The Rake's Handbook

by Sally Orr

  “I know that when William presented me with a new gown, my enjoyment was due to the appreciation of my husband’s kindness.”

  He chuckled. “Come, be honest.”

  She smiled. “Well, after I rejoiced in his kindness, the gown made me happy.”

  “Happy?” he said, staring at his boots. “Yes, that’s the relevant word.” They continued for several minutes in silence, except for the crunch of gravel under their feet.

  Puzzled by his change in mood from light to reflective, she kept her eyes on the sculpted hedges while he gazed straight ahead. She considered whether to begin their discussion about families employed at the foundry, when he interrupted her thoughts.

  “Forgive me,” he said, removing his hat and sweeping his forelock back into place. “I must ask. I recently had a word with Mr. Mabbs and Mr. Burton. Both expressed their objection to my foundry, and they have incited opposition amongst the townsfolk. They even approached Lady Helen with their concerns. Mother is…has retired for the remainder of the afternoon. I wondered if you were the person who encouraged our neighbor’s objections.”

  She ignored his accusation and focused on his concern for his mother. Mr. Thornbury, for all his charms and faults, desired his mother’s happiness first—an admirable son. Lady Helen had impressed her as being occasionally frail in spirits, and she understood his wish to protect her. “I can assure you. I told only Mr. Henry Browne, my attorney, about my refusal.”

  “Ah, Mr. Browne.” He paused to put on his hat; a muscle tightened in his jaw. He held his arm forward in a motion for her to continue walking. This time he strolled behind her and kept a sizable distance between them.

  Once they reached Blackwell, they turned in unison to face each other. Elinor thought he looked confused, and she didn’t know what to say. She absentmindedly glanced at the landscape and waited. Finally, he sighed and politely mentioned how pleased he would be to have her attendance at his upcoming ball. Without another word, he took his leave.

  Even though he appeared unconvinced about her suspected influence upon Mr. Mabbs or Mr. Burton, she was pleased he did not withhold an invitation to the ball. It might reflect badly, not only upon herself, but also on Berdy. Yet he had not requested a dance and was quite put out over his friend’s impetuous kiss. So a kiss was the wager. What else could it be? Mr. Drexel must have been Lord Parker’s partner in the bet.

  Heavens. Did Lord Parker’s kiss on her cheek count? Her cheek. That was why Mr. Drexel patted his cheek. With two men possibly attempting to kiss her on her lips, she picked up her skirt and ran toward the others at the house party. Any discussion about the foundry would have to wait for a more convenient moment. In the future, she vowed to avoid both Mr. Drexel and Lord Parker. Moreover, she planned to arrive at Mr. Thornbury’s next soiree after the sun had set, so it would no longer be a sunny day. She stopped. Was Mr. Thornbury part of the wager too? Was his thunderous countenance due to her supposed incitement of their neighbor’s opposition or because he had lost the wager? Did he want to kiss her? In front of witnesses?

  ***

  Elinor still felt unsettled about attending the private dance held at Blackwell on the following Saturday. Did the wager to kiss her remain? Regardless, she expected the Thornburys to continue their resentment over her refusal to sign the lease of her land. But Berdy had been home for two days and was eager to return to visit his new friends. The very reason she had agreed to attend the private dance.

  Upon their arrival, Mr. Thornbury warmly received them as welcomed guests, while Lady Helen ignored her salutations. Thankfully, with such a large crowd in the hall, her cut went unnoticed.

  Elinor marveled at the transformation of Blackwell’s gallery into a suitable ballroom. Dozens of chairs had been pushed to the walls, and a small orchestra played at the far end. The room possessed no portraits or paintings, so Lady Helen must have seen to the large swags of mustard-colored fabric draped upon the light blue walls. Golden cording framed the fabric, and gilt tassels hung in the center of the swags.

  Sitting alone on the side, Elinor was forced to play matronly wallflower more than she would have liked, due to the lack of older gentlemen wishing to dance. Nevertheless, she hummed along with the music and tapped her feet. A flash of Berdy’s yellow waistcoat caught her eye, and she saw him lean on his good foot in the middle of the dancers. Lucy Allardyce was his partner, and Berdy merely stood in place as she went through the steps around him. Both of them gaily laughed; however, by the expression on his face, his leg must have been causing him considerable pain. Nevertheless, he clearly enjoyed drawing everyone’s attention.

