Challenging A Rake (A Rake's Redemption Book 4)

by G. L. Snodgrass

  He felt a twinge of guilt. The woman had done so much for him. He wouldn’t be alive without her. The last thing he wanted was to upset her. But she needed to understand that he would not be dictated to.

  Sighing, he started working his right shoulder. Rolling it, lifting the arm slightly off the bed. After ten minutes he was able to raise the arm almost three inches before having to let it sink back onto the bed.

  “A half-drowned kitten has more strength,” he muttered to himself as the recurring fear ate at the pit of his stomach. What would he do if he didn’t regain the strength of his arm? What if he couldn’t walk again? How could he finish the things he wanted to accomplish.

  And what would the women of the ton think? Oh, how attractive, a crippled Lord. No, that was not how he wanted to be thought of. He could well imagine the snickers and rolled eyes.

  His wandering thoughts were interrupted by Molly barging into the room without knockings.

  “What did you do to Miss Amanda?” she demanded as she half dropped his food tray onto the table next to the bed.

  “Good afternoon to you too Molly,” Warwick said as he pulled himself up into a sitting position.

  Molly frowned at him, “Don’t you be using that charm on me.” She said, continuing to look at him as if he were dirt on her shoes. “What did you do? That woman is a saint and I won’t have you upsetting her.”

  Warwick studied the young maid. The girl was barely sixteen yet she was standing up to him like a lioness protecting her cub. He smiled to himself. It pleased him to realize that Amanda inspired such loyalty.

  “I assure you, Molly, All I did was ask for some clothes. I think it is time I started trying to get up and about.”

  “Clothes?” she asked with a frown. “You should have asked me. Miss Amanda wouldn’t know the first thing about getting clothes for a man. She only shops in those fancy lady stores. And yes, it is time you were up and about,” she added as she placed the food tray on his lap. “If I had my way, you would have been up and about and away from here days ago.”

  He laughed as he began to spread butter on his bread. “It is nice to know that we are of the same mind,” he told her.

  She frowned for a moment. “I don’t know what that means, but if it gets you out of here sooner, then I agree.”

  As she muttered to herself, she reached over him to tuck the blanket under his legs and then, pulled a pillow from the other side of the bed to prop it behind his back.

  “Miss Amanda’s life hasn’t been the same since you came in here, bleeding all over my nice clean floor,” she said with a shake of her head.

  “Yes, I am aware,” he answered trying hard not to laugh. The girl wanted him away, yet she went out of her way to make sure he was comfortable. He knew that like Amanda, he owed his life to her.

  “Have you worked for Miss Amanda long?” he asked as he took a bite of food.

  “Over a year,” she answered as she went to the foot of the bed and made sure the blankets were lined up perfectly. “I was headed for the streets, I was. And you know what that means for a young girl in this town. There is no telling where I would be if it weren’t for Miss Amanda.”.

  “Really, how did that come about,” he asked, suddenly consumed with wanting to know a lot more about his angel.

  Molly paused in her fidgeting as she looked out the window into the far distance. Her face took on a sad frown.

  “My father worked for her father’s bank before her father died a few years ago, a clerk. He died of the influenza early last winter.” The young woman paused for a moment and Warwick knew she was reliving that hell.

  Taking a deep breath, she continued. “I didn’t have no other family. And we never had no money. The landlord. He wouldn’t let me stay.” She stopped for a moment and shot Warwick a quick look “Not unless I let him have his way.” Her shudder let him know exactly what she was saying.

  He nodded for her to go on.

  “Miss Amanda was the only one to worry about me. Somehow, she received word of my father’s death. And came to me. All the way to our house. In a carriage. Took me right away and brought me here.”

  The maid returned to straightening the bed but Warwick saw that hint of fear behind her eyes. And that fierce loyalty as well. This girl would do anything for her employer. Up to and including backing down a British Nobleman if necessary.

  “I understand your loyalty, Molly. I promise I do. And I can assure you. I will do nothing to ever cause Miss Amanda distress.”

  The young maid studied him for a moment then started to say something, then stopped herself and shook her head. “Just so we understand each other My … I mean John.”

  “Yes, I think we do.”

  “Good,” she said as she started for the door. “And I will get you the clothes you need. They’ll be rough. Not like those Lordly clothes your kind normally wear. But more like what you arrived in.”

  He smiled at her. “That would be wonderful. Thank you.”

  The maid returned his nod then said, “You know, there is more than one way to hurt a woman. And the worse is hurting her heart.”

  He frowned as he tried to understand her meaning, but the girl was gone before he could delve into the matter.

  Sitting back, he smiled to himself. It made him feel good knowing that Amanda had such a loyal friend.

  What a remarkable woman, he thought. So different than the women he knew. His mind searched for the perfect description. That one word that would capture the true essence of Miss Amanda Waters.

  Beautiful? Of course, but not enough. Intelligent? Again, rather obvious. No, Miss Waters, but even more, she was competent, he thought. That was it. The woman was competent in everything she did.

  Satisfied that he had order once again in his world, he allowed himself to fall asleep. Sleep and dream.

