To Catch a Rake

by Sally Orr

  So Mrs. Russell must have come through with her surprise.

  His spirits lifted to a remarkable degree, and his current opinion of her softened from fetching busybody to possible benefactress. He mentioned an upcoming honor to the other engineers standing near him, so everyone ascended the staircase to join the others already assembled on another wooden platform built for the public to view the workings.

  At least five black traveling coaches had pulled into Cow Court, and their passengers disembarked. His father quickly informed the other tunnel personnel that they might expect the privilege of a visit by a person of significant importance.

  George scanned the passengers as they exited their carriages. Mrs. Russell, Lady Sarah, and several other “Learned Ladies” disembarked from the first carriage, while at least fifty gentlemen exited the other carriages. The guests greeted each other as they all moved to gather around the platform.

  Mrs. Russell caught his eye and waved.

  He enthusiastically waved back but immediately lowered his hand. In his excitement, there was no need for him to turn into a tomfool schoolboy.

  She seemed to understand this, because she covered her mouth to hide what must have been a short burst of laughter—the irritating female.

  Glancing over the assembled guests, George spied a tall man in a black suit and a recognizable hooked nose. His heartbeat escalated wildly. The man was the “Iron Duke” himself, the Duke of Wellington.

  What an honor!

  She had mentioned connections, but this was beyond even his wildest expectations. Besides a great war hero, the duke’s opinions also had significant influence on Parliament. George wanted to jump off the platform and kiss that astonishing Mrs. Russell right in front of everyone. Instead, he caught her glance again and gave her a deep bow. He could be generous. She deserved it—the brilliant woman.

  It didn’t take long before all of the guests stood on the platform and introductions were made. The tunnel was represented by members of the Thames Tunnel Company’s board, two of their bankers from the Bank of England, and one of their solicitors. The guests included the Duke of Wellington and the Dukes of Cambridge and Somerset. Also amongst the visitors of distinction were the local MP and Nathan Rothschild, the financier. Mrs. Russell’s party included Lady Sarah Stainthorpe along with her father, the Earl of Royston.

  Mr. Marc Brunel began the festivities by giving the assembled guests a tour of the workings, including leading them down into the pit to examine the giant shield.

  George stayed behind and swiftly culled Mrs. Russell away from the herd following Mr. Brunel. Dressed in a sapphire blue walking dress with a straw poke bonnet, she looked like an angel recently descended from heaven. “Madam, if we were not in company, I would…kiss you right now.” He chuckled. “Perhaps more. I expect that you understand my meaning?” He gazed at her with fierce appreciation.

  She giggled, but as soon as their gazes met, her smile vanished and she began to take rapid breaths.

  Could she discern his amorous intent that very moment?

  Of course, he knew she was no slow top. “Yes, if there were no consequences, I’d pull you into the steam engine house and kiss you senseless.”

  This time she broke out in a ravishing blush and looked away toward the pit.

  Had his expression of spontaneous ardor inadvertently insulted her? “Right. I apologize, madam. I hope no offense was taken.”

  While keeping her gaze on her feet, she nodded. “I’ve enough experience with your physical need to celebrate that I understand you completely.”

  Oh, he wanted to lick every inch of that blush. “My sudden desire to express my gratitude arises because, frankly, I did not think your promise would come to fruition.”

  She whipped her head around to look directly at him.

  “But, madam, now I could just sing—you wonderful woman.”

  “I don’t think bears sing,” she said, her humor returned and smile radiant. “Although I’m a bit miffed you didn’t trust me.”

  “You once indicated that if I enlightened James your sister would resume her engagement. However, you must admit that never came to pass. But this surprise… From now on, I’ll trust whatever you say.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” she said, laughter playing about her blue eyes. “You must thank Lady Sarah. She made the arrangements with His Grace.”

  “Ah.” He tilted his head and nodded to show his respect.

