A Rake for All Seasons: A Regency and Victorian Romance Boxset

by Samantha Holt

  Reed.

  Should she go find him? She needed to speak with him, understand exactly what they were to do. After all, she could hardly stay here forever. But one hundred pounds would give her a wonderful start on life. She could move elsewhere. Start a business, perhaps. An inn? She shook her head. No, the last thing she wished to do was provide alcohol to drunks.

  Never mind, she would think on that later. Either way, she needed that money. If she returned to the camp without Reed, she had little doubt Cappie would make another claim on her and she would have no choice but to go along with it. It seemed she had been abandoned to lead her own life and with Reed’s help, she would be able to achieve something more than simply surviving.

  An uncomfortable knot gathered in her throat when she considered how easily her mother dismissed her. She swallowed it down. It was not the first time her mother had treated her poorly. If Orelia remained with the Romani, it would not be the last. She was better off this way.

  Smoothing her palms down her gown, she straightened her shoulders and gave her reflection a nod. She might not be able to remain with her people, but she would clear them of wrongdoing. No Romani cared if an emperor lived or died. Whatever Reed believed of her people’s involvement, it was wrong and she intended to prove that.

  Chapter Seven

  The mantle clock ticked away the seconds in what could only be described as an ominous tone. Reed peered at the offending object. Why had he never noticed how damn loud it was? He glanced back at the footman by the door.

  “Have some tea and sandwiches brought in,” he ordered.

  He thought it likely Orelia would be hungry. Even if she was not a gypsy, with a mother like hers, she could hardly be well-fed. He suspected Orelia had spent much of her life going hungry. After all, fortune-telling hardly put one on the road to riches.

  Reed eyed the clock again. She’d spent quite some time in the bath. She was filthy but not that filthy, surely? He should insist someone go to fetch her except the maids were all walking around with mutinous pouts at the idea of serving a gypsy girl and he’d found he rather wanted to avoid any more rolled eyes or huffs of indignation.

  Mrs. Corley the housekeeper nearly fainted at the idea of having her under the roof, even if he intended for it to be a short while. As for Mosley...well, he could have sworn the man had actually shown emotion for the first time in his life. It was all rather disturbing.

  Disturbing. He traced the curve of the outside of the clock with a finger and tried not to imagine other gentle curves that were likely now wet or naked or being dressed in silk at present. Disturbing was a good way to describe Orelia.

  Disturbing and intriguing. He could not help but admit to himself he was rather on edge awaiting her. How else would she surprise him next? What else would she do to make a smile creep across his face? Her direct manner and self-sufficiency was quite appealing. Certainly more interesting than the women his mother kept sneaking into the house. None of them would jump stys or make up fortunes or try to fleece him for one hundred pounds. Hell, half of them could barely look him in the eye.

  But when Orelia looked at him, she did not see a title, nor a spy, nor his fortune. She just saw…him.

  Intriguing.

  The door behind him swung open. Noah strode in and stood in front of Reed, folding his arms.

  Noah motioned to the door and Reed turned to see Orelia in the doorway. He hated to admit that his heart bounded a little.

  In the golden light, she glowed. Her skin had a dewy look to it and the blue silk contrasted spectacularly with her dark skin. His gaze landed on the headscarf currently binding her hair up on top of her head. A few dried strands were curling around her face. She should have looked ridiculous with that one item that was so obviously and typically a gypsy scarf, yet she did not. It only served to bring attention to the long arch of her neck and the rise of her breasts beneath the gown.

  He scowled at himself. Was there something slightly perverted about lusting after a woman in one’s mother’s gown? He could not decide.

  Reed decided not to think too hard about it and just enjoy the effect of the silk on her body. The shapeless gown she’d been wearing previously was not far off a sack and had done little for her body—though he was not a blind man, he’d seen the womanly shape of her hidden there. Not to mention he had an excellent imagination.

  But his imagination hadn’t done her justice. Though she was clearly underfed, there were delicate curves there. Hips that beckoned to his hands, and breasts that—

  “Reed?”

  He snapped his gaze to his brother. Only then did he realize he’d been trailing his gaze up and down Orelia’s figure without uttering a word. Damnation. As much as he wanted her help, he hardly needed to be lusting after her.

  “Who is this?” his brother demanded, signing as he went.

  Reed sighed. He’d rather hoped he could avoid explaining. His brother was vaguely aware of what Reed did—they never kept secrets from one another—but the fewer details Noah had the better.

  Orelia glanced at them both, remaining in the doorway, her hands clasped in front of her.

  “A friend,” Reed replied, using his hands to sign out the words.

  His brother could read lips perfectly most of the time but in the evening light, it was harder, so they had both learned signing when Noah had been younger. It had been a blessing, somewhat, that the illness that had stolen Noah’s hearing had come after he had learned how to talk. It meant communicating with Noah was easy enough—and made his brother an excellent replacement for himself when he had been in France.

  “She is staying here?” Noah asked, swinging a glance at her.

  Reed nodded. “For a while.” He motioned for Orelia to come in. She inched into the room slowly. “Orelia, I would like you to meet my brother, Noah.”

