The Rake's Midnight Lady
The Rake’s Midnight Lady
Copyright Kate Harper@2011
Chapter One
Miss Abigail Margate crouched behind a winged chair, heart pounding so hard she felt as if whoever had just entered the room must surely hear it. She took several deep breaths to calm herself, grateful that she’d had the presence of mind to have scrambled for cover the moment she had heard the door handle turning.
Peeking around the edge of the chair, Abbey caught a glimpse of well-polished hessians. As her gaze traveled upwards, her heart began to hammer all the harder; she had been hoping that the interruption would be no more than a servant, coming to check the fire in the hearth or to light several more tapers. Instead the familiar face of Lord Hanwood, Earl of Huntingdon met her appalled gaze. He was the last person she had been expecting to see tonight! Abbey bit her lip, fingers tightening on her reticule. Inside were the letters she had risked so much to retrieve, letters that her improvident cousin Cecile had written to his Lordship’s ward Edward. As mortifying as it would be to be discovered, it would be far worse to have her good work undone if Hanwood discovered her and guessed at the reason behind her presence in his library! Edward, possessed of a considerable fortune, which he would attain on his twenty-first birthday in a little less than two months, had the rare good fortune to have not one, but three men entrusted with his welfare. And Hanwood, curse him, intended to use Cecile’s – admittedly
colorful
– missive to convince his fellow guardians to postpone his inheritance for twelve months as Edward had expressed his desire to marry her cousin.
Abbey was extremely fond of Cecile, who had shown her nothing but kindness since her arrival from Derbyshire several months ago. The poor girl was so cast down by the prospect of not marrying the man she loved that she seemed in danger of going into a decline which was why Abbey had decided to take matters into her own hands. Lord Hanwood was far too used to having things go his way. It was high time somebody did something to take the wind out of his sails.
She shot another surreptitious look around the edge of the chair. The only time she had seen Hanwood was at the balls and routs that made up such a large part of the London Season. Lord Hanwood, the Earl of Huntingdon was certainly popular enough to rate an entrée into any salon. With his income, position and address he could do no wrong, although what brief glimpses she’d had of him since coming to London seemed to suggest that he was as arrogant as he was handsome. Abbey had watched him from the sidelines, watched the way his mouth was inclined to curl distain whenever some hopeful young lady attempted to catch his eye – and the great good fortune of becoming his wife. She had not
wanted
to look at him for she was quite certain he was exactly the kind of man that she most disliked but there was something about him that continually drew her gaze. In fact, he seemed to exert the most extraordinary fascination on her and she found herself looking for him at the endless array of engagements that made up her social calendar since her arrival in London. That she did so was not a little vexing for she had met his kind before; proud, cold men who believed they were superior in every way to those lesser beings around them, an attitude she most cordially despised. But dislike him as she did, it did not stop her from looking for his tall, distinguished figure at every opportunity, nor listening to the gossip that followed the mention of his name; who he had danced with, which girl he had graced with his favor and the endless speculation as to who might be selected to become that most fortunate of creatures; Lady Hanwood, the Marchioness of Huntingdon.
Speculate as people would, Abbey had never seen anything in those dark eyes but polite boredom, no matter how hard some pretty young hopeful tried to please. If Hanwood was planning on fixing his interest with anyone, he gave no outward indication of it.
At the balls and dances Abbey had seen him at he had been a picture of elegance in satin and lace but tonight he was more informally dressed in a plain black breeches and coat, the white cravat at his throat the only touch of color. Somehow it made him seem far less austere and a great deal more attractive. No wonder the wretched man set half the women’s hearts in London aflutter!
Abbey heard the door once more and swiftly withdrew her head once more. ‘My Lord!’ A woman’s voice. Soft and rich, it was made all the more attractive by the thread of laughter running beneath it. ‘Are you hiding from me? I swear, you will not be still for more than five minutes at a time.’
‘Have done Rosie,’ Hanwood sounded impatient, ‘I am in no mood for this tonight.’
‘So it seems, my angel. I confess, I grow concerned. I have not seen you for a sennight.’ The words were a throaty purr.
‘I was down at Greyhaven.’
‘So your steward told me. What took you to Devon?’
‘Estate business.’ Hanwood replied briefly.
There came the soft rustle of silk, ‘My Lord? Will you not tell me what troubles you? You know I can chase your cares away…’
Behind the shelter of her chair, Abbey shifted uncomfortably. As unnerving as it was to have had his Lordship in the room it was far more uncomfortable to be privy to an intimate conversation! Abbey had been aware that there was a ‘private party’ being held at his Lordship’s Eaton Square residence tonight. That was why she had taken her courage in hand to try and steal away her cousin’s love notes. She had hoped that everyone would be thoroughly occupied and so they should have been. From somewhere in the house could be heard music and the sound of laughter, both male and female, more boisterous than Abbey was used to but then, her Aunt Hester tended to accept invitations to the more sedate gatherings for her beloved daughter and her niece. In Aunt Hester’s opinion, there were many undesirable elements in society and she had no intention of her precious Cecile being subjected to any of them.
