To Catch a Rake

by Sally Orr

  The wicked smile beamed from his handsome, lean face. “Indeed, I have made some effort to…survey all of womankind.”

  “Ah…” She nodded, lost in the hazy allure of his shiny black hair and the seductive dimple in his chin.

  He waited.

  She swallowed. “Frankly, I do not believe you. Your categories, as you call them, are nothing more than male fantasies—goddesses ruling roosts. Ha.”

  Wearing a smirk, he countered. “And from whence have your obtained your knowledge of—shall we say—the friendly behaviors of all womankind?”

  “Well…I am a female of some learning. Indeed, I am currently the acting secretary of the Learned Ladies Society. So…” The possible variations of friendly female behaviors described in the field guide ran through her mind and began to warm her cheeks. To mask her embarrassment, she moved to stand in front of the fire. She needed to stop his innuendo, which fanned the flames of her imagination, request he pay a call on James, and return home.

  His low chuckle revealed he was not fooled by her attempted diversion or obvious lack of experience. “Due to our long acquaintance—”

  “Pardon?” She wheeled around to face him.

  “Madam, due to our long acquaintance, several minutes at least, I can readily discern that you’re right. Your particular type of friendly behavior requires me to invent a new category of lady.”

  She widened her eyes. “Sir, I have come here to request your assistance in a delicate matter of some importance. The happiness of two people is at stake.”

  He paused; a single dark brow rose. “Continue.”

  “Due to your obvious appreciation of brevity, I will just say this…ah.” A ready explanation escaped her.

  He inhaled, and his broad chest expanded.

  She had first been attracted to his tall, lean figure. But the comforting sight of the broad plane of his large chest beckoned her to lean in for an embrace. Naturally, her words became even more muddled. “Ah…yes, well, you see—”

  “Madam, the earth just rotated a full degree.”

  Recognizing her inability to look away from his attractive person, she forced herself to finish at least one coherent sentence. “Recently, my sister became privately engaged to a fine young man by the name of James Codlington. Their engagement had been anticipated for years, and her family was delighted with the match. While Mr. Codlington sometimes suffers from the repression of his opinionated mother, Lady Abigail Codlington, he himself is a kind and self-effacing young man. It is because of these kind manners that I believe he will be a successful spouse for my beloved sister.”

  He tapped his fingers on the pile of papers.

  Undaunted by his obvious indifference, she soldiered on. “Recently, Mr. Codlington called off his attentions to Lily. This, of course, has left her heartbroken—”

  “Bears are not interested in conversations about feelings, madam.”

  “Mr. Codlington called it off because he claims that Lily’s initials appear in your field guide.”

  He whipped his head around and glanced toward the staircase, in the direction Lily had taken.

  Now she had his complete attention. “All I—we—request is that you pay a call on Mr. Codlington and apprise him of the situation. Tell him he is mistaken. The field guide is fiction, correct?”

  He nodded.

  “Then tell Mr. Codlington the field guide is fictional and the name is…oh, I don’t know, make one up. Mrs. Lynette Buckleham, an old acquaintance of yours.”

  “Perhaps…Bearsham for the surname. Tell me, what do I receive in return?”

  “Service to a lady should be enough for any true gentleman.”

  A small grin lifted a corner of his lips. “But you doubt I’m a true gentleman.”

  He was right of course, but she had no intention of revealing that fact. “Ah…all I ask is that you please consider my sister’s feelings.”

  “I can honestly say that I’ve never met a man who considers the feelings of some unknown woman on a regular basis. You must do better, madam.”

  “How would you feel if an unknown woman put your name in a book, and not under complimentary circumstances? Then if your superiors at the tunnel heard of it, what would you do to fight the injustice?”

