The Rake and The Rose (A Rake's Mistake) (4 page)

“Sir, we can have a bed made for her in the servants' quarter.” Sophie offered. “No, she stays in my rooms.”

He was annoyed that this scrap was now under his care, but he had no choice. Alexander knew he wouldn’t be able to look at his servants without remembering her condition and where she was. He couldn't have it.

“That won’t do, Alexander” Giselle griped near him trying to keep up with the pace.

“Fine.  She stays in Lady Cromwell’s previous rooms.” All three of the women stopped short.

“T-That, those are your mother’s rooms!” Giselle had turned a shade of purple, possibly because Alexander and thrown a fit when his father tried to place her there.

“And?” the snarl in his tone was worse. He felt guilt wrack him remembering the small amount of food the girl had with her, and her plea for freedom. She reminded him of a small animal, lost and hungry.

And you called her a thief for it, you damnable lout.

But once fixed, she must be on her way. No discussions about it.

“Call the doctor, and have him see to her. Francesca make sure the guests are taken care of. Sophie, go get Laura and Mary to help you clean her up.”

All scurried to do what he had commanded. Giselle had stormed off to help Francesca, muttering about scraps and beggars. They would apparently go broke with helping them all, and he felt irony set in, as his own father took her in from the impoverished streets of textile mills and near prostitution.

The girl had not stirred in his arms even after the first floor staircase when she was jostled. It worried him; blood had gotten on his sleeve and he inwardly cursed at his quick judgment of her.

When he finally reached the second floor, Mary and Laura had gone down to the ground floor to get clean rags and towels.

He stopped in front of his mother’s rooms. He had not been in her rooms since she had died; but there was no other choice. As his hand closed over the doorknob the memory of her resurfaced.

I want you to be happy Alexander…

His all too proper mother, how he had loved her smile, when it had come like the sun in winter.

Alexander had worried about putting Charlotte in the servants’ quarters on third floor, although the upper rooms although better than in most homes. It was still no place for a sick woman. Alexander placed his hand on the knob and opened the door. Francesca and the others had kept his mother’s rooms impeccable. The rose patterns on the walls and the cream carpet and lush red curtains of chiffon still were the same. The memory came back, as though she was still there.

He had come home from hunting with his father. His Aunt Giselle was there, and so was the doctor. It usually meant Mama had one of her spells while they were gone. No one knew why she was dying, but she was. She had been severely confused. Her throat constantly dry and her body would break out in clammy sweat. When she'd get sick it was red. It always frightened him. That was the last time he had seen his mother. The doctors had opened her window thinking it was bad air. They had leeched her. They had done things that had done nothing but make her worse.  But she was asking for him, and so, he went. She was pale and cold, her smile barely a whisper along her face.

“Mama, are you dying?” he had hated to ask.

His mother smiled “No child, I am just going to sleep. So I can dream. Soon you can join in, but not now. You will have to wait.”  Her smile was radiant as she touched his cheek. “You have to wait Alexander,” she whispered again.

“Mama!” he remembered clinging to her as her final whisper. 

“I’m here darling. I’m here.”

It had been too much; he mourned for years. When his father betrayed his mother and married Giselle, his mother's adopted sister, no less; scandal wasn't even the word for it. Giselle had never been invited to events, and his father had fought to give Giselle some form of respect in their circles, but it was to no avail.

His father had died, quite similarly to his mother, and they thought the illness had been transmitted, since they were husband and wife. She had been delicate. He was strong, so the doctors thought it took a longer time for it to affect him. But, they drank the same water, had eaten the same food, slept with each other, so the conclusion was that the illness had passed between them.

Alexander had been isolated from his mother when she had gotten worse, and he had shown no signs of having the same sickness. He thought his father had gotten what he deserved. He should never have married Giselle. Alexander had hated Giselle. She had always been snide to his mother, Evelyn, and his mother had done nothing but be loving and caring.

Now he had a young woman in his home, her life in his hands who was sick, wounded, and alone. He'd be damned if another innocent died in this house.

