A rakes reward, p.10
A Rake's Reward, page 10
It was distinctly odd, however, that she’d never been taught how to go on in society, to dance or converse. He supposed it was possible that she’d been sent to learn from her cousin, but Lady Darlington, clearly, had not been informed of the young lady’s ignorance.
He didn’t have long to ponder his new friend, however, as he was hailed by Lady Patrick within minutes.
“Stratton, or my Lord Reath, I suppose it is now,” the titian-haired beauty said, fluttering her eyelashes at him. “I do hope that you have not forgotten me?”
Reath could not suppress a broad smile as long nights of incredible lovemaking tickled his memory. “How could I ever forget you, Susannah? You are as beautiful as ever,” he said smoothly, lingering over her hand.
“And you are as charming as ever,” she purred.
“Did I hear correctly? Am I to offer you my condolences?”
The lady looked suitably sad. “Yes. I am afraid my dearest husband departed this world two years ago.” She looked up at him from under her eyelashes. “I am a widow—although, as you see, no longer in mourning.”
He took in her bright green dress with its shockingly low neckline. Reath wondered how she managed to keep all of her ample bosom from spilling out. Certainly, she had to move carefully to keep that from happening.
“Perhaps you will stop by my home later this evening?” she said, interrupting his perusal of her person. “I would love to welcome you back—properly.” She leaned toward him invitingly, and he did not miss her meaning.
The thought was very enticing. The brief liaison they had shared before he’d left for India had been everything a young man could have desired. She was a passionate woman, and her aging husband had been incapable of fulfilling her strong desires. Reath had been only too happy to oblige. But oddly enough, the thought of such carnal occupations did not appeal to him just at this moment.
The sweet, innocent face of Miss Whately floated in front of his mind’s eye. He shook his head to rid himself of any thoughts in that direction. She was not eligible for the sort of entertainments a man would enjoy engaging in, no matter how much he might be attracted to her. He could barely believe that he even thought of engaging in such pursuits with the sweet, innocent Miss Whately. Though he did so reluctantly, he put the idea from his mind.
What did, however, strike him as exceedingly unusual was his mood. While he enjoyed flirting with the ladies of his acquaintance, he had no desire to go any further than that. He’d had a few minutes’ conversation earlier with another of his old chère amie, and she too had wanted him to visit her. It had taken him a little while to charm her out of the pet she had taken when he’d declined her offer. He hoped Susannah wouldn’t be as difficult.
“Your offer, my dear, is extremely attractive—nearly as attractive as you,” he said to Lady Patrick. “I am afraid, however, that I have a prior engagement for this evening.”
“With whom?” she asked, a little peevishly.
Reath chuckled. “I shall not tell you, but be assured, they are not nearly as lovely.” He kissed the inside of her wrist, giving her a knowing smile.
Lady Patrick shivered with delight. “Perhaps another time then, my lord?”
Reath raised one eyebrow. “Perhaps.”
He moved on.
“Lord Reath,” another woman whispered his name just loud enough to catch his attention. This one, however, he didn’t know so well.
“Madam,” he bowed politely.
She looked at him from under thickly painted eyelashes. Her head was covered by a heavy old-fashioned wig and her face so heavily rouged and coated with powder, Reath thought for a moment that he had inadvertently stepped onto a stage in the middle of a play.
The woman ran a finger down his chest. “I am so glad you are here. I have been waiting ages for you to return,” she pouted.
“I’m sorry. I’m afraid you have the advantage.”
A smile brightened her face immediately. She batted her eyelashes at him. “I would like that so very much. And then you can take advantage of me,” she giggled suggestively.
Reath frowned. “I’m afraid, madam, that I do not know who you are.”
Her bright red mouth formed a perfect O. “Did your father never tell you about me?”
His father! This must be one of his conquests. One of his mistresses. “No. He did not.”
“Oh, well,” she gave a negligent shrug that nearly sent the sleeve of her dress slipping off her shoulder. Reath didn’t even want to think about what might pop out if that should happen. “I’ll be more than happy to acquaint you with his favorite…”
“Thank you very much, but that is not at all necessary,” Reath said, interrupting her. “I am very sorry, but I am not my father and I have no desire to pick up his affairs where he left them.” He gave the woman a sketch of a bow and walked away.
He couldn’t believe the nerve! Just because he inherited his father’s title and quite possibly his looks, didn’t mean that he wanted to inherit his mistresses as well. And for goodness sake, his father had been dead for over two years now! What was that woman thinking?
He had intended to circle the room and make for the card tables, but before he could even get close to the door, he was trapped once again.
This time it was Princess Lieven, who approached with a young lady in tow. “My lord, please allow me to present you to Miss Scott.”
Reath bowed over the young lady’s hand. He had heard of Miss Scott from Merry. She was deemed one of the season’s incomparables—and for a very good reason. She was exceptionally pretty. Her white dress was the height of fashion for a young lady, and her dark brown hair was twisted into a complicated knot at the top of her head with perfect ringlets surrounding her cherubic face.
But it was her bright green eyes that drew his attention. They looked at him in such a calculating fashion, he wondered whether she was figuring exactly how much he was worth, or how long it would take to bring him up to scratch.
