Romancing the Rake: Seven Regency Romances

by Tammy Andresen

  And then there were the feelings he brought out in her. Granted, she hadn’t met a great deal of men in her life, but the one standing in front of her frightened her.

  No, that wasn’t quite right. He made her frightened of herself.

  He effortlessly brought out emotions in her she didn’t even know she’d had. Curiosity, passion, desire. And he amplified others. She wanted to help him too, hold him, comfort him. Those might be the ones that worried her the most.

  Because she could fall into this relationship, wanting to help. But how could they remain distant with all those feelings teeming inside her?

  “Like I said,” his voice hummed through her, causing shivers of pleasure to scatter along her skin. “You can take all the time you need. With all the impending weddings, I’ll be here. I think your schedule might be the determining factor.”

  She nodded. “Thank you.” What else did one say to a proposal of convenience? “If you don’t mind, I may return to the music room. I often think best when playing.”

  He shook his head. “You should eat first. You haven’t done that yet.”

  She blinked, her lips parting. “I suppose I didn’t.”

  He gave her a soft smile. One of the ones he’d warned her to guard against. He was right. They made a woman’s heart thunder. “You need someone to care for you, Cordelia. I could be that someone.”

  Her head tilted to the side. “You need someone too. I can feel it.”

  She could also feel his withdrawal. The way her words made him tense. Almost imperceptibly, he leaned away from her and that soft smile turned brittle.

  “I’ve been caring for myself for a long time,” he said.

  He didn’t want her care. That much was clear, but the question was why? Why didn’t he wish to let her in? And what was the reason he wanted a marriage in name only?

  He walked her back inside and returned her to the breakfast room. Her father was still there, joined by several of her sisters. He hummed a merry tune as he ate his breakfast.

  He didn’t ask anything as he ate his eggs, but he looked particularly pleased with himself as he patted his stomach. “Just what a man needs after a late night.”

  “Indeed,” she answered, taking her seat and returning to her breakfast. Her father appeared rather happy for a man who’d announced he was sending his daughter away. He’d been avoiding sending them with Aunt Mildred for years. He loved his daughters and the countess had never been very friendly. Unless…

  She nearly gasped. Was there really a trip to London?

  She took a bite of her tart and regarded her father. “Now that you’ve proposed a trip to London, I find I am quite looking forward to it.”

  Her father stopped chewing, his smile disappearing. “Really?” His fork fell and then he quickly picked it up. “Good. I’m glad to hear it.”

  But Cordelia wasn’t fooled. His first reaction had given away the game. There was no trip to London. He’d made it up.

  She looked at Ash, whose eyes had gone hard. She’d have to tell him later. Her father fancied himself an actor and he’d likely made up the story to force Dashlane into proposing. Which was exactly what had happened.

  “London?” Bianca asked. “Why would Cordelia be going to London?”

  Her father cleared his throat, but he didn’t get to answer as Adrianna pushed back her chair. “London? With whom? Surely not Aunt Mildred?”

  Her father grimaced as her sisters erupted in a litany of complaints. She gave her father an angelic smile. He was turning green as the volume in the room rose. She leaned forward. “That is what you get,” she whispered just loud enough to be heard over the din.

  He went from green to pale. “You know?”

  She shrugged. “I do now. By the way, I must commend your acting. I didn’t suspect a thing. But now that I know, you deserve what they are about to rain down on you.”

  Her father spluttered even as her sister’s descended, all of them talking at once.

  “How could you?”

  “Aunt Mildred?”

  “London without us?”

  Then she stood with her plate and winked at Ash. Triumph raced in her veins. Until she saw his face. He didn’t look relieved. Far from it. He’d also gone completely pale.

  Oh dear. Why did he look so upset? Was he regretting his proposal?

  Chapter Nine

  Ash escaped the dining room and made his way out of the house and back toward the village.

  She was too intelligent.

