The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 1

by Sorcha MacMurrough

  She glared at him.

  "Vanessa, enough of this wrangling for the moment."

  "Quite. I have a raging thirst and am very tired. My ribs ache, and I need to use, well, the chamberpot." She blushed and looked away from his open blue gaze.

  He stood up quickly. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have stayed so long. You need your rest. I'll just go fetch Dr. Gold to come have a look at you. Then Josephine and Emma Jerome and the maid can help you with more personal matters."

  She looked at him candidly again. Clifford could not help but admire her amethyst eyes and long lashes.

  "I appreciate all of your help. I'm quite frankly surprised at you taking so much trouble."

  Clifford shrugged his shoulders carelessly. "I found you on the road purely by accident. Though Fate has brought you to me, I'm not going to leave our happiness to Chance.

  "I make no secret of wishing to have you for my wife, nor of my desire to protect you and your reputation. I'm more than happy to nurse you myself through your illness, but it would cause tongues to wag if we were left alone in this house without appropriate chaperones.

  "Josephine is engaged to my brother Henry. She and her sister Emma are the souls of discretion and propriety. I feel confident that no one in the district will be able to speak ill of any of the three of you with Dr. Gold and his staff also in attendance."

  "Thank you for being so careful of my good name," she said quietly. "Most other men would have compromised me in an instant, the better to get my fortune."

  "Then you should be grateful I'm not like other men. As I have said before, I have no intention of our marriage being a battleground."

  "I don't wish that either. But nor do I have any intention of marrying you."

  "Oh?" Clifford asked. It was all he could manage without revealing the strange emotions which welled inside him at the prospect of her refusal.

  "Yes, I had planned on coming to see you today, in the hopes of getting you to behave reasonably. Can I ask you now to please reconsider the Devil's bargain you made with Gerald?"

  Clifford took a deep breath, and contemplated her pale, wan face with his penetrating blue gaze. She was lovelier than ever in his eyes in spite of her suffering. "In truth, Miss Hawkesworth, having seen you, and spoken to you thus, nothing could persuade me to give you up now."

  With that he stepped out of the room, leaving a stunned Vanessa staring after him in shock.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Josephine and Emma entered the chamber shortly thereafter, and put an end to Vanessa's swirling thoughts as to why Clifford was so adamant that they were to be married. She ached all over, but knew she had to get up and out of her crumpled linens to regain her peace of mind.

The housekeeper came in a short time later with a white lawn nightgown and a heavy dressing gown in a rich brocade, and offered her a bath.

  "Yes, please, that would be most refreshing.

  "We have a special bathing chamber off the kitchen, so I will instruct the servants to fill the tub, and settle you in the room we've prepared for you upstairs."

  They wrapped her in her own cloak and Clifford's to protect her modesty. She swung her legs off the bed and took a few tentative steps before her knees began to buckle.

  "Clifford!" Josephine called.

  He entered the room at once, and lifted the patient up into his arms as though she were as light as a feather.

  "Lead the way, please, Mistress Evans."

  "This way, sir," she indicated, heading toward the back of the house to the bathing chamber, complete with commode and a large wood and porcelain tub.

  Vanessa was blushing to the roots of her hair at the way she was pressed so closely to Clifford's chest, but there was little she could do, being so weak. She did not want to make a fool of herself by fussing when he was only trying to help.

  And if she was being completely honest, she would have to admit that she was rather enjoying the sensation of being held so closely that she could peer into his sapphire eyes. She recalled the girlish crush she had had upon him so many years before, but it was as nothing compared to the breathless sensation he evoked every time he looked at her. It was like a slow smoldering flame had been ignited in her bosom, and even lower down in the pit of her belly.

  She thought she detected a bemused expression in his bright eyes as he stared down at her, and was pleased. At least he was not looking at her in disgust, as well he might considering how badly she must smell and look after having been so ill.

  She knew she was not ugly, but nor was she a raving beauty like the two blonde Jerome sisters, often held up to her as models of deportment and femininity when she had been growing up. They had certainly grown even lovelier with the passage of time. She tried to suppress a sudden, uncharacteristic twinge of envy. They were no doubt spoken of with the utmost adulation, rather than sniggered at for being eccentric and bookish.

  For the first time, Vanessa wished she were delicate, blonde and feminine as she compared herself to the two striking young women. Yet Clifford did not seem in the least interested in them, but rather hung on her every word.

  Clifford placed her on a low stool by the fireplace in the bathing chamber, and kissing her hand, withdrew before she even had a chance to thank him.

  She looked at the other women to see if they had remarked upon his attentions to her, but found all three of them busily getting her bath ready.

  After availing herself of the commode, she allowed herself to be led to the steaming tub, and soaked peacefully in the hot water for some time, until she felt as if her illness had finally seeped out of her pores.

