The Rake

by Georgeanne Hayes

  Demi studied her for several moments and finally looked down at her hands. “I had heard a few things, I confess, but I could not credit it. He has always behaved in a most gentlemanly way toward me.”

  “Except when he seduced you,” Lady Wyndham put in dryly.

  Demi reddened, refusing to look up. “But he didn’t. He’d been injured, you see. My cousin Geoffrey is quiet notoriously dangerous with a gun. They’d gone out shooting and he managed to fall from his horse and shoot Gar--Lord Wyndham in the … in the leg. And he was very, very ill. He almost died and I was worried sick. So … I sneaked into his room … just to reassure myself that he would be all right, I swear. But then, he mistook me for a maid and … and … it just happened.”

  She flicked a look at Lady Wyndham and saw she was studying her skeptically. “He was in his cups,” she added.

  “And unable to recognize you? How convenient for him!”

  Demi remembered abruptly that he’d admitted that he had recognized her and she shifted uncomfortably. “He was not himself,” she insisted stubbornly. “He would have stopped if I’d asked him to. I … didn’t. So, it was all my fault, you see.”

  “No. I’m afraid I don’t see. In any case, if he has compromised you in such a way, then he will most certainly marry you!”

  Demi stared at her in dismay. “But that is just it! He … he thinks I only did it so that he would be forced to marry me. And I didn’t. I swear I didn’t. But I simply could not bear it if he were forced to marry me. He would hate me and I’d rather die, really I would. Couldn’t you … just let me work for you … or something? I could be a very good lady’s maid, I think.” She studied Lady Wyndham’s expression for a moment and revised that. “Or a kitchen maid. I’m sure I could learn it very quickly.”

  Lady Wyndham frowned. “Wouldn’t you rather have your pastor than be a scullery maid?”

  Demi felt the blood rush from her face. She shuddered. “No! Please don’t send me back to him. I’ll leave … in the morning. Or, now.”

  Lady Wyndham’s brows rose. “And go where, child? Your aunt will almost certainly have disowned you. You have no other family? No friends who might take you in?”

  “Sarah!” Demi said. “I’m sure Sarah wouldn’t mind if I stayed with her a bit--just until I had time to figure out what to do.”

  “The new lady’s maid who arrived this morning?”

  “Oh,” Demi said, deflated.

  Lady Wyndham shook her head and reached over to pat Demi on the knee. “You are distressing yourself needlessly. I will sort through this. In the meanwhile, you must eat your dinner like a good girl and then rest. I will have something worked out very shortly, I can assure you, so you may be easy.”

  Food was the last thing Demi wanted at the moment. Her stomach was tied in knots, but she was somewhat relieved by Lady Wyndham’s offer to straighten things out for her and she didn’t want to appear ungrateful. She managed to eat enough to satisfy her and finally climbed into bed. To her surprise, Lady Wyndham tucked her in and kissed her on the forehead before she left, a militant gleam in her eyes.

  She found Garrett pacing the library, a tumbler of scotch in his hand. Eyeing the glass with disfavor, she settled herself on the settee in front of the fireplace and watched him for several moments. Finally Garrett sprawled in the chair opposite her, rubbing his throbbing leg absently. “What do you think of her mother?”

  Lady Wyndham frowned. “She’s a darling girl … and far too good for you.”

  Garrett winced. “As it happens, I agree.”

  Slightly mollified, Lady Wyndham turned to study the fire. “Dearest, I beg you to come at once to Wyndham to attend my bride. I have made the most damnable mess of things,” she quoted the note she’d received from him thoughtfully. “I’ll admit, I could hardly credit it, but I had not thought you were sincere.”

  His dark brows rose. A faint smile curled his lips. “About my bride?”

  Her lips thinned in irritation. “About the damnable mess, Garrett. She will not marry you.”

  To her surprise, he turned perfectly white. Standing abruptly, he moved to the window, staring out at the darkness beyond. “She has said that?”

