Challenging A Rake
By
G.L. Snodgrass
Copyright 2018 G.L. Snodgrass
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof in any form. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means. This is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author's imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Dedicated to
Sheryl Turner
Other Books by G. L. Snodgrass
Regency Romance
The Reluctant Duke
The Viscount's Bride
The Earl's Regret
Marrying the Marquess
Confronting A Rake
Charming A Rake
Catching A Rake
Young Adult Romance
Certain Rules
Unwritten Rules
Unbreakable Rules
My Favorite Love (Lakeland Boys 1)
One Night (Lakeland Boys 2)
My Brother’s Best Friend (Lakeland Boys 3)
Worlds Apart (Lakeland Boys 4)
My Brother's Bodyguard (Hometown Heroes 1)
My Hidden Hero (Hometown Heroes 2)
My Sister’s Best Friend
Hidden Friends
Love's Winding Road
Finding You
Rescuing a Best Friend
A New Year's Kiss
Table of Contents
Challenging A Rake
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Epilogue
Author’s Notes
The Reluctant Duke, Chap 1
Challenging A Rake
Chapter One
Sighing heavily, Amanda Waters pushed her spectacles back to the bridge of her nose and tried re-reading the page again, but within moments, her mind began to wander once again.
Her life was passing her by. At the ripe old age of twenty, she felt suffocated with a strange malaise. The kind of empty feeling that demanded to be filled.
All of her friends were married, Both Lady Alice and Olivia had children. Was that it, she wondered? Was she jealous? Perhaps. But it was more. That feeling of lost opportunity. A feeling of … to be honest … boredom. No, worse, loneliness.
Her father had left her well enough off that she need never fear about finances. But not so well off that she was pursued by fortune hunters. The house was in her name, a very rare occurrence in England these days. But her father had been an excellent banker and worked his ways around the law. Of course, it helped having Nathanial Caldwell as a family friend.
So, no, that was not a concern.
Then what was it? she wondered as she stared into the fire. Why this sense of anxiety? Why this constant worrying about something she couldn’t even identify.
“Get ahold of yourself, Amanda,” she muttered under her breath as she tried to focus on the book in her hands. A tale of Magellan’s exploration, in Latin of course. Normally the book would have consumed her. The adventure, the new discoveries. But now it failed to hold her interest.
She had actually made it halfway down the page when a soft knock at the parlor door pulled her out of the story. Young Molly entered and dipped a quick curtsey.
“If that is all Mum,” the young maid said. “I will be off to bed.”
Amanda smiled at the girl and nodded. Rescued from a hard life, the young woman had turned out to be an excellent maid. “Of course Molly, thank you.”
Molly paused for a moment, “Any more thought about taking on a footman, Mum?” she asked. The look of trepidation in her eyes reached Amanda’s heart.
Amanda sighed internally, Molly was just expressing her fears. The same fears Amanda felt most nights. Two women alone in the house. Cook had already departed for the evening, going home to her own family. Leaving just Molly and herself. London was not a kind environment for young women alone.
“I am still thinking about it, Molly.”
The maid nodded then curtsied one last time before closing the door behind her.
No, Amanda thought to herself. Don’t be ridiculous. She did not need a man’s protection. Besides. There really wasn’t enough for Molly to do as it was. How would a butler or footman fill his time? No, definitely not. The one thing Amanda despised was inefficiency.
Taking a deep breath, Amanda once again began reading. She was determined to at least reach the part about Magellan’s travails around Cape Horn.
For a small while, she forgot about her malaise, her boredom and became lost in the story.
A soft noise outside interrupted her. She looked up and realized her candle had burned almost half-way and the fire had died down to a few glowing embers. She had read much longer than she had planned.
A repeat of the noise made her jump. Louder this time. On the front steps. Was someone trying to get into the house? No, obviously they would have attempted the back door or one of the lower windows. The front door could be seen from the street too easily.
At least that was what she would have done if she was a burglar. So surely, the professionals would be at least that intelligent.
Then what?
Marking her book, she set it aside and started for the front door then thought better of it and retrieved a fire iron from the rack. She smiled to herself, it was amazing what a heavy iron in your fist could do for one’s confidence.
“Who’s there?” she hissed when she reached the front door.
There was no response, but then a heavy thud against the door made her jump back with fear.
A deep voice from the other side said, “Please,”
Amanda froze, the voice sounded in pain, in need. Surely she couldn’t ignore it. But to open her door at this time at night was foolish.
“Please,” the voice said again.
Amanda sighed heavily and shook her head. She knew she was making a mistake but she couldn’t stop herself. Someone needed her help. Besides, she had her fire iron.
