Taming Rafe (17 page)

She shrugged. “That you love each other, and you kiss. I knew that already, though.”

His mother would be laughing right now if she knew he was trying to explain proper behavior to anyone, much less a little girl. Rafe decided to give it a try, anyway. “Your sister and I do kiss sometimes, and I like her very much. I hope she feels the same way about me. But, it’s a very…irregular situation, with us all living here at Forton, and the most polite—and most correct—thing to do is not to talk about it.”

May grimaced at him. “I know that. I’m not a complete sapskull, Rafe.”

So much for that
. After further discussion, Rafe discovered that Lis’s birthday was three weeks hence, and he and May decided that she should be the one to purchase the gown so that the two of them could give it to Felicity as an early birthday present.

In the meantime, all the promises and bribes he’d exchanged for assistance with Forton Hall seemed to come due at once, leaving him so busy and exhausted that for several days he barely had time to exchange two words with Felicity, much less coax her into being with him again. Every day Deerhurst sent her flowers or candy, while Rafe could do nothing but stew and imagine seventy-three ways to kill a damned earl.

Felicity knew something was bothering Rafe, and she could guess what it must be. It had been over a week since he’d sent the letter to the Marquis of Warefield in London, and there’d been no reply. He would want to be rid of Forton by autumn, and with the Season over and August approaching, he was running out of time.

Part of her was hoping the marquis would answer just late enough to keep Rafe in Cheshire for the winter. Maybe spending an additional three or four months at Forton Hall would convince him to stay. She’d received one polite rejection to her application to teach at a girls’ school in Bath, and nothing else. Resolutely she sent out another dozen inquiries, worry tugging at her. If she couldn’t find a position soon, Deerhurst’s proposal would be the only option left to her.

The way Rafe had been galloping about the countryside for the past week, gone from sunrise till after sunset, she couldn’t tell what he was up to. Certainly not Forton—he hadn’t touched the gardens or the remains of the stable in days. And when he was there, he was so tired he fell asleep in his chair half the time while she and May read in the morning room. Worse, he hadn’t even kissed her since the morning after the stable’s demolition. And improper as it was, she wanted to be with him again. She wanted him to hold her and touch her and love her, as much as she loved him.

She heard him come into the house, and in surprise glanced up at the clock, stuffed between three vases of flowers and a box of chocolates on the mantel. It wasn’t even noon. Her pulse speeding helplessly, she straightened her hair and returned to perusing the estate ledgers, looking for spare change.

“May I carry it?” May whispered from the hall
way, and Rafe’s low murmur responded. Felicity smiled and continued working.

Rafe cleared his throat from the doorway, and with a pretended start she looked up. “Oh, my, you’re back early. Is everything all right?”

“Splendid. Do you have a moment?”

“Well yes, of co—”

“No, you’re doing it all wrong,” May said, elbowing past him into the morning room, a little dark mouse fearlessly pushing aside a great tawny lion. In her hands she carried a large box tied with a pretty blue ribbon. “Happy birthday!”

“My goodness! But May, you know it’s another fortnight until my birthday.”

“You see,” Rafe said, grinning as he dropped into the chair beside her, “
you
did it wrong. You should have let me explain first.”

May set the box in Felicity’s lap. “It’s just an early gift. From Rafe and me.”

Felicity looked at the two conspirators. May was clearly excited, and Rafe, though he looked tired, smiled at her with merry green eyes.

“Thank you, then. But it wasn’t necessary.”

“Open it,” Rafe said, nudging the box with his fingers.

She smiled up at him, then pulled the bow loose and handed it to May, who immediately knotted it into a pirate sash and tied it around Rafe’s forehead.

“That’s how I imagined you looked at the helm of your pirate ship when we first saw you.” Felicity laughed, tugging a lock of his hair over the ribbon. “Doesn’t he look rakish, May?”

“Lucifer’s big bottom,” May snorted, “will you open the blasted present, Lis?”

“That’s quite enough, you silly little chit,” Rafe drawled. “You’re going to get me in trouble.”

Felicity was unable to keep from laughing. “Too late.”