  Mr. Thornbury conversed at the far end of the gallery with a local cotton master, Mr. Burton. On several occasions she met his glance, but he immediately looked away. This behavior puzzled her, and she did not know what to make of it.

  Next she spotted Lord Parker. That gentleman wore an unruly grin upon seeing her, so she resolved to flee if he took even a step in her direction.

  When the dance was completed, Berdy led Lucy to a chair next to her. “Elli, you’ll never believe this, but Miss Allardyce thinks these walls are too dark. Just like I told you.”

  A flushing Lucy nodded. “Yes, I think the blue is very drab. They should be patent yellow—like a spring daisy.”

  “Capital thought, Miss Allardyce,” Berdy said, silently asking Elinor for permission to stand up with Lucy for another dance. “Patent yellow is the preferable color for all grand rooms, as it never fails to make a fellow’s spirits soar.” He addressed Lucy. “May I have the honor of the next reel?” Both Berdy and Lucy stared at Elinor for her approval.

  Unable to say anything that would dampen Berdy’s rampant smile, she nodded. “Of course.” Since this was a private party, hopefully no one noticed her failure to curb his enjoyment.

  The two young people returned to join the other couples assembling on the floor for the next dance, and she witnessed Lord Parker approach her from the opposite side of the room. She didn’t think he would try to kiss her in front of everyone, but she had no intention of testing him, so she hastily exited the ballroom in the direction of the hall.

  Pausing by the central staircase, she looked up to find Mr. Drexel descending the stairs. Heavens. He must be a partner in the wager too. She opened the door to the servant stairs tucked behind the grand staircase and flew down as fast as her elegant slippers allowed. Once she reached the bottom of the stairs, she heard heavy footsteps descending behind her. Taking no chances Mr. Drexel might find her, she entered the closest room and shut the door.

  She found herself in Blackwell’s salting room. Once her eyes adjusted to the dim light in the cool room, she recognized pickled joints, wrapped in muslin, hanging from hooks overhead. The confined air smelled faintly of saltpeter.

  The door latch lifted; the door opened.

  Mr. Drexel entered, and Elinor backed to the far side of the room. Heavens.

  He ducked past a hanging row of salted meats, and the room seemed to shrink as he straightened his tall figure before her. Tonight, only the top half of his body was clad in a formal black coat and waistcoat. All in dramatic contrast with his white satin evening breeches. His bright eyes never left her face, while at his side, his fingers moved in a rippled wave.

  She scurried to the opposite end of the salting table.

  Mr. Drexel paused before placing his open palms on the slate table. “What happy circumstance I should find you here, Mrs. Colton. I have come to request the next waltz.” He ambled to her side of the table.

  She hastily moved around to where he had been standing. “That is very kind of you, sir. However, I no longer wish to dance this evening.” She matched his continued stride around the table.

  After two laps, he responded, “But you are the only female I wish to partner tonight. I would be sorely disappointed if you refused.” He continued to stroll toward her with a b
arely perceptible increase in speed.

  She quickened her pace. “I am sorry to disappoint you, but let’s be honest with each other. Your presence here is related to your wager with Lord Parker, isn’t it?”

  He feigned innocence. “And what wager would that be, madam?”

  “Come now, sir. You and his lordship have some sort of bet in regard to me. Admit it.” By now his long legs were moving so fast—she needed to run.

  “And if we did, surely you don’t suspect me of winning the bet when there is no one around to witness the fact?” He broke out in a run. Within seconds, he caught her arm and spun her to face him. “Really, madam, I’m hurt you don’t trust me.”

  “I trust you as much as I trust Lord Parker.” She tried to step back, but he reached out and held her with both hands. He waited a minute—then tilted his head to catch a distant sound. The noise grew louder.

  Next he focused on her mouth. “Mrs. Colton, I believe you have something caught in your hair.” He started to pull her close.

  She tried to struggle free, but his grip held fast.

