A Rake's Redemption

by G. L. Snodgrass

  Devlin laughed. “Tony, half the titled men in London will pass through Madam DePaul’s this week. That’s not it. I just thought we could go to White’s is all.”

  The two other men glanced at each other before they looked strangely at the Duke. He could see their thoughts behind their eyes.

  Who was he and what had he done with their friend Devlin?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Rebecca was surprised. The Duke was already there when she stepped into the dining room the next morning. He sat at the head of the table, reading a newspaper and finishing his breakfast. His large shoulders and silver eyes taking command of the entire room.

  She would have thought, that after a night reunited with his friends, he would be much worse for wear. Surely he wouldn’t have risen this early. Had he just now returned? she wondered.

  The thought was rather disturbing. What had he been doing all night to be only returning now?

  “Ah, there you are Miss Jones,” he said as he placed the paper down. “I hope you slept well,” he said with a smile that let her know he was enjoying his morning.

  What did he mean by the question? she wondered. Did he know that she had spent the night tossing and turning? Unable to sleep. Unable to think about something other than this man.

  “Very well, Your Grace, thank you. And, yourself?” she answered, as she prepared a plate of eggs and sausage.

  Sitting down, she caught a surprised look on Lincoln’s face.

  You are in London now, she reminded herself.

  Her cheeks flashed with warmth at her mistake. How could she do this, how could she get away without looking like an idiot? Governess do not share breakfast with a Duke. It just isn’t done. Especially not here in London.

  Seeing him this morning had scrambled her brain. How could she be such a fool?

  Putting her fork down on her plate she said, “Excuse me, Your Grace. I forgot we were no longer at Pine Crest, and the girls will not be joining us for breakfast.”

  His brow narrowed. He was probably upset now that she had broached the subject of her mistake.

  “I will leave you. Again, I am sorry,” she said as she started to rise from her chair.

  “Miss Jones,” the Duke said with a commanding voice. “Please be seated.”

  She looked at him, curious to know what he was thinking. He had to know that the servants would talk.

  The Duke gave her a quick smile, then turned to the butler.

  “Lincoln, won’t mind, will you? He can always explain my eccentricities to the fact that I only entered the nobility recently. He hasn’t yet had the opportunity to teach me the proper way to act. I am sure the butlers’ guild won’t be upset.”

  Rebecca blanched. The man refused to be dictated to by society rules. How could he do that?

  “Isn’t that right Lincoln?” the Duke asked.

  “Of course, Your Grace,” the butler said. His neutral expression remained unchanged at the Duke’s jest about butler guilds.

  “But, Your Grace …” Rebecca started to say.

  “No, Miss Jones. You will stay and break your fast with me. Besides, I need your help this morning.”

  “My help, Your Grace?”

  “Yes, I will need you to go with me. I am to the cabinet makers to order a desk. I thought I would order somethings for the girls. Will you come with me and help guide me? A woman’s hand is needed I should think.”

  Rebecca’s heart jumped in her chest. Spend the day with the Duke. Be seen in public with the Duke. Help him buy things for the girls.

  A sudden thought occurred to her. “But sir, I am sure the craftsmen will come here. You need merely tell them what you want, and they will make it. Why do you need to go to their business?”

  He smiled. “I want to see their work. I want to know what I am getting. Besides. It is a beautiful summer day, and I have missed London.

  She couldn’t help herself, his smile was infectious. Like a little boy getting ready to explore a new world.

  A day of shopping with the Duke. Most women would have given their first born for such an opportunity.

  She nodded and accepted his invitation gracefully. It was the least she could do.

  .o0o.

  The furniture makers had a comforting smell of sawdust and bees’ wax. Rebecca repressed a sneeze as she entered the establishment. Distant hammering could be heard in the back.

  For some reason, the sound of hammers in the back reminded her of her uncle. She wondered what he would think if he knew she was sharing the day with a Duke. That she was the governess to a Duke’s children.