  Sporting a magnificent scowl, he inhaled deeply. “You have a point. Of course I wish to right any perceived wrong arising from my field guide and counter any mark upon my family’s good name. You probably don’t believe me. But believe this, madam. I am the son of a respectable gentleman. I will, of course, do my best to straighten out the misconceptions of your sister’s reluctant Romeo.” He moved to the mantel and retrieved another small piece of paper. “However, at this time my attentions are needed elsewhere.” Taking a seat in an ivory-colored chair, he penciled in a few lines. “This should do the trick.” He handed her the paper.

  She read aloud.

  Dear Mr. Codlington,

  I give you my word as a gentleman that Miss Lily Broadsham is not a female of my acquaintance, so her name is not in my field guide. You mistake her initials for Lady Lynette Bearsham.

  Regards,

  Geo Drexel

  She bit her lower lip. “Ah, this is all very well, but surely it would be best to call upon Mr. Codlington yourself and provide any further explanations, if required.”

  “Mrs. Russell, you fail to understand the time constraint I am under at the moment. I have plans that must be finished by a deadline.”

  “Yes, I understand. Therefore, I will do anything in my power to assist you, if you perform this one task. So how may I be of help? What do you need?”

  “Besides my good name…your departure.”

  “Ah, you are being droll. I am quite serious about providing some assistance.”

  “The only assistance I require is additional investors to fund the construction of the tunnel. That will go a long way to impress my superiors. But I fail to see how you could be of any assistance to me on that score.”

  “As I have mentioned, I belong to the Learned Ladies Society. Many of the members have wealthy and influential fathers and husbands. Perhaps I might ask them to solicit monies to fund the tunnel.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Learned ladies asking their husbands for favors. What could go wrong? Tell me, do you ladies sit around, read books of questionable taste, and learn languages?”

  She lifted her chin. “And do good works for those whose situation in life is less fortunate than ours.”

  He nodded. “The only advantage for a lady to acquire multiple languages is the delight she obtains when she finds additional opportunities to scold her husband without his understanding. Your plan, madam, will not work. The weak link is the futility of a wife asking her husband for investment funds.”

  “All I ask is a brief call upon Mr. Codlington. Hand him your note. You needn’t say a word, but your presence is necessary for sincerity and to answer any questions he may have. Your total stay need not exceed five minutes.”

  “Five minutes is too much. I could pay a call after a fortnight, perhaps. First though, I suggest you and your sister go home and then breathe deeply. It is very likely that by the end of your breathing exercises, your sister’s suitor will have changed his mind. Now, I really must ask your party to leave.” He headed for the parlor door and held it open.

  “Sir, the matter is urgent—a lady’s future is at stake. I don’t pretend to understand your time constraints, but I know spoiling the hopes of a respectable couple may harm your reputation and cannot further your professional intentions.”

  “You’re a widow?”

  She nodded.

  “Your ignorance of gentlemen tells me you were not married long. No gentleman in possession of a sane mind would visit a stranger to discuss the man’s engagement. It’s just not done. And no man would discuss another man’s love match, because the wits of one person in the party has gone to the dogs. This letter will prove successful. Trust me, I’m right.”

  He was wron
g, of course, the ridiculous man. “Your words ‘trust me’ were spoken in almost a growl. Very heartwarming,” she mocked, “since I have become fond of the bear. Please pay Mr. Codlington a call.”

  He stepped directly in front of her, his gaze holding hers.

  She froze, except for the small movements made by her rapid breaths.

  He leaned close to her ear. “Grrr, be off with you.”

  She straightened. When a gentleman became particularly exasperating, her mother had advised her to stand tall, call him troublesome to his face, and wear a fetching bonnet. It was a truth universally acknowledged that no item of dress fortified a woman’s courage more than fetching millinery. Except hers hung in the vestibule at the moment, so she must summon her courage without it. “We had a Staffordshire figurine of a dancing bear on our mantel for years. Then my youngest brother, Tom, broke it when he ran through the room.”

  He took a step forward, enough to touch her body with his, chest to chest. The soft, but quite menacing, growl returned in a whispered, “I have plans to finish, madam.”

