Catching A Rake (A Rake's Redemption Book 3)

by G. L. Snodgrass

  Lord Bradford sighed heavily. “I know. I can’t imagine it either.”

  The two continued to walk together. Bradford appreciated his friend's silence. He was allowing him time and distance to work through the problem.

  “As Lady Weston said, you could always send Olivia to Basingstoke. She to reside in the country, you here in London. It would be one way to avoid the daily explosions between you two.”

  Bradford slowly shook his head. “Can you imagine Olivia alone at Basingstoke? She would be bored to death within a fortnight. Either that or I would find the estate completely reworked, my tenants threatening to abandon me and my Earldom in serious distress.”

  Warwick laughed. “Or more likely, your estates would be running more efficiently. Your profits would be up and your tenants much happier.”

  Bradford shuddered. “That would be so much worse. The woman would be even more insufferable. There is nothing she likes more than being right and constantly reminding every one of the fact.”

  Warwick laughed, “Yes, well, it is a shame you two could not work in tandem. The both of you working together would accomplish remarkable things.”

  Bradford pondered his friend's words. While possibly true, it would never come to pass. Olivia would never agree to see the world the way he did. No, his life was to be a constant struggle from this point forward.

  After another block of walking, they stopped outside his home. Soon to be Olivia’s home, he realized as a sudden dread crawled down his spine.

  “There is one good thing to come out of this,” Warwick said with a quick smile.

  “What is that?” Bradford asked with idle curiosity, from his perspective, there was nothing of value.

  Warwick smiled and said, “I win our wager.”

  Bradford sighed heavily, “I would pay twice as much to avoid the situation.”

  Warwick laughed and reached up to slap his friend on the back before obviously remembering his wound and holding off.

  “Well, I have seen you safely home, now I am off to see someone who might have a word about our possible kidnappers.”

  Bradford balked for a moment, but before he could object Warwick continued, “You let us find them, then you can finish them. I realize this is personal now. Your wound. Your wife, of course. You should be the one to end it. But let Nathanial, Jocko, and I find them for you. Consider it a wedding present.”

  The Earl of Bradford hesitated for a moment. The thought of anyone else being involved in this matter rubbed him the wrong way. It was his responsibility now. He should be the one to protect Olivia and avenge her honor. But he would allow Warwick to find them for him. Besides, he was going to be rather busy over the next few days.

  “Thank you,” he said to his friend. “And can I expect you there on Saturday, to stand with me.”

  Warwick nodded somberly. “It is the least I could do. It would be an honor.”

  The two friends shook hands, neither of them willing to admit just how important their friendship was.

  Taking a deep breath, Lord Bradford started up the steps. Now to address the real problem before him. His mother.

  That familiar scent of bee’s wax and mint greeted him as he stepped in. The smell that would always mean home to him.

  For some reason, the memory of Olivia’s lavender perfume jumped into his mind. His brow furrowed. Why was he remembering that now?

  The house itself was quiet. Joseph had taken rooms in the city. Brantley was still off at Cambridge, studying for the law. Glancing at the clock at the other end of the entrance way, he saw that it was getting close to time for her afternoon tea. That meant she would be in the parlor.

  Turning, he started that way when Evans stepped out of the room and smiled. “Welcome home My Lord,” he said. “We received word that you had returned and had been successful in retrieving Miss Olivia.”

  Lord Bradford smiled to himself. The man must be approaching sixty. As bald as a hairless cat, a slightly sloped back bent with age, but eyes that brought happiness into the world. The man filled his earliest memories. That smile. That constant show of positive support.

  It was obvious that Evans was proud of him. A fact that made him feel comfortable and confident. Evans had always been the one constant in his life. Not afraid to guide him away from the pitfalls of life.

  In fact, Bradford had taken to considering Evans’ opinion on most things. Whenever in doubt, all he had to think was, what would Evans do? to find the correct answer to most of life’s problems. The one person who didn’t want anything from him. He had no agenda, no plea. No desire for wealth or power. All he wanted was for Lord Bradford’s life to be a little bit easier.