  She’d quickly figure out that he was unworthy of even a sham match. That she was tying herself to the worst sort of man. A fake, a piece of Cheapside trash. His father’s favorite insult. His stomach pitched.

  He combed his hair back and then scrubbed his face with his hands. He had two choices. Abandon the plan—likely the better choice—or try to push it through faster before she figured out that he was an act. She already suspected. She’d said as much last night.

  And look how quickly she’d soused out her father’s fabrication. He winced, stopping in the road. And if by some chance he convinced her to marry, then what?

  His body tightened. It was a bad plan. She was so lovely and he…he was committed to never making an heir. And then he dropped his head into his hands. He’d never wanted to abandon his plan more. Then he lifted his face again. It was a line of cruelty that could not continue.

  Returning to the village, he stopped at the inn, to actually eat breakfast, his third attempt of the morning, and then he headed back to the cottage. He’d expected to sleep. He was exhausted after last night, but rather than relax, he found himself pacing. What should he do next?

  Finally, the door opened, and Crestwood and Craven entered the house. Crestwood was classically handsome with rich brown hair while Craven was dark and craggy. He’d heard women describe him as mysterious and dangerous, but Ash didn’t see it.

  “There you two are.” He grinned at his friends, relieved for the distraction. “I’ve barely seen you in days.”

  Craven grunted, which was his usual response to everything. Crestwood chuckled. “We’ve been busy wooing ladies.”

  Ash scrubbed his neck. “I’d noticed.”

  “And you?” Craven asked, one of his heavy brows rising. “What have you been doing?”

  Did he tell them about what he’d asked Cordelia? Some part of it? Likely not. They were men, after all. They didn’t share their feelings. “I have been trying to leave this village, but you two keep getting in my way.”

  Craven grunted again. “Liar.”

  The word rang in his head. Why was everyone so intent on calling him out? “I’m not in danger of falling in love, if that’s what you’re asking.” They were right, he was a liar. But the truth was that it didn’t matter if he did or didn’t.

  Craven lifted the other brow. “I am curious. What happened to you that you are so dead set against love?”

  Ash’s mouth fell open. Then he snapped it shut, his jaw snapping together. “I like you better when you don’t talk.”

  Crestwood chuckled. “A woman shattered my heart into a million pieces. Adrianna is putting it back together. Piece by piece.”

  Ash nearly choked on his own tongue. “This is what we’re doing now? Sharing our feelings? Are we going to hug next and fix each other’s cravats?”

  Craven let out a bark of laughter that sounded rough, as though the sound was rusty. “Someone is in the throes of indecision. It’s difficult to let go of the past and open up to real affection.”

  Ash staggered back. What the bloody hell had happened to his friends? In the five years they’d been acquainted, they’d never once shared their feelings. Not even close.

  Crestwood crossed his arms. “Whatever happened to us, it was worse for him. Did you know that he pays whores to not sleep with him?”

  He felt the blood drain from his face. Who had told them his secret? And if Crestwood knew, who else had gotten a hold of that information? “How did you know that?”
<
br />   Crestwood’s brows dropped down low again. “You don’t prefer men, do you?”

  “No,” the word came out strangled. His fists clenched at his sides. “If you two don’t shut your fucking…”

  “There he is,” Crestwood smiled. “After all these years, the real Dashlane.”

  The words ripped from his throat, hot and angry as his brain buzzed. “You don’t know the first thing about the real me. My mother worked in a—”

  Both men dropped their arms. “Worked? Your mother wasn’t the viscountess?”

  “She was.” He scrubbed his face, lead settling in his stomach. “After the first died and left the viscount without an heir.” He left out the part where he found her in a whorehouse that she cleaned in exchange for room and board, or that his father had already sired him out of wedlock several years prior.

  “Not a happy union between your parents, I take it?” Craven asked, wincing as though he understood.

  “No. Not at all. But my mother was beautiful. I remember that before she died.” Before his father wore her down into an early grave. He’d been ruthlessly mean to the woman whom he considered beneath him.