Steeling herself for whatever oddity her sister and Rafe might have deemed appropriate for a birthday present, she slowly lifted the lid from the box. Paper obscured its contents, and she brushed it aside. And froze. “Oh, my,” she breathed.

“It’s a gown,” May offered into the silence, when Felicity couldn’t say anything else.

“Yes…yes, I can see that.” Her fingers shaking and tears gathering in her eyes, she lifted the deep blue silk gown out of the box.

“We used one of your day muslins for the measurements,” Rafe said softly. “I hope it fits.”

The neck and short, puffy sleeves were edged in ivory lace, as was the flowing skirt. Tiny white flowers sprinkled the upper part of the gown like glimpses of stars at dusk, while the gathered waist and skirt darkened into solid twilight.

“Do you like it?” her sister asked.

She smiled through her tears. “It’s exquisite.”

“Rafe and I looked at patterns and catalogs for hours. Mrs. Denwortle said it would be too dark and you wouldn’t like it, but Rafe told me to tell her that just by looking at her I could see that she had excessively good taste, but I would stay with my own choice of materials.” May giggled. “Mrs. Denwortle stared at me for a whole minute, and then she turned red as a beet and said, ‘That Bancroft fellow is a very bad influence on you, young miss.’”

“Lis?”

Felicity looked up at Rafe. “It’s too grand,” she blurted. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

He looked puzzled. “But May said you had silk gowns.”

“Not like this.” Rafael Bancroft had spent his
life among the wealthiest, loftiest families of England. His idea of a proper silk dress was completely different from one she would choose for herself. “I can’t accept this, Rafe.”

“Felicity, don’t be such a pea-goose,” May complained.

Rafe stood, his gaze still on Felicity. “May, fetch your sister a handkerchief, will you? Now?”

“Oh, all right.” She obviously knew she was being gotten rid of, because she closed the door on her way out.

“You said you liked it,” Rafe said, coming forward to kneel at her feet.

“I do. But you have no money, and it’s…it’s too beautiful for words.”

“I want to see you in it. And it’s
my
blunt—I’ll do with it as I please.” Gently he took the gown out of her fingers and laid it in the box, then took her hands in his. “And I please to please you, Lis.”

A tear ran down her cheek. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say thank you and kiss me, before you-know-who comes back.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, and touched her lips to his.

He sighed, leaning closer to kiss her back. She wanted to melt onto the floor with him, to sink into his warm, sure embrace.

“Rafael! Are you here, m’boy?”

Rafe tore his mouth from hers so quickly she nearly fell out of the chair. As he stood, the morning room door opened.

“Rafael, are you—”

“
Quin?
”

While Felicity watched, stunned, Rafe strode toward the tall, blond, impeccably dressed man
standing in the doorway. The Marquis of Warefield had arrived.

“What the devil are you doing here?” Rafe demanded, eyeing him suspiciously.

Warefield raised his eyebrows. “You asked for help.”

“I asked for money.”

“It’s the same thing.”

“No, it’s not. You—”

“And who might this be?” The marquis’s sharp green eyes took in the shabby, cluttered room, the scattering of account ledgers, the gown draped across the box, and then paused on Felicity.

Hurriedly she stood, smoothing the skirt of her simple yellow muslin, and curtsied. “Lord Warefield.”

“Quin, this is Felicity Harrington. Lis, my brother.”

“Harrington?” the marquis repeated. “Wasn’t it Nigel Harrington you—”

“Yes. It’s a very long story. How’s Maddie?”

“You can ask her yourself.”

“She’s here, as well?” Rafe looked even more discomposed, and absurdly pleased. With a stab of jealousy, Felicity wondered just who Maddie might be.

Warefield nodded. “She decided we should provide accompaniment.”

Rafe narrowed his eyes. “Accompaniment to what?”

“I say!” another male voice yelled from the foyer, “it’s an assassin! Get away from me with that!”

Felicity’s eyes locked with Rafe’s. “May,” they said at the same time, and bolted past Warefield for the door.

R
afe sprinted into the foyer. May, her hairbrush clenched in one hand, had Francis Henning backed into a corner. Before she could wallop Henning, Rafe scooped her up into his arms. Torn between amusement and terror at the sight of the little warrior, he swept her around and set her on the bottommost stair.