  After the distinguished guests returned to the platform, chairs were placed in a semicircle, so everyone took a seat to listen to a few speeches.

  He led Mrs. Russell to the side and held out his hand to offer the chair next to Lady Sarah. “Madam.”

  She sat and adjusted her bonnet to shield her beautiful face from the bright sun.

  This gave him the privacy to take her in, the lovely figure ending in fetching ankles—nothing like a slim ankle to set a gentleman on fire. Taking the seat next to her, he moved his chair close to hers, so their thighs lightly touched.

  Would he get away with his impertinence?

  She flashed him a look of surprise, but she did not pull away. An audible breath escaped from between those rose-colored lips.

  Next a representative of the tunnel’s board gave a brief welcome and introduction.

  George appreciated the brevity but squirmed in his seat nevertheless. He needed to move about, felt an urge to do something else.

  When she finally glanced his way, he lifted his eyebrows. “I can think of more interesting things to do than listen to this boring fellow.”

  She rewarded him with a soft giggle.

  The first speech, given by a junior MP, proved to be a tedious speech about his “questionable fitness to address you” because he considered them such an eminent gathering.

  George leaned close to her ear. “I don’t question my fitness to dress you.”

  “Hush!” She blushed quite prettily.

  The MP did, however, please his audience at the end of his speech by praising the tunnel. He even ended his speech by calling it “one of the proudest ornaments in England.”

  The audience cheered and clapped.

  He leaned close again. “May I say that wearing that blue gown, you are one of the proudest ornaments in England?” He took and squeezed her gloved hand, then laced his big fingers between hers.

  A small gasp escaped her. She turned to look at him, then grinned. “May I say you are proving yourself quite the charmer?” She pulled her hand free.

  He bowed his head. “Honored.”

  A hush then claimed the crowd, as the Iron Duke himself rose to speak to the assembly. Wellington described the tunnel as “the greatest work of art ever contemplated.” His words delighted the audience and everyone cheered loudly. From that moment on, repeated cheers unreservedly followed every comment the old warrior made.

  While the Iron Duke continued his remarks about the importance of new routes of commerce, George caught Mrs. Russell staring at him. So, still obsessed with amorous thoughts, like kissing her senseless, he gave her the best wicked smile he could conjure up at a moment’s notice—a gesture proven to be an irresistible treat for most ladies.

  She blushed and whispered something in Lady Sarah’s ear.

  The Iron Duke then spoke of the tunnel’s military advantages.

  The audience clapped, and several “huzzahs” filled the air.

  The next time he caught Mrs. Russell glancing his way, he flashed his stare of polite admiration. If for some reason the wicked expression failed, his charming look had always proved successful with the ladies. He shifted to press his hard thigh slightly harder against hers.

  Meta glanced down to her kid shoes but did not shift away.

  Lady Sarah noticed his thigh and frowned at him.

  He countered with a feigned innocent smile.

  During his final words, the Duke of Wellington asked the crowd to buy further shares at the next offering or donate directly to the tunnel’s fundi
ng.

  The crowd cheered and eagerly agreed to invest. Everyone stood and began to gather around the carriages for the journey home.

  After exchanging a few pleasantries with Mrs. Russell and the Learned Ladies, Lady Sarah took Mrs. Russell’s arm and led her away. After several steps, Mrs. Russell glanced back at him.

  Next his father approached.

  His father squeezed his arm. “I must rush home to tell Mother the news. It will mean so much to us both to share this celebration. Would you like to join me?”

  “Not now. There are still some gentlemen I would like introductions to.”

  Michael Drexel nodded. “Very well.”

  George watched the back of his father’s coat disappear into the crowd, off to tell his mother the good news, rather than take a little time to join the celebrations with any of the other principals.

  “Drexel, my boy.”

  He turned to see Mr. Marc Brunel approaching. The Frenchman pushed up his round spectacles and held out his hand.

  They shook hands.

  “Sir,” George said.

