The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 1

by Sorcha MacMurrough

  She felt like such a fraud, as if someone was going to expose her for the ladybird and liar that she was. She certainly didn't deserve all this attention and kindess, not after what she had done. It was also a sober reminder of all she would have lacked has the Duke not been found kissing her at the Brimley crossroads.

  She wondered now how she had ever allowed herself to be persuaded into such wrongdoing by Herbert. If he had ever really loved her, he should have dared to face her father, not crept around behind people's backs to woo her...

  And yet she could not get him off her mind as she asat discussing her plans for her wedding to the Duke of Ellesmere, though if she was being completely honest, it was not because she was pining for him.

  Rather, it was due to the fact that the more she got to know Thomas through his words and deeds, through learning his mind, the more she realized what a lucky escape she had had from Mr. Paxton.

  Her father never would have accepted him, she was certain, and she was not so sure now that she could blame him. She would have ruined herself for a man who couldn't hold a candle to the Duke, and she wasn't thinking of Paxton's lack of title.

  "Er, are you all right, Miss Castlemaine?"

  She pulled herself back to the present with a blink. "Yes, fine. I forgot to ask about the hymns."

  "Oh, yes, of course," he said, leafing through the papers, "after the three readings, we shall have another hymn. Then I shall begin the exchange of wedding vows, and then perform the blessing of the ring. Once Thomas has given you your ring, we will all recite the Lord's Prayer. I will then bless you both, and offer some concluding remarks upon the nature of matrimony in my most sanctimonious tones, and you shall all try not to laugh if I make any mistakes." He gave a self-deprecating smile. "I should never have agreed to do this. I will never hear the end of it if I flub my dearest friend's wedding ceremony."

  Sarah laughed at her brother. "You are incorrigible. It will all be just splendid, you mark my words."

  Jonathan winked broadly at her. "I certainly hope you're right, my dear, though as my sister, you are rather biased in my favor."

  "Sarah's right, it will be wonderful," Charlotte found herself reassuring him. "Even if you get every other word wrong, I know it will mean a great deal to Thomas to have you preside over his happiest of days."

  Jonathan smiled at her now, and gave her a reassessing look which made her blush even more hotly than the words that had just come out of her mouth. Happiest of days indeed.... He had dared tell her to her face that he was only marrying her for her money. And yet, even as her temper flared at the thought, she reflected that he was taking an awful lot of trouble to put on a show for everyone. Not to mention his impressive familiarity with Scripture. Could he really be that much of a canting hypocrite?

  Her aunt was constantly reminding her that one was judged by the company one kept. What did she know of Herbert's set apart from their hunting and roistering? And her aunt should talk. She went to church for mere form's sake, and spent most of her time either asleep, or with her missal up near her nose, while she peered over it and commented scathingly on what everyone was wearing, or the latest gossip about them she had heard. Charlotte had also seen more often than not that the Good Book was even upside-down in her aunt's hands.

  She yanked her attention back to Jonathan's comments, not daring to reflect more deeply on this most recent set of startling reflections.

  "In between my remarks, we shall sing a final hymn. By the time I have concluded, you will all be completely fatigued." Jonathan gave his sister a cheeky grin and pressed on. "I shall introduce you to the congregation as husband and wife, and the recessional music will begin. You will exit, and go outside to shake hands with everyone."

  "And if it's inclement?" she wondered aloud.

  He nodded. "Then the reception line will have to be in the ballroom."

  "And the final music?"

  Jonathan consulted his list. "The Hornpipe, from Handel's 'Water Music', the Arrival of the Queen of Sheba, from Handel's 'Solomon', or the First Movement from the 'Brandenburg Concerto Number One in F.'"

  "Oh, the Queen of Sheba will be me in that fine gown," Charlotte quipped.

  Sarah laughed merrily. "You'll be the most beautiful bride Brimley has ever seen, I assure you."

  Normally Charlotte would have been delighted at the prospect. Now she just found herself wishing she could be the happiest.

  "Good. I'm so glad that's all settled. We're just about back at the Castle, and I shall have to arrange the musicians for rehearsal tomorrow, so we've finished not a moment too soon. Now, what hymns would you like?"

  "What hymns would His Grace like to have?" she ventured to ask.

  He drew out a separate list. Again Charlotte was pleasantly surprised. Thomas was certainly leaving nothing undone. And he had a most excellent taste in hymns.

  "I like all of them, especially 'Love divine, all loves excelling'," she said truthfully.

  "Yes, that's one of my favorites as well, though I disagree with him about 'Spirit of mercy, truth and love'."

  "I think it's fine."

  "Very well. With that one and 'My song is love unknown', all should be perfect."

  She had assumed that Jonathan would take care of all things pertaining to the actual ceremony, but was pleased and proud that Thomas was taking so much of an interest in everything, including things she was sure that most men would never even have thought of.

