The Ton's Most Notorious Rake

by Sarah Mallory

  She vowed to stay clear of men...

  But can she resist the ton’s most notorious rake?

  Alone in the dirt, her ankle in agony, the last person Molly Morgan wants to come to her rescue is the handsome yet infuriating Beau Russington. Molly does her utmost to avoid scandalous rakes like Russ, but his dangerous allure shakes up her quiet country life. The sparks between them could be explosive, if Molly only dare surrender...

  “Mallory pens a lovely, sweet second-chance romance.”

  —RT Book Reviews on The Duke’s Secret Heir

  “Passionate, moving and a positive gem.”

  —RT Book Reviews on A Lady for Lord Randall

  Russ glanced at the lady beside him. Did she realize what she had just said, the insult she had just uttered? Of course she did.

  He was used to ladies fawning upon him. Never before had one been so openly hostile. He felt a momentary shock, until his sense of humor kicked in and he laughed.

  “I fear a longer acquaintance with you will do my self-esteem no good, madam!”

  “No good at all,” she agreed affably.

  She rose and with a nod of dismissal she left him. Russ watched her walk away, noting the proud tilt of her head, her straight back and the soft, seductive sway and shimmer of her skirts as she glided across the floor. Perhaps it was a ruse to pique his interest. Perhaps he might indulge the widow in a flirtation.

  Russ decided against it. Compton Parva was a small town and she was the parson’s sister. Much better to leave well alone.

  Author Note

  The idea for this book began when I was looking at Hogarth’s prints, A Harlot’s Progress. It is the story of an innocent country maid who arrives in London seeking work, becomes a prostitute, is imprisoned and dies at the tender age of twenty-three. It was an all too common tale in Georgian England. Poor girls had difficulty enough earning a living, and without a “character” it was almost impossible. As for ladies, if they lost their reputation they had little hope of a good marriage.

  I decided that Molly, my heroine, would set up a safe haven for women who had fallen upon hard times. However, it is important for both Molly and her “girls” to maintain the utmost respectability if they are to keep the support of the local townspeople. That is why Molly is so worried when a party of rakish gentlemen moves into Compton Parva. She is confident that she herself is immune to their charms, but that is before she meets the devilishly attractive Beau Russington!

  I really enjoyed making the sparks fly between Molly and Russ, and I even managed to weave in happy endings for some of her girls—after all, what is the point of being an author if one cannot enjoy oneself?

  Happy reading.

  Sarah Mallory

  The Ton’s Most Notorious Rake

  Sarah Mallory was born in the West Country, UK, but now lives on the beautiful Yorkshire moors. She has been writing for more than three decades, mainly historicals set in the Georgian and Regency period. She has won several awards for her writing, most recently the Romantic Novelists’ Association RoNA Rose Award in 2012 (The Dangerous Lord Darrington) and 2013 (Beneath the Major’s Scars).

  Books by Sarah Mallory

  Harlequin Historical

  and Harlequin Historical Undone! ebook

  Bought for Revenge

  Lady Beneath the Veil

  At the Highwayman’s Pleasure

  The Scarlet Gown

  Never Trust a Rebel

  The Duke’s Secret Heir

  Pursued for the Viscount’s Vengeance

  The Ton’s Most Notorious Rake

  The Infamous Arrandales

  The Chaperon’s Seduction

  Temptation of a Governess

  Return of the Runaway

  The Outcast’s Redemption

  Brides of Waterloo

  A Lady for Lord Randall

  The Notorious Coale Brothers

  Beneath the Major’s Scars

  Behind the Rake’s Wicked Wager

  The Tantalizing Miss Coale (Undone!)

  Visit the Author Profile page

  at Harlequin.com for more titles.

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  For TGH,

  as we stand on the edge of another great adventure.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from Lord Ravenscar’s Inconvenient Betrothal by Lara Temple

  Excerpt from Devil in Tartan by Julia London

  Chapter One

  ‘Molly! Molly!’

  She held her breath, balanced in her leafy eyrie and peeping down at the path below her. Edwin would never think to look up into a tree. Her brother did not think girls could climb trees. He was four years older and at school now and he did not think girls could do anything. True, her skirts had been a hindrance in scrambling up into the branches and Mama would be sure to scold her when she saw the tear, and Papa might beat her for it, too, and make her learn another tract from the Scriptures, but it would be worth it. She would wait until her brother had passed beneath her, then jump down behind him. That would give him a scare.

  ‘Molly, where are you?’

  ‘Where the devil are you?’

  The voice had changed. It was no longer Edwin and suddenly she was no longer six years old and hiding in a tree. She was in a dark place, bruised and bleeding, and waiting for the next blow.

  ‘Molly. Molly!’

  It was a dream. Only a dream. She shook off the fear and panic, clinging to the fact that it was her brother’s voice dragging her from sleep. She opened her eyes, but remained still for a moment to gather her thoughts. She was safe here. It was the vicarage garden and she was lying on a rug beneath the shady branches of the beech tree.

  ‘So there you are, sleepyhead.’

  She sat up, rubbing her eyes. ‘I beg your pardon, Edwin. I came out here to do some sketching and I must have fallen asleep.’

