Romancing the Rake: Seven Regency Romances

by Tammy Andresen

  Would her husband give her the same? She shook her head. Somehow, she couldn’t picture wanting another man the way she wanted Ash. And so, she’d get neither. No music and no romantic fire. “My life is ruined,” she said to the trees.

  “You don’t know that,” a deep, rich baritone answered.

  Ash. She spun about. “What are you doing here?”

  He stepped into the light and crossed to the bench, taking a seat. Then he pointed up to the house. “We’re being watched.”

  Cordelia turned. Just above the trees, she saw the windows of the breakfast room. Though she couldn’t see inside the house in the bright sunshine, she had no doubt her father looked out the window and down at them. “And so you were allowed down.”

  “I was,” he answered. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t help.”

  She shook her head. “Can you save me from a season in London? From joining the marriage mart?”

  He shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”

  She crossed and sat next to him. Technically speaking, he could save her from all those things. He could marry her. But he’d been clear on the topic and besides, the only thing worse than a marriage with one unwilling participant would be a marriage with two. “I should have known my father would never agree to let me be a spinster.”

  He shook his head. “If my father had lived, I’m sure he would have forced me to marry.”

  She glanced over at him. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” he asked, his hand reaching for hers, their fingers just touching.

  “Complaining about my father. I’ve heard you. Despite the light and airy façade you normally wear, you have a dark past.”

  He gave her a curious stare. “I’ve had friends for years who didn’t realize that truth about me. How did you so quickly see into my past?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve no idea. But tell me about him. Your father.” She didn’t want to talk about herself.

  He smiled softly. The sort of smile she’d seen him use often the past several days. “Oh no you don’t,” he said. “We’re talking about you.”

  Her cheeks flushed as she gazed toward the trees. “Despite my dramatic exit from the breakfast room and my statement to the trees, the air has cleared my head.”

  “Your life isn’t ruined?” He gave her a teasing grin.

  She smiled back. “No. I might yet convince him not to send me. He’s generally a soft man. And if even I can’t, plenty of women participate in society and don’t end up married.”

  He cocked a brow. “That is very true.”

  She waved her hand. “Besides, you have loads of information I need. Who else could educate me on the perils of society?” Somehow, she needed to keep talking to him. She couldn’t go back inside and face her father yet. “Tell me about London.”

  Chapter Seven

  London? Who cared about London? He liked it here, under the trees, listening to the birds. Holding her hand.

  Ash enjoyed staring at the perfect ivory of her skin, tinged with just a touch of pink. And those warm liquid pools of brown gold that made up her eyes.

  “London is dirty.” Packed with humanity, even the nice parts were often tinged with grime. He’d lived there most of his life and each year that passed, he liked the place less and less.

  She shook her head. “That makes me feel loads better. I shall be with Aunt Mildred and her four yapping dachshunds in a dirty city trying to find a husband I don’t want.”

  He chuckled, leaning a touch closer. He had the distinct urge to tell her that he’d be back in London too. That he’d check in on her but that was asking for trouble. It wasn’t his place and honestly, it was downright dangerous. So instead, he stood and bowed over her.

  This was his usual self. “My lady,” he drawled, giving her a wicked smile. “Perhaps a dance to see you off.”

  She pulled her head back in surprise. “A dance? Here in the garden?”

  He held out his hand. She’d seen the worst of him last night. He really was normally quite charming. The act. But he’d been doing it for so long, he was sure that he could effortlessly perform for her. “Gardens are lovely places to dance. The birds and the breeze will be our music.”

  She stood, dipping into a curtsy. “That is a wonderful thought. Tell me. If a man were interested in me, what might he say?”

  He gave her a large smile that felt brittle. The thought of another man touching her made his hand clench and he forced the muscles in his fingers to relax as he took her waist. “You want lessons on how to attract a man’s interest?”

  She shook her head giving him a glowing smile. “No. Not at all. I want lessons to detect the first hints of flirting so that I might squash them. Instantly.”

  That made him laugh. Good and deep. “Well done, my lady.”

  “Ash,” she whispered, lower, though no one would hear them out here. “I’m not highborn.”

  He swallowed. “You are to me.” He started the steps of a waltz. The same one they’d danced to last night. “Granddaughter of an earl, born to wealth, you are the sparkling sun set in a crystal blue sky.”

  Her breath caught. “Oh, that was beautiful. Did you mean it or is that the sort of thing men will say?”

  Men. Bile rose up his throat. He didn’t want another man holding her waist like this. Not ever. Then he started. When had he grown so possessive? Likely about the time he’d stolen her first kiss and it had been magic. “Both,” he murmured, leaning closer to her ear.

  She nodded, her hand sliding along his arm. “I shall remember, compliments are a sure sign of flirtation.”

  He continued to spin her about. “If he finds excuses to touch you, he’s flirting.”

  “Got it. No touching.”

  He spun her out and then back into his arms. “And no leaning close.”

  She gave a single affirmative jerk of her chin. “I shall be very wary of leaning.”