Alexander laid her on the chaise lounge, waiting for the others to get there. He stared at her for a moment, drinking in her features. She grimaced in her sleep and he startled, placing a hand to her forehead.

“Charlotte? Can you hear me? We’ll take care of you for now, all right? I am Lord Cromwell…” he thought himself daft for speaking to someone probably unable to hear him “You can call me Alexander.” He thought of how Giselle might throttle him, but cared not.

Charlotte was shivering, though. He needed to get her cleaned up too or risk the cuts festering and swelling up. He looked at the giant tub in the bathroom, porcelain and slippery. He worried the women wouldn’t be able to hold Charlotte up as they washed her. He rang for someone. Laura came rushing into the room like a runaway cart after a spell.

“Yes, my Lord?” she curtsied.

“Draw water, put it in that pot and the put it on the stove here please.”

Alexander remembered how his mother had demanded a wood burning stove so her ladies in waiting need not drag hot water from downstairs. His father had thought it silly, but the servants loved her all the more for the kindness.

He watched as she did so, and undid his outer jacket and cravat shedding it, and dragging his stained sleeves up his arms leaving his forearms bare.

Laura glanced at him questioningly. “My Lord?” she poured the hot water into the tub filling it a bit, he felt the temperature and nodded slightly.

“This is a good temperature Laura, keep it. But lower the flame a bit more.”

He scooped Charlotte up and peeled the tattered nightgown from her chemise; it hiked up slightly showing her drawers of lace and cotton. He nearly choked and knew his face had turned an interesting shade of red. He rearranged her chemise so it covered her. “Damn French and their absurd styles.” Inwardly he blessed the French and their absurd style.

“Maybe she’s a light skirt my Lord?” Laura had poured another kettle of hot water into the tub.

He waved at her. “Hush now, Laura, we do not know who she is. Let us not make any assumptions. ”

Sophie bustled in with a bottle of oil, soap from her homemade batch and brushes. “Oh, Alexander what are you doing? You shouldn’t see a woman in her unmentionables!” Sophie came in and was about to shoo him away.

“You damn well know you cannot hold her up, or if she panics hold on to her. Just wash what you can with her clothes on and have Francesca go get new ones for these are filthy. We still have mother’s things don’t we? She is small, perhaps they will fit…and at least they will be of use.”

He remembered how tiny his mother had been, but that did not mean when she meant business that nothing would get done. Alexander had loved that about his mother. The home had always been kept in neat and tidy order; the portraits kept dusted and clean, the staff happy and helpful.

“Aye sir we do. Though it’s strange you want us to use them…” Sophie and Laura cast a glance at each other; there would definitely be talk of this through the kitchens and staff.

“I feel guilty,” The crease in his forehead showed stress untold.

“That’s obvious enough.” Sophie pointedly looked at him as he scooped the girl up and set her very gently into the now warm water. Charlotte flinched abruptly and mumbled.

“Ssshhh, easy.” He patted her hair comforting.

“How do we do this?” he asked as Sophie came closer and knelt by the tub. 

“Hold her shoulders, sit behind the tub, there just like that.” Francesca came into the bathing area and was instructed to look for appropriate clothing.

“Poor dear, she was so hungry when she arrived.” She murmured, “You aren’t going to send her away are you Alexander?” Francesca’s glances showed him he had been right to take her in.

“I will let her heal and give her money to be on her way.” 

“Well, better than what The Dragon would do.” Sophie muttered taking a cloth and getting suds on it. She deftly, but gently started from her arm and hands and circled the cloth clockwise till the spot was clean. Alexander watched Charlotte carefully, lest she awaken and be frightened out of her wits, surrounded by people. 

The cuts made the girl squirm and whimper in pain. He hardened himself and had to hold his arms under her back and shoulders while Sophie leaned Charlotte back and Mary scrubbed her hair, Laura softly tugged hairpins, twigs and ties out of it. It turned out after the second dunk of water, her hair was not brown, nor black; but was auburn, how auburn he couldn’t tell. It was also very long, perhaps to her waist. The dull light of indoors made it look warm and smooth.

