Romancing the Rake: Seven Regency Romances

by Tammy Andresen

  “I often leave my shirt in the library as well.” A stone-cold male voice called from the far end of the room next to the fire.

  Chase’s stomach dropped as he slowly turned about. By the dim light of the fire he could just see Mr. Moorish sitting back in his desk chair. Chase straightened, not bothering to waste either of their time with denials or quibbling. “I’ve already asked her to marry me.”

  The older man rubbed his forehead. “Ophelia?”

  “Yes.” he set down his boots. “Who else?”

  Mr. Moorish shook his head. “Best to make certain in these circumstances. Did you compromise her?”

  He winced, hoping to get away with a half-truth. “I assure you her maidenhead is still intact.”

  “That’s good at least.” The man rose from his behind his desk, coming around to the front. “And I’m glad that you already proposed. I’d hate to have to force a duke, but Ophelia is the backbone of this family. I can’t have her ruined—I don’t mean socially, I mean emotionally.”

  Chase shifted on his feet. “I love your daughter.” The knot in his stomach eased. Why was that so easy to say when she wasn’t in front of him? “And I apologize if I’ve disrespected your family. I…” He held his fist. “Ophelia craves a romantic adventure and I want to give that to her to win her heart.” Suddenly, all the answers became clear. If he wanted Ophelia to say yes, he had to sweep her off her feet.

  The older man leaned back on his desk rubbing his face. “You’re not wrong there and that’s my fault. Without their mother, I’ve shut the girls off from the world. I didn’t have much choice, I suppose. I have to work to support my family, but my daughters need to find husbands and Seabridge Gate won’t provide those.”

  Chase shrugged. “It provided me,” he answered. “Speaking of…I’ll need to buy a property nearby. I can’t picture Ophelia being far from her family. Do you know of any suitable ones or will I have to build?”

  Mr. Moorish chuckled lightly. “Any anger I might have been harboring just disappeared. I’m sure we can find something for you. Now tell me, Your Grace, you’ve asked her to marry you, created a plan to woo her. I take it that she has yet to agree?”

  “You’re right on that front.” Chase took a step back and then sat down on the very settee he and Ophelia had occupied earlier. “But I am doing my best to convince her.”

  “I’ll intercede on your behalf. She doesn’t have a choice at this point.”

  Chase held up a hand. “Please give me one more day. Ophelia needs this one chance to live her fairy tale.”

  Her father gave a stiff nod. “I can’t say that I like it but if I have your assurance this will end in a marriage that includes you living near Seabridge Gate then I will consent.”

  Chase gave a terse nod. He’d better make this good. He needed to give Ophelia the fairy tale she craved so as to convince her to accept his proposal.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ophelia woke the next day, stretching in her bed. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so soundly.

  Then she bolted upright as memories flooded her mind. She’d allowed him to…and he’d tucked her in bed…and…

  Her face flamed with heat and honestly her most intimate parts throbbed with desire. What they had done had been wicked and wonderful. She got out of bed, spinning in a small circle. If this was wooing, she liked it.

  Then she covered her mouth. Chase was a rake—or had been. The heroes of her stories had been gentlemen. She’d been searching for her own fictional story come to life but perhaps reality was better. No, he hadn’t declared his undying love but he had begged for her hand, held her tenderly, and made her shake with passion. Maybe this was what real women got. She went into everything in her life with fantastical expectations. Perhaps it was time to face the real world.

  With that in mind, she carefully dressed, pinning her hair in an elaborate arrangement before she went down to breakfast. The day was already warming and she hummed as she made her way down the hall.

  Her sisters were all talking in the breakfast room and she smiled, wondering what life would be like when she didn’t hear them every day.

  Stepping into the breakfast room, all conversation stopped as everyone turned to look at her. Her father sat at the head of the table, carefully sipping his tea. He didn’t meet her eyes after he set down his cup. “Good morning.”

  Ophelia squinted, wondering about her father’s chilly demeanor. “Good morning.”

