The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 5

by MacMurrough, Sorcha

  "And I have so much to thank you for, Philip. You've been our guardian angel. I don't know what Juliet and I would have ever done without you. Ever since you came into her room at the townhouse you've been patient and kind, tried to sort out this whole muddle. You rescued her from that bastard Parke, and finally got me to see reason. You encouraged me to have the courage to discover the truth at last, about my past, and my future. You've been a true friend, and I can't ever begin to thank you enough." He offered his hand, which Philip shook warmly.

  "Don't mention it. Just do us a favour. Look after that wife of yours. The baby is on its way, and she mustn't overdo things."

  Philip's prediction came true sooner than either of them imagined. They headed home and made the most tempestuous love yet.

  Juliet drifted off to sleep exhausted, and woke early the next morning on All Hallow's Eve with a dragging sensation in her lower abdomen which told her it was time.

  She did not make a fuss and wake her husband--she had been told by Eswara it could take hours. She was a bit alarmed that it was only barely nine months so far as she could guess, but Blake and Eswara had told her at the end of their last examination that the baby had dropped into position, and she was all ready to give birth at any time.

  A piercing pain shooting right through her caused her to gasp.

  Lawrence reached for her sleepily. "Are you starting without me, darling?" he chuckled tenderly. "All you have to do is ask."

  "Lawrence, the baby!"

  He sat bolt upright and looked at her white face.

  "Oh God, Juliet! What do I do?"

  "Shout for the servants, get the doctor!"

  Lawrence shouted, but there was no one. "Bloody hell. It's their day off for the All Hallow's holiday. They'll all be at church. And your family were all going too, and then heading on to the house party at Randall's. I'll go--"

  "No, I need you to stay. You can't leave me--"

  "But Blake says childbirth takes hours," he said, torn between remaining, and running for help. He yanked on his breeches and was about to leave the room when he saw the sheet change colour, darkening fiercely.

  "God, it's coming!" Juliet gasped.

  "Oh, Lord, Juliet, please, what do I do?" Lawrence asked, more terrified than he had ever been in his life.

  "Stay with me!" she begged, stretching out her hand to him as he dithered in the doorway, shaking with terror at the thought of losing her.

  "Oh, God, I don't know what to do, my love. Stay, or go for help. I couldn't bear it if--"

  "Nothing is going to happen," Juliet gritted out. "You're here with me. We love each other. We're going to be fine. All three of us. I promise."

  He ran to her side of the bed now. "I do love you so, Juliet. Words fail me. I'm so sorry--"

  "Oh God, just hold on to me, Lawrence," she pleaded, wringing his hand like a sponge. "Don't let me go."

  "No. Just like the swing. I've got you, love," he vowed, kissing her hand and hanging on for dear life as another contraction rippled through his wife and she writhed helplessly on the bed.

  "Hello! Hello!" he heard suddenly from below.

  "Oh, thank God! It's Philip!" she gasped, as another pain tore through her.

  "Up here! Come help us, please! Juliet's in labour!" he shouted over his shoulder.

  "Lawrence!" his wife screamed. "It's coming!"

  He pulled the sheet back, heedless of his wife's nudity in front of their arriving friends, and caught the baby just as it slid out gracefully.

  "A boy, it's a boy!" he said joyously to his wife, scarcely able to believe his eyes.

  Eswara came bustling in the bedroom door first. "You're doing just fine. We need to cut the cord and free it from the mother. Just hold on. Philip, can you find some towels or sheeting?"

  Philip ran to locate a linen cupboard.

  Lawrence stood frozen, staring at the baby as though he would never let it go. It opened unusual silvery eyes and gurgled at him, then hiccupped and smiled. Then it let out a little mewling cry and smacked its lips hungrily.

  There could be no doubt in anyone's mind who the baby took after--he was the spitting image of his father. It was like looking in a mirror which rendered everything in miniature.

  Eswara tidied the mother and baby, and then it was all over.

  "My goodness. I never heard of any birth that was so easy or fast. You're truly blessed by the gods," Eswara said with a broad smile and shake of her head when Juliet recounted what had happened.

  Juliet smiled up at her husband warmly. "I know it, and will thank them every day for all they've gifted me with."

  "What do you want to name him?" Lawrence asked, coming over to his wife's side to nestle the child against her bosom. She pulled down the shoulder of her nightrail, and the newborn immediately latched on to one nipple and began to suck heartily, causing her to gasp and start in surprise and pleasure.

