Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Newsletter Information
Delicate Hearts Series
Other Books By Catherine
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Epilogue
Redeeming the Rake
Catherine Mayfair
Copyright © year 2019 Catherine Mayfair
All rights reserved.
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Delicate Hearts Series
Waltz of the Wallflower
Rescued by the Duke
Redeeming the Rake
Regency Stories Series
Stranded with the Marquess
Duke of Chance
The Baron’s Charade
Chapter One
Thunder shook the windows in their casings and lightning lit the night sky as Caroline Rumsbury peered out the parlor window. She had been a servant at Applefield Estates, located just outside the village of Forrest in County Sussex, for nearly six months, and she found the work toilsome yet fulfilling. The lord and lady of the house were often away at one of their many other homes about the country, taking with them their elder son Lord Evan, a man of two and twenty years, whilst the younger, Lord William, who was two years younger, remained at the Sussex estate on most occasions.
It was for the best that the two young lords be kept from one another, for the two spent the majority of their time in competition. They spent the better of their time together in fierce competition, each trying to best the other, whether it be the women they conquered, the clothing they wore, or the horseflesh they owned.
Although Caroline found their actions childish, she could not help but wonder why the brothers were never happy. They had more money than they would ever be able to spend in any lifetime, and yet many nights were spent in constant arguments; she could not remember a time when they were not shouting obscenities at one another, their voices booming through the house and frightening anyone who heard. Caroline, as well as the other servants, had learned early on that it would be best if she steered clear of them when they were in that state if at all possible.
It was due to the younger of the two lords that Caroline now waited in the parlor with its beautiful rugs brought in from travels to India and gilt furniture crafted by the finest hands in London. Like the room, the entirety of the estate was one of luxury, and Caroline felt that neither of the sons seemed to take much notice of any of it—unless they were arguing over who had purchased a particular piece, then it was all-out fighting. Caroline had even seen them exchange fisticuffs over who had chosen a particular vase, which no longer sat upon its table because it had shattered into a thousand pieces when it fell to the floor during the scuffle.
The door opened, and Clark entered with a silver tray ladened with two wine glasses and a bottle of red wine. Without a single word or a glance in Caroline’s direction, the butler placed the glasses and bottle on the table and left as quickly as he had entered.
Caroline eyed the wine with suspicion. What would Lord William be after? She suspected that it was more than talk about her cleaning duties, which had been his excuse when he had informed her she wished to speak to him. What she wanted to do was leave and return to her quarters. Yet, she knew that, to do such a thing would bring ire from the man who was kind one moment and angry the next.
She had heard too often the stories of how the brothers entertained many women, be they titled or common such as herself. Well, she would not become one of their conquests, that was for certain!
“Ah, Caroline,” Lord William said as he entered the room with a mischievous smile on his face. The man was handsome with his dark hair falling in waves at his brow and his piercing blue eyes. He had a tall frame, and the way he wore his coat and breeches had made Caroline’s cheeks blush more than once. However, she would never admit that to another soul.
“The storm outside rages, does it not?”
Caroline made a practiced curtsy. “Yes, my Lord, it does.”
He walked over and poured them each a glass of wine. When he offered her a glass, she considered refusing, but she knew that could mean possible dismissal and lack of reference. So, she took the glass with a quiet “Thank you”.
“I do find that wine settles the stomach and eases one’s nerves,” Lord William said with a smile. “Let us drink to good health.”
Caroline raised her glass with trepidation and then took a sip of the red liquid. She had consumed wine before, but nothing like this. Rather than the sweetness of elderberry her father would make when she was younger, it had a tartness to it that she found she enjoyed. She would never be able to use the words the upper class used to describe what they drank—some of them made no sense to her whatsoever anyway—but she could see why they drank so much of it.
Lord William walked over to the window, which now had rivers of water rushing down its glass, and looked outside. “Come. Join me.”
Caroline thought her heart would explode, and it was with heavy legs she walked over to stand beside him. He glanced down at her with a broad smile, and Caroline could smell the spirits the man had indulged on at dinner.
“You are quiet,” he said. “Of what could you be thinking?”
“Nothing, my Lord,” she replied. “Thank you for the wine, my Lord. It is the finest I have ever had.”
She took a nervous sip from her glass. If her mother saw her drinking wine with this man, she would slap her across the head. ‘Giving yourself airs, are ye?’ she would demand.
Lord William, however, gave her a snort. “It’s a cheap wine,” he said. “My own personal collection I share only with those I feel are worthy.”
How was she to respond to that statement? Either he was claiming she was worthy of nothing more than his cheapest wine, or she was worthy enough to receive wine from his own personal collection. Rather than make a decision, she said nothing.
“I wish to speak to you of your cleaning duties.” He turned and looked down at her again. Was he angry with her?
“I’m sorry, my Lord, if I have disappointed you.” She lowered her gaze to the floor. “Please, whatever I’m doing wrong, let me know so I can make it right.”
He placed his glass on the windowsill and then took hers and placed it beside his. “That is what I like about you, Caroline,” he said with a chuckle. “You are always willing to please.” He brushed a thumb across her jawline. “You do want to please me, do you not?”