  “And if he gives you either of these smiles…” He gave first a soft grin and then a wolfish one. “The first is a sign of affection and the second…”

  She tipped her head to the side. “What is the second?” But her breath caught. She knew already.

  “If he gives you the second, run away quickly.”

  He stopped under the shade of a tree. “Never allow him to take you out into the garden and certainly don’t allow him to lean in close, whispering his breath across your lips.”

  She heard her intake of air catch. “You mean like I allowed you to do last night?”

  The memories of last night flooded his thoughts. Her taste. The softness of her lips. The feel of her slender body fitted to his own. “That is what worries me, my lady.”

  “What?” she asked, her eyes growing unfocused as she stared at his mouth.

  He drew in a deep breath because truly the idea of another man touching her did frighten him. He’d watched her for the last several days and when he’d finally broken the silence last night, she’d been everything he’d dreamed she’d be, all that he wished he could have. He would never honor his father by carrying on his line. “That another rake will tempt you again.”

  She cocked a brow. “But I already collected my kiss. I got that one chance to know and now I shall focus on my music.”

  If her father would allow it. Otherwise, he’d grow tired of waiting and force his daughter into another match. Unless there was something that Ash could do about it.

  Cordelia cocked her head to the other side, trying to discern where her charming rogue had gone. He looked down, but his eyes were distant. “Ash?”

  He blinked back into focus. “Sorry, sweetheart. I was thinking.”

  “Thinking?” She tightened her grip on his arm. “About what?”

  “You,” he said simply. “And your problem.”

  She shook her head. “You’ve been terribly kind. Let’s discuss you instead.”

  “What about me?” he asked, knowing they’d been hidden for too long. They should return to the bench.
Hell, he should bring her inside.

  She tapped her chin. “Well, for starters, I’d love to know more about your plan to burn down your title in a fiery blaze of glory.”

  He grimaced, pulling her into the middle of the terrace again. “You remember that, do you?” What he still hadn’t decided was what came after. What did he do when he’d killed his father’s line for good?

  “I do,” she answered, tucking her hand into his. She looked up to the windows, sure her family was watching.

  “I know it’s not the best plan, but it’s the only one I can see that fits.”

  She swallowed, looking over at him. “You don’t like your father.”

  He gave a slight shudder, almost imperceptible. “Hate is the better word.”

  She turned to look at him. “And you’re willing to go to debtors’ prison for your hate?”

  “It won’t come to that.” He stopped, turning to her. “The assets will cover most of the debt.”

  “What will you do the rest of your life?” she asked. “How will you live?”

  He turned toward her. “I am still working that part out.”

  She cocked a brow. “Currently, you are still in the destruction phase of your plan.”

  He shook his head. “That makes me sound truly terrible.” He drew in a breath. “It’s not as bad as it seems. I am plenty skilled. My father saw to that. I just haven’t wanted to use them. They were his. Not mine. I’m versed in finance, business, trade. He saw fit that I received the education that befitted his status. And because of it, I could start a business or run an estate. But that would be his path.”

  She nodded. “I understand.” She did. She wanted her own path too. Though staring at him, a woman might forget.

  He stopped, his hand reaching for her. “You do. Don’t you?”

  “I do. How have you supported yourself then? If you haven’t used your education?”

  He cocked his brow. A small smile touching his lips. This was the part about being a rake he actually enjoyed. “Gambling. All my mathematical lessons have come in handy in the most scandalous path possible.”

  She laughed then, covering her mouth with her hand. “It’s funny. I know that we’ve kissed. But I have the feeling that we’d make wonderful friends.” She smiled up at him. “I’ve told you things that I’ve never shared with anyone and…”

  “It’s not funny at all.” He leaned close to her ear. “I was tempted to spill all my secrets last night. Just as you offered.”

  She cocked her head. “When you’re done burning down the viscountcy, find me again. Perhaps I will be a true spinster, everyone given up on marrying me off, and you will be poor and happy, and we could…”

  His fingers twined into hers. “What could we do, Cordelia?” There was an edge to his voice, deep and masculine that made her shiver despite the sun. It didn’t frighten her, rather it excited her.

  She swayed closer to him. “I…” She licked her lips and his eyes followed her tongue. “I meant we could be friends. Help one another.”

  His brow drew together. “So a relationship where we are just chums? Pals? From the man you asked for a kiss?”

  Her face flushed with heat. “I suppose that does sound odd.” She shrugged. “If I were honest, I feel more comfortable asking things of you than I do anyone else.”

  He relaxed his hold.

  And then they began dancing again. Slowly. “I didn’t mean to offend. It had never occurred to me to have a female friend. But now that you say it, an idea is forming.”

  “Idea?”

  He nodded. “Yes. Let’s see. I need a future that provides for me but is separate from the viscountcy. You need a way to avoid marriage and start a career in music.”

  “That’s right.”

  He stopped dancing again, and suddenly, he dropped to one knee. “Cordelia Moorish, I’ve a proposal for you.”

  “Proposal?” Her voice cracked on the single word.

  He nodded. “I want you to be my wife.”

  She blinked several times, her knees going weak. “But you said you wouldn’t be caught by me. You wouldn’t be caught by anyone.”

