How to Ruin a Reputation (Rakes Beyond Redemption)

by Bronwyn Scott

  Henry rose, his face suffused with anger, his jaw stiff. ‘I came here to make you an honourable proposal of marriage and you treat me like a dog.’ He slapped his gloves against his thigh in a gesture of agitation. ‘Has my cousin already poisoned you against me? I warned you he would, but that warning, like my offer, has fallen on deaf ears,’ Henry sneered. ‘Maybe you think to wait on an offer from Ashe, the great Mr

  Bedevere himself. You’ll probably get one. He’s that desperate to hold Bedevere against me. He didn’t care a jot for the estate until he discovered I had a toehold in it. He’ll marry you, for Bedevere, for money, but not for love. He’ll never be faithful. He’s a tomcat if ever there was one. I don’t think you’re the kind of woman who could tolerate that, yet when I offer you a decent marriage, you scoff at it.’

  Genevra rose. This angry Henry thought to intimidate her with his height. She would not scare so easily. She kept the low table separating the chairs and the sofa between them. ‘I’d like you to leave now,’ she said in even tones.

  This Henry-chameleon who stood before her disturbed her with his ability to switch in and out of roles so adroitly. This Henry was a stranger to her and one she did not trust. He’d come here the suitor, but had abruptly become an angry man.

  Henry advanced on her, the table proving to be a useless barrier. There was no place to go. Genevra squared her shoulders. She reminded herself there were servants about.

  Henry’s hand reached out to caress her cheek. ‘You’re the answer to Ashe’s prayers. He wants to marry you for the money and the estate. He’ll bed you and leave you. But I would protect you from that and whatever else, my sweet.’

  Genevra slapped his hand away and repeated, ‘I’d like you to leave now.’

  ‘You can’t make me, though.’ Henry’s blue eyes glittered with a hard cruelty as he dragged her to him with a fierce grip about her waist. Genevra struggled.

  He gave a cold smile and held her fast. ‘Perhaps if you had a taste of what you’ll be missing you might change your mind about marriage. I can make it good for you. Ashe isn’t the only lover in the world.’

  Genevra shoved at him hard, fists pummelling his chest, but she gained little ground against him. She’d not realised how strong Henry was.

  ‘Leave the lady alone, Henry. She’s made her intentions clear, as have you,’

  came a dangerously cold voice.

  Ashe.

  Henry let her go so swiftly she nearly fell to the sofa. ‘This is none of your business.’

  ‘A woman in distress is always my business. We seem to have done this before, Henry.’ Ashe moved from the doorway to the centre of the room, his eyes locked on Henry although his words were for her. ‘Are you all right, Neva?’

  ‘Yes.’ She was breathless, watching the two men circle one another. Her drawing room was too small for the both of them. She had visions of her newly redone room being smashed to bits.

  ‘You do remember the squire’s daughter, don’t you, Henry?’ Ashe said in cool, mocking tones.

  A knife appeared out of nowhere in Henry’s hand. Genevra stifled a scream, but Ashe was fast. In the same fluid move she’d seen at the mausoleum, Ashe retrieved his boot knife. It stalled Henry momentarily.

  ‘Quite the equaliser, Coz.’ Ashe was all cold focus as he palmed his knife. ‘I’m not afraid of a fight. I believe I won the last one.’

  Oh, lord. They were going to fight over her, with knives, in her drawing room.

  She did not want this, but she was powerless to stop it. She was no coward, but only a fool would come between two men with knives. Genevra stifled a gasp and retreated as far back on the sofa as she could lest she become a casualty of the cousins’ war.

  Henry’s gaze shifted a fraction. ‘This is unseemly conduct for a gentleman and I will not engage in it.’ It was a coward’s strategy, taking refuge in the high road.

  Genevra breathed a bit easier. If Ashe had any sense, he would give Henry this polite congé. Ashe sheathed the knife back in his boot and gave Henry a hard look that chased him from the room without even a goodbye.

  It was only then that Genevra realised Ashe had come to call looking resplendent. White breeches were tucked into high black boots polished to a gloss.

