A Rake's Redemption

by Cynthia Breeding

Inis stepped into the hip bath and sat on the small, built-in seat. The Duke of Dansworth had visited her uncle in Dublin several years ago. How she could ever have confused him with Alex, she didn’t know. She must have panicked the day she was brought here and heard the name. Although Inis had not joined her uncle and the Duke of Dansworth at the high table that night, from what she remembered, the duke had seemed much older, but that might have been because he was thin as a reed with what looked like a permanent frown on his face. He hadn’t been kind to the maids who’d waited on him, either. She recalled him chiding one of them for not changing out his silverware more quickly when he’d dropped a piece. He reminded her of Silas Desmond, or maybe it should be the other way around, given the duke’s title.

  Titles. As Inis let the now-tepid water settle over her, she thought of how many women like Amelia Stanton were social climbers. But Sweet Mary, Inis could no more imagine conjoining with the Duke of Dansworth than she could with Silas. How could any woman bring herself to do such a thing?

  The more important question, though, was did Alex still have feelings for Amelia?

  Chapter Five

  Inis joined the rest of the household staff in the kitchen for supper that evening as she had since she arrived. Alex had suggested she take the meal with him in the dining room so she might accustom herself not only to place settings, but also being served by the footmen and maids. She had adamantly refused.

  No doubt some of the staff would be jealous when they discovered Inis was being given “lessons.” She certainly did not want them thinking she expected anyone to wait on her. With the exception of Elsie, the other maids were aloof and usually stopped talking when she came across them. Inis didn’t need to give them cause to alienate them further. Having the hot water brought up to her room each afternoon by footmen was luxury enough.

  Even at her uncle’s house and estate, where there were numerous servants to tend to her needs, Inis usually did most things for herself. Why would she waste a maid’s time when she was perfectly capable of combing her own hair and dressing herself?

  She looked around the large table set in the middle of the huge kitchen. Besides herself and Elsie, there were four other chambermaids seated at the table. Mary and Ivy darted side-glances at her, which told Inis they’d probably already heard she would be receiving individual lessons. Alice, the oldest of the group, studied her openly. Even if Elsie had not told them, the walls of large houses, and barns, seemed to have ears. One of the stable boys could have overheard Lord Ashley’s conversation with her earlier. Servants loved to gossip. Fern, the maid Elsie said had only been hired a few weeks ago, didn’t look at Inis at all.

  The other woman at the table tonight was the housekeeper, Mrs. Bradley. She usually did not take her meals with them since she was, officially, their supervisor and kept a polite, reserved distance. Inis wondered if perhaps she had joined them tonight to squelch any snide comments about Inis being given special attention by Lord Ashley. A major portion of a chatelaine’s job was to keep the female servants in line, just as the majordomo did with the male staff.

  “Does Lord Ashley entertain often during the Season?” Inis asked Mrs. Bradley.

  “No,” the housekeeper replied. “As a bachelor, he tends not to host many events.”

  Inis had hoped that would be the case, but she wanted to be certain she wasn’t going to be thrown into any situations unexpectedly.

  Mary rolled her eyes at Ivy and spoke as though Inis were not there. “Maybe she’s hopin’ the lord will make her hostess.”

  Ivy giggled. “A groom for a—”

  “That is quite enough,” Mrs. Bradley said, giving them both a stern look. “What Lord Ashley does, or does not do, is none of your concern.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Mary and Ivy said in unison and studiously attacked their food.

  Inis sighed. She didn’t need to make friends, but she would prefer no hostilities. “I am the one who misspoke. I should nae have asked the question.”

  “Since you are new here, it is a reasonable one,” Mrs. Bradley answered.

  Elsie changed the subject, asking about the gardeners’ schedule for spring planting, which apparently was an interest close to Mrs. Bradley’s heart. The conversation soon turned to the weather and the proper time to place the annual bulbs into the flowerbeds. Inis listened without giving an opinion. She finished her dinner and quietly rose to start collecting empty plates. Although clearing the table was part of the cook’s helpers’ duties, Inis didn’t want the kitchen staff thinking she was their better. Mrs. Bradley raised an eyebrow but remained silent, while the cook, Mrs. Olsen, smiled at Inis.