  “Yes, well,” Bradford began, “I suppose I should inform you that Miss Olivia and I are to be married. She will soon be the mistress of this house. A fact that I now have to go explain to my mother.”

  A cold chill ran down his back. How would his mother react?

  The butler smiled broadly. “I must congratulate you, My Lord. I am not surprised at your choice. I have always thought that Miss Olivia would make a most excellent Countess. I must say that I was worried when you let her have a season without proposing. A bit of a risk. But it is nice to see that it worked out for you both.”

  Bradford’s heart lurched as he realized that Evans believed it was a love match. Didn’t the man have eyes? He had seen the two of them together enough times to realize they would never work well.

  “Yes, well, I hope you will help Miss Olivia by guiding her in the management of the household.”

  Evans actually laughed. “Sir, I have found that Miss Olivia needs very little guidance. And those that try are soon found corrected. No, I am sure she will be most excellent.”

  Bradford nodded. “Yes, well, we will work out the details later. You can inform the staff. The wedding will be on Saturday at her brother’s home. We will return here for a few days before retiring to Basingstoke.”

  “Of course, My Lord,” Evan’s said with a small bow. “And I will send word to the estate to prepare. I assume I, Mrs. Webb, and a few others will accompany you?”

  Bradford nodded, “Yes, yes, the regular contingent, plus I assume Miss Olivia’s maid.”

  Again, Evans nodded and Bradford dismissed the issue from his mind. Evans would handle everything.

  “Now then, my mother.”

  Evans smiled again as he stepped aside, obviously not worried about the upcoming confrontation. Bradford wished he could be so confident.

  Entering the parlor, Lord Bradford found his mother alone, a book in one hand and a cup of tea in the other.

  “Bradford,” she said with a quick smile. “They said you had returned. Something about rescuing a young girl. That Caldwell chit, I believe.”

  He relaxed. It was going to be worse than he thought but at least now he knew what he was dealing with.

  “That Caldwell chit as you called her. Olivia is her name as you well know. Anyway, we are to be married this Saturday. You may attend if you so desire,” he added as he poured himself a whiskey.

  His mother stared at him for a long moment. “Why aren’t you wearing a shirt? Is this some new fashion I haven’t heard of? I can see perhaps the lack of a cravat. But no shirt. Really, Bradford, I expect better of you.”

  He sighed heavily. “Regardless of my attire. Did you hear what I said, about Miss Olivia and myself marrying this Saturday?”

  “Yes dear,” she said as she took a sip of tea. “I assumed that would be the case when you rode out of here like a banshee on a dark night.”

  His mother had always mixed her metaphors, but somehow, she always communicated what she meant.

  “So, you are not disappointed?” he asked.

  He could still remember the way his mother had looked at him when he was but four-years-old during the funeral for his father. She had frowned and said, “You are to be in charge. Don’t make a mash of it."

  “What, of Olivia Caldwell?” his mother said. “No, sh
e will make an excellent daughter-in-law. Intelligent girl. Sweet. Always agreeable. Although I am surprised that you finally recognized her worth. Good on you for finally seeing it.”

  He and his mother had never really been close. Joseph and Brantley had only been a few years younger. His mother had always seemed to be with child. Then his father had died. And he had become the Earl of Bradford.

  Evans and Mrs. Webb had been there in his early years.

  Were they talking about the same person? he wondered. His mother’s lack of concern was truly surprising. Why did everyone else think this was a wise course. Couldn’t they see the hazards and pitfalls?

  “Yes, well, I thought we would spend a few days here then retire to Basingstoke for the remainder of the summer.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “It will give me time to locate something new. Perhaps in Kensington, close to your brother.”

  “You needn’t move,” he said suddenly realizing how everyone’s life would have to adjust because of his decision. “Or there is always the Dowager house at Basingstoke.”

