The Passionate Love of a Rake (8 page)

The longing in her heart was for a home, somewhere safe and comforting she could retreat to, but nowhere was safe, thanks to Joshua. There was nowhere to hide away from the pain of meeting Robert again. Oh, she just wished she could die, but then that would let Joshua win, and what she wanted most of all was to fight back against the Suttons. The last Duke had stolen half her life. She would not give the other half to his son. She would suffer anything to ensure Joshua did not win. That was the one decision she could make. It was the only control she had. She would not run, and nor would she let him win, which meant she must also keep coming face-to-face with Robert.

~

Looking in the mirror, Robert admired the cravat his valet, Archer, had deftly tied, and smiled, a mocking twist on his lips. His fingers swept back his fringe. He was a handsome devil. The knowledge boosted his confidence.

Women adored him. Well, every bloody woman except the one he’d wished to keep. His smile turned to a sneer for his reflection.

What did his looks count for? In this respect, not a thing.

He slipped his arms into the black evening coat Archer held up.

Edward, Robert’s younger brother, would call Robert vain to the point of arrogant. Robert preferred to think of his appreciation of his looks as a desire for perfection. To which Edward would say, “more like perversity”.

A self-deprecating laugh escaped Robert’s throat as Archer slid Robert’s coat onto his shoulders.

Robert slipped each button into place himself, while Archer swept a fleck of dust from the shoulder.

“You are in good humor tonight, my Lord.”

Robert smiled again. Archer had been with him through his adolescent and maturing years abroad. The man was a saint, and sinner too, and a godsend. Archer could be counted on for anything. The man was Robert’s right arm, his co-conspirator, and, at times, his saviour.

“I am, Archer,” he answered, giving the man a wicked grin and patting his shoulder.

He knew what Archer was asking. Would there be a lady returning on his arm tonight? Somehow, Robert doubted it, not unless Jane could be persuaded, but, after last night, he thought it unlikely.

“I believe I am a-wooing, Archer. With a lonely night ahead.”

The valet nodded, and the look in his eye told Robert, Archer had his own wooing to do.

“You may have the night off. I’ll not need you again.” If Robert’s luck did come in by some remote chance, he could manage alone. Jane was clearly not a woman who appreciated frills and fuss. He suddenly remembered her excitement over bluebells in the woods at Farnborough when they’d been young. She’d been easily pleased then.

A smile still playing on his lips, Robert left the room.

He felt a sense of purpose he’d not known in ages, and blood pumped into his veins.

Yes, this was what he enjoyed, the invigorating pleasure of the chase.

Robert strode into the Coleford’s soirée with a feeling of expectation and scanned the people gathered in the drawing room.

He was pleased with himself. After a quick trip to White’s, he’d discovered Violet’s whereabouts, and if Lady Rimes was here, then Jane would be, too.

Standing taller than many of those around him, Robert had the perfect vantage point from which to spot his black-clad quarry, but one swift glance revealed nothing.

“Lord Barrington!” Robert turned and faced a slender blonde, a former conquest, Lady Shaw. She wrapped her fingers about his arm as if claiming him.

Robert unwound them about to give her a polite set down, but the Earl of Coleford chose the same moment to welcome his late arrival.

It was a timely rescue, and Lady Shaw withdrew.

“Barrington, I did not expect you, but you are welcome.”

Coleford had been a friend of Robert’s father, and the man had a daughter to marry off, so any bachelor within a thousand-mile radius was welcome. Even Robert’s rakish ways were no deterrence when weighed in balance to his title and wealth.

“Lord Coleford.” He shook the man’s hand and offered a slight bow. “I was unexpectedly available and heard my friend Lord Sparks was attending. I hope you will forgive my intrusion.”

“Forgive it.” The man laughed. “You forget how close your father and I were, Barrington. You should know you are always welcome here. Have you met my daughter?”

Robert was impatient to see Jane but pinned a smile on his face regardless, and greeted Coleford’s girl, an attractive brunette with a bright, wide smile and sparkling blue eyes, but far too shallow and light-headed for Robert’s tastes. He did not do young, and he did not do innocent.

After several minutes of making polite conversation, he took the opportunity to ask Coleford if he’d seen Sparks.

Coleford pointed him in the direction of the garden, and Robert excused himself.

His heart kicked into a quicker beat as he stepped through the French door and felt a cool evening breeze.

He saw Lady Rimes immediately. She was strolling with Sparks along a path leading away from the house, but Jane was not with them.

Robert crossed the lawn in long, swift strides, a carefree feeling reminiscent of his youth rising inside him. He called out as he neared them, “Sparks!”

The couple stopped and both looked back. Sparks gave Robert a slanting smile and turned fully, while Lady Rimes merely glared.

“I did not expect to see you here, Robert?” Sparks stated.

