Where to Woo a Bawdy Baron: Romancing the Rake Book 3

by Andresen, Tammy

  “You’re not going to explain what you just said to me?” he asked, his voice low so only she could hear.

  The corners of her mouth turned down into a frown. “I would but you seem to understand already. I rarely stop talking. That’s the first annoying thing about me.”

  “And the others?”

  She twisted her hands into her skirts even as her insides lurched. “You heard them. I’m always bumbling about.”

  “And does anyone notice your honesty?” he asked, lifting one hand to lightly caress her arm. “Or your kindness?”

  She gasped, looking up at him. His features were unusually relaxed, his lips curved into a small…smile? “I don’t know.”

  “You, Bianca Moorish, are—”

  “Did you find Mittens?” Juliet called from across the square.

  Lord Craven stepped back, turning toward Juliet and Lord Dashwood. The pair crossed the square, joining them at the tree. Dashwood leaned over and whispered, rather loudly, “Please tell me you found her.”

  Juliet tsked, her hands coming to her hips. “I’m so sorry to have put you out, my lord.”

  Dashwood grimaced. “It’s no trouble, Miss Moorish.”

  “Good,” she huffed. “But I suppose you’re right. We may as well return home. We’re not likely to find her here. Hopefully, Adrianna and Lord Crestwood have had better luck.”

  Juliet turned and started down the path and Dashlane held his hands around his mouth as he silently mouthed the words thank you. Then he stepped up next to her and held out his elbow.

  Lord Craven did the same, holding out his arm for her.

  They walked in silence, only the sound of the gravel crunching under their feet. Odd. She was normally only quiet when she was comfortable, and she’d only known this man for a few hours. Perhaps she just didn’t know what to say at the abrupt end of their conversation, though that didn’t usually stop her from talking.

  They walked along the road as it wound by the ocean, a light breeze peppering their walk.

  “It is beautiful here,” he said looking out at the water. “It’s a nice change from London.”

  “Tell me what London is like,” she replied, giving his arm a light squeeze. “My father keeps promising to take us. He’ll have to deliver soon.”

  “Why’s that?” Craven stopped, turning toward her.

  She looked up into his rough features, wishing she could reach up and touch his face, lift his furrowed brow. “I’m nineteen and Adrianna is eighteen. As it is, we’ll all have to participate in the same season. Except Ophelia, of course, now that she’s engaged.”

  “The Duke of Rathmore. Engaged? Here?” Craven’s muscles flexed under hers, but she didn’t understand his reaction at all. Why did he care?

  “Yes. Engaged.” Bianca swallowed. “Did you fancy her?” A wave of jealousy washed over her.

  If it was possible, his brow scrunched deeper into a frown. “Fancy her? I hardly know her.”

  Her insides relaxed. “Of course. Forgive me. She’s just so lovely and kind. She knows exactly how to act. No one ever mocks her.”

  She expected him to laugh, or not to respond at all, but he stood staring for several seconds before he finally answered. “They shouldn’t ridicule you either.”

  Bubbling warmth travelled through her veins. That might be the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to her. “Thank you.” Then she looked down at the ground. “But I don’t see how I could make that happen.”

  * * *

  He pursed his lips, irritation zipping along his skin. It was on the tip of Chris’s tongue to declare that he would make them cease their useless prattle. Bianca deserved to be worshipped, not teased. But he remained quiet, as usual. It wasn’t his place to interfere. After all, he only planned to stay in their small village until he could get to the party.

  Still the words sat bitterly in his mouth as he tried to swallow them down. “Do you know those young men well?”

  She shook her head as they started walking again. “Not really.”

  He cocked his head to the side, looking down at her. She studied the ground as they walked, her chin tucking into her chest.

  “Why do they tease you then?” Irritation at those boys bristled along his skin all over again.

  She shrugged. “I made a fool of myself in front of one very well-liked young man in the village and it seems that every boy within three years of his age has had a good laugh at my expense.”