  His greatcoat was brushed with buttons polished, and, beneath it, a blue coat trimmed in heavy gold braiding graced his broad shoulders. A ruby stick pin was stuck in the snowy cravat that peeped elegantly over the vee of a silk waistcoat.

  The sight was breathtaking even under these circumstances.

  Ashe noted her lingering gaze. ‘Wearing my station, as the expression goes.’

  Ah, and setting the tone of the meeting as well. From the formal note to the formal attire, he meant for this to be an official visit, which worried her even more. What could he mean by this?

  ‘My apologies, Neva.’ Ashe made her a short bow. ‘A beautiful woman often brings out the worst in men.’

  ‘As does money,’ Genevra said with a certain sang-froid now that she’d recovered her wits. ‘I’m not naïve enough to believe you and Henry were fighting over me.’ No, they’d been fighting over her money with the knowledge that whoever controlled her controlled

  Bedevere. It was something they’d all known, now it was out in the open.

  Ashe remained undisturbed by her declaration. He settled himself in a chair and fixed her with his mossy eyes. ‘Good, then you will understand why it is now absolutely imperative that you and I marry with haste for our mutual benefit.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘Do you believe me now about Henry?’ Ashe asked once the shock had left her face. ‘Henry will blackmail you down the aisle, all for his own avarice.’

  ‘Then that makes two of you,’ Genevra said coldly.

  ‘I will not be classified with the likes of him.’ Ashe’s tic began to twitch at her words. ‘I come to you with honesty. He came with protestations of love and the trappings of romance, both of which are a lie. A man in love does not importune a lady the way he did today. I am hiding nothing from you, Neva. I am not masking my proposal as anything more than what it is, a business venture. Once I am legally in control of Bedevere’s trusteeship, Henry will have no reason to bother you. You will be safe. You will be a countess-in-waiting for your efforts.’

  Painted like that, it sounded like a very tempting offer indeed until one remembered all that Ashe gained in exchange: money and control of his estate and control over her. She was in England now. Their marriage laws when it came to property rights for women were very different. Marriage to an Englishman would demand some compromise on her part.

  ‘Such an offer demands the surrender of my freedom,’ Genevra challenged.

  ‘It secures your protection,’ Ashe countered.

  He was crazy to think she’d give up her freedom to a man she’d known barely a week. Then again, she’d kissed him on the acquaintance of a few hours and had done much more on an association of days.

  ‘I hardly know you,’ Genevra stalled.

  Ashe gave her a wry smile, his eyes half-lidded. It was a sensual look that said he knew her secrets. ‘You know enough, I think, to know marriage to me would hardly be an onerous chore.’ Genevra felt her face burn at the reference to their one night, a night that wasn’t supposed to matter.

  ‘Think about it, Neva. How will you thwart Henry on your own? Even if you manage to escape the repercussion of his nasty rumours, he will come again, next time with violence perhaps. Actually, there is no perhaps. He came with violence today, you saw that. What he cannot take by subtle manoeuvres, he will attempt to take by force. Henry is a predictable creature.’

  ‘That is no reason to trap ourselves in marriage.’

  ‘It’s only a trap if you don’t see it. There is no trap for us, Neva. We know exactly what we’re doing and exactly what we’ll get.’ Lord, he was silky toned and his arguments as slick as an eel. It all seemed so probable, so sane when he laid it out like this. But in the end, it all came do
wn to one thing—did she need protection from Henry’s threats badly enough to risk her freedom? No, that wasn’t fair. There was more than protection at stake, there was an estate to consider as well. It had been given into her care. What would serve it best?

  Uniting with Ashe or remaining his adversary?

  ‘You and Henry seem to think I have only two options: him or you. There is a third option, however. I could turn over my shares to you, leave Seaton Hall unfinished and go live somewhere else. I could wash my hands of the entire mess your father left behind.’

  It was an empty threat. Even as she spoke the words, she knew it would be leaving too much: leaving her dream of helping other women become independent, leaving the aunts and walking out on her promise to the old earl. In sum, leaving would make a hypocrisy of all she thought she’d stood for. She could not make others independent if she could not do that for herself.