The orchestra played the introduction to the next set of country dances. Reath was trapped.
“I am honored to make your acquaintance, Miss Scott. Would you care to dance?”
The young lady curtsied with the perfection of years of practice, unlike the bob that Miss Whately usually gave him. “I would be delighted, my lord.”
Leading her out onto the floor, he knew that he would not have the difficulties he’d had with Miss Whately. And, indeed, the young lady moved with grace and a certainty that was rather a relief after his last dance.
“You dance beautifully, Miss Scott.”
“Thank you, my lord. Might I say the same of you?”
He nodded.
“I imagine it is easier to dance with someone who knows the steps better than your last partner.”
“Ah, yes. Poor Miss Whately. I believe she was simply nervous. This is the first ball she has ever been to.”
Miss Scott inclined her head and smiled sympathetically.
The young lady said all the right things, not once making any disparaging remarks about his title nor asking inappropriate questions.
Reath was bored beyond belief.
Once he had been seen dancing with Miss Scott, all of the other young ladies out on the prowl that season joined in the hunt. Reath quickly realized that he didn’t stand a chance.
As soon as he left the side of one young lady, another was introduced to him.
“Oh, my Lord Reath,” one young lady giggled, “I hear you are one of the most eligible gentlemen this season.”
Reath felt the noose begin to slip over his head. He must remove it quickly or else he would be sought after in this way the entire season. “I am afraid you are mistaken, Miss Compton. I am not currently looking to marry.”
The young lady giggled again. “I have never heard of a gentleman who was, and yet they do so all the same.”
The knot scratched against his throat, momentarily making it difficult to swallow. His neck cloth began to feel rather constricting. Reath ran a finger along the inside of his collar but then straightened, calling himself to order.
This was nothing new. He knew exactly how to deal with females out for his title and wealth. They were all the same, these proper young ladies. They presented no challenge, no surprise. Years of experience allowed him to handle them with aplomb, gently flirting and then passing them on to the next sorry chap.
He caught a glimpse of Miss Whately talking with Chaddsworth-Hervey. She too looked completely bored.
He should try and remember to mention that she should at least attempt to look interested in what a gentleman said to her. Knowing Chaddsworth-Hervey, he was probably prosing on about the latest bits of blood he had purchased for his stud farm.
Reath laughed. Forcing such an intelligent and spirited girl to do the pretty at a ball was such a shame, especially when there were so many insipid, well-trained girls to do their part. Secretly, he hoped she would give Chaddsworth-Hervey one of her stinging set-downs. He watched as Miss Whately clasped her hands together in front of her and bite her lip. She was trying so hard to be good. He had to go and rescue her.
>>*<<
“Do you read, Mr. Chaddsworth-Hervey?” Sara asked the gentleman.
Her aunt, standing next to Sara, gave her side a poke with her fan. Sara supposed that to mean that she had just said something inappropriate. She knew she should not have asked the gentleman the question, but she was desperate to get him to change the topic before she died of boredom.
Mr. Chaddsworth-Hervey smiled condescendingly down at Sara, his yellowed teeth contrasting nicely with his bottle green coat. “Is this how you Americans make a joke?” he asked.
Sara forced a laugh. “Yes. I had hoped you would find it amusing.”
Mr. Chaddsworth-Hervey snuffled like a pig and then said, “Yes. Highly amusing.”
At least he had become distracted from his talk of horses.
“The weather has been particularly fine the past few days, has it not?” Sara tried again. No poke from her aunt. This was a good sign.
“Yes, indeed, Miss Whately. We are not quite used to seeing so much sunshine. Do you have it in America?” he asked with all seriousness.
Sara blinked. “Sunshine? Yes, Mr. Chaddsworth-Hervey. We have quite a bit. Naturally, it rains a lot in the spring time, but come summer it is sunny almost every day.”
The gentleman seemed to have difficulty understanding this concept. “Sunny almost every day? My, my, how can you stand it?”
“I must admit that I enjoy it, sir.”
“Chaddsworth-Hervey,” Lord Reath said, strolling up to them.
Sara stifled a sigh of relief.
“Ah, Reath. Heard you were back. You were at White’s this afternoon. Heard all about it. Little filly, eh?” He snorted and slapped Lord Reath on the back.
The valiant viscount smiled wanly. “I thought you might be interested in something I just overheard—Miss Price-Liste talking about you to her chaperon.”
“Eh? You don’t say.” He sketched a quick bow to Sara and her aunt. “You will please excuse me.”
“Thank you, sir. That was exceedingly kind of you,” Sara said, watching Mr. Chaddsworth-Hervey’s quickly retreating back and giving the valiant viscount one of her rare smiles.
“It is entirely my pleasure, Miss Whately,” he said, smiling back.
A rush of warmth slid into her stomach.
Sara had tried all evening to stop comparing every man to Lord Reath. It was completely unfair, she knew, and she should not do so. But somehow with every gentleman she met, she could not help but think how much shorter he was than the viscount, or how narrow his shoulders looked compared to Lord Reath’s.