“It’s all right, sweetling. They’re harmless.” He glanced over his shoulder as Quin entered the foyer behind Felicity. “Relatively.”

“Everyone keeps coming into our house without asking,” she complained, reluctantly handing over the hairbrush.

“
Our
house?” Robert Fields looked about for someone to take his greatcoat, then shrugged and folded it over his arm. “I suddenly find myself greatly intrigued, Bancroft.”

With a last warning glance at May, Rafe straightened and turned around, belatedly removing the ribbon from around his forehead. Damn, it looked as though half of London had come to Cheshire. “Welcome, everyone, to Forton Hall.”

“Or what’s left of it.” Robert snorted. “You have some sort of frenzied celebration here, lad? Must have been spectacular.”

“Oh—ha, ha, I get it.” Francis chuckled. “He brought down the house, eh?”

The comments offended Rafe, though he supposed his own words on first viewing Forton Hall had been even less charitable. “You should have seen it a month ago, but no, I’m afraid I can’t take credit for it. So, which brave souls have ventured into the wilds of Cheshire with you?”

He knew all of them, of course, but the introductions gave him a moment to collect his wits. Quin and Maddie he could tolerate, though their timing might have been better. As for the rest, whatever homesickness he’d felt for the excitement of London vanished in his consternation at seeing Lady Harriet Mayhew and Jeanette Ockley, hanging on either arm of Stephen Calder. Both ladies knew him more intimately than he wanted Lis to know, and he cursed under his breath. To add to the torture, they’d brought along Rose Pendleton, who could create gossip out of two peoples’ placement in a cemetery.

Quin and Maddie made the party eight, though he hardly regarded them as part of Robert’s horde. At least his father hadn’t decided to visit Cheshire. Rafe shuddered. “How did you know where to find me?”

“Received your letter, my lad. You sounded so glum, we decided to come cheer you up.”

Rafe forced a chuckle and edged closer to Robert. “If I’d wanted you to visit, Fields, I would have invited you,” he muttered.

“Oh, tosh,” his crony drawled. “We’re on our way to Lakeford Abbey to spend the rest of the summer with Harriet’s parents, but we couldn’t resist stopping by to see you.”

Rafe knew very well that they hadn’t just “stopped by”; they wanted to see what he was up
to. It was a game he was familiar with, though it had never been played on him before. He felt like beating Fields senseless. If he remembered anything his father had ever bellowed at him, though, it was never to look out of one’s depth, whether that was where one had landed or not. “It’s only fair to warn you that we’re rather rustic here at the moment.”

“I think we’ll manage,” Quin said dryly. “Might I have a word with you?”

Sooner rather than later, he would have to talk with his brother. Felicity, though, hadn’t moved from the doorway, and stood looking from him to his guests as though she’d opened the wrong door and mistakenly walked into hell. “Yes. In just a moment,” he said to Quin. “May, will you show my guests to rooms?” Without waiting for an answer he returned to Felicity and took her elbow.

She started and moved away. “May, do as Mr. Bancroft says, please. I’ll put some water on for tea.” Finally she turned her gaze on him, and his temperature dropped several degrees at the hooded fury in her eyes. “Mr. Bancroft, I believe your guests will have luggage.” With that she was gone down the hallway in an angry flurry of yellow muslin.

Though May still looked as if she wanted to begin whacking people, she led the way upstairs. Scowling, Rafe stepped out onto the drive. Five damned coaches waited there, and he had no blasted stable. Drivers, groomsmen, valets, and maids all stood chatting and looking about, obviously waiting for the Forton household staff to appear.

“Where are your servants?” Quin murmured, standing at his elbow.

“I’m selling the place, remember?”

“Ah.”

With that the marquis stepped past him and effortlessly organized the drivers and valets into footmen. The mounds of baggage began disappearing into the house. The coaches vanished around to the stable yard, and finally he and Quin stood on the shallow front steps alone.

“Your letter surprised me,” the marquis said conversationally, and stepped down to the drive. “I thought for certain you’d have sold Forton Hall by now, and be on your way to China.”