Throwing the bolt, she slowly cracked the door to look outside. Holding the candle up to see who was there.
A man, obviously injured according to all the blood, leaned against the door jam. His face hidden in shadows. He was dressed as a common laborer, with wool pants and a heavy woolen sweater.
“Please,” he gasped one mo
re time, as he fell through the doorway and onto her floor.
Amanda’s heart raced. “Lord Warwick,” she gasped as she looked down on Olivia and Nathanial’s good friend. The man was too handsome and too familiar to her to ever be disguised by workman’s clothes.
His dark hair was wet with the night mist and his eyes looked up at her, fighting to stay coherent. He grimaced as he lifted himself on an elbow and tried to sit up.
“My apologies Miss Amanda,” he said through gritted teeth. “But you were the closest.”
A thousand thoughts rushed through her mind. Lord Warwick, the Seventh Earl of Warwick to be precise, was bleeding all over her entryway.
Dismissing the fears and questions dancing around in her head, she closed the front door but not before looking outside to ensure he was not being pursued.
Seeing the dark street empty in the moonlight, she slammed the bolt home and turned to kneel next to him.
“Lord Warwick,” she said with disbelief. “What happened?”
He smiled weakly, “I have been shot. Twice in fact,”
She bit back a sarcastic response. She could see that he had been shot. What she wanted to know was why. But that could come later, she realized. Now she needed to focus on keeping him alive.
“I will send for a doctor.” She told him then turned to yell for Molly. While waiting for her maid, she grabbed a lace doily from a side table, folded it several times and held it over the wound in his shoulder.
“No,” Lord Warwick said as his blood covered hand reached up to grasp her arm. “No doctor.”
Amanda turned back to him. Obviously, the loss of blood was affecting his judgment.
“Lord Warwick,” she said with a stern look. “I can promise you that I know nothing about treating gunshot wounds. Except for what I have read, of course. And, as I refuse to allow you to die in my entrance way. I will be sending for a doctor.”
His response was interrupted by Molly rushing down the hall in her robe. Coming to a sliding halt when she saw the injured man on the floor, she paused, her eyes as big as saucers, as she stared at him, then at Amanda and then back at him.
“Go get the doctor, Molly,” Amanda told her.
The maid nodded her head then turned back. “What happened, the doctor will want to know.”
“He has been shot,” Amanda said as she left the temporary bandage in place, pulled a lace runner from a side table and held it over the wound in his hip.
“Did you shot him, Mum?” Molly asked.
Amanda frowned, “No, of course not.”
Molly nodded again. “I just wanted to know so I knew how fast to hurry, If you shot him, I could tarry. If you wanted me to.” the maid said.
Amanda shook her head at her maid’s logic. “I didn’t shoot him. Now hurry.”
“No Doctor,” Lord Warwick mumbled again.
“Sorry, but it must be done,” Amanda said. Then he once again grabbed her arm and pulled her close.
“Do not tell him my name,” he whispered. “He mustn’t know. None of them can know.”
Amanda frowned. What could he possibly mean by that? “Should I send for Nathanial or Lord Bradford? They are away in the country. It will take a day or two before they can be here.”
“No,” he said forcibly. “No one can know. And the more people we tell …” his eyes scrunched up as a wave of pain washed over him. “… the more someone might find out. No. Keep this a secret. Our very lives might depend upon it.”
Amanda blanched for a second. The man was deadly serious. Shuddering, she looked up from his wounded hip to find him unconscious,
What had happened? She well knew of Lord Warwick’s reputation. A rake of renown. The man was rumored to be involved with a dozen different women. And then there were the rumors. Stories that even Olivia believed, that Warwick worked for the government in some secret capacity. But Amanda found those rumors to be too farfetched to be believed. Besides, this was London, not France.
No, it must be a jealous husband.
Her mind began devising a dozen different scenarios but she pulled herself away from that train of thought and focused on applying pressure to the two wounds.
“Please don’t die,” she mumbled to him. “Nathanial would never forgive me if I let you die.”
The man groaned and began to shake his head. Her heart jumped. Was he going into his last death throes? Was this to be his end? The thought sent a sadness through her.
While she was not really of his world, she had always looked upon him as a puzzle that needed to be solved. There was something of the outsider about him. The man who saw everything but shared nothing.
No, and for some strange reason, the thought of his death bothered her at her very center. No, she would not let him die. Not here, not now, not on her entrance way floor.
What could she do? Should she try to move him?
Sighing to herself. All she could do was wait for the doctor.