  He placed a hand over hers, as though covering hers would help protect her. Boys could be merciless, he knew that. They had ridiculed him relentlessly as a child. Words could tear a person down and they had nearly undone him until he’d learned to respond with his fists. “What happened?”

  “I’d rather not tell you.” She looked inland, her mouth pressed into a firm line.

  Part of him wanted to push the subject, but he barely knew her, so instead, he allowed the silence to fall between them again.

  The road curved around and a large house appeared to their right. Juliet turned off to a well-worn path that led to the side of the house, rather than the front.

  After passing close to the stable, they arrived at the back door of the kitchen. The stately manor was impressive in both size and design with sweeping views of the ocean. It must have been a fine place to live.

  He studied the brick face, noting the array of balconies adorning the front and side. The wrought iron adorned with ivy gave the place a cheery look as it sat high above the water. Chris was so focused on the house, he nearly missed the sight of his good friend, The Earl of Crestwood, with his hand at a woman’s waist.

  He pulled up short, thumping Dashlane on the back.

  “I see it,” Dashlane muttered over his shoulder.

  Juliet tsked. “It’s not what you think.” She spun to look at them as she spoke. “Adrianna says that your friend is a rake and she’s set herself to sending him on his merry way.”

  “What time is it?” Craven asked, pulling out his pocket watch and squinting at the piece in the bright sun. “Crestwood was supposed to catch a noon boat north.”

  “Oh, it must be past that,” Bianca said, looking up in the sky. “The sun is directly above us.”

  She tilted her head back, shading her eyes to glance up. He noted the creamy column of her neck. He’d like to trail his lips along that flesh, kissing her dress open as he slid his mouth lower…he held back his thoughts. “Crestwood? Not leaving?”

  That wasn’t like his friend at all. Of all of them, Crestwood most enjoyed his carefree lifestyle. For him to miss a party like Lord Balstead’s surprised Chris immensely. Balstead’s party was an orgy of delights that included drinking, gaming, and women. Chris didn’t attend these sorts of things often, but occasionally Crestwood talked him into one. He wasn’t certain why he’d agreed to go to this one, he didn’t particularly like Balstead, but he’d been without a woman’s company for a long time and clearly, he was in need. He looked at Bianca once again, his stomach clenching.

  “I know,” Dashlane answered. “That’s like saying the sun forgot to rise.”

  Juliet gave them a glowing smile. “I guess my lost cat has had a happy result in that Lord Crestwood will continue to grace us with his company.”

  Dashlane frowned at her. “You look awfully happy for a woman whose cat is still missing.”

  Juliet ignored him and stepped forward, addressing Crestwood instead. “I just don’t know where that silly cat could have gone,” Juliet said, swinging her arms wildly. “But I’d like to invite you all over for dinner as a thank you for helping us search.”

  Dashlane frowned, running a hand through his hair. Chris hid a smile as his friend gave the strands several good tugs. “That’s very kind, Miss Moorish, but not necessary.”

  “Miss Moorish,” Crestwood called, smiling just a bit. “Mittens has been found.”

  Juliet gave a loud clap. “Oh thank goodness. And her kittens?”

  Bianca’s hand tightened on his arm
and her eyes narrowed. She muttered under her breath but he just caught the words. “I should have known better.”

  “All safe.” Crestwood winked at Dashlane and himself. “So there is no need to have Dashlane or Craven over for dinner.”

  Chris’s stomach flipped as though he didn’t want to get out of the invitation. Which was absurd. He’d do well to leave Bianca alone. That’s why he’d remained silent. He was no woman’s hero.

  Juliet clutched his arm. “Oh but my lords, you’ve all been so very helpful. I must insist that you come for dinner.”

  Craven frowned. He’d have to reject the invitation. Bianca unsettled him. She was already working past several of his carefully erected defenses and he simply couldn’t have it.

  Chapter Four

  The men walked back to the village, silence falling between them.

  Chris didn’t mind a bit but Dashlane had cleared his throat several times. Finally, he opened his mouth to speak. “I’m not going to any dinner.”