  He would have been proud of her, she knew. Then, she thought of the farmhouse and her shared moment with the Duke. Her uncle would have been shocked and disappointed.

  The thought saddened her. To her, it would always be a special moment.

  She glanced at the Duke’s back as he talked with Mr. Seddon. The owner himself had scurried out of an office once he learned that a Duke was visiting his business. A younger man, obviously Mr. Seddon’s son, stepped out from the back room with several different pieces of wood.

  The Duke commanded the room, she realized. Everyone aware of his need and desire. Everyone ready to fulfill his every want.

  All except her. She wasn’t allowed to fulfill his needs. Wasn’t allowed to fulfill her own. It was unfair. So, so unfair. A sadness washed over her.

  “Oak, I think,” the Duke said as he selected the type of wood he wanted for his desk. He gave them the dimensions and the details of what he wanted.

  Mr. Seddon nodded as he hurriedly wrote things into a ledger.

  “Will that be all, Your Grace?” he asked when the Duke finished. “Might I suggest a chair to match?”

  “Yes, that would be good. Yes. A chair to match the desk,” the Duke said. Turning, the Duke motioned Miss Jones forward.

  “Now, I will also need some other items. Special items, each must be unique.”

  “Of course, Your Grace,” Mr. Seddon said. Rebecca could see the figures dancing in the man’s head.”

  “A box,” the Duke said, holding his hands apart. “About this big. Inlaid with cherry, and rose wood. A sunburst design, I think. Do you know what I mean?”

  He turned to Rebecca. “Elizabeth’s paints,” he said in answer to her raised eyebrow.

  “Anything else, Your Grace?” Mr. Seddon asked.

  “Yes, a rocking chair. Walnut, big enough for a girl to curl up on and read. Fluffy, comfortable.”

  “Why a rocking chair?” Rebecca asked.

  The Duke smiled. “No window seats at the London house. Johanna will need somewhere to read.”

  Rebecca’s heart began to melt. This man was special. He saw things and understood their importance.

  “What about Isobel?” she asked, curious to hear what he would say.

  He smiled, then turned to the Furniture Maker.

  “I will need a wooden chest. The kind pirates might use. Rope handles, an iron lock, but with hidden compartments. A lot of surprises. Sturdy. Could you make something like that?”

  Mr. Seddon brow curled in thought. “Yes, Your Grace, I think so.” Rebecca could tell that the man was curious as to why a Duke of the realm might need a pirate’s chest.

  She wanted to laugh. He needed a pirate’s chest because he cared about his cousin so much he knew what would make her happy. The thought sent a warm glow through her entire body.

  Then, with a bolt, she realized. – She loved him – She was in love with the Duke of Hampton. The thought made her heart jump and her insides tighten into a ball. How had she let this happen to herself?

  She loved everything about the man. The way he smiled when he was getting ready to make trouble. The way he instinctively protected those he cared for. The pains he took to make sure his responsibilities were taken care of.

  He was so not a rake she realized. Not the person she had thought him to be. He was a good man. And she loved him with all of her heart.

  T
he thought scared her to her very core. Taking a quick breath, she stepped back. He could not know. He must never know, she realized.

  Swallowing hard, she tried to disappear into the thin air lest he read her thoughts on her face. How could she keep it from him? He made her heart race, he made her blush just thinking of him. He would know. One look and he would read the love in her eyes, and all would be lost.

  No.

  Her mind searched for some escape. Any way out.

  Pulling a handkerchief from her reticule. The same reticule he had rescued from the carriage accident, she thought. She brought the fine linen to her nose and sneezed.

  She tried to keep the explosion small and ladylike, but she needed him to be aware that she was in difficulty.

  She sneezed twice more.

  “Bless you,” the Duke said. “Are you all right, Miss Jones?”

  See, there he was, being concerned for her well-being. How was she to function if he was sweet and kind? The insufferable beast.

  Turning, she hurried from the room. “I will wait for you in the carriage, Your Grace,” she called over her shoulder. She had to get away from him. Nothing else mattered.