  Upon rising from the tub, Vanessa felt her legs jellying again, so allowed the women to dress her quickly before placing her back on the stool. They examined her feet and arms for bruises, and applied some delicately scented unguent. They wrapped her feet in soft bandages, all the while exclaiming over her evident flight down to the road in nothing but her stockings.

  "It turned so cold last night that it is a wonder you didn't catch your death," Emma commented as she combed out Vanessa's auburn tresses and spread them over her shoulders, the better to allow them to dry in front of the fire.

  "Please, I can do it myself," she protested, embarrassed at the young girl's ministrations.

  Then she pulled herself up short. The Jerome sisters were the same age as herself, yet Josephine was due to be married, and Emma seemed a most capable woman. She viewed herself as older because she had had so many responsibilities at her aunt's estate. Perhaps it would do her a world of good to enjoy herself, to allow the attentions of a few handsome men. But all the male sex she had met had been mere boys compared to Clifford, callow tongue-tied youths.

  Then she berated herself for the frivolous thoughts. Her aunt Agatha was dead, and she was ill. What was she thinking?

  And there was certainly no enjoyment to be had at her house, or anywhere else for that matter, until this whole debacle was resolved.

  Gerald had spoken ill of their nearest neighbor every chance he had had. However, thus far everything she had learned about Clifford had not caused her the slightest bit of unease. She had overheard snippets of his conversation with Dr. Gold when she had lapsed in and out of consciousness, and saw that he cared about family, friends, and his obligations. He seemed to be a man of his word.

  But who could tell what really lay in a person's heart? People could have one face for the world at large, and a far more sinister one in the privacy of their own home.

  It was all so confusing. Her brain screamed at her to beware of yet another fortune hunter. Yet her instincts told her that Clifford Stone was a man to be trusted and respected, at least from what she could see from the way he behaved with the others in the house.

  She must have been staring pensively at the fire for some time, for when she next looked up, it was at three pairs of worried eyes. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"

  Emma cleared her throat. "I said, if you're sure your hair is dry so you don't develop a st
iff neck, we'll let Clifford take you upstairs."

  "No, really there's no need. I can walk."

  But a few trembling steps belied her brave words, and Clifford in the room was at her side at an instant. He lifted her once more, and was up the stairs with her in a trice. Soon she found herself in a warm, pleasant, sun-drenched chamber at the front of the house.

  The women left the pair alone. Vanessa would have protested at the impropriety had not Josephine returned a short time later with a tray of beef broth. Clifford patiently settled her back against some pillows, and offered to feed her himself.

  "Thank you, no, I learned where my mouth was a long time ago, and even how to use a spoon," she said stiffly.

  "Very well, but please let me tuck this napkin under you chin."

  The intimate contact sent a thrill through her, and she looked away hastily, causing his fingers to catch in her silken tresses.

  "I am sorry. How clumsy of me."

  "No, it's my fault. I'm the one who moved abruptly."

  He settled the tray on her lap and she ate a few spoons of the tasty broth, before leaning back against the pillow heavily.

  "I'm so sorry. I can't seem to manage after all."

  "Don't trouble yourself. I shall gladly help . And please stop apologizing. It's not your fault you're ill."

  "That's just it. I'm never ill. Being so weak and feeble like this is really too embarrassing."

  "It was a terrible storm last night," Josephine said soothingly, with a sharp glance at Clifford.

  "Yes, we would never have ventured out of our house had it not been for this young miss. Her birthday, you know."

  "Congratulations. Many happy returns."

  "I'm just so glad Clifford found you before it was too late. Now, I shall sit here and tell you all about my presents, and who danced with whom, while Clifford makes you eat a few more drops of that broth."

  Vanessa acquiesced meekly, and opened her mouth upon command as Clifford fed her slowly and steadily.

  Thus a half-hour passed, with Josephine describing the gowns and jewels, and providing many interesting snippets of information about her new neighbors, in an entertaining but not at all catty way.

  As she listened, Vanessa's admiration for the young woman grew. Surely she would not want to marry into the family of a rake if all Gerald had said about Clifford were true.

  But why would her brother lie?

  Vanessa's throbbing head could not make sense of it all. At least she was safe at the doctor's house for the time being. Clifford could not press any unwanted attentions upon her. In any case, she was not so sure they were entirely unwanted any longer, she admitted to herself candidly. He was most solicitous of her without being suffocating. It was a novelty for her to be the center of attention, to feel so cared about and treasured. He was most deferential to all the women he came into contact with at the house, from the housekeeper to the cook, and also Malcolm Branson's sister Claire, who arrived just as her eyelids were beginning to droop. Surely he could not be that good of an actor...

  'I'll watch over her. Go on, all of you, and get some sleep. You've been up all night."