  When they finished going over the hymns, Sarah said, "Thomas has asked Vanessa and I to stand up with you, due to the shortness of time in preparing everything, and the wintry weather. We would be more than happy to do so, no matter what the reasons."

  "That was most kind of him, and of you both as well," she said with a blush.

  "We have discussed what accoutrements you will need to complete your ensemble. I have a plain serviceable cream gown with tiny sprigs and a matching green velvet sash which should do well for the occasion, and Vanessa has a dark green velvet gown which goes very well with her auburn hair. Unless of course you think that would be too grand."

  "It sounds perfect. I still had not decided what color sash, and had though blue, but now that you say green, I think it will be perfect. I even have just the right sash and slippers, and matching reticule. And I will own that though I do love the sapphires, I want to wear the emerald set. So green it shall be then, like Thomas's eyes."

  Saran nodded. "It will also be perfect, with spring coming soon."

  "You're right. But please don't fuss too much on my account. I'm sure whatever you both wear will be lovely. The only one who will be too grand will be me. The gown makes me look like something straight out of a Gainsborough portrait, and I have no idea how I'm supposed to fit through the doors," she dared to joke.

  "Well, you are marrying a Duke after all. You shall have to get used to it. You'll be the greatest lady in the district, and as such will be expected to set the tone. As for the doors, I'm sure you are not as large as all that, and all the chambers and doorways in the Castle are quite commodious."

  Charlotte trembled with trepidation. "Pray, don't remind me. It will be a huge responsibility being the Duchess of so fine a castle and estate."

  "But it will be a responsibility you will share with your husband," Jonathan pointed out. "A burden shared is a burden halved."

  "I suppose," she agreed, but looked doubtful.

  "Thomas will not feed you to the lions, believe me. He will help you become a most regal duchess," he said, giving her a pat on the hand.

  She smiled slightly. "That is assuming that he's a most regal Duke. I do believe he is somewhat too Radical for that to be true."

  The vicar nodded. "Well observed. Yes, he's the most unspoilt gentleman," Jonathan said. "He was raised very strictly, you know. Rather than rebel against his father, he submitted to his authority. He knew his father was acting in his own best interests. His politics were always unusual, shall we say, but his father said they were the product of
a rational mind. He actually agreed with many of Thomas's theories, and was very proud of him for daring to be his own man."

  Charlotte found herself hanging on Jonathan's every word, so she could learn more about Thomas, whom she found more and more fascinating with every passing moment.

  "At school all of us always admired him so. No one could ever best him in a debate. And his kindness was legendary." Jonathan smiled with fond reminiscence. "He treated everyone equally, from the richest to the poorest. I do not come from an impoverished family by any means, nor does Clifford, but he could not have cared less about lording it over others. He set his own goals, and adhered to them. He was never cruel or vindictive to the younger boys, and never sought to get ahead in sports or in his schooling by anything other than patience and hard work."

  Charlotte leaned forward in her seat, drinking in the young vicar's revelations about the Duke.

  "In fact, I think he studied harder at school than anyone just to prove he was not a favorite, or had any sort of unfair advantage. His father was terrified at his extremes, as he called them. As France and Europe began to come apart at the seams, he knew one day he would go off to war. He just never knew which side. The Republican ideal was a noble one, we all agreed. His father was worried about his passionate pursuit of justice, but proud of him too."

  "How young was Thomas when he became the duke?"

  "His beloved father died when Thomas was up at Oxford, before Thomas even reached twenty. In my case, my principles caused an irrevocable split in my family. My going off to war did as well. That and my deciding to be a clergyman. That rift was never really mended before my parents passed last year."

  Charlotte gave him a sympathetic smile. "I'm so sorry to hear that. But surely they were both unusual choices of career for a man such as yourself, with so much wealth and privilege."

  Jonathan looked at his sister. "Let's just say I had my ideals, and a near-death experience which caused me to swerve back onto the path of righteousness."

  She stared. "My, it must have been a terrible experience, confronting your own mortality at such a young age."

  He shook his head. "It was not my death I had to confront, it was Thomas's and Clifford's."

  She gaped at him open-mouthed. But her eagerness to find out more details was thwarted by the carriage door opening, and Thomas standing there to unwrap her from her carriage rug, and help her down himself.

  "You look lovely, my dear," he praised with a warm smile, flicking her cloak closed against the cold. "I adore that color of sash on you. It makes your blue eyes dance." He gazed down at her almost intimately, and her heart lifted. All too soon, though, he relinquished her hand.

  "Sarah, may I?" He offered his hand again to help the other woman down politely.

  He hurried them both towards the door most solicitously, a hand upon each of their elbows. "Mustn't stand out here catching a chill, my dears."

  Charlotte stepped towards the open portal, spilling bright light onto the gravelled drive, and had the most curious sensation that she was coming home. The thought gave her pause, so that Thomas caught her eye, his concern for her evident in his gaze.

  She answered the unspoken question in a low tone. "I'm fine. I just want to be sure I have my fan and reticule. Yes, here we are."