  Lady Wyndham studied his back for several moments. “I cannot recall her precise words but it was something to the effect that ‘she’d rather die’.”

  Garrett’s head snapped around, his expression completely unguarded for once in his life, and eloquent of pained surprise. A moment later, a cold mask replaced it. “She is … distraught. Given time she will see that it’s inevitable.”

  Despite her empathy for his suffering, and her certainty that her son had at last succumbed to cupid’s bow, his arrogant dismissal of Demitria’s objections irritated her. So far as she could see, he had made a damnable mess of things. It was obvious to her that Demitria was deeply in love with him as he was with her, and yet he’d allowed her to feel as if he didn’t return her affection, that he was willing to ‘do the right thing’ by her when, in fact, it had nothing to do with his wish to marry the girl, beyond conveniently tying things up for him.

  For her son’s sake, for Demitria’s sake, she could not allow it. Despite the love they felt for one another, they could not begin a life together built on such a misunderstanding and expect to find happiness. In the back of Demitria’s mind she would always believe that he had only married her because he felt honor bound to do so, perhaps even Garrett would have some doubts and it would destroy their happiness.

  She frowned but didn’t comment on his remark. After a few moments, he paced from the window to the fireplace and turned to face her. “I could hardly credit it, but she says you didn’t even ask her to marry you,” she said tentatively.

  He flushed. “The moment did not seem … opportune. I intended, naturally, to formally request her hand,” he said stiffly.

  Lady Wyndham resisted the urge to roll her eyes. An untimely amusement flooded her, however, to see her son behave so awkwardly. He was generally so self-possessed, so urbane. She found it difficult to conceive that he had so lost his head that he had behaved like a green boy--even to stealing his bride at the end of a pistol!

  “Well,” she finally said decisively. “You will have plenty of time to mull it over and watch for the perfect opportunity. I have decided that I will take her with me to town. I expect most everyone has departed for the country by now, but there will be a few lingering in town and it will give me the opportunity to repair a little of the damage you two have done between you. I will scotch whatever rumors I can and see to having a decent wardrobe done up for her.

  “In the meanwhile, you may cool your heels here, my son, and consider how badly you have handled everything. If you wish to marry her, you will have to consider wooing her. She most certainly deserves to be properly courted and I expect no less from you.”

  Garrett studied her uncomfortably. “As much as I appreciate your efforts, mother, I feel I should point out that there is a possibility that she is with child, in which case it will not do to put things off indefinitely, or even for very long. I should see to the posting of the banns…..”

  Lady Wyndham gaped at him indignantly. “Have you heard nothing I’ve said? Really, Garrett! You were not used to be so dense! She will not have you, and until or unless you convince her to change her mind, we will not make arrangements for a wedding.”

  Garrett’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I’ve admitted my error. I am willing to make amends, but I cannot guard her reputation if you are to have her gallivanting about until it is obvious that she’s with child.”

  Lady Wyndham glared back at him. Rising from the settee, she stalked across the room and poked his chest with her index finger. “You are willing,” she said angrily. “You have compromised her and now you will condescend to marry her?”

  He flushed. “I am very willing,” he said between clenched teeth.

  “You are very much a dolt!” Lady Wyndham snapped. “And more a fool than I would ever hav
e believed. She loves you--stupidly, I must say, for I’ve no idea at all how she could have come to.”

  Garrett’s expression softened instantly. “She told you that?”

  Lady Wyndham’s eyes narrowed. “She has not told you that, though, has she?”

  He frowned, obviously thinking hard.

  “Nor you her?”

  He reddened. “That is not your affair,” he said coolly.

  Lady Wyndham shook her head. “Garrett, you must see that it would ruin everything for you to marry her, allowing her to believe that you have been forced into it?”

  “I am honor bound--,” he began stiffly.

  “To be a complete fool, apparently,” his mother snapped. “Have it your way! But if you cannot win her as you should, then I will have no part in arranging a wedding! I will gladly take her under my wing. I will do whatever I can to repair the damage to her reputation, but I will not encourage her to marry you or insist upon it. You must muddle through that on your own.”

