Redeeming a Rake (27 page)

Laughter and music filled every corner of
the house. In every direction people with jet black hair mingled
with blondes and brunettes. Lost in a sea of similar faces Geoffrey
had propped himself against one of the pink marble pillars in the
ballroom and stood there with his arms crossed waiting for his
friend. He scowled as another group of children stopped in front of
him to whisper as they stared with fascinated horror at their
notorious relation. A little girl stepped forward and tugged his
black sleeve. Looking down at the miniature person with black hair,
Geoffrey couldn’t help wondering if he’d ever have a daughter. The
thought of children brought to mind his friend. Was she coming? Was
she on her way or had she decided he couldn’t be trusted even in a
family crowd? The thought made his insides drop and his scowl
deepen. “Yes?”

“Escuze me Your Grace…I’ve wagered Willy
that you don’t know how to dance and that’s why you’ve been
standing like a statue. Say you don’t dance and I’ll win a
pound.”

“Ladies shouldn’t wager it’s vulgar.”

“Mamma’s wagered Papa that you’ll be dead by
Christmas. We’ll get to live here and you’ll be in the ground.
Mamma says she’ll dress the servants in a sensible brown. It wears
better.”

Geoffrey took in a deep breath through his
nose and slowly exhaled. “Away hell-cat, and leave me in
peace!”

His roar made the little girl step back with
an affronted expression, but she wasn’t finished. “My Mamma says
I’m an angel and angels come from heaven. She says you’re a devil
and devils come from Hell. Hell stinks, that means you stink like
an unwashed chamber pot.”

The group of little people burst into
hysterical laughter and rushed away to torment someone else as
Geoffrey snarled after them. Pulling out his pocket-watch he found
it was gone eight-thirty. His heart slumped as he forced himself to
acknowledge that Tolerance wasn’t coming. He rubbed his eyes and
hoped the pain in his head would put a clamp on his imagination.
Four silent weeks had incubated every irrational fear; she’d fallen
in love with her Vicar. She’d gone to Paris to see the sights and
had been kidnapped and forced to marry some fat sweaty Frenchman.
She’d moved to Ireland to marry some drunken lord who’d hurt her.
He tightened his arms across his chest; if she didn’t appear by
nine he’d calmly leave the house, get into the waiting carriage and
ride like the devil to her home in the country. She’d have written
if she planned to change her address. She’d have sent a note,
unless she was dead…

“Excuse me Your Grace…”

Geoffrey scowled as another relative
disturbed his morbid thoughts. The young man looked similar to
almost every other Stratton; tall, slender with black hair and
haunting beautiful features.

“Yes?” It was a curt unfriendly word.

“My father has sent me on behalf of my
deceased mother, your Aunt Emily, to personally give you the
family’s regard and good wishes at this happy time.”

“And which cursed impoverished cousin might
you be?”

“Jonathan Grey at your service…”

“Couldn’t you afford to have your clothes
washed? You smell like a horse. If you were hoping to engender my
pity and procure an offer to pay your laundry bills it isn’t
working.”

“I returned to London last night from
Suffolk on horseback Your Grace. I didn’t have time to have them
laundered. As a second son of a second son I am undoubtedly poor,
but I am not impecunious nor will you ever receive a begging letter
from my twig of the family tree. I have employment which affords me
roof, soap and two servants.” The younger man’s half-hearted smile
was ignored.

“Good!”

The young man’s pleasant expressed hardened
as he crossed his arms and impulsively returned the insolent stare.
“I’d rather sell myself than beg for your charity. I’d heard the
Devil’s Corpse was a dangerous man, but I never imagined you were
such a rude bore.”

Geoffrey’s eyes narrowed as the hateful name
stabbed him in the heart. His young cousin was either a fool or
looking for a bullet. “How old are you boy?”

“Old enough to resent being thought a
parasite for doing my duty.”

Geoffrey took a deep breath and asked
himself a now familiar question; what would his angel do? She
certainly wouldn’t punch the young man or throw him out the front
door by the seat of his breeches, but then she wouldn’t have been
rude in the face of his good wishes either. He couldn’t even be
pleasant to foolish young cousins with more pride than sense.
Geoffrey cleared his throat and unfolded his arms and made a formal
bow. “I beg your pardon Cousin, I feel like a baited bear this
evening. I’ve been waiting hours for my friend. She hasn’t come.
Forgive me, I feel like the devil.”