  She started to put the plates on the counter, not seeing the daddy-long-legs spider that had crawled over the edge of the sink toward her until one of its spindly legs touched her hand. Inis jerked her hand away, knocking over a pitcher of milk in her haste and spilling the contents over the floor. The cook stopped smiling.

  “I’m so sorry.” Inis grabbed for a dishtowel and knelt down. “I will clean it up.”

  “Goodness gracious, what happened?” Mrs. Bradley rose and walked over.

  “I…there was a spider…”

  Ivy and Mary giggled.

  “A spider?” the housekeeper asked. “In the kitchen?”

  The cook now looked indignant. “I do not allow spiders in my kitchen. It must have crawled in through the pump handle.”

  “Aye, I think it did,” Inis said and stood, wringing out the sopping towel. “I didn’t see it in time.”

  Mrs. Bradley frowned. “Even though I do not relish the thought of a spider in the kitchen…” She glanced at the cook and then back to Inis. “They are harmless.”

  “I cannot believe a groom is frightened of spiders,” Alice said with a sniff. “The barn is probably full of them.”

  Inis felt her face flush. She wasn’t scared of the blasted things. Should she just let the other maids think she was? Her temper began to rise. “I was bitten by one once and had a verra bad reaction.”

  Fern finally gave Inis a curious look, but she remained silent as did Alice. Mary and Ivy started to giggle, but they were silenced with a look from the housekeeper.

  Elsie’s eyes rounded. “How horrible. When did that happen?”

  “When I was a bairn,” Inis replied, beginning to feel somewhat foolish. “I doona want it to happen again.”

  “Of course you don’t,” Elsie said and glared at Mary and Ivy. “You two shouldn’t be making fun of Inis. I happen to know both of you are scared of mice.”

  Both of Mrs. Bradley’s brows rose. “We do not have mice in this house.” She paused and frowned. “But perhaps a more thorough spring cleaning needs to be done.”

  Inis didn’t have to look at the other maids to feel the dagger glances they were sending her. She groaned. She had inadvertently made more work for them. They weren’t likely to forget anytime soon.

  …

  Alex wasted no time in beginning Inis’s tutoring. He told her the next morning to report to the parlor precisely at five o’clock for her first lesson. She’d thought they might conduct these “lessons” in the privacy of the library rather than where any passing servant could hear them. But perhaps he didn’t wish to put himself in any kind of compromising position.

  He’d made quite clear his intention was to prove to his brother that a commoner could fool the ton by acting like a blue-blooded aristocrat. He definitely had not indicated these lessons had anything to do with her personally.

  When Inis entered the parlor at the appointed time, the lady with the chestnut hair who had visited Alex before was already sitting on the sofa. Her presence only confirmed Alex had no personal interest in this endeavor. And why should he? He was her employer. She was his employee, and he’d offered a ridiculously large sum of money for her compliance. He had also explained she would be able to better her station in life once she was tutored in Society protocol. At the time, she’d managed not to snicker over the irony, but now, s
eeing the lady seated on the sofa, Inis felt a little ping of…something flashing through her. She couldn’t define it, but it felt disconcerting.

  She looked again at the lady fashionably attired in an afternoon dress of yellow watered silk and looked down at the trews she wore. A faint scent of rosewater drifted toward her, making her all too aware she hadn’t had her own bath yet.

  The lady’s nose twitched delicately and her eyes widened as she looked over at Inis. Alex, standing by one of the French windows, frowned. Inis wasn’t sure whether it was over her appearance or the smell of the stables clinging to her.

  “I lost track of time,” she said, defensive, although the woman’s gaze was more curious than judgmental. Then Inis remembered she had a role to play and an identity to protect. Whoever the lady was, she might as well get an earful. “That stud of yours was nae behavin’. He near kicked down the stall door when I took Goldie out. I think the filly may be in heat, although ’tis a bit young for her first time.”