  Bianca rested her chin on her fist. “So…” She pressed her lips together. “Anything interesting to report?”

  What was happening? “No.” she stepped into the room and crossed to the buffet that had been laid out already. “Not since we spoke last night.”

  “Really?” Juliet asked. “Nothing?”

  Cordelia cleared her throat. “Come now. Ask her outright if you want to know.”

  “I told you girls,” her father interrupted. “We’re not asking her anything.”

  She looked over her shoulder, assessing her father’s unusually drawn face. “What’s the matter, Papa?”

  “Nothing,” he answered, rising. “We’ve a dinner date tonight. I’m off to work early so that I might return early.” Then he walked from the room without kissing any of them goodbye.

  “What’s gotten into him?” She turned back to the table, making her way to her seat.

  Adrianna stood, letting out a huff. “What’s gotten into you? You’re getting marr—”

  “Adrianna, hush,” Juliet bit out.

  But Ophelia stopped, her plate slipping from her hand and smashing to the floor. “Don’t hush. What did you just say?”

  Adrianna crossed her arms, giving Juliet a black look.

  Juliet stood as well. “Papa told us not to say anything. Adrianna, however, can’t make it five seconds without spilling the beans.”

  Adrianna smacked her hand on the table. “What I don’t understand is why our sister marrying a duke needs to be a secret at all.”

  The blood had surely drained from Ophelia’s face and swayed on her feet. “Marrying a duke?”

  That made all her sisters stop to look at her. “Ophelia?” Cordelia came toward her. “Are you all right?”

  “What did Papa say exactly?” She pressed her hands to her cheeks trying to make her mind work. Chase had gone behind her back and asked for her father’s hand when she’d yet to agree. She’d wanted a bit of romance and he’d taken even that away from her.

  “That you were marrying the duke. They’d decided last night but that we shouldn’t bring it up just yet.” Bianca said, twisting her hands together.

  Why had Papa trusted them with that information? They couldn’t keep a secret to save their lives.

  “I was considering his proposal but I hadn’t decided yet. I know you all feel this too, but without a season, this is my one chance for flirting and romance. Papa and the duke couldn’t allow me to even have one day of fun before they went behind my back to make plans.” Tears came to her eyes. “I’ve been the grown-up since I turned sixteen. Couldn’t I have just a few frivolous days?” And then she spun on her heel and left the dining room. She was angry at her father for making this choice without asking, mad at her sisters for ruining the secret, and furious with Chase for going behind her back.

  She’d thought she’d been unrealistic but perhaps she hadn’t been so after all. He just wasn’t the man who understood her needs and how to meet them.

  And she deserved better.

  Chase walked down the hall, squelching the unsettling feeling that something was amiss. Despite the size of the home, which was large, he’d already grown accustomed to hearing women wherever he went in the house.

  They giggled, they argued, they played music, and they danced throughout the day and into the night. But this morning the house held an eerie sort of quiet that he didn’t like at all. He stopped. He and Ophelia would have to have a gaggle of children. Years of living alone had made him hungry for the s
ort of noise a family made.

  He turned into the music room, hoping to find Ophelia. He hadn’t seen her yet this morning and after all that had transpired last night, he wanted to talk with her, touch her cheek, and feel her velvety skin under his fingertips.

  As he entered the room, he immediately knew something was very wrong. Ophelia wasn’t there but her sisters sat silently inside. Bianca had her hands folded in her lap while Cordelia sat on the bench of the pianoforte without touching the keys.

  Adrianna paced back and forth, her head shaking as her blonde hair swished over the back. Juliet stared out the window, her hand resting on the frame.

  “Is something amiss?” he asked the room at large, not bothering with the niceties. They wouldn’t be able to attend them anyway.

  Juliet’s head snapped about to look at him and she lifted her skirts, half running across the room toward him. “It’s Ophelia.”

  Fear seized his muscles and he straightened, ready to spring into action. “What’s happened. Is she hurt?”

