“No, but it must be V—Violet who chooses to end her engagement,” he said in firm tones. “Would I be any less a bully than her father to persuade her to turn Mr. Wingrove away?”
She opened her mouth, then heaved a reluctant sigh. “Must you always be so sensible?”
The dark eyes flashed in amusement. “I fear so. It is a great fault, I will admit.”
“A fault, indeed,” she mourned in sympathy. “But I am generous enough to overlook such terrible flaws in your character.”
“How very kind of you, my dear.”
“Yes, indeed.”
He chuckled at her air of self-sacrifice, then abruptly changed the conversation.
“I have told you of my family, but you have told me little of yours.”
She was startled by his interest. There were few among society daring enough to question her directly about the Devilish Dandy.
“What do you wish to know?”
“What was your childhood like?”
She paused before giving a wry grimace. “Exciting, unpredictable, and occasionally frightening when we feared Father was about to be discovered,” she surprised herself by answering honestly. She rarely revealed anything but the most flippant details of her past. “It was also rather lonely because we never truly had a home. Thank goodness for Sarah and Emma.”
“Your sisters?”
“Yes.”
His gaze swept over her delicate features. “Are they as beautiful and daring as you?”
Rachel smiled as she thought of her sisters. “They are certainly beautiful and I suppose daring in their own ways. Sarah raised both Emma and me after my mother died and then defied convention by opening a school in the worst neighborhood in London. I do not doubt that she will continue to run it even though she will soon be Lady Chance. As for Emma”—she paused as she recalled their somewhat stormy relationship—“ she refused to accept help from anyone and became a companion to Lady Hartshore before she won the heart of the Earl of Hartshore. I used to tease her unmercifully about her stuffy nature and refusal to enjoy life. She hated being the daughter of the Devilish Dandy. Now she simply sparkles with happiness.”
“You sound almost envious,” he retorted.
Rachel gave a blink. Until this moment she had not considered she might feel a trace of jealousy at her sisters’ good fortune.
“Perhaps I am a bit,” she slowly confessed. “Both Sarah and Emma have found gentlemen who respect and adore them. I do not doubt for a moment they will be extraordinarily happy.”
“And yet you c—claim you have no interest in having a husband or family,” he reminded her in soft tones.
She didn’t, she sternly assured herself. Her life was delightful as it was. Exciting, unencumbered, and without the restrictions of a husband or children. Those small pangs when she viewed her sisters with their devoted fiances were easily dismissed. As were the moments of loneliness that struck without warning.
“I fear that my sisters have discovered a rare breed of gentleman.” She deliberately lightened her tone. “They will not be required to bow to their husbands’ commands or be treated to an endless line of mistresses. They will be cherished as they deserve to be.”
“You believe only two gentlemen in all of England possess such qualities?” he demanded with a hint of exasperation.
The hazel eyes glinted with pleasure at having ruffled his cool self-command.
“Well, perhaps there are one or two others,” she graciously conceded. “What of you? Do you intend to wed?”
He turned onto a path that wandered through a wide meadow. A covey of quail surged into the air, calling their disapproval as they flew toward the blue sky.
“As you have so kindly pointed out, I should make a ghastly husband,” he at last retorted. “I rarely enjoy society, I often disappear for hours upon end to my workroom, and I prefer a good book to dancing the waltz.”
She studied his elegant profile. “Surely you must produce an heir?”
“Thankfully my father’s brother has managed to produce a prodigious gaggle of children. He has relieved me of any duty to carry on the family line.”
“So you intend to remain a bachelor?”
A decidedly wicked expression settled on his countenance. “I suppose the proper maiden might lure me down the aisle. She would have to be quite out of the ordinary, of course.”
“Out of the ordinary?”
“Yes, indeed. She must be beautiful, charming, gracious, and independent enough not to demand my constant attention.”
“Are there any other requirements?” she demanded in dry tones.
He pretended to consider the matter. “She must be sweet-tempered, intelligent, blessed with a sense of humor, and possess a kind heart.”
“Fah.” She gave a reluctant laugh at his ridiculous demands. “I think you had best attempt to create this model of virtue in your workroom. You shall never discover a mere maiden who can meet your demands.”
He appeared unperturbed by her confident disbelief in perfection.
“Oh, I do not know. My m—mother was such a woman.”
Rachel recalled his words to Julia of how his mother had explained his faint stutter. “Kissed by an angel.” She must be a wonderful woman indeed, she acknowledged.
“Are you still close to her?”
“Very close,” he murmured, his tender tone making her heart give an odd flop.
“I should have liked to know my mother,” she admitted with a wistful sigh. “Father says she was very gentle and ready to love whomever she met. He also said her laughter could fill an entire room with joy.”
He reached out to brush her cheek before returning his hand to the reins.
“You most certainly inherited her laughter.”
It was perhaps the greatest compliment she had ever received.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
“Your father never remarried?”
Rachel widened her eyes in surprise at the unexpected question.