His younger cousin’s eyes went wide with
empathy. “I’ve been waiting years for a friend to return my regard.
Yesterday she married another man. I left the country for three
months and returned to find my dreams in ashes. My good sense has
gone begging. Pray forgive my rudeness.”

“It appears were a pair of miserable kindred
spirits.” Geoffrey stared into sad blue eyes. “Sophia and Bamford
are happy at least. Love does have its winners, I’m just not one of
them. At least you’ve lost your sweetheart to a man you could
kill.” Geoffrey’s lips twisted in a cynical smile. “Mine is in love
with the man I used to be before I woke up with a headache and four
missing years.”

“Really? I thought losing Belladonna to
Cranston was bad…”

“Cranston? How did you lose a woman to Lord
Cranston?”

“I don’t know, but she loves him.”

“No woman could love Cranston, not even his
mother. Your Bella must be mad.”

“She thinks him amusing. I’d give my life to
see her look at me once the way she looks at him.”

Geoffrey silently repeated the word mad and
looked at his young cousin with concern. “You’re not going to blow
out your brains are you?”

“Its strong medicine, but it’d be less
painful than living.”

“Don’t be a fool. What if there’s a woman
right now praying to meet you? Are you going to kill yourself and
ruin her happiness?”

“I have a small house with two servants and
barely enough rooms, furniture and clothes for them to clean in a
day. I doubt there’s a gentlewoman of sense who’d fall in love with
me.”

“Perhaps not, but I think you’ve allowed
this Belladonna to blind you. You need a woman who doesn’t care
about money.” Geoffrey’s mind lit up with a particular possibility.
“There’s someone you should meet.” Geoffrey turned to a servant
walking past and caught his attention. “Bring me my ward. Tell her
I wish her to attend me immediately.”

“I don’t need your charity.”

Geoffrey’s lips cracked into a rusty grin.
“I’m not forcing Charity into your arms boy, but you’re in need of
a little sunshine. Relax and stop looking at me like I’d force you
to be happy.” The two men waited in awkward silence until an
exquisite silvery blonde appeared with a beaming smile.

“You wished to see me Your Grace?”

Geoffrey clenched his teeth as the soft warm
sunlight emanating from the young woman made him miss his angel. It
wasn’t the girl’s fault she was the wrong sister. He couldn’t wait
to get rid of her. Purchasing the girl’s freedom as a surprise for
Tolerance had become a painful daily scourge. “Yes.” The young
woman smiled as if the curt word was a complement. “I wish to
introduce you to my cousin. Mr Jonathan Grey…my ward Miss Charity
Makepeace.”

The young woman slid into an elegant
curtsey. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance Mr Grey. I’ve heard
the Duchess speaks of you with fondness. She says you make
excellent company.”

“Grey is finding life unpalatable. Take him
away and make him see sense.” Johnny Grey didn’t have time to
resent his cousin’s interference before the fairy creature wrapped
a small hand around his elbow and beamed the full force of her
loving heart into his eyes momentarily numbing his usually eloquent
tongue. Warmth oozed into his heart resurrecting pleasant memories
of his mother.

“Why don’t you want to live Mr Grey?”

“His heart has been damaged by unrequited
love.”

“Would it hurt her if you died?”

“Yes.” Jonathan Grey stared into brown
compassionate eyes and tried to resist the pleasure of the girl’s
nearness, but it was like putting up his hand to extinguish the
sun.

“Then you won’t want to do anything as silly
as killing yourself. If she loves another, she isn’t going regret
loving him, but she’ll feel guilty and may regret knowing and
caring about you and that would make your act a double
tragedy.”

Johnny Grey glanced at Geoffrey in
confusion, but found another frightening smile. “Give her an hour
boy and your head will be spinning so fast you won’t remember your
date of birth. She’s very much like her elder sister, a living ray
of…”

“I merely try to be good and do the right
thing though I often fail so please don’t try to advertise me as
perfect because I assure you I’m not.”

“As I was saying before being rudely
interrupted, my ward is one of those rare creatures who have been
abandoned by the angels and forced to live amongst us wicked
mortals.”