  Mr. Thornbury flung open the door.

  Eleven

  “Madam…” Mr. Thornbury turned back toward the hallway.

  “Mr. Thornbury!” Elinor took advantage of Mr. Drexel’s momentary release of her arms and ran to her host. “Some sort of farce is being played here, and I’m the target. I request that you escort me back to your guests, please.”

  A muscle in Mr. Thornbury’s jaw twitched as he examined her face. He moved sideways to glare at the other man. “Drexel?”

  Mr. Drexel appeared relaxed, yet impassive, tapping several fingers on the slate table. “Thornbury.”

  Mr. Thornbury held out his hand in a motion for her to lead the way. “At your service, madam.”

  Elinor left the chill of the salting room and started back to the party, while the two men followed in silence. Did Mr. Thornbury believe she orchestrated this rendezvous? He must be aware of the wager, surely? At the top of the stairs, she waited until a grinning Mr. Drexel ambled off toward the drawing room, before she addressed her host. “Sir, being followed has left me a little unsettled. I’d like to return home now; however, I do not wish to interfere with my nephew’s enjoyment. May I request the use of your carriage and a servant to accompany me home? Berdy can return to Pinnacles in the gig when he is ready.”

  Mr. Thornbury avoided her gaze. He peered at the paneled wall, then kept his focus on the Persian carpet while he said, “Ah, of course.” A frown appeared under his knotted brows as he turned to stare down the hallway in the direction Mr. Drexel had taken.

  She caught a note of foreboding in his tone, suggesting perhaps this farce was not over yet. Maybe Lord Parker, even now, hid in the carriage, ready to kiss her as she climbed in, a well-paid footman grinning nearby.

  “Mrs. Colton,” he whispered, taking a step closer. “Please accept my apologies…”

  She gave him a questioning gaze, but she could not discern the sentiment expressed upon his face.

  He moved directly in front of her and paused. “Dunderhead schoolboy…friends.”

  She waited for an explanation.

  “I don’t want this incident to endanger…” Using the back of his hand, he softly stroked her cheek. “Forgive me?”

  She felt comforted; his touch she regarded as an expression of kindness.

  “I don’t want you unsettled,” he said. “I want you happy and…” He kissed her tenderly, his lips barely touching hers.

  First she lost herself in pleasure. Seconds later, she tried to understand his gesture. It was not a kiss of persuasion, nor one of fun, but a kiss heralding the beginning of fondness between two people.

  When the kiss ended, he leaned on the wall, supporting himself with one arm and an open palm. He looked down at the carpet, his constricted expression troubled.

  She stood unmoving, but remained close enough to feel his warm breath upon her face. The stringent taste of brandy lingered on her lips. There were no witnesses about, so his kiss could not be part of the wager. His kiss must have been a spontaneous gesture to ease her distress, perhaps a behavior that came naturally for rakes. While she did not understand men like him, his anguish concerned her, because she owed him so much for Berdy’s recovery. To show him she felt no ill will, and firmly acknowledged their friendship, she kissed him on the cheek—a tender kiss of regard. She gazed into his questioning blue eyes. “Thank you, for all you have done for Berdy.”

  The troubled expression in his eyes transformed into their normal dry amusement. “Normally chapter four is—”

  “Ross!” Lady Helen marched down the hallway, her black bombazine skirt shimmering and rustling like a dark cloud in a strong wind.

  Mr. Thornbury stepped all the way back to the opposite wall. As far away from Elinor as the passageway allowed.

  For a fleeting second, Elinor regretted the loss of his touch. Then the full realization of her kiss’s indiscretion hit her. Angry with herself for her usual inability to conform to the expectations of proper behavior, she could only glare at Lady Helen.

  Lady Helen confronted her. “I knew it was a mistake to invite you here. If you interfere in any way with my son’s betrothal, there will be consequences.”

  “Mother—”

  “You are wrong, Lady Helen.” Elinor blushed uncontrollably. She needed to stem the older woman’s misconceptions about her relationship with her son and swiftly deny that any personal confidences existed between them. “I am resolved—I have no intention of interfering in your son’s affairs.” If only the disparity between her words and her blushing cheeks was not so obvious.