  ‘Well, if you will go off at the crack of dawn to help out at Prospect House.’ He threw himself down beside her on the rug, grinning at her and looking far more like the errant elder brother she had grown up with than the sober Reverend Edwin Frayne, vicar of the parish. ‘There is no need for you to visit more than once a week, you know. Nancy and Fleur are very capable of running the place.’

  ‘But I like to help when I can and today is market day when they sell the surplus from the dairy and the kitchen garden. There is always so much for them to do to pack up the dog cart, deciding on a price for the eggs and butter, and—’

  He threw up a hand, laughing. ‘Enough, enough, Molly. You do not need to convince me. You are a grown woman and may do as you please.’

  ‘I know they could cope without me,’ she conceded, smiling. ‘However, today will be the last of those early mornings. With the days growing shorter I shall go to the house on a Tuesday. We will prepare all we can in advance so that Fleur and the others have only to pack up the cart in the morning.’

  ‘If you must.’

  She reached for his hand. ‘I like to do it, Edwin. I like to help. It makes me feel n
ecessary.’

  ‘You are very necessary, my dear. You are necessary to my comfort, keeping house for me here.’

  She took his hand and squeezed it, wanting to say how grateful she was that he had taken her in when she was so suddenly widowed, but the memories that stirred up brought an unwelcome lump to her throat and she did not wish to embarrass either of them with her tears, so she pinned on a bright smile and asked him where he had been.

  ‘I called upon our new neighbours at Newlands.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Edwin spread his hands, ‘I could not ignore them, Molly, you must see that. And I admit I was pleasantly surprised. Sir Gerald is really most gentleman-like. He was most accommodating.’

  ‘One would expect him to be, to a man of the cloth.’ Molly bit her lip. ‘I beg your pardon, Edwin, I know one should never listen to gossip, but from everything I have heard, Sir Gerald Kilburn and his friends are everything I most despise...’

  She tailed off and Edwin looked at her with some amusement.

  ‘You must learn not to attach too much importance to the gossip our sister writes to you. She has inherited our father’s abhorrence of anything frivolous. Sir Gerald and his guests all seemed very pleasant. He introduced me to his sister, too. Miss Kilburn is to keep house for him here. She has with her an elderly lady who is her companion. Their presence and that of other ladies suggests this is not a party of rakish bucks intent upon setting the neighbourhood by the ears.’

  ‘Not all of them, perhaps,’ said Molly darkly. ‘But Louisa wrote to warn me that one of the party is sure to be Sir Gerald’s oldest and closest friend, Charles Russington. Even you will have heard of his reputation, Edwin. Louisa says the gossip about the man is no exaggeration. He is the most attractive man imaginable and no lady in town is safe.’

  ‘If the fellow is so attractive, perhaps it is he who is not safe from the ladies.’

  ‘Edwin!’

  ‘I beg your pardon, I did not mean to be flippant, but I think you are making too much of this. Yes, I have certainly heard of Beau Russington, but I did not see him today.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘If the fellow is as rakish as they say, then perhaps he is coming into the country for a rest! No, no, do not rip up at me for that, my dear. Forgive me, but I think you are too quick to judge. It is our Christian duty to give these people the benefit of the doubt, at least until we are a little better acquainted with them. And we shall soon know what our neighbours think of the newcomers. Sir Gerald told me they plan to attend Friday’s assembly at the King’s Head. His party comprises five ladies, excluding the elderly companion, and six gentlemen, so just think how that will liven things up!’

  Molly was still digesting this news when Edwin coughed.

  ‘I thought we might go this time. Just so that you might meet the Newlands party, you understand. Miss Agnes Kilburn is a quiet, well-mannered young lady, about your age, and your situations are quite similar. I think you might get on very well.’

  Molly said nothing, but her doubts must have been plain in her face, for Edwin said earnestly, ‘I really should like you to meet her, my dear.’

  She narrowed her eyes, a sudden smile tugging at her mouth. ‘Why, Edwin, I do believe you are blushing. Have you taken a liking to Miss Kilburn?’

  ‘No, no, of course not, we have only met the once.’ His ears had turned quite red, which only increased Molly’s suspicions. He said, ‘I am merely concerned that we do not appear unfriendly. And I thought you would prefer that to my inviting them here.’

  ‘There is that,’ she agreed. ‘Very well, we shall go. I admit my interest has been piqued. In meeting Miss Kilburn, at least.’

  ‘Molly.’ Edwin tried to look stern but failed miserably. ‘I will not have you making Miss Kilburn feel awkward.’

  ‘No, of course not,’ said Molly, her grey eyes twinkling. ‘I shall be the very soul of discretion!’

  * * *

  Molly decided that if she was going to attend the assembly then she would need some new gloves, since she had noticed at their last outing that her old ones were looking decidedly shabby. Thus, on the morning of the assembly, she sallied forth to the high street to make her purchases. Hebden’s was by far the most popular shop for the ladies of Compton Parva. The business had begun as a haberdasher, selling everything one might require for sewing such as ribbons, thread and needles, but as the number of families in the area increased, the business had expanded to include such necessary items as ladies’ bonnets, scarves, reticules, stockings and gloves. The shop was now run by Miss Hebden, who had inherited the business from her parents, and when she saw Molly, she came immediately to serve her.

