Once Upon a Rake Read online

  “Will you let me view the records then? Perhaps I could come by?”

  She didn’t trust him to get around to sending them to Broadstone. He clearly didn’t think she had anything useful to put into the matter.

  His brows dipped and he paused in the middle of the path. “I suppose.”

  “It would be much easier than having them sent here,” she insisted. “You would not need to be present and I will not make a pest of myself, I promise.”

  “I’m sure you would not.”

  “I know you don’t think I can help, but I have a keen eye. I manage all the accounts at Broadstone. Edward trusted me completely.”

  “Edward—” He let out a frustrated growl and released her arm so as to face her. “Edward was damned lucky to have you and he knew it. Likely he would have let you do anything you wish. Honestly, dragging a young girl halfway around the world, what was he thinking?”

  “Edward was a fine man! He treated me like a grown woman, unlike many people.”

  “If you were mine I would not have made you suffer for the sake of bugs.”

  “I thought you admired Edward’s work!” Indignation made her straighten. How dare he insult her late husband! How dare he dismiss everything she had done these past seven years!

  Lucian paused and seemed to shake himself. Just the tiniest movement of his tall form. His gaze locked firmly onto hers and it grew dark. “You deserved better.”

  His words rang in her ears. What game was this? “I was lucky to marry Edward, not the other way around,” she said quietly. “Many ladies would suffer far worse than what I have to achieve such a rank, and I did not suffer. I enjoyed travelling and Edward was kind to me. Do not disparage our match when you know full well no other man would have had me.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “You were more attracted to your horse, was that not what you said?”

  “I said I was no more attracted to you than my horse.”

  “Exactly.”

  He closed the gap between them so that their toes were almost touching. A hand came up to grip her arm. She felt herself being coaxed back.

  “I may have been wrong about that.”

  “You are attracted to your horse?” she asked snidely.

  “I was wrong about you, Ellie. I was wrong to speak in such a manner. I regret that night sincerely.”

  Eleanor shook her head. “I don’t believe you feel an ounce of regret. You were happy to continue in your usual rakish manner with no thought for me. I may have been out of the country but Mama kept me apprised of your adventures.”

  “Just because a man does not know of any other way to behave, does not mean he doesn’t have regrets. I have many. You are my biggest.”

  She sucked in a breath. What was he talking of? Was this a ploy? An attempt to charm her and keep her out of his business perhaps? He leaned over her, forcing her to lift her chin to look at him. The prickly touch of a bush against her back made her jolt.

  A deep ache gathered low in her body and her skin grew hot. The breeze around them could not be called a gale of any sorts, yet she felt as though she was caught in a tempest when she stared at Lucian. Snared in a whirlwind with no escape.

  He pressed his chest to hers and her nipples jabbed against her bodice again. She kept her hands to her sides and curled her fingers back into the tree to grip the branches. The great fog that crowded her mind refused to dissipate and her thoughts would not come free. What was she doing?

  “My biggest regret, Ellie,” he murmured. “How shall I ever redeem myself?”

  His lips were tauntingly close. She still recalled their firm heat upon hers, the shock of them and how he had tasted of whisky. The roll of desire through her body was familiar too but at seventeen she hadn’t been aware of what it meant. Now she knew. She wanted Lucian as a wife wanted a husband and a husband usually wanted a wife. But Edward had not. He did his duty when he had to but he struggled. She was simply too bony and plain to entice him, she supposed.

  So why did she believe, even for a moment, that a man like Lucian would find her appealing?

  Eleanor released her death grip on the tree, pulling some of the leaves with her. Many moments longer and it would be too late. His lips were so close. Would one kiss hurt?

  Yes.

  “I’m not doing this again.” She flattened her hands to his chest. “I will not let you do this to me again. I am not a toy, Lucian. You can’t play games with me.”

  Regret shuttered his gaze but he did not move back. “I know very well this is no game. I would be a fool to play it if it was. Hell, I am a bloody fool.”