  “Did she have your same blonde hair and blue eyes?” Crestwood asked.

  Dashlane nodded. His mother had died when he was just five. She looked like an angel. Though he had his mother’s hair and eye color, everything else about him favored his father’s likeness. From his jaw line, right down to the odd curve of his largest toe. In fact, his father had stared at his feet upon their first meeting. An easy thing to do, since Ash hadn’t had shoes. His father had known of his existence and allowed his own child to live with barely enough to eat. Let alone providing serviceable clothing. Until the man had needed him, that was.

  “So your father took a shine to your mother and then married her when the first countess died?”

  Ash scrubbed his face. His father tried for years to produce an heir, and not just with the countess. For whatever reason, he was only successful with Ash’s mum. He married her in secret to make me legitimate and then passed me off as his first wife’s child. “Something like that.”

  Despite living in a den of sin, shoeless, and sleeping in the ash, that was the happiest time in his childhood. “He was a cruel bastard and—” He stopped. He wasn’t ready to share this with anyone.

  Craven sat in one of the other chairs, silently assessing Ash for some time before he finally spoke. “You don’t plan to marry because you hated him so much.”

  Ash shrugged. Obviously, he’d said enough. “That’s about the meat of it.” There was so much more, of course, but these men had been highborn and would never understand what it meant to be sired in Cheapside.

  Craven sat back. “Try to entertain the possibility that Cordelia is an answer and not an extension of your hurt.”

  He could, in fact, entertain such an idea. He could picture being wrapped in her arms, holding her close. But he didn’t deserve such a lovely woman and he wouldn’t risk creating the next Lord Dashlane. The line ended with him.

  Cordelia crouched behind a settee. On her left was Lady Charlotte Summerset, or Charlie, as her brother, Lord Hartwell, called her.

  Charlie reached for Cordelia’s hand, holding it in her own as she bounced in excitement. “I can’t believe my brother is going to ask your sister to marry him.”

  “Is she coming?” Bianca whispered from her right.

  “Did she see your note?” asked Adrianna.

  Cordelia drew in an excited breath as she looked over to where Ash hid behind a chair. She still hadn’t had a chance to speak with him about why he’d looked upset this morning but now wasn’t the time. The Marquess of Hartwell was about to propose to her sister, and he’d invited the entire family to participate in the surprise. Cordelia placed a hand over her heart. This was all so exciting.

  “I…I hope so. If she didn’t wake—” Hartwell, grimaced, looking a bit pale.

  “If she didn’t wake, perhaps the staff didn’t deliver it.” Ophelia reached over and patted Hartwell’s shoulder.

  “Should I get her?” Adrianna asked, starting to rise.

  “No,” Dane said, holding out his hand to stop their youngest sister. “She’ll come. We just have to be patient.”

  Her father chuckled. “Patience is not a Moorish trait.”

  Dane joined in the laugh. “I’m learning that.”

  “I can barely stand the suspense,” Ophelia said, louder. “Can’t we get her?”

  A rustling of skirts came from just outside the door. “Where is everyone?” The noise halted. “Hello?”

  Cordelia looked to Hartwell. A large smile had spread across his face. Then, without warning, he popped up from behind the couch. “Juliet,” he said, holding his hand out to her.

  Her own heart fluttered as they all rose too. Hartwell moved about the couch and taking Juliet’s hand, dropped to one knee.

  “Dane,” Juliet cried, pulling on his hand. “What are you doing?”

  Cordelia watched as he looked up at her sister. Her throat clogged with emotion.

  “If romance is what my lady wants, then that is what I shall give her.”

  “I…” Juliet started as her voice trembled.

  “Oh this is so exciting.” Cordelia clapped and grinned, unable to control the emotion she felt in this moment. She had experienced her own first kiss yesterday. And she imagined what a proposal like this might be like.

  Then she stopped. She had received a proposal, actually, but it had been nothing like this. Her excitement faded like dust in the air.