  Alex and the woman both stared at her. The woman’s mouth opened and then closed. Inis thought she saw Alex’s lips twitch, but there was no humor in his voice when he spoke.

  “Perhaps that is a subject we can discuss later.” He gestured toward the lady on the sofa. “This is my friend, Miss Caroline Nash. I have asked her to help in certain areas of the project.” He turned toward Caroline. “May I present my groom, Inis O’Brien. I think you can see I have set quite a challenge for myself.”

  Those words stung. Inis drew her brows together, about to remind him this was his stupid idea, not hers, but then Caroline laughed at Alex. “You really cannot resist a challenge, can you?”

  Before Inis could consider whether that was an insult, Caroline turned, her expression unguarded. “Alexander has explained to me what he intends to do. I hope you will accept my help.”

  The woman seemed likable enough. Alex had called her a friend and not referred to her as Lady Caroline. They seemed quite comfortable with each other. Was Caroline his lover? Not that it mattered to Inis. She glanced at the matching bonnet, kid gloves, and an ivory-colored fan that lay on the seat beside Caroline.

  Inis pointed to the fan. “Are ye here to make me use that bloody thing?”

  Caroline blinked. “Eventually, yes, but perhaps we should begin this project with language. Ladies do not curse.”

  Of course they didn’t. Her uncle would probably confine her to her chamber if he’d heard her. But Inis found using the word strangely liberating. Alex did think she was uneducated, after all; she might as well have some fun.

  “Bloody is a bad word, is it?” Inis asked. “But I did nae add hell, now did I?”

  Alex made a choking sound, and Caroline’s grey eyes widened before she assumed an impassive expression. “No, you did not. I suppose that is a start.” She glanced once more at Inis’s breeches. “Might I suggest wearing a dress when we meet for lessons?”

  “’Tis a fine idea,” Inis said, “except I doona own any.”

  Surprise flashed across Caroline’s face, and she turned to Alex. “Inis does not own a dress?”

  He appeared flustered. Inis was both amused and a little deflated that Alex hadn’t even thought about her lack of feminine apparel. Not that he’d had occasion to notice. She ate with the servants, and he only saw her when she was in the stables.

  “I will send for Madame Dubois tomorrow. She owns the best modiste shop on Regent Street.”

  Caroline wagged a finger at him. “Do you want the poor woman to fall into a swoon when you ask for something besides lace negligees?”

  “Lace negligees?” Inis clapped a hand over mouth when both of them looked at her. She hadn’t meant to say the words aloud. But what…

  Caroline gave Alex a mischievous look. “Do you want to explain?”

  “No.”

  To her surprise, Inis saw the tips of Alex’s ears grow pink. “I dinna mean…forget I said a word. ’Tis nae my business.”

  “Au contraire,” Caroline replied. “If you have agreed to go along with Alexander’s scheme, you should know what you are getting yourself into.”

  “I think we can discuss that later,” Alex said.

  Caroline ignored him and looked at Inis. “Men always want to put off anything that might be unpleasant. At least when it comes to women. And this is about women.”

  Alex glared at her. “You are not going to stop, are you?”

  “No. Inis deserves to know.” Caroline turned to her before Alex could answer. “The negligees are a parting gift.”

  Inis felt thoroughly confused. Alex made a sound that sounded like a growl. “Parting gift?”

  “To his lovers,” Caroline replied. “He always sends one afterward as a thank-you…so to speak.”

  The growl came again. Inis was too enthralled by what Caroline was saying to look at Alex. “Afterward?”

  “Alexander has one-time trysts with…er, certain ladies of the ton.” Caroline waved her hand vaguely. “Since he sees them only once, he sends them a gift. I must say, some months he keeps Madame Dubois quite busy.”

  Inis felt her eyes round. She knew both men and women of Society took lovers, but so many? That gave new meaning to the word scoundrel.

  “Are you quite through?” Alex asked, still rooted to the spot by the window. “I am sure Inis has heard much more than she cared to hear.”

  Caroline went on before Inis could think of anything to say. “She needs to know these women you will be presenting her to will wonder if she is in the club.”