  ‘I think you torture yourself unnecessarily, Neva. You’d never have been with me if you hadn’t trusted me.’ Ashe reached for her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles and then turning it over to press a slow kiss to her palm. The fires started to stir, challenging her objectivity, her reasons.

  Henry’s warnings rang in her head—Ashe was a tomcat, he’d never be faithful.

  Most certainly he’d not pledged to be any of those things today. He’d pledged only to be a source of pleasure and protection. Yet when he kissed her hand like that, she wanted him to be so much more even while she knew he saw this marriage as nothing but an expedient means to an end.

  There was a wicked gleam in his eye as Ashe relinquished her hand as if he knew he was gaining ground.

  Genevra rose and began to pace, trying to re-establish her objectivity. Henry had tried to force her compliance today—he might even have been behind the carriage accident. She had to admit that sawed spokes weren’t accidental. Henry was a desperate man. Could she really expect to stay in Audley and remain unscathed from his efforts? ‘It’s not exactly the kind of marriage proposal a girl expects to hear.’

  ‘Can I take that as a yes?’

  There was no choice. If she meant to stay in Audley and see her plans to fruition, if she meant to stop running, she would need help. Ashe had proven most willing and able to offer protection today without protestations of love. That had to count for something. So, for the sake of her dreams, for the sake of a promise to a dying earl, Genevra said, ‘Yes, I suppose you could.’

  *

  ‘I am well honoured by your acceptance,’ Ashe said with a stiff formality required of the occasion. Inwardly, he breathed a little easier, but only a little. He would truly celebrate once the marriage was done and Henry was no longer a threat to her or to Bedevere. It had angered him beyond measure to see Henry’s hands on her when he’d arrived and the anger had been surprising.

  Ashe recognised it would have infuriated him no matter who the woman was.

  He might be a profligate rake, but he only dallied where he was welcome. Henry, on the other hand, knew no such restraint. But the anger that had rocketed through him today had been different, it had been deeper, more possessive, and it had shocked him with its ferocity. Henry had been accosting his wife-to-be. Ashe had known relief when Henry had drawn a blade, it had given him an excuse to draw his own and let go some of the feral energy coursing through him.

  ‘Neva, there is a last thing I’d ask of you. I’d like you to accompany me back to Bedevere so we may tell the aunts our good news. They will want to make plans —it will be best if you’re there to guide them.’ He gave her a conspiratorial wink.

  Genevra answered with a smile that softened her whole face, ‘They don’t know about the will, do they? They will think this is a love match.’

  He leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs, ready to do some teasing now that his initial anxieties had passed. ‘Yes and yes. But I think we can offer a reasonable facsimile of their expectations, don’t you, Neva?’

  She favoured him with a blush. For all her sharp wit and shrewd insights, he could still get to her. Ashe was finding he liked that quality about her. She wasn’t as worldly wise as she often pretended, but she was not beyond a little humour of her own. ‘When shall the wedding be, Ashe? Shall we play the romantic lovers to the hilt and marry in haste or shall we wait a decent period because of the funeral?’

  ‘I think in haste would suit best given the circumstances. Even the king will understand the need to secure the succession. The potential of a babe in the Audley cradle within the year will forgive a multitude of sins.’ The sooner she was under his protection, the better.

  ‘I have told you there is little possibility of children—’ Genevra began, but Ashe cut her off with a sharp shake of his head.

  ‘You don’t know that for certain. There’s no sense in bringing it up. It does not help our cause,’ Ashe cautioned. ‘We can marry within the week, I think. I need to procure the special licence and I want my brother here for my wedding, if it’s possible. With your permission, we will leave in the morning to get Alex.’

  ‘You want me to come?’ Genevra was clearly surprised by the request.

  ‘Four hours in the carriage will give us time to become better acquainted,’ Ashe said with a levity he didn’t feel. It would give them time to talk but, in truth, Ashe was worried about what he’d find when he saw Alex. He’d never fully understood what had happened to Alex. He’d been too horrified over the news to properly pursue it. It would be a help to have Genevra with him if the situation was worse than he imagined. She’d been here a short while with Alex. She would be familiar to him, perhaps even a comfort.