  “Mr. Bear”—she bit her lower lip—“I’ll wager you dance delightfully.”

  He said nothing for at least thirty seconds. Then the bear disappeared in a fit of whooping laughter. Without his usual scowl, he transformed into an uncommonly handsome young man. “Now who is being droll?” He swept up her hand, placed his broad palm on the center of her back, and led her into several quick turns of a waltz.

  “Stop! Release me.”

  He stopped twirling. “There, you got your wish, a dancing bear. Now give me mine—your absence.”

  Glancing at his black fathomless eyes and the dark whiskers shading his skin, she experienced an overwhelming urge to stroke his cheek and maybe even outline his rosy lips with her finger, before placing her lips on his. Having never, ever, felt this strong physical attraction for a stranger, she concluded it would be best to leave as soon as he granted her request. She felt a blush expand across her cheeks. “Promise to call upon Mr. Codlington, and I will leave in the next second.”

  He sighed, carefully released his grip, and stepped back. “Present this billet first. Men understand men, take my word. The young buck will understand no slight was intended and the engagement will be resumed to everyone’s satisfaction. If satisfaction could be found by becoming leg-shackled.”

  “But—”

  “If you continue to argue, I will include your real name in the next printing of the field guide.”

  “Sir!” He wouldn’t—he couldn’t—would he?

  She realized that the note was the best offer she would receive for the time being. If the letter failed to convince James, then she would have to make progress with the Learned Ladies Society in finding investors for Mr. Brunel’s tunnel. “I will try your note first, as you suggest. And to thank you properly, I will add to your happiness by allowing you to put forth my name in the next edition of the field guide.” She lifted her chin. “But I only glanced at your categories. I do not remember one labeled ‘Kind Service to Family’ in that…that tome of yours.”

  He winked. “And here I expected you to demand to be a Ruling Goddess.” He approached her again and stood close—near enough that she felt his warm breath on her forehead. He chucked her under the chin. “You, madam, belong under the heading of Rabbits.”

  “Rabbits! I fail to comprehend your reasoning.” She glared back at him. “No, please do not explain.”

  The wicked smile reappeared. “Rabbits because you are all pink and white, hop about a great deal, and stick your nose in where it is not wanted.”

  “Ah, very amusing, I’m sure. If I penned a field guide, I’d include you under the category of bear. Bear because you’re big and black.”

  “And bite.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you bite.”

  He leaned close enough to whisper in her ear. “Bears do not bite ladies, madam, they nibble.”

  She had not blushed in years. Today in the presence of this man, she seemed to blush every two minutes. Her physical attraction to his large, dark form must be due to her lack of sleep caused by Lily’s vexing situation. At least, she hoped that was the reason. With any luck, the letter would prove successful, and she would never have to see him again. “I am so excited, and quite flustered, as you no doubt observe. This must be an example of the wicked charm you rakes exert on females. As a widow, it doesn’t have the same effect on me—”

  “Of course,” he said with feigned sincerity.

  “But I understand how an unsuspecting lady might be led astray by your seductive rough-and-tumble wiles.”

  “I’ll have you know that many ladies actually eagerly anticipate my seductive rough-and-tumble wiles.”

  “Of course they do.” She pushed him backward several feet. “I assume they swoon onto the street upon your approach. If we ever meet again, I too promise to do so, since I’m pleased you wrote that letter to Mr. Codlington. After all, I do not wish to appear ungrateful for your efforts. I only hope you’re correct and your note proves successful.”

  Three

  “Well, I’m not quite sure what to make of that adventure,” Meta said as she stepped over the threshold of the Broadsham town house.

  Lily entered directly behind her. “I do. I became so angry by his forward manners, but they frightened me to the point where I couldn’t say a word. I hope after Fitzy and I left the room, you gave him a proper set-down.” Without waiting for an answer or taking off her gloves and bonnet, Lily ran upstairs.