“I do not believe many women would desire to tie themselves to the Devilish Dandy, even if he does possess the charm of Lucifer. Besides, he still loves my mother.”
“Do you miss him?”
“Of course,” she replied cautiously, all too aware that this gentleman was far too intelligent to be easily fooled. “But I realize that he can never return to England. It would be far too dangerous.”
“That must be very difficult for you.”
She shrugged. “I have my sisters and Uncle Foxworth.”
“Ah, Uncle Foxworth. A most unusual gentleman.”
“Yes.” She covertly studied his bland expression, wondering if he already suspected her uncle was not quite what he seemed. “Do you like him?”
“He is intriguing.” He tossed her a wry grin. “Although I should never wish to purchase a horse from him.”
“A wise choice,” she congratulated dryly.
“You know, you f—fascinate me, my dear.”
Relieved to have the conversation turned from her father, Rachel met his dark gaze.
“Why?”
“Most maidens would be horrified to possess a father who is a thief and an uncle who consorts with a gossip-plagued prince.”
“I love them,” she said without hesitation. “I would not trade them for a hundred so-called respectable gentlemen.”
“They are fortunate to have earned your loyalty.”
“Earned?” She wrinkled her brow at his strange choice of words. “They had no need to earn my loyalty. They are my family.”
He fell silent at her simple words, his expression suddenly remote.
Unwilling to disturb his inner thoughts, Rachel watched as they pulled into the drive leading to Carlfield Manor. In only a few moments they had swept past the towering oaks and were pulling to a halt in the courtyard.
A groom ran forward to take the reins as Anthony leaped to the ground and rounded the carriage to help Rachel alight. Just for a moment his hands l
ingered on her slender waist, then with a reluctant sigh he stepped back.
“I wish to thank you for accompanying me today.”
“I enjoyed myself,” she retorted with all honesty. She had enjoyed herself. Far more than a simple trip to the local village warranted.
“As did I,” he said warmly.
There was a moment’s pause as Rachel battled the urge to demand if he was about to once again disappear to the stables to dabble with his mysterious project. The lazy glint in his dark eyes warned her that that was precisely what he was expecting her to do. Instead she forced herself to offer him an airy smile.
“I wish you luck on your project. Perhaps I will see you at dinner.”
She whirled away before he could speak and with her head held high she moved toward the open front door. She was not about to reveal just how badly she wished to plead to be at his side.
* * *
Reaching beneath the seat to retrieve the bag he had received from the tanner, Anthony walked toward the nearby stables. A smile curved his lips at the challenge that had sparkled in the hazel eyes as Rachel had turned away.
She was as spirited as she was beautiful. A heady combination. But there was more to her than just lovely curves and a swift tongue, he acknowledged.
He had already discovered that she possessed a kind heart just by her reaction to Julia. But he had been strangely moved by her bold declaration of loyalty to her father.
She was a woman who loved without judgment. Who gave her heart and loyalty without condemning another for their frailties.
Perhaps for most gentlemen her open attachment to a known thief would cause a reasonable distress. The undoubted scandal attached to her name was only exasperated by her refusal to appear suitably horrified by her connection to the Devilish Dandy. But for Anthony it was a quality he deeply admired. He had endured his fill of those who offered their love only to impose impossible conditions to maintain their affection.
Entering the shadows of the stables, Anthony halted as a tall, lean form stepped forward. He felt a flicker of surprise as he met the glittering green gaze.
“Mr. Foxworth,” he murmured.
The older gentleman gave a faint nod of his head. “Mr. Clarke.”
“Are you riding today?”
“Actually, I was waiting for you.”
Although Anthony had already suspected as much, he lifted a dark brow. “Indeed?”
“Yes, I particularly wished to speak with you in private.”
“About what?”
Foxworth stroked a faint scar on his cheek. “I believe you have been out riding with my niece?”
Anthony’s expression became guarded, wondering where the wily man was about to lead him.
“We visited the local village.”
“She is a lovely girl, is she not?”
“Quite lovely.”
“She is also headstrong and dangerously impulsive,” Mr. Foxworth continued, studying Anthony with an unnerving intensity. “She rarely considers the consequences before she plunges into a situation.”
Anthony could not prevent his wry smile. “Yes, I h—have noticed such tendencies.”
“Then you will understand if I am rather protective of her.”
Ah, so he was about to receive a stern warning, Anthony acknowledged with a flare of amused disbelief. An odd thought for a gentleman far more accustomed to having young maidens tossed at his feet.
“Certainly,” he agreed in mild tones.
“I should not like to see her reckless nature lead her to anything she might later have reason to regret.”
Anthony arched a dark brow. “Are you inquiring whether I intend to be an honorable gentleman?”
Mr. Foxworth abruptly smiled. “I did not intend to be quite so blunt, but yes.”
It was not often that Anthony found his honor questioned and he discovered that he did not particularly care for the experience.
“I consider Miss Cresswell an extraordinary maiden who deserves all the respect due to her. I would never compromise her innocence or her integrity.”
The green gaze never wavered. “And what of her heart?”