  ‘Ah, Mrs Morgan, good day to you,’ she greeted Molly with her usual cheerful smile. ‘How may I help you today?’

  ‘I need a pair of white gloves, but I can wait, if you have other customers.’

  ‘No, no, those ladies are shopping together and Clara is looking after them very nicely. She does not need me always looking over her shoulder.’

  ‘She has settled in well, then?’

  ‘Oh, yes, indeed, very well. She is a quick learner and not afraid to ask if there’s something she don’t know.’ She turned slightly away from her assistant and lowered her voice. ‘I admit I was a little reluctant, when you first suggested I should take her on, but she’s a good girl, very polite, and the customers like her, which is important.’

  Molly smiled. ‘I am very glad.’

  ‘Yes,’ Miss Hebden continued. ‘And she’s company, too. In fact, I have grown very fond of her.’ She hesitated, then said in a rush, ‘I think what you are doing at Prospect House is a very fine thing, Mrs Morgan, taking in those poor girls and giving them a second chance. What Clara has told me about her last employer, trying to take advantage of the poor maid and then turning her off without a character when she refused—well, it makes my blood boil, so it does. And him a gentleman, too, so she says. There’s some wicked folks in this world, Mrs Morgan, and that’s a fact.’ For a moment, Miss Hebden’s countenance was unusually solemn, then she gave herself a little shake and smiled. ‘But I mustn’t keep you talking all day, ma’am. It’s white gloves you want, isn’t it? Now, then, let me see... Yes, here we are. You are in luck, it is the very last pair. We’ve had quite a run on them this week and on ribbons, too. Everyone wants to look their best for tonight’s assembly, I shouldn’t wonder. I understand the new owner of Newlands intends to be there, with his friends, so everyone will be out to impress them.’

  Molly stifled the urge to say that she did not wish to impress anyone. More customers came into the shop at that moment, so she paid for her gloves and left. She felt a little spurt of indignation that the arrival of a fashionable gentleman and his friends could arouse such interest in the town. Well, she for one would not give them another thought.

  Alas for such hopes. Molly had not gone a hundred yards when she met up with Mrs Birch and Lady Currick, two highly respected matrons of Compton Parva. Since each of them had a daughter of marriageable age, Molly was not surprised when they told her they would be attending that evening’s assembly.

  ‘All of Compton Parva will be there,’ remarked Mrs Birch, nodding sagely. ‘Everyone is agog to see the new owner of Newlands. Have you met him yet, Mrs Morgan? No? Ah, then we have the advantage of you.’

  ‘Yes,’ averred Lady Currick, interrupting her friend. ‘Sir William lost no time in visiting Newlands and invited them all to join my little card party last night. Was there ever such a man! Not a word to me until it was too late. I asked him how he thought I would accommodate another eleven guests, which, of course, he could not answer. But somehow I managed to squeeze in another table and it passed off very pleasantly, did it not, Mrs Birch? What a pity you were not able to join us, Mrs Morgan, for you could then have met the whole party.’

  ‘I vow I was a little in awe of them to begin with,’ said Mrs Birch, �
�but I needn’t have worried, they were all so pleasant and obliging. Sir Gerald is a most engaging young man, very genial and even-tempered, despite his carrot-coloured hair! And wait until you see the ladies’ gowns, Mrs Morgan. London fashions, one can tell at a glance.’

  Molly listened in good-humoured silence while the ladies went into raptures over the cut and quality of the various gowns and giggled like schoolgirls over the handsome gentlemen, saving an especial mention for Beau Russington.

  ‘Oh, now there is a handsome gentleman,’ said Lady Currick, sighing. ‘One can quite understand why ladies are constantly throwing themselves at him. He is so very tall and with such an air of fashion about him!’

  ‘And those eyes, ma’am.’ Mrs Birch sighed gustily. ‘So dark and intense, and that way he has of fixing his gaze upon one, as if you were the only person in the room. La, I think if I were not a happily married woman I might succumb to the beau myself!’

  ‘Indeed, I think you are right, my dear, I have always had a soft spot for a rake, even one as notorious as Beau Russington.’ Lady Currick gave another little giggle before becoming serious. ‘But with so many personable young men in town, and all of them renowned for being a little fast, we must be sure the girls are properly chaperoned. No more than two dances, if any one of these gentlemen should ask them to stand up.’

  Molly stared at them. ‘You acknowledge the gentlemen to be libertines, yet you will allow your daughters to dance with them?’

  ‘Why, of course, my dear, it would be a great honour to stand up with a fashionable gentleman. And I have no worries that they might attract the gentlemen’s attention beyond the dance, for I think Mrs Birch will agree with me that our girls cannot hold a candle to the fine ladies staying at Newlands. But you will see for yourself, Mrs Morgan, if you are coming to the ball this evening.’

  The ladies strolled off and Molly went on her way, wondering if it was too late to cry off from tonight’s assembly, but it was not really to be considered. She would be obliged to meet the Newlands party at some point, so it would be best to get it over.