  "Lucky little chap," Lawrence murmured in her ear, causing her to blush.

  "I think you know what we should name him."

  Lawrence rose from the bed and placed his hand lightly on the baby's head. "Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, "I give you Matthew Philip Howard."

  Philip looked surprised and delighted. "Oh, I say. Thank you."

  The two men shook hands and embraced.

  "Not at all," Lawrence said, waving away his friend's choked-up gratitude. "If you hadn't come when you did--"

  "Yes, Philip, why did you come with Eswara?"

  He shrugged. "Intuition. Always had it. Gets me out of the worst scrapes sometimes."

  "In this case, it got us out of one. I'm very grateful. If Eswara hadn't been here--"

  "I did nothing except offer a little bit of practical support. You did it all, Lawrence, for your wife and son. You were very brave."

  He said modestly, "I did nothing. I just caught him. My wife did all the work."

  "You did half the work, anyway, creating him," Juliet said with a warm smile, "for which I am extremely grateful. Not to mention pleasured."

  Eswara caught the warmth sparking between them, and nodded to Philip. "We're going to go downstairs to hunt up some breakfast. Philip dragged me out of bed so abruptly he scarcely let me dress. Call if you need anything, or you feel any pain."

  "None at all," Juliet said, beaming. "I couldn't be happier."

  They both waved and headed downstairs.

  "A miracle," Lawrence breathed, meeting her beloved violet gaze over the dark head of their beautiful son.

  "Yes it was. Like our love."

  He took her hand and kissed it. "In case I've never said it, dearest, meeting and loving you has been the most superb experience of my life."

  Juliet smiled. "I think you might have mentioned it once or twice."

  "So long as you believe it," he said, his silver-grey eyes glowing so fervently that she had no doubt in her mind any longer.

  "I do. Experience has taught me that miracles really do happen. And once I'm back on my feet, we'll have the factory to run together, better than before. Everyone will marvel at how you came back from the brink of ruin as a young man, to be the most successful tea trader in the world. And the boys will train with us both, so we shall be one big happy family at work and at home. Emphasis on the word happy . They can make their own choices when they're old enough. For now, we can just educate them as young gentlemen, along with this young chap here, and allow them the freedom to find their heart's desire."

  "The way I've found mine," he said, kissing her lips, and then the top of his son's head.

  "Above all, we won't let money or ambition get in the way of what is truly important, our love for each other."

  Lawrence got into the bed carefully beside his wife and new son. "Thank you."

  "Thank you, darling. For everything. And thank the gods you went to the wrong address that fateful night. For look what it's brought us. Our beautiful sons, all three of them, and a lifetime of joy."

  Experience had taught Lawrence the t
rue meaning of his next words, and he said them now with no doubt or hesitation, and without a shadow of despair from the past. "I love you, Juliet. Forever."

  Juliet's violet eyes glowed as she drew him to the breast opposite her son. She cradled his head against her just as tenderly, her joy complete, and so much more than she could ever have hoped for. "I love you, my darling Lawrence. Always."

  AUTHOR'S NOTE

  This novel came about as a result of my wanting to explore the darker side of married life in the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. Thus far all of my heroines managed to secure happy marriages for themselves with decent men, but their paths have been littered with villains whom they have barely managed to escape.

  Lawrence is not exactly a villain, but a hero in serious need of redemption. All of my Rakehells have been tortured by the past in some way, but never barbaric or cruel themselves.

  I also have to admit I loved researching the history of tea whilst I was writing this novel. I had simply assumed that Indian tea would have been traded in the Regency period, but it turns out I put Lawrence right at the exciting commercial beginning of what has now become the trade with the largest tea-producing area in the world.

  Lawrence is ambitious, has a chip on his shoulder, and is angry with himself and the whole world. He takes his aggression, fury and frustration out on his wife, whom he has every reason to think has betrayed him on a number of different levels. He is not physically cruel like his father and brother, but he controls her as so many men try to do women, by attempting to control her sexuality.

  As we have discovered in this century, children who grow up in abusive households frequently become abusers themselves. Add to this Lawrence's insecurity, resentment of Juliet's brother Matthew, and conviction that he has been duped, and the stage is set for a tumultuous marriage.

  Husbands would in fact have resorted to similar or even worse strategems in order to rid themselves of unwanted wives than I write about here (see the novel Maria by Wollstonecraft, for example).