“It will never be my intention to hurt her.”
“Unfortunately it rarely is intentional. That does not make the pain less. Especially for a girl who leads with her heart.”
Anthony could not deny the truth in his words. Although Rachel tried very hard to give the image of a shallow, hardened flirt, she was very vulnerable beneath the flamboyant charm. Far more vulnerable than even he had suspected.
“I s—shall keep that in mind.”
“See that you do.”
His warning delivered, the older gentleman turned to negligently stroll from the stables. Anthony watched with a strange sense of unease.
He did not particularly care to be warned off like he was a lecherous cad. Especially by a gentleman he suspected was far from a saint. On the other hand he had to admit his determined pursuit of Miss Cresswell was enough to stir the suspicion of any proper guardian.
Even worse, he could hardly assure Mr. Foxworth of his intentions, when he had no notion of what his intentions were.
Certainly he wanted to seduce Rachel. Whenever she was near he nearly trembled with the effort to keep himself from pulling her into his arms and drowning in her sweetness. And his nights . . . Gads, he had never ached with such fierce need.
But he had not lied to Mr. Foxworth when he had assured him that he would always treat Rachel with respect. He did not seduce virgins and leave them to their shattered fates. And he did not doubt for a moment she was utterly innocent.
So where did that leave him?
Frustrated, certainly.
Puzzled.
Tantalized.
Distracted.
And yet, at this moment he would not be anywhere else in the world.
“Sir, did you get what you be needing?”
With a blink Anthony realized that he had been joined by the young groom who had happily agreed to help with his current project.
He readily shoved aside his tangled thoughts. What was the point in brooding about questions that had no answers? It was far better to tackle the problems that could be solved.
“I believe so.” He held up his bag. “Shall we get to work?”
Eight
Standing in the shadows of the salon, Anthony surveyed the numerous guests as they chatted and flirted with casual ease.
It had been the same every evening for the past week.
Mr. Carlfield was clearly determined to celebrate in lavish style his good fortune in landing a wealthy son-in-law. There was rarely a moment when the house was not filled with visitors enjoying luncheons, dinners, musicales, and card parties. Under normal circumstances Anthony would long ago have fled to the quiet peace of his London town house. He intensely disliked the constant need to make polite conversation at every turn.
But despite his discomfort his bags remained unpacked. And he did not have to look far to discover the reason for his unusual forbearance.
Leaning against the faded paneling, Anthony allowed his gaze to linger on the golden-haired beauty that had so mysteriously lured him to Surrey.
No, he swiftly corrected his inane thoughts. There was nothing mysterious about his arrival in Surrey.
His blood quickened as he studied the elegant profile, then lowered to the delicious curves nicely revealed by the emerald silk gown cut to emphasize the luscious fullness of her bosom. He had followed her because he could not help himself.
The only mystery was what he intended to do now that he was here.
A faint smile curved his lips as he watched the object of his fascination stifle a yawn. At the moment she was surrounded by a gaggle of elder matrons who were fiercely debating the traditions involved in making the perfect wedding. It was a debate that had raged for a better part of an hour and Anthony was not surprised when he noticed Rachel begin to edge away from the clucking women. He patiently waited until
she had made good her escape and settled on a far sofa with obvious relief. Unlike most young maidens, she did not devote her life to the grand dream of becoming wed. Indeed, she was rather annoying in her desire never to be chained to the bonds of a gentleman. He had known it would be only a matter of time before she sought peace from the incessant discussion.
Nonchalantly pushing himself from the wall, Anthony strolled across the room and boldly sat next to her on the sofa.
“You appear somewhat bored, my dear,” he teased lightly.
She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Such a fuss over a mere wedding.”
“There are certain customs to be observed. Most of them have been around hundreds of years.”
The hazel eyes flashed at his calm words. “Are you an expert on weddings by chance?”
“Just well read,” he retorted, ignoring her deliberate barb as he reached out to grasp her left hand. “For instance did you know that we place the wedding ring on the third finger because the Greeks thought it directly connected to the heart by the ‘Vein of Love’?” He traced a light path from the palm of her hand up to her elbow, reveling in the unmistakable shiver he felt race through her body. “Or that many Roman rings were carved with two clasped hands to represent love and commitment?”
Seemingly as indifferent to the covert glances being tossed in their directions as himself, Rachel leaned forward. Anthony deeply inhaled the rose scent of her skin.
“That is very romantic.”
“It is also thought that the tradition of the Best Man comes from the days when a man would capture his bride from a neighboring village and would take his most formidable friend along for security. That was also the reason the bride was placed on his left during the ceremony. He could never be certain when he would need his sword hand free to battle off an attack of angry relatives.”
She gave a shake of her head. “Now that is not nearly as romantic.”
“Would you like me to explain the traditions of the honeymoon?” he asked softly, continuing to stroke the soft inner skin of her elbow.
Her eyes darkened. “No, I think that I have been educated enough for one evening.”
“A p—pity. It is quite fascinating.”
When You Wish Page 44