  He closed the gap with a muttered curse.

  Chapter Eleven

  Rakes Don’t Dance

  “Ellie!” a shrill voice rang out.

  Lucian jerked his head back. Ellie remained frozen and he realised his hands had snaked around her waist. When in the devil had that happened? Her eyes were smoky as she gazed up at him. Damnation, he really had learned nothing since last time. What was he thinking? That kissing her might make up for his disgusting behaviour towards her? Or that it might push her away once more and keep her out of his business for good?

  Either way it was a bad plan. Yes, he had regrets about what he had done to her. Funny what a near death experience did to a man. He had reflected on every wrong thing he had done and though he could not claim to be a changed man or even a remotely honourable one, he regretted hurting Ellie. Most of his antics had involved willing women. Ellie had never deserved such treatment.

  “Ellie!”

  It was the baroness. Bloody hell, he certainly wasn’t going to let history repeat itself. He dropped his hands from her waist and saw the dreamy haze snap away. Small lines furrowed her brow and her lips—those tempting lips like a splash of red wine—pursed in annoyance.

  He had only just stepped back by the time the older woman’s footsteps sounded nearby. He saw the way Ellie’s composure snapped into place. Her posture grew regal, her chin lifted. Outwardly, she appeared serene, but surely she could not be? Not if she was anything like him.

  A raging fire had been set alight inside him and it would not go out. If it was any other evening, he might have blamed the wine but he had not indulged yet. He’d been keen to slip through the ballroom and linger long enough to ensure the hostess had seen his presence before making himself scarce. He’d never really intended to come, yet had somehow responded with an affirmative and found himself standing outside the hall weeks later. And he had certainly not counted on catching her outside

  Lucian had enjoyed touching her though. Far too much. Something very wrong was going on here. Was it the purple gown and the way the ruffles drew attention to her cleavage or the way her long body was emphasised perfectly by the cinched waist? Perhaps it was the artful arrangement of curls that softened her jaw and displayed a graceful neck.

  In fact, the longer he peered at her, the more he found things to admire. Like the dip of her collarbone that had a slight sheen right now and the narrowness of her wrists that he knew his hand could wrap around easily.

  When he heard the footsteps nearly upon them, he offered Ellie his arm. She took it without question and they strode out onto the main path as if they had been taking a leisurely stroll.

  “Ah, there you are,” the baroness said breathily. “Your guests are asking after you. And Lord Rushbourne, how are you? I did not think you had come though we did get your response.”

  “Forgive me, my lady, I was delayed and didn’t wish to make an entrance. Ellie needed some air, so I thought it wise to ensure she did not faint.”

  “How thoughtful of you.” Lady Browning’s expression softened and a twinkle entered her gaze.

  His insides shrivelled. He recognised that look. He had been avoiding it ever since he had turned seventeen. Mothers spotted him and saw a target for which to send their daughters towards.

  “Are you well, my dear?” she asked Ellie.

  “Quite well, Mama. As Visco
unt Rushbourne was saying, I had need of some air. It is terribly stifling in there and I have been dancing the entire evening.”

  “You have indeed.” Lady Browning glanced at him. “She is quite popular with the local gentleman here. I dare say my little Ellie has gained many admirers tonight.”

  Lucian found himself holding onto Ellie’s arm a little tighter. No doubt they were all angling for a shot at her wealth. Damn fools. There was more to life than wealth and more to...well, more to Ellie than that too.

  “Will you come in and dance, my lord?” Ellie’s mother asked as they began their stroll back to the house. She slipped her arm through his and he was surrounded by Browning women. Lord, what a fix he had found himself in.

  “I seldom dance these days, my lady.”

  “But you will make an exception for Ellie, will you not?”

  “Mama! “ Ellie’s protest came.

  “Of course I shall,” he replied through gritted teeth. Good Lord, the last thing he needed was more touching, more staring. He’d had quite enough of Ellie Browning for one night, thank you very much.