  She waved off James and climbed up into the carriage without assistance. The last thing she needed at that moment was another man being nice to her.

  A deep sadness seeped into her very bones. What had she done? She had fallen in love with Devlin. What was more, this wasn’t some schoolgirl infatuation. This wasn’t a passing interest. This feeling was a soul burden that would remain with her the rest of her life.

  Her heart continued to race. Her breath rushed. What was she going to do? Her world had shifted. What used to seem important no longer mattered. This feeling of want, of need, crushed her heart, pushing away all other concerns.

  She wondered if she would ever be happy again. She had been content as the Duke’s governess. Responsible for three young women. She had loved the duty of raising them. Teaching them the things they would need to know to function in their world.

  It had been her only focus. Her only priority.

  Now, she was a woman in love with their cousin.

  And, he is not in love with me, she realized. The thought sent a shaft of pain to her very core. He looked at her as an employee. His cousins’ governess.

  Oh, surely, he had enjoyed their encounter together. But then, he was a man. Of course, he had. But, there were a hundred women ready and willing to provide the Duke of Hampton with the same encounter. Each of them, prettier, and more refined than she would ever be.

  Swallowing hard, she fought to not cry. She refused to cry. She would not allow it to happen.

  Using a gloved finger, she quickly wiped a tear from her cheek, glancing out the coach window to make sure no one had seen.

  He must not be allowed to learn how she felt. She would be too embarrassed. In some ways, it would be worse than the awkwardness they had experienced just a few days earlier.

  Rebecca’s thoughts were interrupted by the carriage door swinging open and Devlin stepping up into the coach. He shot her a quick smile, then tapped the roof of the coach with his cane. He looks pleased with himself, she thought. But then, why wouldn’t he? The man didn’t have a care in the world. While, she, on the other hand, was heartbroken. And would be for the rest of her life.

  It just didn’t seem fair. A tiny anger began to build inside of her. The man’s life was too damn perfect.

  “The girls will like their gifts,” Rebecca said. She desperately needed to fill the empty silence.

  “Good,” Devlin answered. “I hope they do.”

  Her brow narrowed in confusion for a moment. “If you knew what you wanted to get them, why am I needed?”

  He smiled again. “The day is young Miss Jones, the day is young.”

  Her heart jumped. Did this mean they would be doing even more shopping? Spending even more time together. Couldn’t the man see what he was putting her through? His mere presence was bothersome.

  Her heart refused to calm down whenever he was near. Her hands in her gloves felt wet with fear. It was enough to make her miserable.

  They traveled through London in silence. She wanted to ask him more details, but was concerned the conversation would lead off into uncharted territory. Best to remain silent. To suffer alone, lest he learn the truth of her feelings.

  The pungent aroma of horses and too many people greeted her when she pushed the curtain aside to watch London pass by. The city was so different than Pine Crest. A world away from Yorkshire or Miss Charlotte’s school.

  Here she was, sitting across from a very handsome man. A man who had made love to her. Had shown her what was possible. A man she was in love with. Yet she could not talk to him of her fears or feelings. Could not share with him her true self.

  It was so unfair. This unbalanced world.

  Sighing, she tried to decipher what part of London they were in. What neighborhood. But she failed miserably. All the buildings looked the same after a while.

  If it wasn’t Mayfair, or Hyde Park, then she couldn’t tell White Chapel from the dock yards.

  At last, the carriage rocked to a halt. She raised an eyebrow towards Devlin. But, he only smirked at her before jumping down from the carriage. He held the door and stretched out a hand to help her down the steps.

  James, who had hurried from the rear of the coach, frowned, looking crestfallen to see his duties usurped by the Duke himself.

  Rebecca placed a hand in the Duke’s hand and allowed him to help her down. Her arm tingled with his touch. Her body reacted so strongly that she had to consciously fight the urge to throw herself into his arms.

  Would it always be like this? she wondered. Would her life be filled with moments of loss and denial? How would she ever get through the day, let alone the rest of her life?

