The Passionate Love of a Rake: HarperImpulse Historical Romance

by Jane Lark

She fell back, knocked to the ground by the force, even though her maid tried to catch her.

  Robert was in motion before he knew it, and ahead of him, the street exploded in reaction.

  Jane’s maid screamed abuse, and a couple of vendors and a bulky workman who’d been seated on the back of the dray surrounded Sutton.

  He raised the whip, dangling from his hand, in threat against them all.

  When Jane said something from her position on the ground, too quiet for Robert to hear, Robert thought Sutton would use the whip on her.

  “Sutton!” Robert’s yell reached over the general hubbub.

  Some of the gathering crowd expanding about Jane looked his way.

  “Don’t you dare!” Robert ordered as Sutton’s gaze struck Robert’s. The rage in it turned Robert’s innards to ice.

  What was this man capable of?

  Sutton began backing away, growling one last threat at Jane, which Robert could not make out. Then the Duke turned and yelled at those about him, cursing until they parted and let him through.

  By the time Robert reached the scene, his cane was gripped so tightly in his hand it was cutting into his palm. He realised then that, instinctively, the frippery had unconsciously become a potential club. He used it indiscriminately, but not viciously, to push through the crowd in order to reach Jane.

  The onlookers had not guessed the abused woman was a dowager duchess and the man who’d attacked her, her stepson, a Duke. If they had, the tale would fly through the gossipmongers. It would be on the tongues of the ton by dinner and in the news columns tomorrow.

  Robert let his cane fall to the pavement and heard it hit the stone with a dull, wooden rap as he dropped to one knee, uncaring of the dirt. His fingers touched the red mark on Jane’s cheek.

  “Good God, Jane, let me help you.”

  She looked at him with apparent relief, her eyes bright and sharp, as though he was a branch to grasp in the aftermath of Sutton’s storm. Then Robert saw her realise what he’d seen and her gaze dropped as her skin darkened in a deep blush.

  He rose and turned to the crowd, intolerant of their ogling. “The show is over! Go about your business!”

  At once, there was a change of tempo in her audience. Voices grumbled, gossiped, and surmised, but they started to disperse.

  He turned back and helped Jane stand.

  Too many emotions roiled inside him to fathom them all, but among them were sympathy, outrage, protection, and love. God, there was still love.

  Once she was up, he gripped both her hand and her elbow.

  “Are you up to walking?” he asked quietly, receiving a nod as her maid behind her continued a tirade against the Duke of Sutton, even though the man himself was long gone.

  “Meg!” Jane silenced the woman, although not quite, her ranting only became unintelligible.

  At least Jane knew the risk of revealing her identity.

  “Here, take my cane and go ahead. Have someone fetch a doctor,” Robert directed the maid, to get rid of her. “I’ll take your mistress home.”

  The maid went.

  Despite claiming to be well enough to walk, when they moved, Jane’s grip suddenly clawed on his arm, all her weight on him.

  “Do you feel faint?”

  “The street is spinning, I’m afraid.” Her voice was full of embarrassment and agitation.

  “Cling on then. We will have you back at Violet’s in a moment.” With that, he shifted his grip from her elbow and took a firm hold at her narrow waist, encouraging her to lean her weight more fully on to him as they walked slowly across the street and along the path to her friend’s front door.

  It was open, Meg having reached the house before them, and inside, Violet’s butler barked orders, calling for a cold compress, tea, smelling salts, and anything Her Grace may possibly need.

  Robert led Jane to the drawing room and bid her sit. She did so, head bowed, her fingers trembling as she tried to untie her bonnet. She merely pulled the ribbons into a knot. Then her beautiful eyes looked up to him, begging silently for help.

  He dropped to one knee and moved her hands away. They were cold and shaking. He focused on the stubborn knot and had the damn thing free in moments. When he drew the ribbons loose and removed her bonnet, she spoke for the first time.

  “You were always rescuing me.”