  It interested him, however, how the baroness did not find him as repulsive a prospect as she had when he had been caught kissing Ellie. He had thought he would be done for. As good as married. But the parents had insisted on her marrying Edward so as to ‘save’ Ellie from him.

  The baroness disengaged her arm and waved them towards the dance floor. He was surprised she did not shove him forwards, or better yet, boot him up the arse to ensure he could not back out. A waltz was starting up. He groaned inwardly. Perfect.

  Dancers filled the floor and Lucian led Ellie out to join them, her gloved hand tucked into his. He swallowed and felt a trickle of sweat drip down his spine. He’d not danced since the fire and it seemed all eyes were upon him.

  Ellie’s grip tightened on his hand. He peeked at her to see her throat work and when he brought her into position, placing his palm on her waist, he noted the frantic flutter of the pulse in her neck. Much as he would have liked to have thought he could claim to have that effect on her, from the rigid tension in her body, he strongly suspected it was nerves.

  “Do you not like the waltz? I thought you enjoyed dancing,” he said quietly before the orchestra started up.

  “Yes, country dances, and ones where no one was watching me carefully to see me make the wrong moves,” she replied through clenched teeth.

  “No one is watching you carefully, Ellie. They are all staring at me. I have not attended a ball since the fire.”

  Her eyes widened a little. “So why attend this one?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “It would have been impolite for me not to.” The words felt hot on his tongue, as though the lie had scalded him. Yet that had been his reasoning. However, now he was not sure if he had not wanted the excuse to come and see her.

  The music began and so did the dancers. Lucian found his feet remembered and he swept her easily around the dance floor. For a while she remained rigid and hard to manoeuvre, like a stubborn mount, but as she eased into it and began to trust him, her body began to mould to his and their movements became fluid. By halfway through the dance, her cheeks had filled with warmth and a sparkle had entered her gaze.

  “See? You did not need to fear.”

  “Shhh, I’m concentrating.”

  He laughed. “I do not believe that for a moment. You are a natural.”

  “Not normally I am not,” she confessed.

  Did that mean something? That she became fluid and elegant in his arms? Under the golden light of the chandeliers, her hair glowed like a halo around her head. Vibrancy and a youthful shine emanated from her while he grew aware of the small waist under his palms. He felt the boning of her corset and each rise and fall of her ribs. She shifted a little closer when the music swelled and they nearly danced into another couple. Heat radiated between them and if he was not careful he was going to disgrace himself on the dance floor in front of the entire county.

  Damn and blast, what was happening?

  When the dance ended, she uttered a breathless, “Thank you.”

  The surroundings began to filter in and he noted many sets of eyes were upon them, including eager male eyes. Deep inside, his gut clenched and annoyance knifed through him. He made a great show of leading her off the dance floor as though she were his before dropping a kiss to her gloved fingers.

  Ellie’s crimson lips parted when he did so. A tingle raced through him at the touch of fabric to his lips. When had he ever been excited by kissing a blasted glove? Christ, it really must have been far too long. Perhaps it was time to seek out someone to join his bed for the night—most likely a paid companion, for who else would have him now?

  Ellie?

  Pish, not likely. The woman went rigid in his arms when he tried to kiss her and he could not forget the damage he had done to her. He wouldn’t make it worse by pursuing her. Besides which, she was a wealthy, well-travelled widow. From the looks she was garnering, she had her pick of admirers.

  What was the world coming to when he considered tumbling little Ellie Browning and it looked like half the male population of Yorkshire did too?

  “Thank you, Lucian,” she said breathlessly. “I enjoyed that.”

  “As did I,” he confessed before he could stop himself.

  More warmth entered those grey eyes. How had he ever thought them dull? But before he could say anything further, a nearby gentleman requested the next dance from her. Lucian glared at him and wished for the ability to stare holes into the man’s head, but apparently he didn’t have such an ability as the man was still standing.