  Chapter Six

  Molly had been good to her word and provided him with clothes. Woolen pants and a plain white linen shirt. She’d plopped them on the bottom of his bed then left without a word. Almost daring him to try and dress himself.

  Sighing heavily, He pushed the blankets back and used his good arm to retrieve the clothes. Even that little effort left him breathless and cringing with pain. This was going to be difficult he realized as he shot the door a quick look.

  No, he must do this himself. A man who couldn’t dress himself was worse than useless.

  Gritting his teeth, he worked his way to the edge of the bed and let his legs slide over the side. The room had grown very warm and a bead of sweat had broken out on his forehead to run down the side of his nose.

  Growling to himself at his own weakness, He used his good arm to position the injured one inside a sleeve. Then slowly worked the shirt up onto his shoulders.

  When he was done, he rested, his chin on his chest while he tried to recover what little strength he had left. At last, he took a deep breath and bent forward to try and slip his pants onto his injured leg.

  He missed completely and he cursed under his breath. This was ridiculous. Why did British fashion have to be so difficult? A robe or toga would have been so much easier. Sighing, he tried again, managing to get one foot into a pant leg. Then the other. Wiggling back and forth, he worked to get them up over his hips, then sank back onto the bed exhausted.

  He lay there staring up at the ceiling. This would not be allowed to continue, he thought. Under no circumstances would he allow himself to become crippled or a burden. No.

  Once he had regained some control of his racing heart, he forced himself back up, gently placing both feet on the floor. Using the bedpost, he slowly worked himself up to standing next to the bed. A joyous feeling of accomplishment washed through him when he didn’t immediately fall flat on his face.

  His knees wobbled, and the room spun, but he was up. For the first time in almost two weeks, he felt like a whole human again.

  “What are you doing?” Amanda demanded from the doorway. He had been so focused on standing up he hadn’
t even noticed her come in.

  “Learning to waltz,” he said as he tried to take a step forward. “It is a new dance. The King’s German Legion introduced it a few years ago.”

  She rolled her eyes at him and hurried across the room to stand next to him. Both hands out ready to catch him if he fell.

  “I know what a waltz is. And you will not be dancing any times soon,” she said.

  “Actually, I have three days to prepare,” he said as he dragged his injured leg forward.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  He took another step when his hip gave way and he collapsed into her arms. Grunting, she caught him and half carried him back to the bed.

  “I do apologize,” he said as he felt his cheeks grow warm with embarrassment. He couldn’t even take a step without this woman being there to save him.

  “You are pushing things too quickly. You need to give your body time to recover. What the wounds did not take from you, the infection did.”

  He grimaced as he closed his eyes. For the first time in his life, his body refused to do what it was supposed to. He had always known that his physical abilities. His strength, his speed, had been the one thing he could rely on. Now, here in this bed, he was a hopeless mess.

  “Why three days?” Amanda asked as she helped him swing his legs back onto the bed.

  “Lord Hicks‘s ball.”

  Amanda stepped back and frowned at him. Her confusion very obvious.

  He sighed, it couldn’t be avoided. He had already told her too much. A little more wouldn’t hurt. “He is one of the men I suspect,” he said. “I had hoped to get a chance to examine his office. The ball was the perfect opportunity. My source believed there was incriminating evidence from the man’s office.”

  Amanda scoffed and shook her head. “Well, that won’t be happening. You’ll have to try another time. It is not like he is going anywhere.”

  Lord Warwick set his chin as he pulled himself up to a sitting position. “Every day I delay might mean more men dying on the battlefield. So actually, time is of the essence.”

  Her face blanched as she stepped back. Obviously, his words had touched something inside of her. Suddenly, she is beginning to see the reality of the situation, he thought. This was no longer an abstract puzzle.”

  She studied him for a moment, her head tilting just slightly to the side in that way he found so becoming. Biting her lip, she thought for a moment then said, “Perhaps I could do it.”

  The words washed over him without meaning. He had to circle back and repeat them in his head to ensure he had heard correctly.

  “You?”

  She frowned at him. “Of course. Why not me. Because I am a woman? I assure you, we learn very young how to detect falsehoods.”

  He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Miss Amanda Waters becoming involved in this. No, under no circumstances would he allow that to happen. The concept of his two worlds mixing sent a cold chill down his back.

  He looked at her and his heart hitched for a second. The woman looked so hopeful, but she was being ridiculous.

  “No, Amanda,” he said. “I think not.”

  She continued to frown at him, crossing her arms over her stomach. She was upset with him, he realized. On many different levels. But he could not allow her to risk herself.

  After a long moment, she sighed heavily then moved to the window to pull the curtains back.

  “You need some sunshine,” she said. “Let’s get you over here by the window and I will play you a game of chess.”

  Lord Warwick froze for a second. That had been quite a shift. One moment they were arguing about her catching a French spy. The next, a game of chess.

  Slipping his good arm over her shoulder, she helped him across the room. The feel of her hip next to his. The scent of her lavender and rose perfume. The swell of her soft breast pressing into his side, all of it made him forget about the pain in his body. Instead, all he could think of was what it would be like to hold this woman through the night.

  Once she had him situated at a side table, he leaned back and let the sun wash over him. Yes, she was right, this was what he needed.