  Her gaze met his in apology, but he saw the memory there, and embarrassment. It wrenched the tender wound she’d opened in his heart. The wound she’d taken a knife to the other day with Sutton, a man who apparently was prone to hitting her.

  Could Robert be placed any lower in her pecking order, the old and infirm, and now the abusive, all above a man who would offer her everything and expect nothing in return?

  Robert leaned back on his heel and smiled. What else could I do? Angry at her he may be, but he was not the type to turn his back on a damsel in distress, and after all, this was Jane. So much for not playing her fool again.

  “And it would seem things do not change. You were always getting yourself into trouble. Has Violet got any liquor in here?”

  “In the bureau. Over there.” She pointed vaguely, but it was enough of a direction for him to spot the walnut cabinet.

  He rose and crossed the room. Inside the cabinet, he found a decanter of sherry and glasses. It would calm her nerves. He poured a small measure and took it to Jane. Her eyes followed his movement, staring at him as though he had two heads.

  “Drink, it will stop you shaking.”

  He knew she’d never liked strong liquor, and her nose wrinkled, but she drank it anyway. It made her choke, and she pressed the back of her hand to her lips.

  He took the glass away and set it aside on a chest, giving her a moment to recover before turning back.

  When he did, he stood, looking down on her.

  She seemed ridiculously small.

  He waited for an explanation.

  She looked up and met his gaze. No explanation came.

  He folded his arms across his chest. At least she had the decency to blush, but still, she did not attempt to explain.

  A knock struck the semi-open door and Jane called, “Enter.”

  A maid bearing crushed ice wrapped in a linen towel came in. Jane took it. “Thank you, Penny. Tell Mr. Selford not to send for the doctor. I am fine now—”

  “Ignore her, Penny. Her Grace has had a blow to her head. She is giddy and shaky. She should see a doctor whether she wills it or not. I will stay until he arrives to make sure she does.”

  As the maid left, Jane threw him a look, implying he was being overbearing.

  He hardly cared. He’d just watched her struck by the man she’d thrown him over for. He was in no mood to be obliging or conciliatory.

  He pulled a spindly satinwood chair up and sat facing her, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, a gesture his friends would recognise meant business. It stated he was not about to be fobbed off.

  Jane clearly did not know the look as she leaned back away from him, one hand pressing the ice pack to her cheek, the other laying in her lap. Her eyes looked up at the ceiling.

  “Are you not going to tell me why he hit you?” he challenged.

  She sighed and lowered her gaze again. “No.”

  A wash of mixed emotion racing through his blood, he straightened. He was angry, yes, but disappointed and helpless, too.

  His hand lifted in exasperation. “Very well, as you wish, but I was calling on you in any case. I wanted to discuss something.”

  “Discuss what?” She eyed him warily, long lashes flickering, the ice pack still pressed to her cheek, her voice hesitant.

  “I wish you to tell me something, honestly, Jane. Something has come to my attention that makes me think – wonder … ” He stopped, watching the uncertain expression on her face. A sigh escaping his lips, he leaned forward, once more resting his elbows back on his knees.

  He could not force her to answer. She would or she would not. All he could do was
ask. Half of him did not wish to know anyway. The answer may well be unpalatable. “Were you forced to marry Sutton?”

  It was as if she’d received a second physical blow. The hand gripping the ice pack fell, and there was horror in her eyes, and suddenly, she seemed unable to catch her breath. She opened her mouth, but only a strangled sound left her throat.

  It was true. Hell. It was true. She’d no need to say it, the answer was written in every tortured expression of her body.

  “God, Jane, I’m sorry.” Robert’s arms came about Jane in a moment, and he was on the sofa beside her.

  Her head pressing to his shoulder, she cried.

  He’d broken a dam she’d thought unbreakable.

  His fingers brushed her hair from her temple, and his breath caressed the crown of her head as he whispered comforting words.

  He said the things she’d wished to hear for years, but had thought impossible long ago. That he was sorry. That if he’d only known, understood – he would not have left her. That she should have told him. That he would have helped her somehow.