  Ellie consented and bid Lucian good evening, leaving him standing on the edge of the dance floor, powerless to do anything but seethe as she was swept into another man’s arms. It was no good. He would have to try harder to rid himself of Ellie and this peculiar effect she had on him. No more indulging her feminine whims to have some kind of a say in the mill. No more, he promised himself, as he turned away from the sight of her beaming smile and another man’s hands upon her.

  No more.

  Chapter Twelve

  The Power of a Damp Shirt

  When Lucian did not contact Eleanor about the accounts even a week later, she took it upon herself to ride to Balmead. Let him see if he could ignore her again when she was on his doorstep. Admittedly he had done a fine job of it the first few times she had tried to meet with him, but they were not yet reacquainted at the time. Surely he would not do so again?

  He did not, but he seemed in an awful mood when he led her into the study. Lucian’s behaviour had been odd at the ball if she thought about it—the abrupt declarations of wrongdoing and the way he had held her so tenderly as he danced with her. There had even been a softness in his eyes that she’d never seen before. Who was this man?

  Though she had to admit, as he thrust a finger towards the stack of books with an almost grunt like sound, she recognised this man. He had been like this with her at their first meeting and then on the train. But why the sudden reversion?

  “I will not take long,” she promised as she settled herself behind the mahogany desk and studied the spines.

  He snorted. “You have two years’ worth here, my lady. You’ll be lucky if it does not take you more than two years to read through the things.”

  Eleanor sighed. Yes, he was probably right, but there were a few things she wanted to look into. Some discrepancies in the latest reports that she needed to compare to the older ones.

  Striding over to the window, he turned his back to her. “I don’t see what you think you will find.”

  She found herself admiring that back, even if he was being deliberately rude. Her fingers tingled as she remembered what it felt like to touch those wide shoulders and be held practically against him. Lucian’s body spoke of hard work and time in the saddle. He used to fence, she recalled. Did he still do so? And what would that hard body look like out of his frock coat and shirt? The only man she had see
n properly unclothed was Edward and there hadn’t been much of him that was hard, though he had been lean. Some of the natives they had met had not worn much but she doubted any looked like Lucian.

  “I do not mean to insult your staff, my lord,” she finally replied, feeling the need to dampen the heat rising up her neck.

  Eyes narrow, jaw set, he whirled on her. “Goddamn it, Ellie, we have known each other since infancy. I am Lucian. Cease this prim and proper act before I lose my wits. Enough with this ‘my lord’ nonsense.” He mimicked her voice briefly. “You are above me. You could call me a bloody donkey’s arse if you wanted to, but enough with ‘my lord’.”

  Eleanor’s ears burned at his coarse language and she was half tempted to shrink into the chair and slide under the table to hide. Drawing her shoulders back, she summoned the courage that had pushed her through the last seven years of her life. No matter what people thought of her, how plain they deemed her to be, she would strive to be the best she could be and that meant behaving with grace and certainty.

  “I shall cease calling you my lord when you cease calling me Ellie.”

  He glared at her for a long time. She was mighty glad looks could not kill or else she would have been dead in seconds. The ticking of the grandfather clock to her left echoed in her ears.

  “I will not cease. It is your name is it not?”

  “My name is Lady Eleanor Sedgewick, Countess of Hawthorne. Not Ellie or Ellie Browning or little Ellie or anything of that nature. I beg you to remember that.”

  More ticking. More long moments of being stared at and then his shoulders dropped a little. “You’re right, I should remember that. Forgive me, my lady.” He unlatched his hands from behind him and gestured to the bell pull. “Simmons has been instructed to bring you tea and will be attending to you should you need him.”

  “Where are you going?” she asked, regret drumming in her chest at his dulled expression. She almost wished he was shouting at her or trying to aggravate her in some manner. This side of Lucian she didn’t know what to do with.