The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection 6

by MacMurrough, Sorcha

  "Ah, now who is the tease," he laughed.

  "No tease here," she said, rubbing her scantily clad breasts against his broad chest. "I always deliver, don't I?"

  "Mmm, amply." He cupped the fullness of her breast to illustrate. "A feast. All of it. So come here and, oh, I love the way you read my mind."

  After a week of such happiness, they finally arrived at Millcote, and were received with open arms by her sister Juliet and husband Lawrence Howard. She was concerned they would be required to sleep on opposite sides of the house for form's sake, but was delighted with the magnificent peacock blue silk chamber her sister assigned to them, with a small private bathing chamber adjoining.

  "It looks like something from the Arabian nights," Miranda said in awe as she took in the elegant furnishings.

  "I had some help from Eswara to make it really comfortable for you both. I hope you'll be happy here and stay as long as you like. Or at least until you and George settle on your own establishment."

  George bowed and smiled. "All in good time."

  "I mean, this place is huge and we would be only too delighted--"

  "But the duty of a husband is to provide a good home for his wife and children, when the time comes of course. So yes, we will be pleased to stay for as long as you don't find us a burden, but while I'm here, I shall certainly be interested in help with our wedding plans and therefore will be looking at various accommodations for us as soon as Miranda consents to become my bride."

  Juliet smiled and kissed her sister. "Make it soon, won't you, dearest. Else we shall have Aunt Pemberton on our doorstep bullying you into setting a date."

  "Heaven forbid," they all said in unison, with a good natured laugh.

  "Oh, she's really quite a pet when you get to know her," Lawrence opined as he stepped into the room. "She has certainly been more than kind to me."

  "Such an amazing woman," Miranda commented as she ran her hands over the silk bedspread. "I wonder why she never remarried."

  "Why give up her freedom?" Juliet said with a shrug.

  "But there must be a great deal of loneliness too. After all, she had no children to console her in her widowhood."

  "It's why she match-makes all the time, undoubtedly. So be careful, you two, and don’t say I didn't warn you."

  "Well, enough dire prognostications, Wife, or they shall get back in the carriage and continue on until they get to Ireland," Lawrence said, taking his wife's hand.

  "In which case, they shall get rather wet trying to travel in it across the Irish Sea, dear."

  That set all of them laughing heartily.

  "A palpable hit, my love. But seriously, do make yourselves at home. Anything you need, we and the servants will be only too happy to oblige."

  "Thank you. It's really more than I deserve," George said, offering his hand.

  "Nonsense. Alistair says you saved his life more than once. That's good enough for me."

  "But I haven't got the most lily-white reputation--"

  "Scarcely any of we Rakehells do, you know. And anyone who pretends to be pure as the driven snow is naught but a canting fool, in my opinion. Nay lad, enough of his false modesty and pride. In fact, I hear tell you're an Earl."

  "Aye, it is true," Miranda confirmed.

  "To a barren estate and an old title with no prestige, I'll warrant," George said with a shrug.

  "Many a man has started with less."

  "You, for instance, Lawrence," Miranda said with a smile.

  "Aye, I was a second son, don't you know. Only for a kind old uncle and the East India Company, the gods only know what would have become of me. So count your blessings and be delighted you married a Lyons. Good, sturdy, no-nonsense lasses, the pair of them."

  Juliet wrinkled her nose. "My love, you make us sound like a pair of breeding mares."

  "What, oh, no, my dear, what I meant was--"

  Miranda laughed. "We know what you meant. Thank you, for my part. But we are really Danes, like Matthew. Only I'm soon to be Davenant. Or do you prefer D'Ambois, darling?"

  "Whatever your heart desires, my mare. Er, sweet." He grinned.

  Both women now glowered at their men with mock fierceness. "Mare, is it?" Miranda said, cornering George near the lovely bay window complete with window seat.

  "Oh dear, I can see we're going to have to make it up to our wild women," Lawrence laughed as his wife began to drive him from the room.

  "Nothing quite like a good gallop," George agreed, as his beloved pounced.

  "I'll set dinner back an hour. See you then," Lawrence called, before the door shut behind them.

  "Make that two," George called back, earning another round of laughter from the two happy couples.

  "Bed, or window seat," Miranda asked breathily as she worked his waistcoat buttons open.

  "Wherever you like, my love, so long as you hurry."

  A week passed at Brimley in the Howards' home like the blink of an eye. Much to the girls’ delight, the two men’s already firm friendship grew even deeper. No strain of living together under the same roof undermined the relationship, but rather solidified it. They spent meals together, sought out common hobbies and pastimes, and they enjoyed the society of the Howards and their callers immensely.

  It actually put an edge to their passion, for the time in company made them even more eager for time alone, and their erotic delights knew no bounds as they explored the luxuries in the silky chamber whenever they could.