‘Would it be impolite to suggest that I am in no mood for this right now?’ The cool voice was ironic, ‘Whilst I appreciate your solicitude, my dear Rosie, I have other things on my mind tonight.’
Unable to resist, Abbey peeked out from behind the chair once more. A woman, quite breathtakingly lovely although clearly no longer in the first bloom of youth, was standing before his Lordship, hands on hips, long golden hair unbound and hanging down her back. Abbey almost gasped out loud at the sight of her and not just because the lady had unlaced the bodice of her gown, exposing full, creamy breasts. She was astonished because it really
was
a lady standing before Hanwood; none other than Lady Rose Langley, wife to the aging – but exceedingly wealthy – Lord Langley. Abbey had heard that the woman was notorious for taking younger lovers. It seemed that Hanwood was one of them.
The woman’s pout was a sultry invitation. ‘My dear, I can take your mind off your troubles. It is my special talent.’ She moved closer, hips swaying. ‘What is it? You have hardly been yourself these last few weeks.’
Hanwood’s lips twisted. ‘The future. A dreary subject but inescapable of late, it seems.’
The woman shrugged. ‘Tis marriage, I suppose. Find some silly little chit of good breeding and wed her. An inconvenience, I know, but a man must secure his line.’
‘Good God Rosie, you sound like my relatives! So you think it fair to saddle some poor innocent to me in marriage, knowing that she’s only there to breed an heir?’
‘Why not? It’s common enough. You only need to do your duty by her. Beyond that…’ she gave a soft laugh, moving towards him, ‘there are
other
entertainments to be found.’
The look on Hanwood’s face had Abbey transfixed. There was something there for a moment, a flicker of dissatisfaction that was gone almost as soon as it appeared. After a moment, Hanwood gave a wry smile and reached for her. ‘You’re a shameless wanton Rose Langley. Do you mean to seduce me in my own library?’
‘We can retreat to your bedchamber if you prefer.’ Rosie’s voice was full of satisfaction now, ‘Although I’ve a fancy to have you take me across the desk…’
Behind her chair, Abbey flushed, horrified at what she was hearing, even more horrified because the passion she glimpsed on Hanwood’s face sent something dark and dangerous shivering across her nerve ends. Just for a moment, she wondered what it would be like to have him look at
her
like that, to have those hands reaching for her, pulling her against that long, hard body… Mad or not, the idea of Lord Hanwood taking her into his arms was enough to make her knees go weak with unfamiliar desire.
Once again Abbey retreated, hand pressed against her mouth, eyes shut tight as if she could block out the intensity of the mental imagery she had conjured. Bad enough that the man haunted her dreams but to have such thoughts about him!
I must be mad
, Abbey thought in disgust,
to want a notorious rake like Hanwood to touch me
. Respectable young ladies didn’t think such things and yet the sight of his Lordship somehow managed to bring out the most unseemly thoughts and a heat deep within that stirred her profoundly.
There was the noise, the rustle of papers and the clink of metal or china, the kind of noises that convinced Abbey that her Ladyship might be having her way about the desktop. Abbey gave the French doors she had entered by an agonized look. No more than ten feet separated her from freedom. Cautiously, she peeked around the side of the chair, unsurprised to see Lady Langley half lying across the desk, his Lordship’s dark head bowed as he explored her full breasts with his mouth. Abbey felt herself go warm all over, a hot flush that infused her body from head to toe. She wanted to be gone and yet the sight of his Lordship was as mesmerizing as ever, despite the circumstances.
Horrified her reactions to what she was seeing as much as by the position she was in, Abbey could take no more. His Lordship was fully occupied; there had never been a better time to make good her escape. Regaining her feet and crouching low, she crept as quickly as she was able towards the doors that spelt her freedom. And she had almost achieved them, her hand on the brass latch when that deep voice spoke again, not so lazy now but edged with the sharp certainty of command.
“Stop right there!”
Chapter Two
Abbey froze, her heart stuttering in her chest.
Run
! a part of her urged but she seemed to be rooted to the spot.
‘Turn around.’ The steely voice commanded.
As if her body was controlled by the hand of a puppeteer, Abbey turned around slowly. The woman was sitting up now, holding her dress over her breasts to cover her nakedness. If the look on her face was any indication, she was far from happy with the turn of events. Abbey nervously regarded the man who had come around the desk and was staring at her with narrowed dark eyes and wished that she could think of something other than how remarkably attractive he was. With his dark hair clipped into a queue at the nape of his neck, he looked younger than he did in his customary finery. It
should
have made him less intimidating. Instead, he appeared a far more dangerous animal, dark eyes fixed upon her with an intensity that was unnerving. The gossip that the mention of the Earl of Huntingdon always provoked echoed in her head… this was the most
scandalous
rake in England.