“My cheeks are on fire Your Grace!” The
young woman’s cheeks were bright pink with embarrassment.
“Tolerance is the true angel. Isn’t she coming?”

Geoffrey’s misery warred with anger at being
asked to verbalise his agony. “Obviously not.”

His ward reached out a hand and gently
touched his sleeve, causing him to flinch as if burned. “The
evening’s not yet over Your Grace. Knowing Tolerance, she’s
probably stopped off to help someone and lost track of time.” The
words punctured Geoffrey’s heart. His angel had probably stopped to
help some evil blackguard and… He pulled out his pocket watch. It
was Eight-fifty-five. Five more minutes and he’d put on his hat and
coat and fly off to find his friend.

“I wish to be alone.”

Charity smiled at Jonathan Grey and took
hold of his arm with both hands. “I think His Grace wishes us to
fly to the devil.” She winked at her scowling guardian and gently
pulled her charge away. “You don’t mind if I call you Johnny do
you? I’m afraid I detest formal address, though I make an exception
for my new guardian. Please call me Charity unless it makes you
feel awkward. Some people can’t function without obeying every
little social rule, but I’ve never had a problem picking and
choosing. You smell of horses. I love the smell of horses. Is there
any activity that can make one feel more alive than riding a horse?
I suppose kissing a handsome stranger might do it… May I say
something fantastical? There’s something about you…I can see you
with a pistol in hand saving silly women. As a silly woman I assure
you that if you were to save me from some blackguard I’d cheerfully
fall into your arms, though please don’t hold that against me.
Beautiful men always make me feel light headed, I don’t know
why.”

Johnny Grey blinked in shock as he tried to
think through the haze of sunlight on the improbability of any
woman thinking he did anything for a living let alone nailing down
his secret occupation in the first three minutes of meeting him.
“You flatter me.”

“Do I? I doubt it. I’m not one inclined to
flattery. It tends to stick in my throat.”

“Madam, have you been imbibing champagne?
What could possibly lead you to suppose such a…fantastical
thing?”

“There’s something mysterious about you.
Your cravat could suffer being retied, but you have very
intelligent eyes and the muscles of your arm feel like steel. I’d
wager my entire fortune of three pounds that after duelling against
some villain you could pick me up and carry me up and down this
ball room without losing your breath.” Johnny Grey was the only one
surprised by his laughter.

Geoffrey listened with relief as the
soothing voice faded. The hands of his watch had moved. It was
three minutes to nine. Had his friend even got his letter? His
shifted his weight to move towards the door, but his way was
impeded. “Geoffrey?” Geoffrey’s taut nerves painfully twanged at
the sound of his brother’s voice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make
you jump.”

“How courteous of you.”

“I haven’t said one unpleasant thing to you
for weeks little brother. You could at least be civil in
return.”

Geoffrey looked up at his brother with
narrowed eyes, his stomach twisting into a knot. “Yes, I’d noticed
your sudden transformation into a kind thoughtful brother. What do
you want? Could it be you need a loan to purchase some
friends?”

Anger lit up identical pale blue eyes.
“You’ve been standing here alone looking stupid all evening. As
your brother, I thought I’d come and make polite conversation.”

“How kind of you to sacrifice conversing
with more interesting persons to spare me the burden of looking
stupid on my own.”

“Insults may cost you dear. Your lovely new
toy, I mean ward, seems to be enjoying herself. She’d make a
pleasant armful or have you already given her the pox?”

“Charity is a gift for her sister. Touch the
child and I’ll kill you.”

“I’m trembling in my dancing slippers.
What’s her background? Is her blood any good?”

“Yeoman stock, there’s not even a Baronetcy
dangling in the family tree.”

“Pity, she’d make a fine table
ornament.”

“You’re old enough to be her father.”

“But I’m not her father and I don’t need
your permission to choose a wife. If I wanted her, I’d take her and
if you got in the way I’d shoot you.”

“Where’s my kind thoughtful brother now? I
wouldn’t give you a dog, let alone my ward.” Geoffrey watched his
brother’s face drain of colour and braced himself for a black
eye.

“One rule for The Bastard and another for
The Worm eh? Go cry yourself to sleep Geoffrey; your ugly friend
isn’t coming.”