They strolled around the side of the house. At the sight of the demolished stable and the horses, including Aristotle, being staked out in the meadow, Quin paused. “I see there have been some complications. Care to enlighten me?”

“Why didn’t you just send the blunt?” Rafe asked instead, picking up a stone and tossing it into the pile of lumber. “It was hardly a fortune.”

“No, it wasn’t. Perhaps I wanted to see you again, before you vanished.”

“Look, Quin, if you want me to apologize for being such a boor when I left London, I will.”

His brother stopped. “You think I came all this way to demand an apology?”

“I’m a bit rattled right now,” Rafe snapped. Quin already knew he was out of his depth, so he didn’t see any reason to deny it. “I don’t know what to think.”

“Who’s Felicity Harrington?”

Quin might have been a blasted foxhound, the way he picked up a scent. “Nigel Harrington’s sister.” He started off again, making for the creek. After a moment Quin caught up to him. “And before you ask, no, she had no idea what her brother was up to. I arrived here to find the house falling apart, and her and May salvaging through the
wreckage. That stupid rum puppy gambled away his inheritance with his sisters still living on it.”

“And his sisters are still living on it.”

“I couldn’t throw them out! Gads, what sort of monster do you think I am?”

“None at all,” the marquis answered. “Merely making conversation. Pray continue.”

“Not much else to tell,” Rafe hedged, unwilling to discuss Felicity until he had her sorted out in his own mind. “I looked for a buyer, then decided I’d get a better price if I did some restoration work. Hence the letter to you.”

“And the one to Mr. Robert Fields and company?”

“You sound like a damned solicitor, Warefield. It was just to Fields, and it wasn’t a bloody invitation. That was his own idea.”

“So why don’t you want any of us here?”

Rafe stopped again, remembering why it was he found his brother so blasted annoying. “I don’t need the kind of company that stretches you out on the rack and sticks pins into your sensitive parts.”

Quin chuckled. “That leaves out nearly everyone.”

“What do you mean, ‘nearly’?”

The marquis only continued touring the yard and garden. Chafing, and badly wanting to go make things right with Felicity, Rafe stayed at his side. At his brother’s casual questions, he found himself explaining every minor detail of work done and planned, while Quin just listened and let him babble.

“So are you going to lend me the two thousand quid, or not?” Rafe finally asked, stopping outside the kitchen entry.

“I don’t see any difficulty with that. You’ve got a sound plan. And as you said, the improved sale
value should more than compensate both of us.”

“Thank you, Warefield. I’m sorry I said you were stodgy.”

Quin lifted an eyebrow, but before he could reply, the metallic clatter of falling pots echoed out from the kitchen window. Felicity was probably selecting weapons with which to murder him.

“Excuse me a moment,” he said, and turned for the house.

“I’ll just continue my tour,” Quin said to his back. “Don’t mind me.”

Rafe ignored him and shoved open the door. “You all right, Lis?” he asked, stepping inside.

Impatiently she pushed a lock of hair out of her face. “You
invited
these people?” she snapped. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“I did
not
invite them. They just came.”

“Well, send them away!”

He frowned. “I can’t do that; it would look very ill. And they’re friends of mine.”

Felicity flung a pan onto the table. “All right. Did you happen to consider, though, who is supposed to clean the bedchambers, light the fires, and prepare their meals? Or do you expect me to do it?”

He loved her stubborn practicality—most of the time. “Don’t blame me! It’s not my fault!”

“That does not answer my question!”

“Lis—”

“If you feel so glum,” she interrupted, “then why stay?” A single tear coursed down her cheek, and she impatiently brushed it away.

“So
that’s
why you’re angry.”

“No, it’s not!”

Her voice faltered, and he realized just how hurt and abused she must feel. “Actually,” he said,
walking up to her as she turned her back, “I’m not at all glum.”

“Then why would you write your friends to tell them how unhappy you are?”

He looked at her slender shoulders, shaking with either anger or tears. Or both. “I didn’t, Lis. Truly. Robert made that up as an excuse, probably because he can’t conceive of anyone enjoying themselves without him about.”

“Oh, really?” She kept her back squarely to him. Running out of ammunition, he slid his hands around her waist to pull her against him. Felicity elbowed him in the ribs and moved away.