  His mother frowned at him over the rim of her cup. “What, and leave London? No, I think a new apartment. A few servants. Beadily of course. No, something small but comfortable. Olivia deserves to be the mistress of her new home. She doesn’t need me looking over her shoulder.”

  Bradford sighed with relief. That would be one less worry to deal with. His mother and his wife would not be in conflict every waking moment. Now all he had to discover was how to make sure he and his wife could achieve the same level of understanding.

  Chapter Ten

  Olivia’s stomach turned over for the thousandth time. Every tick of the clock reminded her that she was drawing ever closer to a fate that terrified her.

  Tomorrow was the day. It couldn’t be held back. It couldn’t be denied. Tomorrow she would be Lady Bradford. Wife to the Earl of Bradford. Bedmate to the man.

  Swallowing hard, she tried to put aside the fear that rested at the bottom of her stomach. What would he expect of her? How could she ever compare to his many other companions? A small anger began to build. It wasn’t fair of him to draw comparisons.

  Admit it, Olivia, she said to herself. Her biggest fear was being seen as a failure. In bed, he would have all the knowledge, all the experience. And the thought of Bradford besting her at anything was disturbing to her very core.

  “Olivia,” Lady Weston called out as she stepped down from the stairs. “There you are. I wanted a word if you will.”

  “Of course, Lady Weston,” Olivia said, indicating they should step into the parlor. It was probably another of a thousand questions about the wedding. It had been all that anyone had talked about for the last three days. Thankfully, Amanda and Lady Alice were dealing with the details.

  The wedding itself had become the least of her concerns. All she could think about was Bradford and what he must be thinking. The regrets he must be feeling. The idea of being beholden to Lord Bradford ate at her stomach. Refusing to let her rest.

  Would he even show on the day? Olivia shook her head. Of course, he would. The man was the personification of honor. He would never allow anything to be otherwise.

  “Sit here,” Lady Weston said as she patted the settee next to her.

  Olivia frowned. This must be serious.

  After she had sat and adjusted her dress. Lady Weston reached out with an old, age-spotted hand, and gently grasped Olivia’s knee.

  “I wished to discuss your wedding night.”

  Olivia gulped quickly. This was not what she had expected and was most definitely the last thing she wished to discuss with Lady Weston.

  “Lady Weston,” she replied quickly. “Um… Thank you. But that is not necessary. Amanda and I cornered a maid when we were thirteen and received all the details. She was very explicit.”

  Lady Weston slowly shook her head. “Not all maids know the truth.”

  Olivia laughed. “This one did, she gave birth five months later. Married the Hendley’s footman. They have several more children now.”

  Again, Lady Weston shook her head. “That is the … process … I am talking about the truth about a man and a woman.”

  Olivia frowned as she waited. What could she say? That she wasn’t worried. That it wasn’t important. At the moment. It seemed like the most important thing in her life. How could she survive in a loveless marriage? Maybe Lady Weston could shed some light. Heaven knew she couldn’t make things any worse.

  Taking a deep breath, Lady Weston looked off into the distance for a few seconds. As if drawing up distant memories for just the briefest moments, Olivia saw the corners of her mouth twitch as if threatening to smile.

  Lady Weston, however, brought her memories under control and turned to Olivia.

  “It is well that you know the process. We needn’t get into specifics. But I wished to discuss attitude. Perspective. The big things, the important things.”

  “Did you have this discussion with Lady Alice?” Olivia asked, suddenly curious.

  Lady Weston shook her head. “She would never have listened. To my daughter, I am but an ancient burden. Put on this world to make her life more difficult.”

  Olive smiled. She knew that Alice did not view her mother that way and that Lady Weston liked to play up the martyr a bit.

  “No,” the older woman continued, “but I have always wanted to pass on the things that I have learned. The two secrets that I believe can make a marriage successful. If only I had known them at the beginning of my marriage.”

  Leaning forward, Olivia held her breath. Suddenly very curious.