  “Quite a triumph, eh, Mr. Drexel? I tell you, at the next meeting of the Thames Tunnel Company’s board, I plan to vigorously insist upon your promotion to resident engineer. Your assistance has proven invaluable in so many different ways. I can honestly say I am truly grateful for your efforts.” Mr. Brunel slapped him on the shoulder. “Keep the line, understand? No more publishing books or public imbroglios. If you stay out of trouble, I do not see how the board could refuse a good man like you.” Mr. Brunel waved at the Duke of Somerset. “Please pardon me, His Grace desires a word. Congratulations again.” The short, active man smiled and headed in the direction of the duke’s party.

  George could not stand still another minute. He must share his good news. He strode off in the direction his father had taken, but he failed to catch him in time. While his friends spoke of the successful speeches, he decided to tell Mrs. Russell about his potential promotion. She would keep his secret and perhaps appreciate what this promotion meant to him.

  As he approached her, she excused herself from her companion and walked up to congratulate him.

  With a silly grin no doubt planted on his lips, he said, “You initiated this, so I am quite aware of where I should place my gratitude. This is all your doing. Thank you.” He then whispered, “My name will be put forth for a promotion. I must give my farewells to our guests, but then I’d like you to stay until they leave.”

  She repeatedly blinked.

  George let her read in his fierce expression exactly how he planned to thank her. Thank her in a way they would both find pleasure and satisfaction. Thank her in a way that would remove his building frisson between them, once and for all. He had practiced this look so many times, no woman could fail to understand its meaning. Besides, this female was a widow and likely missed intimate relations. He whispered into her ear, “Please allow me to thank you by giving you the benefit of my skills to bring you to bliss and hold you there. Afterwards, we will resume our separate lives.” He raised his voice. “I’ll escort you home safely. You have nothing to worry about on that score. It’s just…I wish to give you the full expression of my gratitude—in private.”

  She started, made a nervous little jump. Then her demeanor changed to a happy one, and she gave a single nod. “I’m surprised to discover that I would welcome your—attentions.” She started to breath hard. “We will celebrate together, is that right?”

  “Yes.” He chuckled in a mixture of surprise and delight. So his favorite rabbit possessed courage as well. “Thank you. I have a feeling I will be saying those words to you many times in the next couple of days.”

  The corner of her mouth lifted. “Perhaps I may find an occasion to say that too.”

  He stepped closer. “I can decidedly promise you that. After the crowd has departed for home, I’ll engage a room at the inn across the street.” He pointed to the right.

  “Yes.” She stiffened, nodded, and her features became overwhelmed by an alluring blush. She probably never contemplated such naughty behavior before.

  “I will enter the inn first and arrange to let the room. When you are ready, enter the door on the side so no one will see you. To your left, you will see a staircase before the main public rooms ahead. I’ll engage a room on the first floor, leave the door ajar, and wait for your arrival.” His words had a stirring effect upon his person and that rush of expectation that warmed his sense of masculine satisfaction.

  She nodded but failed to look at him directly.

  “The public house is called The Spread Eagle and Crown.”

  She giggled. “Oh no.”

  “Oh yes. I guess that means I represent the crown, while you represent—”

  “No, no, no, don’t say it. You are, indeed, the only man in London naughty enough to have written the field guide.”

  He laughed aloud and slapped his thigh. “I’m going to enjoy showing you exactly why, madam, your observation is a correct one.”

  Twelve

  Meta heard the crowd buzzing around her, heard her friends speak words like “success” and “tunnel.” A slight breeze had chilled her during the speeches, but now her entire figure became overheated.

  This time, when he offered something decidedly more than a kiss, she had said, “Yes.”

  Yes, her response decided before her brain was given the question. Yes, the word spoken by some unknown aspect of her character. She became agitated and impatient. Her excitement escalated; she began to perspire; her breathing rate increased—all from the mere anticipation of the shared act of passion to come.