  No one answered. For Chris’s part, he couldn’t worry about Dashlane, he had his own issues to sort out. And for the first time in his adult life, he might need his friends to talk him through it. “Can I ask you both a question?”

  Crestwood stopped, his dark hair blowing in the breeze. “I’ve never heard you say those words before.”

  “I’ve never needed to ask you a question before,” Chris said, turning to look at his friend.

  Dashlane scrubbed his scalp. “We need to get out of this village, posthaste. There is some sort of sorcery afoot.” He pulled his hands from his hair, leaving the locks sticking straight out. “You missed your boat,” he said to Crestwood. Then he turned to Chris. “And you are asking questions.”

  Crestwood cocked a brow. “Pull yourself together, would you? You should see what you just did to your hair.”

  Dashlane snorted, smoothing the locks back into place. “Easy for you to say. You seem to like the girl you were paired off with this morning.”

  “Juliet is quite pretty,” Chris said, rubbing his neck as he thought of the redhead who’d taken a liking to his friend.

  “She talks all the time,” Dashlane snorted.

  Another bout of irritation bristled along his skin. Bianca talked often too. That didn’t make her bad. In fact, she was quite lovely. “What’s wrong with that?”

  Dashlane shrugged. “Nothing at all. If you like that sort. You, for example, would make an excellent partner for a woman like that. If the lady didn’t talk, the two of you might go days without saying a word.”

  “Partner?” Chris nearly choked on the word. He’d never considered himself or any of his friends marriage material. “You expect to marry?” For his part, he’d be damned to hell before he continued his bloodline. There was nothing there worth perpetuating. Only violence and anger filled his past.

  Dashlane shrugged. “Of course we’ll marry. We’ll all marry. We’re lords. We need heirs. But I intend to marry a woman whom I can at least tolerate.”

  Chris shook his head. “I don’t think I will marry. Not ever.”

  Both men turned to him then. They wore near-matching looks of incredibility. “Not marry?” Crestwood asked. “I am a debaucher of the first order and even I plan to take a wife eventually.”

  Craven shook his head. They didn’t understand. And he didn’t have plans to educate them. His father had little love for anyone. His son least of all. His mother had done her duty and provided a male heir, which meant she was mostly met with indifference and only the occasional bouts of explosive anger. But his childhood had been anything but happy and he had no intention of recreating such a circumstance. “I don’t.”

  “What about maintaining your bloodline?” Dashlane asked, arching his hands wide circular motion.

  Chris gave him a stone stare back. The one that told the other man to mind his own damned business. “I’m sure I have a cousin somewhere who will take it over when I’m gone.”

  Crestwood shook his head. “An untrained man? That’s your plan?”

  Chris started walking again. He didn’t need to justify his actions to anyone. “And what’s your plan? Does it involve a Moorish sister?”

  Crestwood visibly jolted. “Of course not.”

  Dashlane chuckled. “See. We’re all of the same mind. Now, we know we can’t go north. The bridge is still out. So, I vote we climb into Crestwood’s carriage and return to London. Posthaste. What’s keeping us here?”

  The men fell silent. Chris had meant every word he’d said. He didn’t plan to marry and certainly not a woman as delightful as Bianca. What could he possibly know about keeping a woman like that happy?

  But he also wasn’t ready to leave her here knowing how she was being teased. Somehow, helping her with this problem had become important to him. “I’m not leaving yet but you two are welcome to go. I’ll find my way back to London when I’m ready.”

  Crestwood grabbed his arm. “You want to stay?”

  He turned and pulled up to his full height, his fists clenching. “Remove your hand.”

  “Don’t be like that,” Crestwood said as he took his hand away. “We’ve been friends for five years now. Why must you be so pissy?”

  “It comes naturally,” he growled back.

  Dashlane came to stand next to Crestwood. “He doesn’t like to talk in general but he especially doesn’t like to talk about feelings.” Dashlane wagged his finger. “And I happened to see him holding Bianca under that maple tree. It was very cozy.” Dashlane batted his eyes, imitating a woman. “He can say whatever he wants about marriage, but our surly friend is smitten.”