  “First,” Lady Weston said, “select the right man. With the correct ingredients. A person can achieve anything.”

  Olivia’s heart fell. She had not been given the opportunity to select the right man.

  “Do not worry, my dear,” Lady Weston said as she patted Olivia’s knee. “I believe Lord Bradford is such a man. Or at least he can be. If you know the second secret.”

  Again, Olivia held her breath.

  Lady Weston paused for a moment, staring into Olivia’s eyes, then looking around the room to make sure no servants were lurking about.

  “You must understand what a man truly wants in a wife,” she said.

  Olivia nodded as she waited, continuing to hold her breath. If Lady Weston didn’t tell her soon she was going to burst. Literally.

  “What a man wants in a wife,” the older woman said with a whisper, “is a Lady in the front parlor and a harlot in his bedroom.”

  Olivia rocked back, shocked to hear Lady Weston use such language.

  “No, it is true. If I had known that, perhaps I could have kept my husband at home. But by the time I learned, it was too late. Besides, the man was an idiot so I wasn’t working with solid material.”

  “But how could they desire two such diametrically opposed things?” Olivia asked as she tried to understand.

  Lady Weston smiled. “Is it really that different? Most women want a man that is both kind and fierce. Both strong and gentle. A man is no different. He desires a woman that he can be proud of in front of his friends and peers. A woman he can trust. Who he knows will be loyal, intelligent, graceful. All the attributes of a Lady. You, of course, more than hold those qualities.”

  The woman paused for a second. “But in the bedroom. Alone. Just the two of them. A man wants a woman who … Enjoys him as much as he enjoys her.”

  Olivia forgot to breathe for a moment as she took in Lady Weston’s advice. This was not what the maid had told them. Not even close. This idea was counter to everything she had ever been told. That modesty and virtue were what a man desired in a wife. Wasn’t it these strict rules that were forcing her into this situation with Bradford.

  Suddenly, Olivia felt a wave a trepidation wash over her. Would Bradford expect that of her? Surely not. He had admitted that they could spend their time apart. Living their own lives. Perhaps an occasional liaison. Such things could not be avoided and were e
xpected of a wife. How else could she get with child? But surely, he did not expect her to enjoy it.

  Her stomach turned over again. One more thing to worry about. One more thing for her to fail at. Her life was so not what she had hoped it would be.

  .o0o.

  It was time. That moment of truth had arrived.

  Amanda quickly handed her the bouquet, examined her one last time, adjusted a fold in Olivia’s high waisted dress, then hurried inside the parlor.

  Nathanial studied Olivia for a long moment then silently raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you want to do this? With Bradford?” he asked.

  Olivia swallowed hard and nodded. What choice did she have? Abandon her world and society expectations? Be the subject of rumors and tales. Despised and ignored. The shame of the family. No, never.

  Squaring her shoulders, she nodded to her brother and slipped her arm into his.

  There would be no music. No large gathering. No flower girl. Just a small group of friends and family. Lady Weston had insisted the marriage happen quickly before rumors could take hold. Before opinions became set in stone.

  “Once you are a Countess,” the woman had said, “they will forget about that silly kidnapping.”

  It would not be the wedding she had always dreamed of. But then, it would not be the marriage she had always wanted.

  No, it was better to get it over with, Olivia thought as she and her brother stepped into the room. Bradford’s mother and two brothers were there. Along with Lady Weston and Alice. And Jocko of course. Amanda waited for her by the bishop. Lord Warwick across from her. But it was only Bradford that she saw.

  The man was so handsome, so dashing. It almost took her breath away to think that she was about to marry such a man. A bright red waistcoat, buff breeches. No powdered wig. Simple, yet elegant. But then a man with such wide shoulders would look good in almost anything.

  Olivia studied him closely for any sign of doubt, any wavering. But of course, he was as solid as an oak tree. Unmovable, stoic, willing to accept his fate. A surge of regret washed over her. She must never forget that he was doing this for her. A fact that would bother her to no end. But she must not blame him.