  At the end of the week, Miranda’s brother Matthew came to call with his lovely wife Althea. He was slightly more prickly, but they got along well enough after some initial stiffness. Gradually, George really began to feel two brothers had been restored to him after all.

  Matthew’s wife Althea was most gracious, as was Juliet, so he had now gained two sisters as well, thus lifting a little the dreadful grief he had experienced when his family had lost everything in the Revolution and his two little sisters had died because the family couldn’t afford a doctor.

  To his surprise, George’s staunchest champion was none other than Lady Pemberton, for as she said to everyone, the couple was ideally suited, and each had been the making of the other. Juliet's warning had proved all too true. The redoubtable woman had come down expressly to see how they were getting on, and to demand that they set a date.

  "Not quite yet, Aunt," Miranda said with a shake of her head. "But soon."

  "But I put an announcement in the papers."

  "Indeed, yes, thank you. But all the same, please allow my intended some pride. There is much to do at Ferncliffe and he would have it ready for me when we wed."

  "I see. Well, I suppose I can hardly find fault with such scruples and considerations. But allow me to be the first to know, if only so I can gift you with a special gown and the wedding breakfast."

  "You are too kind, Aunt."

  "Nonsense. I only wish I had stood up to my husband and brother all those years ago. You could have been my daughters, not my nieces."

  "You did the best you could have at the time, for the sake of a happy marriage," Miranda reassured her aunt. "And you were quite young then, were you not?"

  "Aye, not yet twenty. My husband said we would have children of our own one day, sons, so it--" She clamped her mouth shut.

  "It wasn't worth bothering with over two mere girls, eh?" Miranda guessed.

  "I didn't agree, but as I said--"

  She waved away the objections. "It's fine, Aunt. The Lyons' were marvelous parents in their own way. We have no cause to repine. We only wish you the same joy that we have."

  Miranda was sure she saw her aunt blush. "Stuff and nonsense. A woman my age? Tush. No, it will be enough to see all three of you married well. So mind you well, I shall expect to turn Ferncliffe when I next see you, George. No letting the grass grow under your feet."

  "No indeed, ma'am."

  "And you missy, don't let him have things too much his own way. He's certainly a gorgeous bull of a man, but why buy the co
w when the milk is free."

  With that, she went sailing out of the room, leaving all four younger people staring after her in astonishment.

  Miranda finally burst out laughing. "First a brood mare, and now Bessie the cow. My goodness, I shall have to start watching what I eat at dinner."

  "You'll do no such thing," George said with a loving smile. "You're perfect as you are. Especially your udders."

  "On that happy note, we're leaving," Lawrence said, grabbing his wife's hand to drag her from the room before she split her sides laughing. "I have the feeling you're about to be stampeded, old chap."

  "If I am, I'll die happy," George laughed, as once again, Miranda began to corner him for a kiss.

  Thus their long days and even longer nights passed, with nary a shadow to darken their days. Surprisingly, considering how long he had lived in a city or in the most uncivilized circumstances, George took to the life of a country gentleman like a duck to water, helping with the estate and with Lawrence's tea trade.

  Miranda was delighted that despite all he had suffered, he was trying so hard to lead a full life untainted by his former grief and sorrow.

  Every day revealed more and more of her beloved's character to her, and every day Miranda was sure that somehow she managed to love him more.

  He reveled in his new family and the glorious of the Somerset countryside. He and Lawrence went out hunting, shooting or fishing every day, and since Juliet was an excellent shot now too, Miranda was encouraged to come along as well to make a foursome.

  Their nearest neighbours, Martin Jerome and his wife Eswara, plus her son Ash and his wife Ellen, and her sister Laila and her husband Peter, also joined in some of their outdoor rambles.

  Each time they met, Miranda asked some probing but not too pointed questions about the Brimley and Millcote area as they socialised.

  She gradually got to know more about Alexander Deveril, as he was generally known, and most of it seemed favorable. He had come there blind and without memory, and most believed he was a cousin of Jonathan Deveril's, though she also understood he had property holdings in the name of Davenport.

  She had asked George if the name was familiar, but after some consideration, he had shaken his head. She continued to make discreet inquiries, but did not discover anything which caused her genuine unease. All she knew was that he was away in Ireland, visiting friends by all accounts, and was a good man, steady, dependable. He was the brother in law of a most intelligent vicar, married to a very warm and loving wife.

  So she suppressed her impatience to meet the man she was convinced was George’s brother and took great pains to get to know Jonathan Deveril the vicar and his wife Pamela, and through them, the man she prayed would be George's long-lost brother.

  Then there were the Avenel brothers, Randall, the Earl of Hazelmere, and Michael, his brother. He and his wife Bryony were forthcoming enough, but Randall and his wife Isolde always acted a bit distant around others, though she could not for the life of her discover why.