  When she returned a moment later with a wooden box and chess board, she began to set them up on the table.

  “I assume you are a good player,” she said as she laid out his pieces for him. “I have been wanting to play with you.”

  Suddenly, her cheeks grew pink and he smiled to himself. It seemed that his angel had wicked thoughts as well. Who would have ever guessed?

  As they played, he quickly discovered that she was quite good. Perhaps his match. Frowning to himself when he found himself several pieces down, he focused on the board.

  “You play very well,” he said.

  “You say that as if you are surprised,” she replied. Giving him a quick frown that let him know she was disappointed in him.

  He laughed, “More because of your young age, not your sex, I assure you.”

  She frowned at him, but then quickly returned to studying the board. “I am twenty,” she said. “Almost on the shelf. I believe I am long past being young.”

  He laughed but did not comment.

  The game continued, both of them evenly matched. Lord Warwick felt his leg begin to stiffen and decided to stand up and stretch it out. Grabbing the chair arms, he lifted himself up into a standing position.

  Amanda watched him until she was sure he was all right, then returned to the game. He smiled slightly, his body was getting better. The pain was manageable and his muscles were beginning to work again.

  Twisting to take a few steps, his hip refused to work and collapsed like a house of cards. His arm shot out to catch himself, but instead, he caught the chess board, sending pieces flying in every direction.

  Amanda jumped up, catching him and guiding his fall into the chair.

  His world crumbled around him. He couldn’t even walk without destroying everything around himself. The game was ruined, only a rook lay on its side, rolling back and forth.

  “I am sorry,” he said, “And the game was so interesting. I assure you, it was not a way of avoiding defeat. I might actually have been able to win.”

  Her brow furrowed for a second as if she didn’t understand what he was saying.

  “No bother,” she said as she started to arrange the pieces on the board.

  He frowned as he watched her set each piece back onto the board. But not into a starting position. No, she was placing them where they had been located only moments ago. She even lined up the captured pieces in the same order that he had taken them.

  “You know where each piece goes?” he asked with disbelief.

  She frowned at him. “Don’t you?”

  He shook his head, “Why do I suspect that if necessary, you could recreate every move for the entire game.”

  She continued to frown, “But of course.”

  He laughed, “Miss Waters, you are truly remarkable.”

  She smiled at him, “You are just now discovering this?”

  He laughed with her. It felt good to share this moment. Suddenly, he changed his word for her. Remarkable. So much more accurate than merely competent.

  Chapter Seven

  Amanda paid the coachman and marched up to the Caldwell’s front door. If this was going to work, she was going to need help.

  “Miss Amanda,” Benson, Nathanial’s London butler, said with a smile when he answered the door. “Please come in. I must inform you though that Mr. Caldwell and Lady Alice are away.”

  She nodded her understanding. “In addition, while Lord and Lady Bradford will be staying with us this season, they, and His little Lordship, young James, are not due to arrive until next week.”

  Amanda returned his smile as she removed her bonnet. “Is Lady Weston receiving?” she asked. She well knew that Olivia was returning next week. No, it was Lady Weston she needed for this.

  “Of course,” Benson said. “In the parlor.” Turning, the butler led he
r across the huge entrance way. Amanda smiled to herself. That oh so familiar scent of candle wax and wood oil seeped into her like a long lost friend. The Caldwell house had always been a second home. The staff kind and welcoming to her.

  But, that didn’t mean things would go easily today. She must be careful, old Lady Weston was nobody’s fool. The woman could spot a subterfuge at a hundred paces.

  “Miss Amanda Waters,” Benson announced formerly as he opened the parlor door.

  “Amanda,” Lady Weston said with a welcoming smile from the settee, “What a pleasant surprise.”

  Evan at an advanced age, the woman looked stiff and regal, Amanda thought. Straight back, raised chin. As if the older woman were carved from stone. Lady Alice’s mother, the woman had provided a helping hand to Olivia and Amanda during there coming out.

  Her knowledge of the ton and all of its mysterious workings had proven to be invaluable. Exactly the person I need to help me, Amanda thought.

  “Lady Weston,” Amanda said as she gave a quick curtsy. “I pray I find you doing well.”

  “Yes, Yes,” the older woman said as she patted the cushion next to her. “As well as an old lady can expect. Sit here, my dear, so I don’t have to strain to hear you.”

  As Amanda approached, she noticed that Lady Weston’s brow furrowed in thought. Obviously trying to understand why I am here, Amanda realized. She’s already trying to figure out the puzzle.

  While Amanda sat, Lady Weston said to Benson, “Some tea, and those cakes if there are any left.”

  “Yes, My Lady,” Benson said with a bow before backing out of the room.

  Lady Weston turned to Amanda and gave her a wide smile as she gently placed her hand on her knee.

  “Tell me, are you doing well my dear? I worry about you, alone in that house. It doesn’t seem right. I am sure your father would not approve.”

  Amanda sighed internally. What would Lady Weston think if she knew that Amanda had a British Lord locked up in the room next to hers? Half-naked, no less. The woman would faint from the vapors. Either that or laugh and congratulate her.