  Inis found her voice. “Club?”

  “The Ravaged Revelers or, to simplify, The R Club,” Caroline replied. “The ladies only earn bragging rights about their own decadence when they receive their negligees. They consider it rather a badge of merit.”

  “My God,” Alex said, his voice sounding like low, rolling thunder. “Will you cease with this nonsense?” He turned to Inis. “It is not like that. I can explain.”

  Somehow, Inis managed to find her wits and shook her head. “’Tis nae need to explain, my lord.” She avoided looking directly at Alex. “But please excuse me. I am in desperate need of a bath.”

  She doubted water would wash away what she’d heard, but she turned and walked out of the parlor, not heeding his call for her to wait.

  …

  “Leave the decanter,” Brice told the waiter at White’s that evening after he’d poured cognacs for Alex and Brice. “We may need it.”

  “Very well, sir.”

  “Well, Inis was bound to hear of it,” Brice said after the waiter had moved out of earshot. “I suggest getting drunk.”

  “Which will leave me with a hangover when I face Inis tomorrow,” Alex said.

  Brice eyed him. “You did not say anything at all to her before you came here?”

  Alex shook his head. “She went to her chamber and stayed there. I thought she might join the staff for dinner in the kitchens, but the cook said Inis had taken some bread and cheese to her room.”

  “The longer you wait, the longer she will have to come to some not-so-good conclusions,” Brice said.

  Alex scowled at him. “You do not think I know that? Christ, why did Caroline have to keep blethering on? Especially that nonsense about a club.”

  Brice cocked an eyebrow. “It is not exactly nonsense.”

  “What?” Alex took a healthy swallow of cognac. “You cannot be serious.”

  “I overheard Lady Compton talking about it at the dinner.”

  “And you believe everything the queen of on-dits says?”

  “No, but one of your conquests confirmed it. There is a lot of discussion over who will be the first to get you into her bed a second time.”

  “I do not do second times. There is no point.”

  Brice shrugged. “Apparently, the ladies are wagering over it.”

  “Good God.” At any other time, Alex might have been flattered at such idiocy, but it was not what he wanted Inis hearing about. “That is ridiculous.”
/>
  “Tell that to them.” Brice grinned. “Although I think if you do, you will only spur the furor on.”

  Alex finished his drink. “Hell. I thought Caroline was making that up.”

  “Nope. From what I overheard, Lady Compton was quite miffed that she has not received a negligee.”

  “And she will not.”

  Brice swirled the cognac in his snifter. “The negligees probably were not one of your better ideas. You just stoked competition.”

  “That was not my primary intent.” His primary intent had been that when the lady in question wore it—especially in the presence of the husband—she would remember the pleasure Alex had given her in their one-time coupling. He’d toyed with the ironic idea of using pure white silk, but married women wouldn’t purchase white negligees for themselves, which might cause their husbands to question them. He’d settled on a deep ivory instead, the tainted color being more appropriate after all.

  “Whether it was your primary intent or not, that is what has happened,” Brice said and poured both of them more brandy. “Half the women of the ton, the half you have not compromised yet, want one.”

  “I am not planning to take every woman of the ton to bed,” Alex answered and tossed back the drink. “Just the wives of George’s friends.”

  “Even the ones who are faithful to their husbands?”

  “The ones who are faithful aren’t interested in assignations, and I respect that.” He set his glass down. “But for the others…it is only a game to them. Only a game.”

  …

  Alex walked toward the stables the next morning after finishing breakfast. He needed to talk to Inis, but he was dreading the conversation. He wanted reassurance that she would still go along with his plan, although she had no reason not to since he’d offered to pay her well.

  Still, he’d seen the look of shock on her face when Caroline had blabbed about his associations and that ridiculous club, but there had been something else in her eyes when she left the room. He couldn’t quite define it, but disappointment was the word that kept surfacing in his brain. Although why an Irish orphan should be disenchanted with him—or why he would care—baffled him. He’d never claimed to be some damn knight in shining armor.