  When she had fully exited the carriage, she looked up at the non-descript brown brick building. A small wooden sign said simply, “Mrs. Charles.”

  She shot Devlin a question glance.

  “I am told that this is the place for women’s shoes,” he responded.

  “Shoes?” Rebecca asked. “The girls will need to be measured.”

  “They are not for the girls,” he answered as he held the front door for her.

  Rebecca tried to understand as she stepped into the establishment. Why were they here?

  Devlin obviously saw her confusion. “For you Miss Jones, to replace the shoes ruined on the trip down from Pine Crest. It is the least I could do.”

  “For me?” she said. The Duke was buying her shoes. What is more, he was taking her to the modeste himself. What would London think if they knew that the Duke of Hampton was escorting his governess to buy shoes?

  “But, it was my own fault,” she said. “I should have worn boots. It was silly of me to wear fine slippers on such a journey. Really, Your Grace, you don’t need to buy me shoes.”

  Devlin smiled and shook his head. “I’m buying them because I want to.”

  Rebecca’s heart jumped. He was buying her a gift she realized. What is more, he had put some thought into it.

  Before she could respond, a small, rather rotund woman of middle years stepped out from the back. Her eyes lit up with the sight of such two well-dressed customers. Rebecca was sure the woman had just added twenty percent to all of her prices.

  “Mrs. Charles?” Devlin said as he handed across his calling card.

  The woman’s eyebrows arched to the top of her forehead when she read the simple words “Duke of Hampton.” Make that forty percent, Rebecca thought.

  “Your Grace,” the woman said with a quick curtsey.

  The Duke smiled and said, “Two pairs of slippers, your finest. One for every day, and something fancy for special occasions.”

  “Of course, Your Grace,” the woman said.

  “And boots, I should think,” the Duke added. “For our return to Pine Crest,” he said to Rebecca.

  The woman looked at Rebecca with a slight
smile and knowing eyes. She probably has quite a few customers who have their shoes bought by prominent men, Rebecca realized. What must the woman be thinking? That Rebecca was the Duke’s mistress? His paramour?

  Her stomach clenched up into a fist sized ball. How dare she think such things? She stepped forward to try and explain, but the words wouldn’t come. How could she explain? They were lovers, but she wasn’t his mistress.

  Was that it? Was that why the Duke was doing this. It was his way of paying her for her time. Is that what he thought of her?

  She turned to question him, but before she could muster the words, he smiled and said that he would wait for her in the carriage.

  “Just have the shoes sent to my house in Mayfair, attention Miss Jones.”

  “Yes, Your Grace. Of course.” The women said with another curtsey.

  With that, Rebecca watched his broad back as he stepped out of the shop. A sense of loss flowed through her. What was it about this man that could frustrate her so much? She couldn’t even stay mad at him. He was buying her shoes after all. How could any woman stay mad at a man for buying her shoes?

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  A most excellent day, Devlin thought. Who knew a man could enjoy himself with a woman during daylight.

  Rebecca was a delight. The way her eyes lit up when they stopped at the book store, or when they stopped for meat pies in the park.

  She enjoyed the simple things, he realized.

  The day would have been perfect except for a niggling thought that kept pestering the back of his mind. Benny’s comment about the girls becoming wards of the Crown if something happened to him.

  Throughout the day, thoughts of the girls stuck in some cold, heartless school. Their souls crushed under the weight of abandonment. It was enough to make a man re-examine his priorities.

  He would have to marry. There was really no other solution. He needed an heir. The thought sent a cold shiver down his spine. He could well imagine a wife ruling his life. Some cold, heartless woman, more concerned with spending money and lording it over her friends.

  Shaking his head, he glanced over at Miss Jones. His heart smiled. Why couldn’t more women be like her? Simple needs, but a complex soul. More concerned with others than herself. Unaware of how beautiful she was. The kind of woman to be a man’s partner, to stand with him against the worlds’ misfortunes.