  “Noah?” She frowned. “Ah.”

  Reed imagined she now understood why he’d used that name.

  “A pleasure to meet you.” Noah dipped his head and his lips curved when Orelia dropped into a deep curtsey, remaining bent low for far too long.

  She rose. “I—” Reed saw her chest rise with a long inhale. “A pleasure to meet you, Sir…um, my lord…um…” She glanced at Reed, a pleading look on her face.

  “Noah will do just fine,” Reed assured her, certain Noah had likely missed her bumbling words.

  A shaky smile crossed her lips.

  “Perhaps you can come and look at something later, Reed,” his brother said. “I think we need to have a talk.”

  Reed nodded. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about Orelia in front of her, particularly not when there might be some unpleasant assumptions about her unexpected presence here. He would have to explain to Noah that Orelia was certainly not a mistress or anything else untoward, though how he would explain that he had bought her in a manner, he did not know.

  “Hopefully I shall see you at breakfast, Orelia.” His brother flashed a grin.

  Reed resisted the urge to curl a fist at his brother’s flirtatious smile. Noah was no stranger to the ladies. His mild manners and softly spoken way never failed to work on them, but Reed would be damned if he wanted it to work on Orelia.

  Reed waited until his brother left the room and motioned to the sandwiches and tea that had been laid out on a coffee table. “Will you not come and eat? You must be hungry.”

  She threw a wary glance around and stepped forward slowly. He masked a chuckle. At this pace it would be morning before they’d eaten.

  “It’s not poisoned.”

  Her gaze darted to his. “No, of course it’s not.” She glanced at the door. “Your brother looks like you.”

  “He does.”

  “He is quite a bit younger than you, though?”

  Reed nodded. “Seven years.”

  “I am afraid I gave him a shock. Or we both gave each other a shock.” Color rose in Orelia’s cheeks. “I did not realize he was…” She motioned to her ears. “So I am afr
aid I rabbited on and he probably did not understand a word.”

  “Noah can read lips very well, but you need to be facing him.”

  “And what is it you do with your hands?”

  “It’s sign language. It allows us to communicate when reading lips isn’t so easy. Like when it’s dark.”

  She nodded slowly and remained standing.

  “Will you not sit?”

  “I just...this is all very new.” She cast a hand about the room and finally settled on the sofa.

  “Well, seeing as I have bought you, you should make yourself at home. For the time being at least.”

  “Your servants are not pleased.”

  “No, but I do so enjoy riling them.”

  She paused, her hand almost to a sandwich. “You do?”

  “Servants are a funny bunch. They like to complain about their masters and yet loathe anyone who does not belong.”

  “And you tolerate this complaining?”

  He sat opposite her and placed a leg over his knee, spread his arms across the back of the chair. “Good staff are hard to come by,” he explained. “And what a bore it would be if they were all beautifully obedient. Most of the servants here served my father. I think bloody Mosley—the butler—came with the house. I’m fairly certain he was born a butler.”

  Orelia giggled and finally bit into a sandwich. He watched the movement of her mouth.

  What would it be like to kiss those full lips?

  “Are you not eating?” she asked.

  “I ate well enough earlier.”

  She stilled. “Oh.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “This is all for me?”

  “Yes.”

  She sent a wary look his way. “I do not want your pity.”

  Reed shook his head. “And you will not get any. I am paying you handsomely for your services and I should like you to remain in full health.”

  He would not tell her that he was certain she hadn’t eaten all day and there was some odd desire to look after her simmering its way through him.

  “Oh, yes. Of course.”

  She began to tuck into the food with gusto, forgetting any manners. He could not help enjoy seeing the true pleasure on her face as she sampled the various fillings.

  “So, what exactly is your plan to find this would-be killer?” she asked between bites.

  “I had hoped to be able to find out enough to track down these gypsies who were on the ship.”

  “I suppose you thought you could come in with your eye-patch and moustache and simply ask us?”

  He shrugged. “It would have been nice if it had been that simple.”

  “We do not trust gadje. And whilst you were hardly dressed as you are now, you did not look poor. That would give most Romani a reason enough to distrust you.”

  “And here I thought I did a fine job of dressing down.”

  She laughed. “Well, no one would believe a duke tried to buy me for certain.”

  “I cannot think why. You are a beautiful woman. It’s surprising you are not already married.”

  “My mother could not do without me. At least until now. Besides, I have never met a man I would wish to spend more than one day with.”

  “I hope that you are willing to spend more than one day with me. I suspect tracking down these men will take a little more time than I originally anticipated.”

  She swiped a crumb from the corner of her mouth and Reed immediately regretted that he had not leaped forward and done the job himself—with his tongue. Then she leaned across and took a cup of tea, adding an inordinate amount of sugar and milk. What a fine job he could afford to keep her in sugar.

  “I’ve never had sugar in tea,” she explained.

  He waited, practically holding her breath while she lifted the cup to her lips. She grimaced.

  “Oh my.”

  A laugh escaped him. “A little sweet?”

  “Oh dear, perhaps I did get carried away.”