  Meta tried to follow her sister, eager to get her opinion on the letter’s chances of success, but her father approached her from the direction of the library, his frail arm held up, pointing a finger.

  Her father’s once fine slim figure had stooped soon after the death of his wife. Now within the last year, his mind had aged to the point where it retreated into a realm his children could no longer recognize or comprehend. He rested his bony hand on Meta’s shoulder. “Are you my wife?”

  “No, Father.” She took his cool palm and held it. “I’m Meta, your eldest.”

  Short silver wisps of once dark whiskers framed his smile. “Meta, you really must take care of our home. The ceiling is making noises, very odd noises. Something must be done.”

  Since she had never heard these noises, she attributed his concerns to a mind muddled by age. Nevertheless, she assured him that their butler would investigate the situation. “Thank you, dearest. I’ll have Sampson take care of the matter. He’ll likely send a boy up to the roof.” She kissed his cheek. “I’m busy this afternoon helping Lily, so I am afraid I cannot read Scott to you, but I’ll send Susanna up with your tea. Afterwards, she can start reading The Talisman where I left off. Remember? On a whim, the Queen stole Edith’s ring right off her finger.” She lowered her voice and spoke in a conspiratorial tone. “I bet trouble is ahead.”

  A twinkle danced in his eyes. “Oh, there will be mayhem. You may take my word for it.”

  “I agree. The world succumbs to mayhem in all novels, and that is why we enjoy them so.” She followed him upstairs to his room, then once he was settled, she knocked on the door to Lily’s room.

  “I know it’s you, Meta. But you cannot help me in this situation. I don’t need your assistance.”

  Meta entered her sister’s room and found her sitting in front of her vanity, reading Mr. Drexel’s brief note. “Are you fretting that the letter will fail and James will not change his mind and resume his addresses?” She sat in the window seat and attempted to read Lily’s expression, but her sister must have realized her intent and turned her head to hide her face. Meta waited, unsure if Lily needed the time to formulate her words.

  Minutes later, Lily finally faced her, her eyes red and swollen with tears. “Please, Meta, let’s forget this whole incident. I’ll put Mr. Drexel’s letter in my drawer with my other personal correspondence and that will be an end to it.”

  “I don’t understand. You cannot hide your true feelings from me
. I know in my heart you love James. You always have, for years and years. Why do you not want to send this note immediately? It should clear up something that was nothing more than a little misunderstanding.” Meta knew Lily and James belonged together. They seemed happiest in each other’s company and even on occasion they finished each other’s sentences—a perfect match.

  A tear finally fell, and Lily brushed it away. “That is my point. The note is useless, a false exercise. I mean, if James truly loved me, he should have known in his heart that it was not my name in that field guide.”

  Meta silently agreed, then leaned over to hug her sister around the shoulders. “Please, let’s pay a brief call on James to show him the note. What harm could there be in that?”

  “You were not present, Meta, when he called off. You didn’t see his…face. He couldn’t even look me in the eye. There will be no reconciliation; you must take my word for it.” She arranged her woolen, straw-colored shawl even tighter around her shoulders.

  “I know you have been hurt—”

  “Hurt!” Her eyes dried, and she jumped slightly in her seat. “Hurt is not the right word. Betrayed is more like it. I was eighteen when the guide was published. Eighteen! Oh the insult.”

  “If we just speak—”

  “I have nothing to say to him. It seems to me he has something he wishes to say to me.” Lily straightened in her chair. “I feel truly jilted and fear society will hear of it. Everyone anticipated our wedding, but it will never come to be.” A few seconds passed, and her shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry, Meta. I no longer trust him. How could I?”

  Meta rose and stood behind her sister. She then caught Lily’s gaze in the looking glass. “You and I will speak of this again sometime in the future, maybe a year or two after your marriage. By then you will realize that gentlemen are sometimes unpredictable, and it is sometimes difficult to understand their position on a subject. That is why you must speak to him. Give him a chance to clarify his objections. You owe him that.”