  Garrett stared at the vibrating door panel when his mother had left, slamming it behind her, wondering what had come over her. She was, in general, not the least volatile and to be depended upon for her practical, straightforward approach to things.

  Settling in his chair, he stared pensively at the fire on the hearth, trying to figure out what it was that his mother had been so furious about. He would have thought that she would be furious with him for seducing Demi if anything, and angry with him if he had not decided that he should marry her.

  Why would she be willing to aid and abet Demi’s decision not to marry him?

  For that matter, he could not fathom why Demi would object to marrying him. She’d given herself to him willingly--more than that, enthusiastically. She must feel something for him. His mother seemed convinced that she loved him, so why the theatrics about preferring death to marriage to him, he wondered angrily.

  The proposal itself was merely a formality. He knew women set great store by such things, but it was inconceivable that she could love him, give herself to him, and then refuse to marry him only because he hadn’t gotten down on one knee and requested her hand.

  He studied the scotch in his glass suspiciously for several moments, but he was certain he hadn’t drank enough to account for the fact that nothing that had just happened made any sense to him.

  Sighing, he set the tumbler down and rubbed his temples irritably. Demi had scared him out of a good ten years of life today, he felt certain. First off, he’d arrived at Moreland Abbey to demand her aunt hand her over, only to discover the damned woman had snatched Demi from beneath his nose and taken off for the church with her. Then, having chased her down and been forced to hold up the carriage like a brigand, or a common thief, he’d discovered the silly chit had over dosed herself on laudanum.

  The desperation to find a doctor, rather than fleeing with his stolen bride, had been nearly overwhelming, but he’d realized there was nothing anyone could do for her. She would either live through it, or not. For hours he’d lived in the worst dread imaginable, shaking her awake every time she tried to succumb completely to the lure of the opium, sorely tempted for the first time in his life to throttle a woman.

  His fingers flexed as he thought of her aunt and he had to consciously force them to relax. Abruptly, he got up and poured himself another scotch, deciding that he would find the right moment on the morrow and propose to Demi, so that she could be in no doubt at all that he was completely serious about honoring his obligations to her.

  To his rage, and complete chagrin, however, he discovered when he returned from his morning ride that his mother had packed Demi off to London.

  Chapter Sixteen

  As uncomfortable as Demi was with the situation she found herself in, she discovered that it was impossible to remain that way. Lady Wyndham introduced her everywhere they went as her ‘dear young friend’ who was practically a daughter to her and hinted that she would be very happy to claim her as one. That part made her uncomfortable, but Lady Wyndham assured her she was not to worry her head about it, that she would be perfectly content for things to remain as they were until such time as Demi decided what she would do. She also pointed out that Demi needn’t feel as if she was duty bound to accept Garrett, whatever had transpired between them.

  That suggestion made her even more uncomfortable, but since Lady Wyndham made it clear that she was determined to arrange a match for her, Demi found herself being courted, much to her surprise, by several young men who seemed completely aware that her circumstances did not make her a great catch, and who seemed not to care that she was an orphan with no expectations.

  Of course, she was certain they were not aware that she was not, by any stretch of the imagination, pure, but the Regent’s set, of which Lady Wyndham was a part of, was a bit more wild than sedate and not nearly as concerned about propriety as her aunt had been. Many flaunted lovers openly. Of course, these were older women, and primarily widows, but even the young women tended to be racy.

  As Demi had dreaded, she was confronted about the rumors regarding her carriage ride with Mr. Flemming. Lady Wyndham merely laughed and waved it away. “Oh heavens! That does sound deliciously wicked, I know, but it was not at all like that, I assure you! Why, the entire town knows that his sixteen year old daughter accompanied them, and I simply cannot imagine any man playing at hanky panky in front of his impressionable daughter! No, no! Miss Wynthrope is far too quick to judge others by her own manners. It was only that the man took the notion to race his carriage home and nearly over set them … but, there you are. Men are always completely convinced that they are much better at everything than they actually are. And my dear Miss Standish was so unsettled by the experience that she called the entire engagement off right then and there. As well she should have, for you must know if a man has reached the age of thirty and five and has no more common sense than that, it isn’t at all likely that he will grow more reliable with age!