  After making the introductions and patting Claire on the shoulder in an avuncular fashion, Clifford promised to see them both later.

  Vanessa tried to chat with the pretty young woman with dark brown hair, but fell into a sound sleep in the middle of a sentence, utterly exhausted by the events of the previous day and night.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Josephine and Emma entered the chamber shortly thereafter, and put an end to Vanessa's swirling thoughts as to why Clifford was so adamant that they were to be married. She ached all over, but knew she had to get up and out of her crumpled linens to regain her peace of mind.

  The housekeeper came in a short time later with a white lawn nightgown and a heavy dressing gown in a rich brocade, and offered her a bath.

  "Yes, please, that would be most refreshing."

  "We have a special bathing chamber off the kitchen, so I will instruct the servants to fill the tub, and settle you in the room we've prepared for you upstairs."

  They wrapped her in her own cloak and Clifford's to protect her modesty. She swung her legs off the bed and took a few tentative steps before her knees began to buckle.

  "Clifford!" Josephine called.

  He entered the room at once, and lifted the patient up into his arms as though she were as light as a feather.

  "Lead the way, please, Mistress Evans."

  "This way, sir," she indicated, heading toward the back of the house to the bathing chamber, complete with commode and a large wood and porcelain tub.

  Vanessa was blushing to the roots of her hair at the way she was pressed so closely to Clifford's chest, but there was little she could do, being so weak. She did not want to make a fool of herself by fussing when he was only trying to help.

  And if she was being completely honest, she would have to admit that she was rather enjoying the sensation of being held so closely that she could peer into his sapphire eyes. She recalled the girlish crush she had had upon him so many years before, but it was as nothing compared to the breathless sensation he evoked every time he looked at her. It was like a slow smoldering flame had been ignited in her bosom, and even lower down in the pit of her belly.

  She thought she detected a bemused expression in his bright eyes as he stared down at her, and was pleased. At least he was not looking at her in disgust, as well he might considering how badly she must smell and look after having been so ill.

  She knew she was not ugly, but nor was she a raving beauty like the two blonde Jerome sisters, often held up to her as models of deportment and femininity when she had been growing up. They had certainly grown even lovelier with the passage of time. She tried to suppress a sudden, uncharacteristic twinge of envy. They were no doubt spoken of with the utmost adulation, rather than sniggered at for being eccentric and bookish.

  For the first time, Vanessa wished she were delicate, blonde and feminine as she compared herself to the two striking young women. Yet Clifford did not seem in the least interested in them, but rather hung on her every word.

  Clifford placed her on a low stool by the fireplace in the bathing chamber, and kissing her hand, withdrew before she even had a chance to thank him.

  She looked at the other women to see if they had remarked upon his attentions to her, but found all three of them busily getting her bath ready.

  After availing herself of the commode, she allowed herself to be led to the steaming tub, and soaked peacefully in the hot water for some time, until she felt as if her illness had finally seeped out of her pores.

  Upon rising from the tub, Vanessa felt her legs jellying again, so allowed the women to dress her quickly before placing her back on the stool. They examined her feet and arms for bruises, and applied some delicately scented unguent. They wrapped her feet in soft bandages, all the while exclaiming over her evident flight down to the road in nothing but her stockings.

  "It turned so cold last night that it is a wonder you didn't catch your death," Emma commented as she combed out Vanessa's auburn tresses and spread them over her shoulders, the better to allow them to dry in front of the fire.

  "Please, I can do it myself," she protested, embarrassed at the young girl's ministrations.

  Then she pulled herself up short. The Jerome sisters were the same age as herself, yet Josephine was due to be married, and Emma seemed a most capable woman. She viewed herself as older because she had had so many responsibilities at her aunt's estate. Perhaps it would do her a world of good to enjoy herself, to allow the attentions of a few handsome men. But all the male sex she had met had been mere boys compared to Clifford, callow tongue-tied youths.

  Then she berated herself for the frivolous thoughts. Her aunt Agatha was dead, and she was ill. What was she thinking?

  And there was certainly no enjoyment to be had at her house, or anywhere else for that matter, until this whole debacle was re
solved.

  Gerald had spoken ill of their nearest neighbor every chance he had had. However, thus far everything she had learned about Clifford had not caused her the slightest bit of unease. She had overheard snippets of his conversation with Dr. Gold when she had lapsed in and out of consciousness, and saw that he cared about family, friends, and his obligations. He seemed to be a man of his word.

  But who could tell what really lay in a person's heart? People could have one face for the world at large, and a far more sinister one in the privacy of their own home.

  It was all so confusing. Her brain screamed at her to beware of yet another fortune hunter. Yet her instincts told her that Clifford Stone was a man to be trusted and respected, at least from what she could see from the way he behaved with the others in the house.