  Once her tears had finally run dry, when she pulled away, wiping at her eyes and nose, he handed her his handkerchief and gave her an understanding smile.

  If he’d picked any other moment to ask her, she could have found some way to avoid the answer, but after that awful scene with Joshua, her reservoir of strength was empty.

  Joshua had received a letter from her solicitor this morning. He had found some clause under which to contest Joshua’s claim. It would appear Joshua didn’t like it, and, in answer, he’d resorted to violence. But she was not going to drag Robert into it.

  She blew her nose in a very unattractive fashion and realised she was half sitting on him, one hand clutching at his shoulder. She moved off him and stood. The cloth full of ice lay on the floor.

  He did not rise but watched her.

  She gave him a half smile. “I’m sorry, Robert, I did not mean to involve you in this.”

  “In what?” he responded with a far too perceptive gaze.

  “In the middle of Joshua and I. I’m sorry.” She couldn’t tell him more. He would do something stupid if she did, like call Joshua out. She did not wish Robert hurt.

  He did not question her, but returned to his last topic. “Tell me what happened that day. Tell me why you turned me down?”

  Jane dropped into the chair he’d vacated, facing him as he sat on the sofa. She felt too exhausted to have this conversation and shook her head.

  In answer, he threw her a rakish smile. His weapon of feminine destruction. “Just humour me. Tell me how it was as you saw it. I want to know the truth, Jane.”

  She sighed. “I cannot see why. It was a long time ago, too long ago to make any difference, Robert.”

  “Say it anyway.” Strong emotion suddenly burned in his eyes. The rake left and Robert shone through.

  “Oh, very well.” She did not have the energy to continue arguing. Her fingers clasped in her lap and her eyes fell to them. “Within days of you leaving after that last summer, my father was speaking of a beneficial marriage. Not for me, of course, for him, but then, I was only ever incidental in my family’s scheme of things. He talked of gaining influence and standing. I thought he was speaking of you, that he’d guessed, but I was presented to the Duke of Sutton a few weeks later. I’d seen him once previously when he’d called on your father.”

  “Why did you not write and tell me?”

  Robert was looking at her intently when she lifted her gaze. Undoubtedly, he did not like what he’d heard.

  She would not sweeten the story to make it palatable for him. He’d asked.

  “That is not hard to work out, Robert. You were nineteen. Whenever you came back from Oxford, you were full of adventures and spoke constantly of opportunities. If I had written to you, I know you would have felt honour-bound to marry me. I was younger than you. I did not have enough confidence. I could not force you to surrender the future you spoke of. You may have held it against me for the rest of our lives.”

  “I offered you marriage. I would not have surrendered my future, but let you share it.”

  “I knew that afterwards, but not then. Do you not see how different it was when it was a choice you’d made? Anyway, it is of no consequence now.” They could not go back. Waving her hand, she dismissed the argument and carried on. “I did not write to you. Nor did I know how far things had progressed. The marriage contract was apparently signed a week before you came home. Two days before, the Duke of Sutton had visited my father. I thought he was there on business. When I was called to the office, I was still blissfully unaware of the truth. In that half-hour interview, my life changed completely.

  “Father introduced me to a man four times my age, who I hardly knew, as my future husband. Hector had obtained a special licence, and we were to be married in four days. I was not even to be given time to adjust to the idea. You know the rest. Do you want some tea?” She moved to rise, but Robert caught her wrist and held her still.

  “Why do you think I know the rest? As I recall, I sent word for you to meet me, and you came, but when I showed you the ring I’d bought, and asked to speak to your father, you just said I could not because you were already engaged. You said none of this then, Jane.”

  She pulled her arm free, losing her temper. “And as I recall, you did not stay to hear it. That was the moment you disappeared, without seeking any explanation and without a single thought for me. Forgive me, but I do not recall saying I wanted the marriage, nor that I had agreed to it, nor that I would say no to you. Of course, you could not speak to my father. He’d already signed the agreement with Sutton! When I received your note, I foolishly hoped you would not let it happen, that you would take me away. I did not have the courage to write, but I’d prayed you’d come home and help me.”