  Chris didn’t say a word as he spun on his heels and marched back to the village, refusing to look behind him to see his friends followed. He hoped they hadn’t. At this moment, they could jump off a cliff for all he cared. Gravel crunched under his boots as he stomped away.

  He didn’t return to the cottage the Moorish family had lent to them while they waited for the bridge to Balstead’s to get rebuilt. Instead he headed straight for the village inn and tavern. He needed an ale.

  Sidling up the bar, he barked out his order and plunked down on a stool. Nearby there were several tables, but he paid them no mind as he crossed his arms on the rich polished wood and allowed his head to hang down. Feelings? Him? Impossible.

  But then, he’d been attracted to Bianca. More so than he’d felt in a long time. And possessive, and jealous, and protective. All in the span of an hour or two. What the bloody Christ?

  “Hey,” a voice called from somewhere in the inn. “I saw you this morning.” A shower of deep male laughter burst from the same direction. “You were with Babbling Bianca.”

  “Don’t you mean Boring Bianca?” another called.

  More male laughter rang out. “I’m not certain boring works.” A third hooted. “I thought it was Bumbling Bianca.”

  He spun on his stool, his fists clenching at his sides. Talk of feelings had him riled and he’d love the opportunity to give those emotions an outlet that had nothing to do with words. Not that he liked reacting this way, the actions far too closely resembling his father’s. However, these young men desperately needed a lesson on how to treat a lady.

  Chris pushed off the stool, allowing the heavy wood to fall to the floor. Its clatter on the floor silenced the entire room in an instant. Drawing to his full height he straightened his shoulders and puffed out his chest as he stalked over to their table. Four sat in total, two pushing back at the sight of him. They must have been about eighteen and dimly he realized it wasn’t a fair fight. He was twice their size and far more experienced.

  He stopped just short of the table. “You are discussing the granddaughter of an earl.” He let his words fall out slowly and deliberately to prevent his stutter while dropping his voice low to sound menacing. “She is a woman of quality who deserves your respect. Now which of you requires a lesson on respectful behavior?”

  None of them said a word as he leaned down over the tabl
e. “I wonder if Mr. Moorish is aware of how you speak to his daughter?”

  He watched two of them pale. “We didn’t mean no harm?” One of them said, his hands coming up. “It was all in fun. Wasn’t it, lads?”

  His nostrils flared and Chris slammed his fist down on the table as they all jumped. “For who?” he demanded. “Who was having fun?”

  Another pushed back from the table, creating more distance between himself and Chris. “We won’t do it again.”

  He pivoted away from the table and left them, returning to his bar stool. He’d gotten the result he’d hoped for, but somehow, he’d have had more fun hitting someone. Perhaps he needed more than an ale. There had to be some way for him to vent the sudden frustration pumping through his veins.

  * * *

  Bianca slipped out the kitchen door, knowing she’d be in trouble later. The afternoon was the time she and her sisters usually spent together. They embroidered, practiced music, gossiped, and planned for the future, but today she didn’t want to participate in any of that.

  She needed a quiet moment to reflect and compose her jumbled thoughts.

  Lord Craven had created a riot in her stomach, and she wasn’t quite certain how to calm the churning in her belly. The only solution she could think of was to take a walk. She should have invited one of her sisters or a maid to join her, but she didn’t need more voices crowding her confused brain and clouding her ability to think rationally about her feelings. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess.

  She made her way down the path and headed for the beach with a sun umbrella over her head as the ocean breeze ruffled her hair. No one ever came this far down the beach, so it was just the place for a bit of solitude and reflective thought. Except, as she made her way to the bottom of the steep path that zigzagged down the rocky cliff, someone ran toward her.

  Surprise jolted her still and she gasped, then took a step back. Who could that be? And did he mean her harm? Why had she come down here unaccompanied?