  “You will excuse me, won’t you? I see Louise Smeed has just arrived and I have been trying to run her down for a week now.”

  Threading her arm through Demitria’s, she tugged her off across the room to meet her friend, Louise.

  “Encroaching old bitty!” she muttered under her breath as soon as they were out of earshot. “She is the worst sort of gossip, my dear, but never you mind. I gave her something to mull over!”

  Glancing at Demi, she saw that Demi was looking both uncomfortable and frightened and patted her hand.

  “Have faith, my dear. I am not without influence, and I have made it abundantly clear that you have my full support. They will not dare to snub you, whatever Horatia Wynthrope or Claudia Melbourne have to say.”

  Demi didn’t feel particularly comforted, but there was little she could do in any case. Lady Wyndham refused to allow her to live quietly--‘hide’ as she put it. The first order of business once they reached town had been to visit all the local shops where, despite her protests, Lady Wyndham had ordered an enormous wardrobe for Demi--of the first stare of fashion, which was to say some of the gowns scandalized Demi. She simply could not bring herself to dampen her underskirts as Lady Wyndham did, which Lady Wyndham found highly amusing.

  And well she might, Demi admitted privately, since she had not hesitated to behave completely scandalously with Lord Wyndham. On the other hand, that had been private … to an extent, at least. Fortunately, she could only dimly recall the incident with Lord Wyndham on his horse, riding cross country where they might easily have been observed.

  She hadn’t been able to bring herself to mention that, however, ever hopeful that at least some of her transgressions would not come back to haunt her.

  To Demi’s great disappointment, Garrett not only did not arrive on their heels in town, he didn’t arrive at all. Lady Wyndham kept her far too busy to spend much time moping over it, but she was not so occupied that she failed to notice his absence. She was deeply wounded over it. Obviously, both Sarah and Lady Wyndham
had been wrong. He couldn’t be desperately in love with her if she could be gone for weeks and weeks and he made no attempt to see her.

  By the time they’d been in town for almost a month, Demi had begun to reconcile herself to the notion that he would not come because he not only didn’t care, but because he was hoping she would find herself a husband and cease to be a thorn in his side. As dejected as she was, she decided that she should take Lady Wyndham’s advice and consider whether she could find contentment with one of the young men who’d been courting her.

  Naturally, none of the three she thought might possibly be serious in their intentions compared very favorably with Lord Wyndham. Mr. Collier was forever quoting poetry to her, and writing odes. She rather thought he fancied himself as a tortured poet, however, and not only was she fairly certain that she could not bear to listen endlessly to his attempts at poetry, but she began after a very little while to realize that he might actually prefer that she spurn him. That way he would be able to suffer endlessly over his ‘lost love’. She also suspected that if she was to suddenly accept one of his frequent, passionate declarations of love that he would not quite know what to do about it. He was only a couple of years older than she was and he didn’t quite strike her as a man about town who knew his way around a woman’s boudoir.

  Lord Thomas Melville was nearly as bad. He had no interest in poetry, of course, for he fancied himself as a Corinthian--a sportsman of note. Unfortunately, he was rather unnervingly temperamental, and all too ready to issue, or accept, a challenge.

  Lady Wyndham, to Demi’s surprise, highly approved of him. Sighing, she would look at him and comment upon how lovely he was to the eye, and how much he reminded her of her late husband when he was a young man. Then she would add that Garrett had been much the same when he’d first come down from Oxford and that she’d despaired that he would live to see his thirtieth year, but he’d become quite adept with pistols and sword by the time he was five and twenty, and far less impulsive.