  She jabbed a finger at his shoulder, remembering her desolation, anger, and despair.

  “And what did you do, Robert? You rode away, without even looking back, and left me to my fate. So, do not sit there and condemn me as the villain of the piece. You played your part, and I do not believe I ever heard of your suffering as a result. All I have heard of the Earl of Barrington is what a merry time he’s had of it, how many women he’s bedded, his racehorses, and his life abroad. You are in no place to judge me. So there, you have your story. You have wheedled it out of me, and what good has it done you?”

  His mouth half open, Robert neither moved nor spoke. Her outburst had stripped his rakish façade bare.

  Instantly, she regretted it, but she did not have any chance to ease the insult to his ego as Violet burst into the drawing room.

  “Good grief, Jane, Selford has just told me what happened.” Violet stripped off her gloves and bonnet. “The doctor has just arrived. Selford is taking his hat. I thought we’d agreed you would not go out without Graham and Frederick.”

  Jane rose and turned, her receding anger leaving her feeling thoroughly deflated. “I didn’t think he’d be about at this hour. It was foolish of me. Fortunately, Robert rescued me.”

  She looked back to see he’d stood, but he remained silent and looked as though he hadn’t heard her.

  “Of course, we must thank you, Barrington,” Violet chimed. “Thank heavens you were there.”

  He bowed to Violet. But Jane had an odd sense of the years tumbling backward. She could feel his disengagement as she had done that day. She knew he was leaving. He’d already done so mentally. He mumbled some acknowledgement of their joint thanks, barely looking at Jane. Then he left.

  Her feet turned to stone. She couldn’t follow him. She couldn’t move, trapped by uncertainty as she watched him go with a dreadful feeling he’d gone for good.

  She felt dazed as the doctor entered, and Violet immediately began fussing over the bruise on Jane’s cheek.

  ~

  When Robert got home, it was after dark. He’d spent hours walking the streets and parks, struggling to make sense of everything, but it
simply would not fall into place. The story she’d told was entirely different to the one he’d spent his life stewing over in anger and resentment. He had slept with dozens of women, measuring them all by Jane and finding them all wanting. But God, he was honest with himself at last. He had not been seeking another Jane all these years. It had been vengeance. He’d blamed all women for what one had not even done.

  God, how would he ever face himself in a mirror again? He was an evil, bloody bastard. An arrogant, self-obsessed idiot.

  If I’d stayed to hear her out, then?

  If I had listened to my heart, not my head?

  He’d always known the image of Jane he’d created – the woman who’d thrust his love away – was at odds with the girl he’d fallen for.

  If I had believed my instinct?

  Instead, he’d deserted her at the point she’d needed him most.

  Well, he would not do it again. He’d made his mind up on that in his hours of tormented melancholy. No matter what drove her to seek comfort from her stepson, whether she loved the man or not, Robert had seen how Sutton treated her, and he could not just stand by and let it happen again. He had to get her away from that man and give her time to come to her senses, and there was only one way he could think to do it. He had to get her out of town.

  Ignoring Jenkins’ offer to take his hat and gloves, and with a cursory grunt of recognition at Edward and Ellen’s greetings called from the drawing room, Robert went straight to the study. There he withdrew paper from a drawer, dipped a quill into the ink pot, and began writing the letter he’d been mentally drafting for the last hour.

  Chapter Twelve

  “A letter for you,” Violet stated, entering the drawing room with a smile which implied her interest in its contents.

  “Not Joshua?” Jane exclaimed as Violet let the envelope fall into Jane’s lap.

  “Not as far as I can tell. Go on, open it. I am itching to know who it is from. You never have letters.”

  “Because my social life is miniscule. You are getting excited over nothing. It will be something mundane, perhaps about the lease on my property in Bath.” Violet laughed and Jane smiled.