Robert’s feet were firmly rooted to the spot. He could not find any words to ask them about Jane without being bloody obvious. “I thought … ” He stopped.
Lord in heaven
, he felt like he had at nineteen when he’d first expressed his feelings to Jane. It was idiotic. The only thing to do was just ask. It was hardly out of character for him to chase a woman. “Where is the Dowager Duchess of Sutton? I’d presumed she would be in your company, Lady Rimes.” He gave her a swift, brief bow, then cast her one of his most charming smiles.

She waved a hand at him in a dismissive gesture. “You need not seek to win me over, Barrington. She shall not heed my opinion, and besides, she is not here. She is not feeling well.”

Confused, Robert merely stared.

“She has the headache, my Lord,” Lady Rimes clarified. “Perhaps because you have been hounding her. You take advantage then flaunt yourself with another woman. Her Grace is … ” She stopped, offering him a flint-like stare which clearly judged and weighed him worthless. But then her voice dropped to a confidential tone, “She is not one of
us,
my Lord.” Her slim eyebrows lifted in arch punctuation of her words. “Do not toy with her. She is no flirt, Barrington, and she does not have the resources to fend off men like you. If you have any honour left in your soul, you will leave her be.”

Her head spun to look up at Sparks. “Forgive me, my Lord. I find the company not to my liking. You may seek me in the card room later.” With that and a swish of lemon silk, the woman was gone.

Robert looked at Sparks. “I take it Lady Rimes does not like me overmuch.”

“Not if you upset her friend,” Sparks answered then held out his hand. “Good evening, Robert. Do you want to get a drink?”

Robert nodded as they shook hands, then he fell into step beside Geoff, and together, they walked back across the lawn.

“She’s right though.”

“What?” Robert queried, his gaze drifting across the various couples spread about the lawn enjoying the first lukewarm night of the season.

“Violet is right about the Dowager Duchess of Sutton. She is not your usual sort. I would back off if I were you.”

Robert stopped, and Sparks stopped too, his eyes turning to Robert.

“Has she been speaking of me? What has she said?”

Sparks laughed.

“What?” Robert felt suddenly irritated.

“Calm down, old friend.” Sparks’s hand lay on Robert’s shoulder. “It is just she asked the same of you, in a roundabout way, and no, she has not spoken. Your little widow is a very private person from what I have seen. I doubt she would even share her secrets with Vi. But both Violet and I know because we saw you bring her home.”

Robert felt heat rise on his skin. Why should he feel remorseful? She was not a sixteen-year-old virgin with a reputation to lose any more. She was a widow with a life of her own, and, no doubt, a list of lovers in her past. She had been married to a man older than her grandfather, for God’s sake.

Still, he felt the need to preserve her reputation. “Then you will also know nothing untoward occurred. If it had, she would have been home at dawn.” Robert answered Sparks’s knowing gaze with a look that said “
you’re wrong.
”

“As you say, Robert, but the warning stands. She’s vulnerable. If I were you, I would leave her alone.”

Robert smirked. He did not like being told what to do, and no matter how much he liked Sparks, Robert was not about to be warned off the only woman he’d ever considered his. “No.” Answering in one syllable, he moved to turn away. Sparks caught his arm.

“Robert, think about it and take care.” Robert yanked his arm free. “
I mean of her,
” the man said to Robert’s back.

~

Jane weaved through the people promenading along Oxford Street and glanced back at Violet’s footman following two paces behind her. He carried a bonnet she’d bought, in a box, and the ribbons and lace she’d purchased as a gift for Violet.

Jane had come out to clear her head, having spent hours thinking about how to beat Joshua and receiving no God-given inspiration. But now her head was aching again as the afternoon crush of shoppers hindered her path.

Ahead of her, a curricle slowed in the road. It caught her eye because the movement was odd. Glancing up, she was greeted by the sight of her stepson.

How on earth had he found her?

Preparing to climb down, Joshua handed his reins to a groom clothed in yellow and brown striped livery.

Jane immediately turned and began forcing her way back against the tide of shoppers.

“Your Grace!” the footman called as she pressed on in a sudden panic, twisting and turning between the passers-by, leaving him behind.

She was in no mood to face one of Joshua’s scenes in such a public place.

“Your Grace!” Violet’s footman called again.

Jane glanced back and saw Joshua had not dismounted after all. His curricle was creeping along a little behind her, his horses following her at a walk while he watched her.

She would not outrun him in the crush of people. He would keep his pace beside her no matter what she did. As usual, he had the advantage.

She pressed on, weaving through the human traffic, and sifted through her options. She was not far from Violet’s. As she approached the junction to Bond Street, she considered turning there, but the crowd was currently protecting her. If she did so, she would lose that protection. She did not turn.

When she reached the curb, a road-sweep boy stepped down to brush a fresh path for her and two gentlemen who walked behind her.

The boy held out his grubby hand.

Jane reached into her reticule for a coin and heard another deep voice hail her from along the road.

“Your Grace!” A voice she recognised with an instinctive lift of her heart, even though she knew it came at the worst moment.

Oh heavens, could this get any more complicated?

Dropping a two-penny piece into the road-sweep’s dirty palm, she glanced up.