Or, what disconcerted her the most, was how boring these other gentlemen seemed when compared to the odd sense of humor that the variable viscount had. Many of the men she spoke to attempted to make witticisms, but not one of them was actually amusing. At least when Lord Reath attempted to be funny, he usually succeeded.
If only she was at her leisure and had an inclination to marry. But she knew that it was up to her to save her family’s fortunes. That she had to attend these silly parties to appease her aunt was almost more than she could bear. But to actually be attracted to a gentleman was not something that Sara had planned on, nor had time for.
Sara had also never thought that she would be attracted to a man like Lord Reath—a nobleman no less. She had always imagined herself with some quiet, literary gentleman. But then again, that had been the only type of gentleman she had ever met.
It was strange. She felt entirely at her ease in Lord Reath’s presence—and yet slightly on edge, as if there should be more for her to do with him than engage in polite conversation. She did not know what, and it made her warm and uncomfortable thinking about it. She did, however, very much like the feeling she had when he was near.
>>*<<
“I do hope that the rest of your evening was enjoyable,” the venial viscount said, as he sat back among the squabs of his well-sprung carriage on their way back to her aunt’s house.
“Very much, sir, thank you,” Sara lied. “And yours?”
“It was well enough. I saw that you were quite as busy with the gentlemen as I with the ladies. I cannot imagine that anyone was rude enough to mention your walk down St. James?”
“No. I believe my exhibition on the dance floor put my first faux pas right out of everyone’s mind.”
Reath laughed, while her aunt stifled a groan.
“And you did not have too much difficulty making conversation?” he asked.
“No,” Sara was pleased to be able to say. “Once I caught on to what was acceptable and what was not, it was quite simple.”
“Ah, excellent. Would you care to share your insights with me? I could always use some advice on what to discuss while making the dull rounds of parties.”
Sara frowned at him, not believing that he would ever be at a loss of what to discuss nor think that attending parties was dull. He had looked like he was having an excellent time every time Sara had caught a glimpse of him that evening.
But then she shrugged and said, “Well, from Aunt Deanna’s generous pokes at me with her fan, I have learned that anything in the least bit intellectual or pertaining to any sort of literature is unacceptable. The current political situation also seems to be inappropriate but that I understand, considering the tensions between our two countries.”
Sara paused for a moment, trying to remember what was appropriate. “I suppose anything that is shallow or insipid is perfectly fine, is that not so, Aunt?”
“Oh well, to be sure, I would not say...”
The viscount’s laughter interrupted whatever her aunt was going to say. “I would say you got it right on the mark, Miss Whately. Touché. I knew that you would see through to our shortcomings immediately.”
Lady Darlington sniffed her disapproval loudly. “I am still horrified at how spectacularly ill-prepared you are to be presented to society. I cannot imagine how your father had the nerve to raise his only daughter in this shimble-shamble way. And I must offer you my heartfelt apologies, Lord Reath. If I had only realized that this was the case, I never would have allowed you to escort us this evening. Indeed, I would not have allowed, and will not allow, Sara to attend any more social functions until she has been taught the proper way to behave.”
There was a pause, and then from his side of the carriage, Reath said quietly, “If you will permit me, Lady Darlington, I believe that Miss Whately’s unique outlook and keen intelligence will allow her to continue in society quite successfully. At the very worst, she will be considered an original, and you know that there is nothing more attractive to many than that.”
Sara could feel his eyes boring into her even through the dark. She was happy that there was no light, because she knew that he could not see the grateful tears that had sprung to her eyes as he defended her.
Chapter Thirteen
Have you no other horses that I could use?” Sara asked the ostler of the stables, looking at the sway-backed animal in front of her.
“This or nothin’,” the man answered, spitting on the ground.
“But this is unacceptable. This horse is barely capable of standing on his own legs, let alone carrying a rider. Surely you have another...”
“Look, Miss, d’ye want to rent the ’orse or not?” the man interrupted her.
Sara looked it over once more. It infuriated her that this man could stand there and lend out this poor old nag for anyone to ride. She dug her hand into her reticule for the hourly fee. She wasn’t certain the animal would last the full hour, but she supposed she didn’t have a choice in that matter either.
Her aunt had finally given her permission to ride, and Sara just could not wait until Lord Alton rented a hack for her. As she had promised, she’d brought along a footman but forced him to wait for her by the gate to the park. Sara now tried not to look jealously at the horse on which he sat—one of the few her aunt had brought for the sole use of the servants. It was an entirely different class of animal than the one on which she now sat.
She hadn’t imagined she would have any trouble with such a simple task, nor that such sorry animals might be provided. She was so very wrong.
She pulled out a few coins and handed them over. Her need to rent a horse was stronger than her pride. Not only would she get the exercise she’d been longing for the past week, but when she finally got the opportunity to go to Wyncort, she would need a horse to get there. She couldn’t very well ask her aunt to borrow her carriage, could she?
Sara knew that she had to at least make an effort to do well in society before she turned her attention to getting her grandfather’s jewels, but when she did finally get the chance, she needed to be able to get to Wyncort. It was frustrating having to wait, but she would spend her time well, planning and arranging as much as she could before hand.