  “One spoon usually does the job.”

  She placed down the cup as though it were poison and put her hands in her lap. She gave a little shudder. “I shall try again another day, I think.”

  “Good idea.”

  “You still have not told me your plan.”

  That was because he didn’t have one. He certainly had not planned on ‘buying’ a gypsy girl nor had he intended to bring her to her house and bathe, clothe and feed her.

  Not that he had bathed her. A mighty shame indeed. Sweeping a soapy flannel over that dusky skin would be a pleasure indeed. Why he could almost picture her—

  “Reed?”

  He gave himself a mental shake. Some spy he was, distracted by a girl who appeared to have little idea that she held any sexual appeal at all.

  “You can find out if any of the men from your camp went out on the ships,” he said.

  “And that is all you wish for me to do? For one hundred pounds?”

  “I can always pay you less,” he suggested.

  “That’s not what I meant!”

  “I may still have need of your services. As you’ve said, it is not easy for an outsider to infiltrate your community.”

  She shook her head. “Infiltrate. You make it sound so serious.”

  He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “It is serious, Orelia. If our relationship with France crumbles, we shall be at war again. Napoleon was powerful but there are plenty of other men ready to take up the fight for him. If we wish for no more of our men to die on French soil, these people must be stopped.”

  “These people,” she scoffed. “You must think very little of my people if you believe they would stoop to plotting against Britain. If you think the poison was slipped on board, could it not have been someone else? The wine would have gone through many hands.”

  “I am only following the information I’ve been given.”

  “You are a mindless man who cannot think for himself, you mean. You do the bidding of your king and ask no questions. I might not be as well-travelled as you, Reed, but I have met men like you before. You shall likely have my people made guilty regardless of whether that is the truth or not.”

  He lifted a brow. So defensive. He supposed he should not blame her, after all her people were often blamed for everything from famine to disease. Gypsies were an easy scapegoat.

  “I spent years on enemy territory with little contact from the British government. Should I have been caught, there would have been no aid or acknowledgement of me.” He snorted. “Trust me, Orelia, I am excellent at thinking for myself.”

  And how had the Secret Service repaid this? By casting one last mission upon him simply because he was in a convenient position to investigate. But maybe if he brought these people—whoever they were —to justice, they’d realize they needed his services. After all, what else was a man who had spent far too many years lying and hiding meant to do?

  Orelia appeared chastened. She glanced around the room and fingered her skirts. “So tomorrow we shall question some of the men?”

  “Yes.”

  “And then?”

  “We follow whatever leads we have. Someone must know something.”

  “This is a funny way to conduct an investigation.”

  “This is what it is. Picking at a string until it unravels. Eventually something will give, and we’ll have our lead.”

  She laughed.

  “What is it?”

  “If someone had told me I would be drinking tea in a fine house with a duke and becoming a spy yesterday I would have called them mad.”

  “You did not drink the tea,” he pointed out.

  Her smile expanded. “Yes, you’re right. Without the tea, it would have been completely believable.”

  They both laughed, and his gaze locked to hers. He froze. Her laugh ended abruptly. Some indescribable heavy weight came over them, as though a cloud of cannon smoke had filled the room—and his lungs. Breathing grew hard until he snapped his gaze away.

&nb
sp; “You must need rest,” he murmured.

  “Yes, I suppose I must.” She stood and dropped into an awkward curtsey that was far too appealing. “Thank you for the sandwiches, Reed.”

  Apparently she felt the need to curtsey but not use his title. He couldn’t help like it. He stood and clasped his hands behind his back.

  “You are very welcome. I’ll send someone to you in the morning to help you dress.”

  “I would rather you did not.”

  He lifted a brow. “I would rather I did.”

  “Why?”

  He coughed. “Because...” This was ridiculous. He had seen enough women naked to last a lifetime. He’d dressed many himself after a quick tumble. He’d even done up many a corset. “Because gowns like the one you are wearing are generally designed to be worn with stays.”

  She glanced down at herself, as though surprised to find she was not wearing any. “I don’t have any.”

  “No. And Lord knows, I’m certainly not riffling through my mother’s collection, but you could do with a maid, um, helping you tighten the fit a little.”

  Peeking down at her own chest again, a wash of understanding came over her face. “I see.”

  The fact was that every time she’d bent over, he’d had a hard time not trying to see farther down the neckline of her gown. Perhaps a nice high chemise would do the job. He’d suggest it to Vera, though it would kill him to say as much to the maid. But needs must. He certainly could not afford any distraction in the form of breasts whilst they were investigating.

  “Well then, sleep well.”

  Another curtsey. He should stop her from doing them, especially with the whole breast situation but she looked too sweet doing it.

  “Good night, Reed.”

  After she left, his name seemed to bounce around the inside of his head. In her voice of course. All husky and delicate. How a voice like that could spit accusations of being unthinking and practically hunting down her people, he did not know, but they had no less impact on him. If the Romani were innocent of any wrongdoing, it was in everyone’s best interests that he found out as soon as possible because if they were, that meant someone else was trying to kill Napoleon and start another war.