  Lady Helen clutched Ross’s arm. “You must keep away from that woman. There are already shocking rumors about her shameful behavior now that she is a widow. We have no need for her disgraceful society.”

  Elinor froze; speech eluded her.

  Mr. Thornbury lifted his mother’s hand and patted it, his natural charm regained. “A simple misunderstanding. Mrs. Colton only expressed her gratitude for her nephew’s care.” His mischievous grin appeared. “The only lady whose society I am interested in tonight is your friend Lady Welton.” He bent to kiss his mother on the cheek. “After what you told me about her skills at whist, I’m dying to be introduced. Come, we must return to our other guests.” He turned his head to address Elinor. “Please forgive me.” He paused. “Again. Wait here while I make arrangements for the carriage.” He firmly led his mother down the hall.

  The older woman glared over her shoulder.

  Elinor’s thoughts raced like an out-of-control team of horses, ready to pursue Lady Helen for further explanation of the older woman’s comment. Tell me, what shocking rumors?

  ***

  “I’m looking forward to the purchase of fine buttons,” Berdy said, his head lowered to peer at his yellow-striped waistcoat. “I understand some of the finest button makers in all of England will be at the fair today. I’m planning on large brass buttons with scrollwork—like the insides of a fusee watch—for m’ second-best waistcoat.” He poked his waistcoat at the location of the planned buttons. “Where is Ross? If he’s late, we might miss the buttons.”

  The mention of Mr. Thornbury’s name reminded Elinor of her well-intentioned, but brief, losses of propriety in his presence. She kissed him. Not like his rakish kisses, which were nothing more serious than his outrageous teasing. She’d kissed an unmarried gentleman of recent acquaintance. Her kiss of gratitude must have appeared like behavior more suited to a romantic heroine in a three-volume novel than a respectable widow. Since she didn’t want to sully her reputation, and according to Lady Helen, rumors had already begun, she resolved to be proper to a fault today. Otherwise, her actions might create a scandal impossible to escape.

  Now more than a week after being chased at the evening soiree, she waited with Berdy for Mr.
Thornbury’s carriage to transport them to the Barnaby fair. They would be joined by separate carriages carrying Lord Parker and Mr. Drexel, the Allardyce family in their carriage, and several other carriages for transporting the Thornbury’s house party. Peering toward the window, Elinor wondered if time and familiarity would dull her unexpected, yet seemingly predictable, response to Mr. Thornbury’s charm. With any luck, he’d be a proper gentleman and not tease her with silly kisses. She’d be luckier still if he kept his promise to mention his varied business achievements to Berdy—the very reason she accepted his invitation to join him and his guests at the fair today.

  “Silks too,” Berdy addressed the Gothic window, craning his neck sideways for the first sight of Mr. Thornbury’s approach up the drive. “Ross mentioned the possibility of new silks. That Ross is truly a bang-up blade, don’t you agree?”

  She hoped Mr. Thornbury would be a bang-up, boring blade today. She didn’t dare mention any subject that might lead him to comment upon her kiss of gratitude or give him the chance to tease her with his handbook’s devilish chapters.

  “Elli, are you listening to me?”

  “Of course, buttons. Oh look, here he comes.” Once greetings were exchanged, they climbed into Mr. Thornbury’s landau. Initially pleased to discover the previous week had granted her the mantle of composure, she discovered that within minutes this composure dissolved as Mr. Thornbury discussed the festival with Berdy. She found it difficult to look at him, because for some stupefying reason, her eyes were drawn to his seductive mouth. That feature seemed different from William’s, yet she couldn’t describe the precise differences. Her cheeks warmed, and she tried to concentrate on the blur of green scenery outside the carriage, to no avail. Finally, it became impossible to ignore the truth any longer. She had been using some silly comparisons to William as an excuse to mask her physical attraction to Mr. Thornbury. An attraction probably felt by every female of his acquaintance, so she shouldn’t worry about it overmuch. Her attraction to him had no relationship—in any way—to her feelings for William. This realization eased her restless mind. Now she wouldn’t feel guilty every time she glanced in admiration at Mr. Thornbury.