  Juliet pulled the one hand she’d fisted into her skirts and waved it in the air. “No. Nothing like that. She’s just… well she’s…” Juliet stopped walking and talking as she glanced up at the ceiling as though searching for the words.

  His skin crawled with nervous anticipation.

  “She’s miserable,” Adrianna filled in, taking a few steps toward him. “And you are to blame.”

  He rocked back on his heels. “What?”

  Bianca rose from her seat, wringing her hands. “We are to blame as much as he is. We’ve asked so much of her and she never wishes for anything in return.”

  Adrianna pivoted toward her sister. “You’ve got me there.”

  Cordelia rose from the bench. “I still don’t understand why father told us that His Grace and Ophelia would marry if Ophelia had yet to consent.”

  Adrianna fluttered her hand. “He’s terrible at secrets. We all are. Me in particular.”

  Pricks of heat dotted his cheeks. Hell and damnation, was he blushing? He hadn’t done so in years, not since he was a boy. But explaining to four innocent women all the indecent deeds he’d performed on their sister…

  Juliet waved a hand toward him once again. Well, flapped might have been the better word, he thought, as a hand came decidedly close to his face. “Isn’t it obvious? Papa discovered that he’d compromised our sister.”

  He swallowed, shifting on his feet. “I…”

  “Oh.” Bianca covered her cheeks. “Papa found out about the kiss.”

  “But how?” Cordelia asked, then pointed toward her sisters. “Which one of you told him?”

  The room fell blessedly silent. He closed his eyes. He couldn’t allow them to blame themselves. “He caught us, or rather me, leaving the library last night but he knew Ophelia had been there too.”

  “See,” Adrianna said, lifting her chin higher. “It is his fault.”

  “But he promised me time to properly woo Ophelia. She needs the excitement of being courted that Seabridge Gate has never provided,” Chase said. “I thought your father and I had agreed to give that to her.”

  “How sweet,” Bianca sighed, her hands dropping from her face.

  Juliet cleared her throat. “Oh dear. Papa did say that we should leave the two of you be because you had a marriage to work out.” Juliet looked at Cordelia who had lowered her head.

  “We got rather excited at the word marriage.” Bianca stepped forward, taking Juliet’s hand. “So it’s partly our fault after all.”

  “What can we do?” Adrianna asked. “Ophelia deserves wooing and we just ruined it.”

  “I ruined it too,” he volunteered. He’d been so focused on quickly convincing her to marry him that he’d trapped her in a corner. “I’m not sure I can make it up now, but I’d like to try.”

  “We can help,” Juliet straightened. “Tell us what you need.”

  Well,” he raised a brow. “For starters, I am going to need a lot of candles.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ophelia lay in her bed, staring at the wall to her right. She’d cried out her tears some hours before and had honestly begun to feel silly for being so emotional. She’d stayed in her room because she didn’t want to face her sisters.

  She needed to apologize. She’d surely hurt their feelings by declaring that caring for them had been some sort of burden. She’d mostly loved it. And then, she’d had a crying fit about an engagement to a duke. Silliness.

  After releasing a long sigh, she rose from the bed to walk to a bowl of water on the wash stand. Giving her face a good scrub, she gazed at her reflection, noting her still-puffy eyes and her slightly red nose. “You’ve gone and made a mess of this one, Ophelia,” she chastised her reflection. “Papa’s angry, your sisters are hurt, your fiancé thinks you don’t want to marry him, all because you’re holding onto a romantic fantasy of adventure and excitement.” She smoothed her skirts. “It’s time to start making amends and remember that you live in the real world.”

  But her thoughts were interrupted by the faintest tap on her windowpane. She stood straighter, cocking her head to the side as she heard the sound come again. After slowly crossing the room, she parted the curtain just enough to look out. A pebble tinkled off the glass just as she bent down. She pulled away, dropping the curtain from her hand. What the devil? Just as quickly, she bent back down again, slashing the curtain back to peer down into the growing darkness of twilight.