  Sarah preceded them into the Castle, where a servant helped her off with her things, while Thomas undraped Charlotte's cloak, and gave her an appreciative glance that made her both self-conscious, and pleased to feel like a real woman, not a mere girl playing dress-up, as she had felt ever since she had come out.

  He conducted her through the marble foyer into the small wine-colored parlor which he had deemed their 'base of operations' as though they were on a long campaign. "My father will be here shortly, with my cousins," Charlotte informed everyone when Clifford and Vanessa rose to greet her, and asked after her family. "Then we can begin."

  The Duke assisted her with her fan and reticule. "I've had a cold collation laid out in the dining room. If you're hungry we can eat whilst we wait. Please, all of you, feel free to help yourselves."

  "I'm not hungry, but I would like something to drink, if I may," she replied.

  "Yes, of course. You must have chatted a great deal in the coach."

  Lest he think they had been engaged in frivolous conversation, she said, "I most heartily approve your choices of text, music and hymns. And Jonathan was telling me about how he came to join the clergy."

  "Er, yes, but that is not something to discuss now, when there is so much to prepare," the Duke said abruptly.

  She looked at him closely, noting tiny beads of perspiration form on his upper lip. It was the first time she had ever seen him look anything other than perfectly at ease. Whatever had happened to them in the Iberian Peninsula during the war must have been appalling.

  She risked placing her hand on his arm. "Whenever you want to tell me about it, Thomas, I shall be only to happy to listen."

  He looked surprise and pleased, and placed his hand over hers. "I shall tell you, but not today. Soon, I promise."

  She reached up to dust a speck off of his beautifully cut evening coat.

  "Thank you, my dear."

  "Well done. Like a true little wife," her father praised heartily as he entered the chamber, flicking his riding quirt against one boot.

  "Papa, please, come in and have some refreshment with us before we begin," she invited, relieved her family had made good time riding across the fields rather than taking the slower way around by coach. At least she did not feel so alone now, and had no need to fear the Duke feeling slighted.

  She was pleased to note that her father was wearing one of his best sets of evening garments, and her cousins too looked as though they had made an effort to impress, clad in very fashionable dark coats, and waistcoats of a rich russet hue. The only thing marring their elegance was the fact that they were wearing riding boots, not dancing pumps.

  But no one could possibly notice them when Thomas was in the room, she decided as she watched her intended busy himself as the genial host. He was the picture of Regency fashion, though not ostentatiously so. His clothes were always dark and subdued, but of rich fabrics, and perfectly tailored. Black evening wear suited his dark handsomeness as though specially made for him. She wondered again what she had ever seen in the pale, insipid blond looks of Herbert Paxton. She tamped down the feeling as disloyal, and tore her eyes away from Thomas before he caught her staring.

  The introductions complete, the party adjourned to the formal dining room, a vast chamber which could seat at least thirty at the long table. It was rescued from being too imposing by the profusion of fresh-cut flowers which were placed on the table at intervals, and upon the sideboards, and the warmth of the decor, a rich pale gold with walnut trim. She noted that the wallpaper was made of satin and reflected the light, brightening the chamber considerably.

  Thomas proved a most considerate host, subtly grouping the guests, and setting them going with a conversational opener, which showed he had listened carefully and discovered their interests. He joined in each discussion with a pithy point or two, then moved on, making everyone feel welcome. He led her around gently by the elbow, keeping her close to his side as he mingled. He occasionally elicited a comment from her when he saw her lapse into silence.

  Charlotte had assumed that the lofty intellectualism of Thomas's friends would be too much for her simple country cousins, but they seemed perfectly at ease. It was only she who seemed to be covered in confusion every time she was in their company. She decided at length that her own self-consciousness was making her so stilted and awkward. Was it because they were so intelligent, or because Thomas was so compelling?

  Once they were settled in their groups, she was left with Vanessa and her own father, an easy enough grouping for her to cope with. Charlotte observed Thomas serve his guests himself with graceful, compact efficiency. His deftness revealed that he was not doing it for show. He was accustomed to serving others
in such a manner. She wondered what it must have been like to go off to school and then the Army, leaving all of this splendor and luxury behind.

  He handed out all the glasses himself, elderberry cordial for the ladies, and punch for the men.

  Her father smacked his lips and frowned. "Dashed tasty, eh, but not quite the kick that I'm used to." He was about to take out his small flask, when Thomas said mildly, "That's because there's no alcohol it in. Best to keep a clear head for what we are about."

  "Oh, er, yes, quite right," the older man said sheepishly. "Another of your unusual notions, I take it."

  "Everything in moderation. And it makes an occasion more special when wine and other alcoholic beverages are served, as opposed to having it every day."

  "I never thought of it before, but now that you mention it, it's quite true," Charlotte agreed. "I loved champagne the first few times I had it, but having it every day soon made the novelty wear off."