he was smiling.
He closed his eyes and replayed the last hour of the night spent
lying on the ground with his head on his angel’s lap as she ran her
fingers through his hair. He kicked himself free and rolled out of
bed as if he could escape the bittersweet wave of desire. Ignoring
his lust, he ran his hands over his unshaven cheeks and thought
about his angel’s advice. To free himself of the feelings of guilt
he needed to do good things for other people, especially people he
didn’t like. He’d start with doing something for his angel, but
what could he do? He wanted to do something special, something that
would make her smile, but what? The thought made his head ache
reminding him that for the first time in weeks his head had felt
normal. He rang the bell and paced back and forth waiting for
Howard to trudge up the stairs. Every day it took the old man
longer to answer the bell. Suddenly Geoffrey knew what good thing
he’d do that day. He was smiling as Howard shuffled into the
room.

“You rang Your Grace.”

“How old are you Howard?”

“Seventy-three years Your Grace.”

“Really? You’re that old?”

“Yes Your Grace.”

“Haven’t you ever thought of retiring?”

“I was hoping I’d die while employed Your
Grace, then my granddaughter could inherit my savings.”

“You had a child?”

“I married young Your Grace. She had
beautiful brown eyes I couldn’t resist.”

“Ah yes, beautiful eyes…I’ll have Hawkings
arrange a settlement that will ensure you don’t have to use your
savings. Help me dress this morning and then consider your self a
free man. You can stay in the house until the settlement is
completed if you wish. I shall have to engage a valet after all
these years, unless one of the footmen can be persuaded to take on
the duty. You know I detest dressing in front of strangers.”
Geoffrey’s smile widened as he imagined his angel doing up his
buttons. “Howard, what would you do for a woman you wanted to
impress?”

“Am I wanting to impress a courtesan or a
lady Your Grace?”

“Mrs Spencer.”

“I would do something for her that she
couldn’t do for herself Your Grace.”

“Like what?”

“I do not know Mrs Spencer intimately Your
Grace. I could not tell you what would impress her. Perhaps if you
read through her letters something might come to you.”

***

A few hours later Geoffrey was shaved,
bathed and ready to face the world. With a full stomach he ventured
out in search of something for his angel. Half way through the
fruitless morning he entered a shop and was forced to stop behind
three young women blocking the passage as they argued over which
ceramic tea service to buy for their mother. After several tedious
minutes he loudly cleared his throat drawing six wide eyes in his
direction. They were three beautiful young ladies who shared the
same curly brown hair. Giggles filled the shop as they moved to let
him pass. Geoffrey suddenly wondered what his angel’s younger
sister looked like. When was the last time she’d seen her sisters?
He stopped so abruptly the large woman behind him jostled him into
a table full of porcelain sending several pieces smashing onto the
floor. The entire shop turned to stare at the clumsy man who looked
like an angel of death in a long flowing black caped coat. On being
informed of the identity and reputation of his careless customer,
the shop owner bowed low and begged The Duke of Lyndhurst to
disregard the broken pieces. Geoffrey’s pale cheeks looked rouged
as he paid for the broken items and then majestically escaped the
whispers and stares.

Outside in the sunshine his thoughts
returned to his angel. He knew she had two sisters. The older one
was married, but the younger one was still at home. He stopped
mid-step on the busy parade and was nearly pushed off his feet by
several young bucks strutting down the centre loudly arguing over
the most pleasurable way to celebrate a birthday. His eyes narrowed
in irritation as he gripped his stick and loudly cursed them to
hell, but they were too engaged in their conversation to notice his
rage. He muttered under his breath on the general decline of
manners and rudeness of youth in particular and hurried home
haunted by thoughts of his fast approaching fortieth birthday.
Geoffrey knew exactly what he wanted to be doing on his birthday,
but the closest he’d come to making love to his angel would be
sitting in his study staring at her portrait feeling morose. The
fact his sister’s wedding had been planned for the same day didn’t
help. The house would be bursting with wedding guests. He grimaced
at the thought. He’d have no peace for days with blonde Graysons
and black haired Strattons cluttering up every corner. The Ancient
House with all its ghosts almost appeared a tempting alternative.
He was handing the footman his gloves and hat when the whole plan
erupted into his head. He knew exactly how he was going to spend
his birthday.

The footmen shivered with dread as their
master laughed quietly for no apparent reason. They could only
assume some unlucky person had felt his wrath. For all of
Geoffrey’s changed ways, weeks in bed with the curtains drawn had
taken a toll on his looks. His face was an unhealthy pallor with
lavender circles framing his eyes. He always ate at least two large
meals a day, but his slender frame was losing muscle from lack of
exercise. With his black hair slowly being replaced by grey strands
and pain etching new lines into his face, he looked every inch a
devil.