  Of course, these women ought to have been thankful they were not killed outright, especially in an age where sudden death was all too common, and often not viewed as being in the least suspicious, and where a wife really was little better than a horse to some husbands. And sometimes treated as worth even less

  Once Lawrence realises his fears and stops pushing his wife away, the stage is set for him to admit his love, and trust in it. No longer insecure, they can be equal, and he can be the loving husband he has always had the potential, but never the courage, to be.

  Again, apologies if I have come too close to the knuckle in this novel, but as I have pointed out before, the Regency period was one of great savagism as well as civility.

  In my next two novels, another old Rakehell friend will be rescued from a fate worse than death, and another young lady will descend into hell to win the love of a good man. There are also still a few more deserving Rakehells we need to give that wonderful happily ever after ending to, and I am sure we'll be seeing the vivacious Miranda again soon.

  The Rakehell Regency Romance Series

  Book 14

  THE MODEL HUSBAND

  Sorcha MacMurrough

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Reviews

  About The Author

  Copyright

  Cast of Characters

  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

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Author's Note

  PROLOGUE

  Ellen Jerome seems to attract rakes and rattles like honey does flies. Handsome young doctor Ash Paignton rescues her from ravishment at the hands of notorious fortune-hunter and Man About Town Timothy Bridges.

  Horrified by what nearly happened, Ellen seeks to retire from society and live the rest of her life in terrified seclusion. But Ash has other ideas. He sees a confused and wounded soul, and a spark of sensual fire within Ellen just waiting for the right man to nurture the flames. He helps her build her confidence in herself as a woman with choices, not a victim of circumstances.

  Ellen blossoms under Ash's tutelage in the ways of the world, and soon longs for lessons in love from the exotically handsome man. Her desires soon blaze into a conflagration as Ellen realises she can take her destiny into her own hands.

  Ellen soon has a proposition for Ash: take her as his mistress and teach her the ways of the world.

  Ash has a counter-proposal: dare to take him as her husband, and live the life she has always dreamed of, even if it means defying all of upper-class English society by marrying an outsider.

  Ellen is torn between her sensual fascination for Ash and his very unusual Indian upbringing, and her fear that they are too different to ever be happy.

  But the powerful erotic connection and heated passion between them cannot be denied. Ellen must learn to open her heart and trust to love completely before their enemies tear them apart and destroy any chance of their future bliss.

  As Ash escorted Ellen up to her bed chamber, she said quietly, "Thank you for bringing me to London. I’m sorry if I was difficult before. You’re a very kind person. I know you wouldn’t taunt me on purpose."

  "I’m sorry for shocking you, Miss Jerome. I really do try to behave as you would like me to. I just despise these absurd social conventions, this ridiculous assigning of roles. How men and women should behave. How bare flesh should never be shown by a man, but a woman may display her cleavage to hundreds of men at a ball.

  "There are what, about five thousand aristocrats and their families in this country? Yet how many people are there in the rest of the world? How many different modes of living? Different societies? Even, I might add, societies in which the woman is in charge."

  Her blond brows raised. "No, it’s not possible," Ellen said in surprise.

  "I assure you it is. But that is a subject for tomorrow. I need my rest for the races out at Waltham. And you would love to see the old Abbey there, I’m sure."

  She nodded. "Yes, indeed. Thank you for being so considerate."

  "Then I shall eagerly look forward to the morning, and force myself to say good night, my dear."

  He bowed over her hand.

  Ellen couldn't help herself, and gave way to the desire that had burned within her ever since they had met. She brought her other one up to stroke his silken dark hair.

  He looked up at her in surprise, and traced his tongue over the back of the hand he was still holding, causing her to shiver in delight.

  Even more thrilling was when he turned it over and kissed her palm warmly, lingeringly.

  Ellen’s breath caught in her throat, and she gasped, "Oh, Ash, Ash, do we have to? Do we have to say good night?"

  REVIEWS

  "The fascinating Ash Paignton gets a novel all of his own as we trace the rocky road to true love for this flamboyant and su
premely sexy man. Ellen is a shrinking violet who blossoms under his warm regard, and proves more than a match for him in the end. Enemies and obstacles to their happiness are rife, as they deal with racism and the superiority of the Ton , but Ash is not a man who plays by the rules. He shakes Brimley and the Rakehells’ society to its very foundations.