Robert sat on his high perch phaeton, pulled by a magnificent pair of blacks, approaching the junction she’d crossed. He was smiling, and he lifted his hand.

She turned away, refusing to acknowledge him while Joshua was watching. She just caught Robert’s expression slip into a confused grimace.

There was a bookshop a little further along; holding her breath, she headed for it.

When she glanced back, she saw Joshua’s eyes focus on a large town coach which had pulled across his path to turn into Bond Street.

Ahead, Robert climbed down from his curricle, having handed his reins to his groom.

She sighed in frustration, then finally, the bookshop was there, and she darted inside.

The bell above the door rang.

“May I help you, Ma’am?” A mouse-like shop assistant was immediately at her side. Jane dismissed him with a flick of her hand.

“I have merely come to browse.”

Her heart was still pounding in a steady thump, the pace of a grandfather clock. She could see Robert’s curricle through the shop window. It stood vacant.

Hiding her agitation, she took an aisle between the narrow shelves and hurried to its end, then slipped about the corner and stood with her back against the end of the row. Her breathing was ragged and unsteady.

The shop bell rang again.

Glancing along the back row of books, Jane saw a middle-aged gentleman studying the shelves at the end of the next aisle. She busied herself reading the spines of the books on the shelf facing her.

Heavy, confident strides echoed along the aisle beside her.

Jane held her breath, unsure whether to try to run or simply stay and face whichever one of her antagonists it was.

“Jane.”

Robert.

Her breath slipped out on a deep sigh, and, despite herself, she had a sudden feeling of relief. His familiar face was a comfort, even if he was glaring at her.

“I was on my way to call upon you. I do not see why there is any need to avoid me? I am surely not such a monster. I believe the other night was—”

She shot him a meaningful look and turned her gaze to the gentleman further along the aisle.

Robert looked contrite when she faced him again. “Perhaps we could look for a tea shop?”

“No, thank you, my Lord. I am busy.” Her initial relief had waned. She had nothing to say to him, after all, and he was the last person she would wish to know of her problems with Joshua.

She moved to pass him, but he gripped her elbow, though not painfully, just with a pressure she felt sought to deliver some message he could not speak in public.

“I was bringing your winnings,” he said in an over-earnest voice, his eyebrows lifting, “and—”

“Look, my Lord, I gave you no money, they are not really my winnings. Keep it. Please. I am shopping.” Whatever it was he wished to say, she did not wish to hear it. She had enough concerns without Robert making her life more complicated.

His brow furrowed, and his eyes studied her with greater intensity. “Ja—”

She glared at him and moved her eyes to remind him of the gentleman playing audience.

He recommenced, “
Your Grace
, I thought only to offer to take you for a drive. If you are busy today, what if I called tomorrow?”

Jane lost patience. She was in no mood for his dogged denial. She’d slept poorly the night before, and she was far too tired to play Robert’s cat and mouse games. She neither had the time nor the inclination for it. She was still feeling shaky from her flight from Joshua. She just wished Robert would accept that no meant no. “Or, my Lord, you could simply not call.” Jane knew her reaction was waspish, but she was exhausted. He knew nothing of her now.

His eyes narrowed. “Not call?” His voice said he thought her completely mad.

Jane backed away a single step, her arm pulling against his grip. Why must he make things even harder? Her gloved hand lay on his chest, on his morning coat, over his heart, holding him back as he would have stepped forward. “Please, my Lord, just leave me alone. I have enough to cope with at the moment.”

His expression clearing, he answered curtly, “If that is what you wish.” Then his fingers let go her arm and lifted to the brim of his hat, and he bowed. “Your Grace, excuse my interruption.” He turned on his heel and began walking away. But at that moment, the shop bell rang again.

Jane looked along the aisle and saw Violet’s footman, and beyond him, through the glass door, Joshua’s curricle stood before the shop.

Damn the man
.

She looked back at what was currently the lesser of two evils, her gaze narrowing on her former swain’s back. “Lord Barrington! Wait! If you would?”

He halted and turned back, lifting his gloved hands in an expression of disbelief.

“Either you wish me to stay or you wish me to go? Which is it, Your Grace?”

Fully able to swallow her pride for the sake of security, Jane rushed forward and gripped his arm. “It is stay. Please, my Lord, would you take me home? My head is aching. I do not feel up to walking now. If you would take me up in your phaeton, I would be extremely grateful.”

“Lord, Jane, you do blow hot and cold,” he whispered in a growl.

She said nothing, but, gripping the crook of his arm, let him lead her along the aisle.

“Jack,” she said to the footman as they reached the door, “Lord Barrington is going to escort me. I will no longer be walking.”

“Your Grace.” The man bowed, but she caught his look of confusion as he rose.

“Your Grace?” She turned her attention back to Robert, at the question in his voice. “Is something wrong?” His words were solicitous and quietly spoken, his deep burr just for her ears as he drew open the door for her. “Are you truly unwell? You’re shaking.”