“Ah, a redhead!” Laura laughed, “You know how Giselle feels about redheads.”

Sophie scoffed “That woman would change her hair red if it was the fashion, and at all possible.” Alexander chuckled. He adored his workers. Being lonely was never an option and he chose colorful characters. If he should ever feel the need to chat, he knew someone in the house would be up for it, especially James. His father had taught both of them to play chess and they still enjoyed a game from time to time.

Alexander exhaled as Sophie finished her hair and he draped it over the edge of the tub with a towel to cushion her head. He dabbed as instructed along her face and washed the grime and grit away, revealing nearly flawless skin, except for a few scratches from what had probably been branches.

When she was finally clean as she could get without revealing too much. Alexander lifted her out of the tub as Sophie wrapped her in a fluffy towel, and set her onto the chaise lounge that was now covered in towels as well.

“Out, out, out!” Sophie and Laura shooed him out faster than he could protest. He resigned himself to waiting outside for any news from the doctor, and paced frequently. Francesca rushed in past him, opened and shut the door once the doctor had indeed arrived. He was a squat man and bustled in after Francesca.

Alexander realized that he had other duties. He was reminded with Giselle’s harsh glare at him when she had followed the commotion.  It was time to finally meeting the ladies in question. Inwardly he groaned, and walked down to the first floor to go to the sitting room where the ladies and their family members were.

C
hapter
03

Charlotte awakened to a cool cloth on her head, in clean clothes of soft linen and a man opening her eyelid.
 “Ah!” she shrieked and flailed wildly, trying to sit up, only to hurt herself in the process.

 "Lay still, young lady." The man  had a doctor's coat on, and he had a little black bag from which he tugged a stethoscope. He listened to her ramming heartbeat and he chuckled. "Well, you are worked up. And obviously for good reason."

He ran her through a bunch of questions, which she could not answer. After the survey he sighed, “Well, Charlotte it seems that you have a severe case of amnesia from that crack to your head. You are quite lucky you didn’t go into a coma.” The doctor inhaled and he spoke again gently. “I am Doctor Lambert, please if you have any need call on me.”

He tipped his hat to Francesca, Sophie and Mary; and bustled out. They all swarmed her and were chattering excitedly. “So, amnesia, hmm…” Sophie smiled “Well whoever you might be, I am going to have you help me in the kitchen, either way it won’t hurt a pretty thing like you to learn how to cook. But now that you feel better, why not one more bath to get nice a scrubbed?”

Francesca clapped her hands. “Good idea, besides I want to see what your hair looks like without all that grit and grease,” Laura chimed in.

Charlotte blushed furiously “I’m sorry I am such a mess. Thank you, you all have been so kind to me.” They all smiled at her and Mary patted her hand comfortingly.

“We all have been there.” When Charlotte looked at them confused they all glanced knowingly at each other, each of them had faced poverty and lack of hygiene. It was the highest cause of illness. Each and every one of them, before arriving at the Cromwell Estate had lived in a harsh environment.

When she was scrubbed nearly raw of dirt and grime, they attacked her hair with a soap of lavender and soaked her hair in oils from roses. It smelled wonderful and she sighed, content.

“I say, Miss I am very sorry but I said you might have been a light skirt.” Mary’s voice was timid. 

Sophie’s expression admonished her, “Mary! That is not very kind of you.”

“What is a light skirt?” Charlotte’s own innocent inquiry rang out. 

“A courtesan, a mistress…” When her look was blank they all looked at each other briefly and Francesca laughed, “They have, relations with men for money.”

“Oh, is that normal?” she blushed scarlet. "What are relations?" 

“No, dear it is not normal in society.” Sophie said with a sigh. She got out of the tub and looked at her skin as she wrapped herself in a soft towel. Charlotte still hadn't been answered with what it was in the first place and frowned. 