  Not that she could blame them, for they had a huge brood of children, fifteen she was told, with a sixteenth newly arrived, and had little time to spare. Isolde had a shy quiet blond nursemaid, whom she had seen in the distance dandling the infant, and two couples who helped them tend to their vast brood, including a tall dark man and his shapely red-headed wife.

  Lawrence soon began to sing the chap’s praises.

  "I know Randall hired that man Drake to be a tutor to the children, but I’ve heard he can do more in one day than it would take an accountant weeks to accomplish."

  "Really?" Juliet asked with interest. "Then perhaps he would be willing to work—"

  "We were going to have George join us, remember?" her husband said, with a smile for his brother-in-law.

  She nodded, but said, "The business is expanding so rapidly, I think we’re going to need all the help we can get. It’s more than enough for me.

  "And we still haven’t got things settled with Alexander taking over my old wine trading business in the south coast. It really is too much for me. Well, not entirely. It's just that I always want to make sure I have plenty of time for my husband."

  "I can help too, you know," Miranda offered. "I’m not as bright as Mr. Drake, I’m sure, but I’m willing to learn, and of course always happy to help my husband get along in his new career."

  Lawrence nodded. "I have no objections. So long as the two of you realise that you mustn’t overdo things, and as soon as you set the date, I want you to make plans for a proper honeymoon."

  George laughed. "Never fear. I do plan on a nice long honeymoon. Only I shall do my best to make sure it’s completely improper."

  Miranda’s eyes glowed. "I shall look forward to it."

  "So long as Jonathan Deveril gets to preside at your ceremony, as he has done with so many of the other Rakehells, it will be perfect, no matter when you decide to marry," Juliet said with a knowing smile.

  "Going to be?" George echoed. "It already is thanks to my wonderful Miranda, and her kind family. Just set the date, my love, and we'll be married whenever you like."

  "Soon, darling. Soon, I promise. We just need a few more things to fall into place." She kissed him warmly then, and prayed Sebastian would have some good news for them soon.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  A couple of days later, Lawrence told them they had been invited to meet the Drakes and all the Rakehells at a special picnic the Drakes were hosting in order to get to know everyone in the group better.

  "Oh? Where?" George asked.

  "Right here, in fact. Millcote Forest."

  "How very pleasant. We can all just walk to the big meadow."

  "Not to mention play on the swing," Lawrence said with a wink at his wife.

  All four of them blushed. Ever since Lawrence had constructed it for Juliet in a secluded glade near their house, it had seen more than enough use from the amorous couples in the neighbourhood. There was just something about defying gravity....

  "When is the picnic?" Miranda asked.

  "Next Tuesday."

  "Very good. We’ll go, won’t we, George?"

  He nodded and kissed her. "Anything you like, darling. So long as we’re here, not travelling."

  This was yet another pointed reminder that they still had yet to set the date for their wedding. George was starting to become a bit impatient at her curious reluctance to go ahead with the ceremony.

  "Is it because you don’t trust me?" he demanded in frustration the following Friday night, when he broached the subject yet again.

  "No, not at all. It’s, because, well, I had hoped your brothers would be there. At the wedding, I mean."

  He gave her a loving smile, but shook his head. "It’s no reason to wait, darling. Tell me what you really feel."

  "Oh, my darling George, you know what I feel. I want you day and night. You’re my sunrise and sunset. But I’ll know when the time is right. It’s coming soon, I promise."

  "You can feel it too, can’t you?" George asked softly.

  She didn’t even try to pretend she didn’t know what he was talking about.

  "Yes. Like we belong here. Like everything will be all right given time. To everything a season... I can’t explain it. All I know is that it will be time soon.

  "In the meantime, we need to keep up with your plans for restoring Ferncliffe Castle, and working each day toward our new and wonderful life together."

  She thought he would grimace at the mention of the old Gothic pile, as he usually did, but this time he merely nodded and smiled. "It sounds like heaven to me, my love. I can't wait."

  He gathered her into his arms then, and left her in no doubt of what he would happily do in order to pass the time.

  On Saturday, Sebastian came down to see them for a few days and told them the incredible news.

  "I rose post to tell you the news myself," he said, taking off his dusty hat and cloak in the foyer before following George and Miranda into the small gold
and green drawing room they had been given for their own use.

  "News? Of one of my brothers?" George asked, hardly daring to hope.

  "No, but news that will be almost as welcome a relief. Oxnard is dead."

  "Dead?" George echoed, his brows knitting.

  "Aye. They found his body in the river Thames, what was left of it. The fish of course had got an awful lot of him, but now his wife and the baby she purportedly gave birth to can come out of hiding. And perhaps wherever she is, her sister and maybe even Simon will be."