No sooner than she had thought of this than she heard the back door open and Molly rushed into the room.
Two men quickly followed. One, older, with the beginning of gray hair and a paunch, dressed nicely, obviously the doctor. A second man, larger than a small mountain, dressed as a workman, was obviously his assistant.
The Doctor rushed to her side and began examining Lord Warwick.
“What happened,” he asked without taking his eyes off his patient.”
“I don’t know,” Amanda responded with a shrug of her shoulders. “He arrived on my doorstep and fell inside when I opened the door.”
The doctor frowned for a moment then nodded as he stood up and stepped back.
“I am Doctor John Spencer, this is my assistant Arthur Anderson,” he said, indicating the large man. His assistant nodded but remained quiet. Amanda, however, noticed that Molly’s eyes kept darting over at the large man, obviously curious.
“Amanda Waters,” she replied. “My maid, Molly.”
The Doctor frowned as he looked down at the man on the ground and slowly shook his head. Then taking a deep breath, he motioned his assistant over.
“The dining room table I believe,” the doctor said to his assistant. “Miss,” he said, addressing Molly. “A blanket, something you do not mind losing. Cover the dining room table. Arthur will move him.”
Amanda’s insides turned over. “Are you sure doctor?”
He stopped and frowned. “Actually, I am. But if you would prefer something different let me know. I assumed you hoped to keep the man alive.”
“Of course,” Amanda responded, shocked that he might think otherwise.
“In that case, we must hurry.”
Molly had already scurried to the linen closet and retrieved an old blanket then rushed into the dining room.
“I will need several candles or lamps, a bowl of water, and your assistance. Even then, I cannot promise success, he has lost a lot of blood.”
Amanda’s stomach tightened up as she realized that Lord Warwick still might very well die this night.
Once the large Mr. Anderson had gently deposited Lord Warwick on the dining room table, the doctor instructed her to remove the patient's shoes and hose while he began cutting away his clothes to get at the wound.
“Will he live?” she asked, unable to wait any longer.
“We will see,” the doctor said as he removed a long probe from his bag and held it over the wound in his shoulder. Nodding at his assistant, he indicated he should hold the patient in place.
As the large man held Lord Warwick’s arms against his side, the doctor slowly inserted the probe into the gaping hole on Lord Warwick’s shoulder. The doctor had barely begun when Warwick’s eyes shot open and a shocked scream bellowed out of him.
“Hold his feet,” the doctor yelled at her without taking his eyes off the work he was doing.
Amanda threw herself across Lord Warwick’s kicking legs, fighting to hold them down. How had she gotten into this situation? One moment reading a book, the next
, listening to a man in excruciating pain.
The young Earl thrashed for a moment then fought to hold still, his entire body shaking as he worked on burying the pain while the doctor fished around inside of him for the bullet.
Looking over the top of Arthur, she caught a brief glimpse of Lord Warwick’s handsome face. His brow was covered in sweat and his eyes were scrunched up tight. The man was in obvious agony. Why doesn’t he scream again? She wondered.
“Got it,” the doctor said as he pulled back, holding up a pistol ball.
“About damn time,” Lord Warwick said through gritted teeth.”
The doctor laughed, “You are lucky, the wound in your hip, the bullet passed through. But I fear …” The doctor stopped talking when he realized his patient had lost consciousness once again.
Turning to Amanda, the doctor shrugged his shoulders. “I will have my man get a wagon and we can move him to the hospital.
Amanda’s insides tightened up. “No,” she said before thinking it through. She couldn’t allow Lord Warwick to be shifted to a hospital. “They are a den of pestilence.”
Almost no one survived a hospital. Besides, he wanted his identity concealed. No, she could not allow that.
“I will see to him here,” she said, continuing to study Lord Warwick. The thought of someone else caring for him bothered her for some unknown reason. The doctor studied her for a moment then shrugged again.
Molly’s eyes grew very large when her mistress mentioned keeping the man here. Obviously, the idea was not wise. Amanda, however, dismissed her maid’s concerns. She didn’t realize who the man was or what they were dealing with.
“Are you sure, Miss?” The doctor asked.
“Yes,” she said with a firm nod. “If Mr. Anderson could carry him up to a bedroom. We will care for him until we can discover his family.
Molly jumped forward. “I will show you the way,” she said to the doctors assistant, shooting him a flirtatious smile.
Amanda stopped from rolling her eyes. Now was not the time to deal with it, but she reminded herself to keep an eye on Molly, the girl had never been this flirtation before. What was it about the doctor’s assistant that had impacted her so?
Challenging A Rake (A Rake's Redemption Book 4) Page 1