  On her wedding night, her mother delicately described the event to her as “amorous congress” and said very little else. It did not take long after her marriage until she started to enjoy sexual relations with her husband. She learned to relish the variety, the happy, celebratory relations, the giggling, silly relations, and even the panting relations of seemingly detached, mutual need. Today she wanted to give herself to this man. Give herself as she suspected she desired from their first meeting. Give herself to a man known for his famed skills with women. Would the action itself be different from that of the inexperienced twenty-year-olds she and her husband had been?

  Of course, she faced the possibility that the mere deed might lead to pregnancy or romantic love, but she dismissed those concerns. She had never become with child in the months she spent with her husband. And as for as falling in love, George had, in his own way, let it be known that this would be a single, shared moment of passion. Yet the possibility that her heart might be vulnerable remained. She shook her head, dismissed her concerns. Today she’d join him in celebration, bestow upon this irresistible man her most intimate regard, celebrate together, share the victory, and relish the moment.

  Stifling her embarrassment, she excused herself from returning home in Lady Sarah’s carriage and indicated Mr. Drexel would escort her home, once he had become free of the lingering guests. If her friends suspected something amiss, they hid it well. Meta stood there, watching the ladies enter their carriages and leave. All the while, she felt like a schoolgirl about to enter a room after being told not to do so, hoping to find an unguarded treat.

  When the time arrived to join Mr. Drexel, she became anxious and almost ran to the inn. The surroundings on the way blurred. She could not catch her breath. She easily found the side door, like the doors found in many physicians’ offices, discreet entrances hidden from the main street.

  She entered the inn and let her eyes adjust to walls of dark wood, a probable relic of Elizabethan times. The sour smells of ale, smoke, and the river wafted in from the inn’s ground floor. The loud voices of the workmen in the taproom masked the sounds of her arrival. She climbed the stairs out of the haze and onto a bright landing with an open window on the far end. Here the sun shone on a vase of open-form red peonies placed on an old wooden table, a modest effort to brighten this one corner of the world.

  Meta
soon discovered the door left ajar and entered a small room with a single leaded window. A shaft of low afternoon light reached across the entire room, illuminating a cupboard with strong iron hinges reaching across the entire front. Besides the cupboard, bed, and washstand, the room contained a dark oak spindle chair almost black with age. Above the bed hung a rather crude oil painting of a prized cow, charming regardless of the painter’s lack of skill.

  The room also contained one very tall and dark engineer. He rose from the chair and moved to hold out his hands. “Come here. Let’s celebrate.”

  Somewhere in her mind, she realized that if her courage failed her, now would be the time to make polite excuses and leave. Instead, she struggled to mask her excitement and appear calm. Calm in the face of a gentleman of well-practiced allure. There was no sign of the bear, only a handsome man standing before her in polished black shoes, black trousers, and a white lawn shirt. His hat, coat, and waistcoat were piled on top of the dark cupboard. His loosened cravat hung like a white silk snake around his neck, while the three buttons on his white shirt were open, revealing a strong neck and tanned skin, all set upon impossibly broad shoulders.

  “You’re a courageous woman, Mrs. Russell. Allow me.” He moved slowly to first embrace her in a standing hug before he began to kiss her. He kissed lightly. Mere fleeting touches repeated many times, escalating waves of joy. Smiles mixed with giggles and punctuated by chuckles in between. “I’ve planned this single moment to express my complete thanks for your efforts. You will enjoy this, believe me.”

  “With your reputation, I have no doubts on that score.” His kissing talents had abolished any uneasiness she possessed when she entered the room and left her with a happy anticipation of the lovemaking to come.

  “You see, the secret to pleasuring a woman requires many traits unique to engineers.” His wholly wicked smile appeared on a pleased countenance. “There are steps to consider for maximum satisfaction. It’s like building a bridge: first you must find the right site. In this case”—he locked the door—“the site needs to be secured.”