  “I did. And if I am married already, to my dear friend, then there is no chance that I ever will marry anyone else.”

  Only one explanation made any sense. He was mad.

  Chapter Eight

  As far as plans went, this was likely a terrible one. But it was a plan.

  Ash resisted the urge to run his hands through his hair. Instead, he held both her hands in his. How would he ever resist the constant temptation she’d present?

  “Married? As friends?” Her hands shook in his and he gripped them tighter wanting to comfort her.

  “Correct. You’ll be free to pursue your music career, completely protected by my title.”

  She stilled, even the shaking stopped. “And you?”

  He shrugged. “I’ll have an answer to my financial woes. Though, you’re right. If I am to play the part of faithful husband, I’ll have to find a real career. Rake won’t do.”

  Her brow furrowed at that. “Play the part? We won’t actually be husband and wife? So we will never…” Her words drifted off as color rose in her cheeks.

  He got her meaning anyway and every muscle in his body clenched at the very idea of this woman underneath him. “No. Never.”

  It wasn’t that he was afraid of intimacy, but he could not bear a child with a wife. It would ruin his perfect plot for revenge.

  She nibbled on her lip. “Can I think about your offer?”

  He gave a stiff jerk of his chin. He’d prefer she’d answer now, actually. With time, he feared she would expose several more holes in his plan.

  For example, she might realize he was born a bastard and raised in a bordello. Or perhaps, that his father had hated the very sight of him even as he’d attempted to mold Ash into the perfect lord.

  Would Cordelia grow to hate him too?

  Or she might deduce that he wanted to kiss her constantly. Since the first moment he’d met her, in fact. And now that he’d had a taste…they’d have to live apart. But at least she’d be his, even just in name. Which made him a selfish bastard, he knew. “Of course you can think about it. It’s a big decision.”

  He rose from his knee, swiping his thumbs across the back of her hands.

  She looked at him with her brows drawn together and he shifted. What was she thinking now? What had she figured out? Analytical? Highly. Nerve-wracking? Very.

  “It’s a very unusual idea and I’m…” her voice stalled again.

  “Not so unusual. Many couples make a business arrangement rather than a love match.” He stepped closer, catching a whiff of her scent.

  She shook her head. “This is different. Those are often based on creating heirs or social standing. They are not usually about music careers and ending a viscountcy. How do you even go about ending such a thing? I’ve never heard of anyone even trying.”

  He shrugged. “I manage to sell off every asset, even the ones that are entailed. Takes a fair bit of legal prowess, actually, but I’ve studied for the occasion. Once that’s done, I can begin building my own assets. And then, of course, I do not make an heir. That is the key.” He leaned closer, his gaze intent upon her. “It will work as long as we’re both in agreement about the rules and goals.”

  She nodded absently, her eyes staring off in the distance. “I have to confess, I do like rules.”

  That made him smile. Really grin, in fact, and the tension he hadn’t even realized he was holding in his shoulders relaxed. He let out a long rush of air. “Exactly.”

  “Cordelia?”

  Ash looked to the right to see Cordelia’s eldest sister, Ophelia, standing a few feet from them under the branches of a tree. Her hands were clasped and her eyebrows up as she stared at them.

  “Yes?” Cordelia asked, her face swiveling away from him and toward her sister.

  Ophelia stepped out from under the branches, her gaze lingering on As
h. All that tension returned. Her eyes narrowed as she stared. “Just wanted to check in on you. How are you doing?”

  Cordelia waved her hand, her long, tapered fingers fluttering like leaves in the wind. “Fine. Lord Dashlane and I were discussing Papa’s announcement.”

  “Announcement?” Ophelia asked, her eyes going wide again as she rushed forward. “What announcement?”

  “That I’m to go to London. There’s a month left in the season before everyone travels back to the country.”

  “London? Why? With whom?” Ophelia was right next to them now, her hand plucking at her sister’s sleeve.

  Cordelia wrinkled her adorable nose. “Aunt Mildred.”

  Ophelia gasped. “No. Why? That will be absolute torture. She’s so—”

  Cordelia looked down at their still-joined hands. She gave his a light squeeze. “He thinks it’s time I find a husband. I can only assume that all of you pairing off has made him antsy to get the job done.”

  Ophelia covered her mouth with her hand as she looked again at Lord Dashlane. Then her hand dropped. “And was Lord Dashlane presenting possible solutions?”

  Cordelia shook her head. “Just the one.”

  Ophelia dropped her hands, pressing her skirts smooth of any nonexistent wrinkles. “I understand.” She took a step back. “I’ll be in the rose garden if you need me.” Then she melted back under the trees, leaving the two of them alone once again.

  Cordelia turned back to the man who had sent her spinning. Her father’s announcement had been one thing. After the initial shock of it, she’d realized he was still her papa and he’d be reasonable at the end.

  But this man. She wasn’t certain he was safe. Was she jumping from the frying pan into the fire?

  When she’d first met him, he’d been a handsome, carefree, lovable rake. The more she knew him, however, the more she understood there was literally layer upon layer underneath his façade teeming with emotion.