“Well, do I look like a courtesan?” She asked her brow furrowing.

“Honestly dear, your skin is so well kept either you are a Lady, or you had quite a benefactor.” Laura said.

“Benefactor?” again with all the strange terms! Charlotte felt she would go mad.

“A man who pays for everything to have relations. Some are very generous.” Francesca explained.

“Oh, but what about…love?” she asked softly. Did she know what love was? “I find I can remember small things…I saw a couple walking on a road- they seemed very close. It looked like…love.” Charlotte shook her head and tried to remember a time where she actually knew the feeling of that word.

Sophie smiled at her gently; shaking her head “No dear, they do not have that luxury.”

“Well then I do hope I am not whatever it is you suggested!” She nodded most certain, but for her it honestly did not sound right.  Her hand flew to her throat and she realized that her necklace was still gone. Francesca swooped over with green, blue and cream dresses.

The green was a day dress, but it was very French, the deep green silk was free flowing from the empire waist. The blue was most certainly a morning dress, and soft, the sleeves puffed and the square neckline beautiful, the lace trim would highlight her chest when she breathed. It was a short-sleeved dress that spilled onto the floor.

“We will need to get you clothes that fit, but for now let’s try a few things.” Francesca said softly.

The only one that fit without tailoring or adjustments was the deep green; the silk had lighter layers that flowed about the body from the bust down to the floor and the sleeves though puffed at the shoulder, stopped at the elbow.  The square neckline even without the corset was appealing to the eye. Her hair was curling unruly and in spirals. Sophie towel dried her hair roughly, and when Charlotte lifted her hair it was a wild mess that fell to her waist in one long length.

“My, look at this!” Mary giggled, “Your hair is so curly!” She attacked the mats with a brush and soon the deep red spirals were tamed and they framed her face and stature with volume. Francesca smiled at her.

“Don’t you look prettier than a rose.” Sophie smiled warmly at her. Charlotte stared at the mirror next to the bed and was startled. The girl who looked back had bottomless eyes and blood red hair.

“The color…I couldn’t see it when I woke up, there was too much dirt.” She whispered.

“It is very unique.” Sophie pet her hair and hugged her in a maternal way “Come. Do you need anything at all dear?”

“Well, I am still somewhat hungry…can we get something to eat perchance?”

“Certainly, let’s head on down. Oh if you are feeling up to it now, I’m sure Lord Alexander will want to see you up and about.”

Alexander sat inside his study and waited for the ladies and their families to come in to be introduced to him, one by one. He knew if they did not like what they saw, that they could not introduce themselves, or let him introduce himself… and leave. He exhaled. Finding a wife was becoming bothersome, and his mind was still on Charlotte. Alexander shook himself free of any thoughts.

“Oh no, do not even go there,” he told himself sternly, and fiddled with the locket he had kept in his trouser pocket. “She is a strange little creature though…”

The sun was spilling into his study and he stretched as the light came in through the window, warming him through his troubles. As the doors opened, he sat up slightly and looked to see if it was the servant’s door, or the main door. The Duke of Essex, his wife and daughter entered. Essex was a good man and he also had a good dowry to shower on the young filly before him. She was of average size and shape, and the cute little curve of her nose intrigued him. She glanced up and her brown eyes widened at the sight of him up close and personal.

“May I introduce myself to the Lady Anne of Essex?” When she whispered and nodded to her father, the Duke nodded “You may.” The Duchess of Essex looked at him with cool blue eyes unlike that of her daughter’s warm brown, and was very tall and statuesque.

“Lady Anne Essex, I am Alexander Cromwell, it would be an honor to have you and your family stay for early spring in our guest house.” He bowed to her and she curtsied.

“My Lord I would be honored to stay here, thank you.” A soft blush crept across her face and he smiled inwardly. Easier than he thought…

Charlotte had wandered down hall after hall and accidently stumbled into a young woman and two people. “Oh excuse me, I am sorry-”

“And who is she?” the girl was very beautiful in a womanly way, and her green eyes were sharp and cunning. “What a funny thing, look at that hair! Tell me you have wigs for formal events?” The eyes were like a cat’s, one bent on killing a bird in a tree, and Charlotte gulped softly.