“Oh, no, you don’t. You are not going to seduce me into not being angry with you, Rafe. How do you think it feels, to have the best of London here with Forton so…dismal?”

“They’re hardly the best, Lis,” he protested.

“I don’t care! It’s humiliating.”

That stopped him.

She slammed another pot onto the stove. “I will make them tea, and I will prepare dinner for them this evening. After that, you are on your own, Bancroft. As you said, you hired me to keep your accounts—not to be your servant.” She stalked up to him and shook a ladle at his chest. “And don’t touch me again.” With that she scooped up a tray holding a teapot and half a dozen mismatched cups, and stalked out toward the main part of the house.

“Damnation,” Rafe muttered, and squatted down to gather the kitchen implements she’d flung about. Then he straightened. Quin had promised the two thousand quid—which left him his remaining sixty to do with as he pleased. And regardless of whose fault this mess was, he had a great deal to make up for.

Felicity thought she’d begun to know Rafe Bancroft—that he was kind and thoughtful, and that he cared for her. Then he had to go and invite his London friends to visit, so she could see how uncultured and shabby she looked in comparison. And whether he’d actually tendered the invitation or not, it was still his fault they were here.

All the women were lovely, especially the petite redhead who’d stood watching Rafe so intently while he welcomed everyone to Forton Hall. She reached the top of the stairs with the tea tray, and paused as she heard May’s voice.

“Oh, my goodness,” a woman’s voice replied. “You and your sister must have been terrified.”

“I was, but Felicity said we would have an adventure and sleep in the morning room.”

The closest bedchamber door stood open, and Felicity leaned forward to peek inside. May sat at the dressing table trying on a riding hat, while the red-haired woman she’d noticed earlier helped a maid put clothes into the chest of drawers.

“Your sister sounds very brave.”

“Oh, she is. When Rafe jumped on her, she kept yelling at me to run away.”

Felicity flushed as the woman’s hands stilled. She wanted to run in and drag May out, but the damage to her reputation had already been done. She could hardly blame May for that, anyway.

“Mary, please excuse us,” the lady said to her servant. Felicity ducked back into the corner as the maid left the room and went downstairs. “May, why in the world did Rafe jump on your sister?” she continued when the two of them were alone.

“He thought we were burglars.”

“And did you run away, then?”

May took the hat off and set it aside. “Oh, no.
I hit him on the head with the tea kettle. That’s the twenty-eighth way to kill a man.”

The woman grinned. “I’m thankful it didn’t work.”

“Me, too. Rafe’s top of the trees.”

“Yes, he is. And you’re quite brave yourself.”

Felicity cleared her throat and stepped into the doorway. “Beg pardon, but I thought you might like some tea after your journey.”

The lady smiled at her, though her gaze remained speculative. “That sounds wonderful.”

May stood. “Maddie, have you met Felicity?” she asked grandly. “Lis, this is Maddie, the Marchioness of Warefield.”

Rafe’s sister-in-law. Hiding her sudden relief in a curtsy, Felicity then set the tray on the nightstand and poured a cup for the marchioness. “Sugar? I hope my sister hasn’t been pestering you, Lady Warefield. She’s notoriously curious.”

“Yes, please. But May’s not bothering me at all. And call me Maddie, if you like. All my friends do.”

“May!”

The marchioness jumped as Rafe’s voice carried up the staircase, and Felicity flinched. In the big, empty house they shouted for one another all the time, but now they had guests, for heaven’s sake. Or rather,
he
had guests—but they would judge her, as well. She could see it, in Maddie Bancroft’s face.

“I’m up here!” May yelled back.

“May, behave!” Felicity said sharply.

“He started it.”

Felicity gave Lady Warefield her tea and an apologetic look. “I beg your pardon, my lady—Maddie. I’ve been a little lax with May’s behavior, I’m afraid.”

“Don’t worry. Rafe tends to have a rather boisterous effect on people.”

The marchioness grinned, and Felicity couldn’t help smiling in response. “He does that,” she agreed.

As if on cue, Rafe stepped into the doorway. “Now
you
I am happy to see,” he said, and strode forward to kiss his sister-in-law. “Did you miss me in London?”