  *

  They departed promptly at eight in the morning, taking the travelling coach, hitched with the four horses remaining at Bedevere for just that purpose. Bury St Edmunds was too far to risk going unprepared for the weather, which promised only to be inconsistent despite the blue skies that oversaw their departure.

  The journey would take two days if nothing went wrong. Genevra had done the calculations in her head. With luck and good roads, they’d arrive around one in the afternoon, perhaps earlier. Ashe would be able to go straight to see Alex.

  They’d spend the night at an inn, visit Alex one more time in the morning and make the return trip home with or without Ashe’s brother. The schedule would be grueling, but Ashe had been clear he didn’t want to spend more time away from Bedevere than he needed to.

  Genevra tried to keep herself busy with reading. But sitting across from Ashe Bedevere and remaining entirely aloof was a nearly impossible feat. She’d already lost her place five times for sneaking a look at her handsome husband-to-be. He was dressed today in tight buff breeches and high boots that showed off his legs to perfection in the confines of the coach. She couldn’t help but notice his long legs, stretched as they were between the two opposing seats. Long, strong legs, with well-defined thighs, giving way to the coat of blue superfine and turquoise waistcoat beneath. He was always immaculately turned out, even for travelling.

  The sixth time she looked, she got caught. ‘What are you staring at so intently and so often while you pretend to read your pamphlet?’ Ashe drawled, that teasing, arrogant smile of his on his lips.

  ‘I’m merely contemplating some of the material I’ve been reading. It provokes much thought.’

  ‘Well, while you’ve been contemplating the wonders of—what is it?—’ Ashe leaned forwards and tipped her pamphlet up ‘—Ah, the wonders of knot gardens by Mr Hayman—I’ve been staring at you. I think I have the better of it, frankly.

  Agricultural tracts have never held any allure for me.’ His tone made it clear, however, what did indeed hold an ‘allure’.

  This was the Ashe Bedevere she’d come to know, perhaps the Ashe Bedevere that would make up the bulk of their convenient marriage. It made her wonder if the Ashe who’d spoken of reminiscences in the garden or so fondly of shooting contests at a country fair had been a figment of her overactive imagination.

  ‘I
s everything a seduction to you?’ Genevra countered.

  ‘When it comes to you,’ Ashe said boldly. ‘Do you want to know what I was doing in my mind while I stared at you?’ It was a rhetorical question. She didn’t get to answer. ‘I was playing this decadent game with your hair. I was wondering how many pins I could pull out before all that glorious hair came tumbling down.’

  The temperature in the coach seemed to skyrocket. He was wreaking havoc with her senses, with her body. His voice, his touch, his presence, all commanded her attention. She couldn’t simply ignore him and it disturbed her. Deep down, she didn’t want to ignore him. She liked his naughty banter with its witty innuendos. Ashe kept her on edge, kept her looking forward to his next outrageous suggestion. Life with Ashe around had been more, well, more exciting.

  That frightened her. She hadn’t come to England looking to fall in love. She’d been looking for precisely the opposite. She’d wanted to get away. She didn’t want to fall for anyone. But falling for Ashe Bedevere would somehow be worse.

  ‘What are you afraid of, Neva?’ came the seductive whisper. ‘We are to be married. Lust won’t be a sin any more.’

  ‘You, Ashe. I’m afraid of you. I think you can turn a girl’s head without her even realising it and that’s a frightening thing indeed.’ Genevra stiffened her resolve. ‘Our marriage is based on convenience, not on romance. You’re too dangerous to a decent woman’s heart. I’ve told you before I’m not interested in what you’re offering.’

  ‘Yes, but we were talking about gardens then, Neva.’ Ashe’s green eyes sparked with mischief. He was enjoying this far too much.

  ‘Most of the world’s problems came from a garden.’

  ‘Only Man’s. Man is the only part of creation to have fallen, Neva, and some of us have fallen further than most.’

  There it was again, that glimpse. Just when she was convinced he was one-hundred-percent pure rogue, he gave her a glimpse into the very human depths of himself and created chaos out of her preconceived notions. Genevra picked up her agricultural tract and focused on it with exaggerated attention. If she wasn’t careful she’d be falling right along with him. Marriage might protect her from Henry, but what would protect her from Ashe?