“I rather like the color…myself…I guess.” How was she supposed to react?

“Mama, look! Have you ever seen such an interesting color?”

“Child, who is your new friend?” the mother looked just like the daughter. Cat eyes, mean cat eyes.

“I am Charlotte…" 

“Of?” The brows rose with scrutiny. 

“I beg your pardon…I don’t” she was still flustered, she only wanted to speak to Lord Cromwell, not get ridiculed.

“Ah, you must be the girl everyone is talking about!” the older woman waved her hand and easily placed it on Charlotte’s upper arm as if in sympathy. “Poor lost thing, well I am sure they can find…something… for you to do.”

With a snap of her fan, she walked on with her daughter and husband. Charlotte then learned the reason Francesca had called Giselle a five-letter word meant for a female dog.

The rest of the introductions went on in a similar fashion. He rather thought Lady Deidre had snake eyes, and a twisted smile, and her daughter's eyes and lips were no different. But, as she and her mother were standing by the door about to leave, a young woman he did not recognize wandered in. She glanced at The Lady of Devon, and Deirdre. The smile on each Ladies face was tight, as she left, they all had spoken but he hadn't caught what they had said at all, and they left the girl standing at the door, shadowed.

“May I help you?” he was unsure why she was there. “Where is your family?” and was surprised when she shut the door. “My Lady, this is highly inappropriate, surely we can discuss something in front of your family?”

“My Lord?” she stepped forward, and the light illuminated her. A ton of bricks, or a herd of horses struck him, or perhaps he had been flung off a cliff without realizing it, for the ache that struck him so quickly was so defined.

Her hair was beautifully pulled back, and dark auburn. He rather liked it, but could not tell how red it really was, for the curtains dimmed the light. The full mouth was pursed in what looked like agitation and he wondered what put it there. 
Probably those annoying Devon women.

“Have I disturbed you, my Lord?” She hovered backwards but he darted forward, forgetting his desk and hitting his knee hard across it, he grunted in pain slightly.

“Wait! No, forgive me. I was just startled and did not recognize you…Charlotte.” His voice was rough and he reined himself in, disregarding his body’s response to such a sight. She had to be mythical.  No woman could rein his attention to one place that quickly and not be. Not after Lissie.

The heartbreak of his love leaving him for some poor street merchant had left him wounded beyond belief. She had been his first love and first true friend. But she had never been able to adhere to the strict expectations of society, even as the daughter of a Viscount.

Lady Lissie had also had a...voracious appetite for carnal pleasure and for adventure. When her carnal pleasure sent her into the arms of a traveling merchant who whispered sweet nothings of the excitement of life in the Americas, what could he do? 

She was adamant to follow her wilder desires and leave Alexander. The goodbye had been overly sweet, with long drawn out explanations of how she was to go to the Americas and live her life in new wealth and adventure. But he knew what would await her there, illness, poverty, and a hard life for anyone who did not already have money.

Lissie had been adamant about her refusal, and what else could he do but grant her what she wanted. But never again would he look upon a woman in that way. His experience told him that they were to be regarded as crafty, and sneaky. Not something to be trusted. Especially when they had flame hair, and mouths that had the look of needing to be kissed, Alexander caught himself. He had been staring at her and she noticed.

She looked so different from when she was a tiny scrap on his lawn. And it surprised him why he even kept her and not just to toss her onto the magistrates! Why was he putting himself through this nonsense?!  It was absurd, and he needed to stop. There were plenty of eligible ladies waiting to meet him; ones who would bring heirs and make good wives, but this one was different. This one had the look of a lover, one who could destroy him with the flick of a gaze from those black eyes and devour his heart and soul should he give it.

He wanted to be destroyed and devoured, so badly.

I’d let you devour my soul any day…
He quickly shook that thought off.