  Below her window, Chase stood with a pile of pebbles next to him as he made ready to launch another. Her breath caught in her throat. What was going on?

  Quick as she could, she unlocked the sash and raised the window. Unfortunately, Chase chose that moment to launch another small stone and it sailed through the now-open glass, glancing off her stomach. “Ouch,” she said, grasping the spot. “Hold your fire.”

  “Oh, Ophelia,” he grimaced. “Did I hit you?”

  She lifted her eyebrows. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just a little rock. I’m more curious about why you’re throwing them.”

  He stood taller, tucking one hand behind his back and another to his front. “I will answer your question in just a moment. First, I need to ask you one. Do you prefer the balcony scene of Romeo and Juliet or the first half of Rapunzel?”

  She covered her mouth with her hand. Was he recreating a story for her? New fresh tears sprang to her eyes, but these were of joy, not sorrow. Still she quickly blinked them away. “Rapunzel. She actually gets to be with her prince.”

  He gave a nod, a smile spreading across his lips. “I was hoping you’d say that.” Clearing his throat, he called up. “Rapunzel, Rapunzel—”

  She held up a finger. “Are you going to climb up my hair? Because I think that might hurt and I’m not sure it’s long enough to reach down three stories.”

  He quirked a brow. “Who loves fairy tales here? Where is your imagination?”

  “Funny you should ask because I’ve been thinking that I should—”

  “Hang on,” he called up. “I’ll be right there.”

  Her lips parted as she watched him dash to the door near the kitchen. Closing the window, she stood in the middle of the room wondering what she was supposed to do.

  She didn’t have to wait long. She heard his footfalls in the hall and then her door swung open. “I’m not a prince but…” He paused with a smile.

  She grinned back. “I think a duke will do.”

  He held out his hand. “If you’ll permit me, my lady, I’d like to sweep you away on our own private rendezvous.”

  Her breath caught. Where would they go? What would they do? Excitement beat in her chest as she finally understood what his plan was. “Yes,” she whispered and then louder. “Oh yes.”

  Without waiting for her to take his hand, he crossed the room and swept her into his arms. “Right this way, my love. Time for your own love story.”

  Chase swept Ophelia into his arms, hoping the gesture made up for the gaffes. He�
�d hit her with a rock, he’d left her standing as he’d raced up the stairs. He’d fashioned a rope ladder, actually, to get her down. Her father had loads of rope out in the barn but the way things were going, he hadn’t wanted to risk it.

  She let out a little yelp but a smile graced her lips and her eyes crinkled in merriment. “Where are we going?”

  He turned them sideways to fit out the door. “Shhhh. I hear your father will be home soon and I don’t want him to discover that I’ve carried you away.”

  Her nose twitched. “He’ll notice when I don’t attend dinner.”

  “The jackals are coming. They’ll distract him.”

  “Jackals?” They made it down the stairs and started for the door.

  “Lord Crestwood and his crew of delinquents,” he said, starting for the path that led down to the ocean. He’d spent the day by the water to prepare for their romantic rendezvous. To his surprise, he’d enjoyed the seaside far more than he’d ever imagined. First, the sisters had shown him a little cover carved out of the rocks, hidden from view and protected by wind. The sand was dry as a bone and Juliet had assured him the water never washed into that section.

  He’d laid out blankets, set up candles, and brought down a basket of food. The sisters had helped him, chattering in their way. For the first time in his adult life the ocean signified a joining of family rather than a parting. And he’d been forced to admit, as long as he didn’t have to go in the water, watching the waves had a certain charm.

  She tapped his shoulder. “Do you think we should be there? My sisters are so innocent and—”

  “More innocent than you?” He leaned down and kissed her lips as he stared down the steep rocky path.

  She kissed him back, her tongue meeting his in a searing kiss. “Definitely.”

  When he pulled back from her lips, he rubbed his nose against hers. “I warned them that Lord Crestwood and his friends were rakes of the first order. It’s time for your sisters to take care of themselves. Just a bit.”