  Adrianna reached over and hugged her. But some of the magic of the moment was lost.

  “Juliet Moorish,” Hartwell said, everyone going silent.

  “Yes,” her sister answered, visibly trembling.

  He flipped her palm over and set a box down in her hand, then cracked open the lid.

  Cordelia held her breath as a sparkling emerald came into view. She didn’t want to be, but suddenly a knot of jealousy twisted in her chest.

  “Juliet,” he said again. “I told you that you sparkle more than any gem I’ve ever seen.”

  “Dane.” Juliet’s voice cracked on his name.

  He reached for the ring and gently pulled the gold band from the box. Holding it between two fingers, he held it up. “I never want to be without your light. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  Her voice was so soft, Cordelia might have missed her sister’s reply.

  “Yes,” she answered, her voice shaking with emotion.

  Cordelia covered her mouth with her hands. She was so happy for Juliet. But she regarded her pianoforte, a candelabra resting on its surface. Would the instrument ever give her such joy and fulfillment? Then she glanced toward Ash. Would he?

  “Yes?” Hartwell wrapped her sister in his arms.

  “Yes,” she said louder, her hand resting on his neck. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

  A cheer rose up from the group as Hartwell gave Juliet a rousing kiss. Happiness and hurt coursed through Cordelia. She was beginning to understand what she wanted from life, but she was less certain that what she wished for was in this room.

  The merriment continued and as everyone crowded about the couple, Cordelia slipped outside onto one of the balconies that lined the room. She needed a moment to collect her thoughts. Yesterday, she’d been so certain of her path and now that she’d reached the fork, she wasn’t sure she still wanted to take it.

  “Cordelia,” Ash said just behind her. “What are you doing out here?”

  She looked over her shoulder, her heart hammering as she looked at his handsome profile. “Collecting my thoughts. You?”

  “Checking on you,” he answered, simply.

  She smiled at that, some of her worry fading. “That’s very kind. Thank you.” She shook her head. “That was so beautiful, it was almost overwhelming.”

  He gave a tight nod and stepped up next to her. “They seem quite happy.”

  “Th
ey do.” She looked out to the ocean beyond. “Happier than I ever imagined.”

  Silence met those words as they stood together. His heat seeped into her side even as the wind blew off the water making her shiver.

  His fingers brushed her elbow. Sensation sizzled along her skin. “Have you considered my offer?”

  She gave a short laugh. “Only all day.”

  He chuckled too. “That’s good, I think.” Then his hand slid about her waist, drawing her closer until she pressed into his warmth.

  “I haven’t come to any conclusion.” She shook her head.

  His fingers tightened. “I see.”

  She looked at him then. If she were going to sift through her feelings, she needed to ask him about this morning. “When I called my father out on his falsehood, you looked upset.”

  “Did I?” he answered, pulling away. She immediately missed his heat. Funny, she didn’t think she’d care about such a thing, but she found she did. Warmth seemed as basic as air, food, and water. How had she not realized lacking it would create such a giant hole? She reached up and brushed her fingers against his chest. “You did. Why?”

  His face closed again, his gaze shuttering as he moved further away still. Cordelia wrinkled her brow. Clearly, something this morning had upset him, but she didn’t understand what.

  Chapter Ten

  Ash ran a hand through his hair. Cordelia was too smart. Even now, she was unravelling the edges of his past, figuring out his weakest points, and eventually, she’d discover how little he was actually worth.

  He rubbed his face to hide the clenching of his jaw.

  He just had to hold on until they married. Then his past wouldn’t matter. He’d give her a career and she’d help him with his ultimate goal.

  Realization made him go still. There was one flaw in his plan. If they never shared intimacy then she could, if she learned of his past, have the marriage annulled. And if they were intimate, they risked creating a child. And the viscountcy would go on for another generation.

  That made him pivot toward her. “You said you haven’t come to any conclusions. Tell me, what are you worried about?”