Fear like nothing Caroline had ever known rushed through her as he took another step closer. She had spent the entire morning cleaning his bedchamber. How could he find fault in her work? Al
l the furniture had been dusted and polished to a sheen with beeswax. She had changed out the bedding and fluffed his pillows. And the floor had been scrubbed by hand. What more could she have done? “Y-yes, my Lord,” she stammered. Who was she to argue with a lord? “Again, I’ll fix any mistake I’ve made. Let me return to your room now and I’ll do just that.”
As she went to leave, however, he grasped her by the wrist. “My brother does not take notice of the beauty you possess,” he whispered. “But I do.” He reached into his pocket and produced a gold chain with a matching gold locket in the shape of a heart. “Such a woman deserves beautiful things.”
“I could never accept such a gift, my Lord,” she whispered, wanting nothing more than to run but knowing she was trapped.
“You will accept it,” he stated as he walked around to stand behind her. “For I plan on buying you many things.”
A chill seeped into her body as he clasped the necklace at the nape of her neck, the metal cold against her skin. However, it was his hands coming to her shoulders and forcing her to turn around and face him that made her shudder.
“Do not think I have not noticed you. You cause a desire in me like no other has.”
“I…” His hand moved up and down her arms, and she found it difficult to speak. “I should return to my duties, my Lord.”
“Your duty is to me,” he muttered.
Caroline’s breath caught in her throat as he pulled her toward him, his lips pressing against hers. Through the fear, she managed to raise her arms and push hard against the man’s broad chest.
The kiss broke, and he glared down at her. “You deny me?” he said through clenched teeth.
“My Lord,” Caroline gasped. “You’re consumed with spirits. I know you’re much too kind to do this.”
His nostrils flared. “Kind?”
Caroline nodded. “Yes, my Lord. I know of the charity work you do.”
“Who told you that?” he demanded. Caroline tried to take a step back, but her back pressed against a chair. “Was it Evan? Did he call me weak?”
“No, my Lord,” Caroline replied with wide eyes. “I’ve overheard him berating you for it is all I’m saying. But you don’t need to follow in his ways. You’re a good man who doesn’t need to force himself on a servant to prove his worth.”
For six months she had watched the older brother berate the younger, bragging about his conquests of various women, and in that short time, she had seen a man with integrity and kindness turn vile; the same man who stood before her now.
“You will collect your things at once and leave this house,” Lord William said flatly as he moved past her and took his glass of wine from the windowsill.
“My Lord!” Caroline cried, tears rolling down her cheeks, “I’ve no family; nowhere to go! Please! Where am I to go, and in the rain, no less?”
“I care not where you go,” the young lord said with a wave of his hand. He finished off the last of his wine and turned to look at her. For a moment, Caroline thought she saw a flash of compassion in his eyes, but his words that followed squelched that belief in mere moments. “Do not think your tears will change my mind.”
“My Lord,” she begged, but his glare halted her words.
“Time is short. Hurry, before I change my mind and have Clark escort you out rather than allowing you to leave on your own.”
With her heart broken and full of fear, Caroline hurried to her quarters and stuffed the few items she owned into a burlap sack. With tears raining down her face, she made her way to the front door. If he was going to throw her out for having decency, she would use the front door to leave!
When she turned toward the parlor, however, she was shocked to see Lord William standing in the doorway. For a moment, she thought he might reconsider his decision. The storm continued to lash against the house, but she would rather be out in the storm than to be forced into the bed by any lord, handsome or no.
Yet, Lord William did not stop her, instead he reentered the parlor and closed the door, as if to punctuate his command.
“Goodbye, Clark,” she whispered to the butler. Despite his sad expression, she knew he possessed a fierce loyalty to the family.
“I'm sorry,” he whispered back, much to Caroline’s surprise.
She stepped out onto the stoop and when the door closed behind her, she stared at it for several moments before turning to face the uncertain future that lay before her.
Rain poured down upon her as she hurried toward the main road. The night, like her future, was dark, yet somehow, she kept walking. She had no other choice.
Chapter Two
Four Years Later
The cries of hopelessness kept William awake most of the night. What had started as a whimper turned into a cry for help and oftentimes became sobs of fear. It was not an unusual sound, for he had heard it many times before. In fact, over the last four years, he had heard it more often than he cared. That, much like his life, he had come to understand as something over which he had no control.
The sun rose, the few rays that managed to make their way through the tiny dirty window doing nothing to penetrate the coldness within. That cold was in his soul, and he knew the worth he once felt in those rays would never return. The cause was heartbreaking, a deed unforgivable, and as each day blended into another, the memories continued to torment him.
Whenever he closed his eyes, he could smell the sulfur of the pistol and hear the screams of the woman, which, to this day, still rattled inside him. Though the situation in which he found himself now was the reward for the coldness, it was not the only cause.
Granted, he could not point to one particular moment that had brought to his downfall, but he searched his mind for the beginning, nonetheless. Perhaps it was when he was eight, when his jealousy over the new horse his brother had acquired made him green with envy. Or it could have been when a woman William had wanted to court refused him and instead ran into the waiting arms of Evan. His brother had taken the virtue of that woman, threw her aside, and then expanded what he liked to call his ‘conquests’.
Many times William lied about the number of women with whom he had lain, for it hurt him to bed a lady and then refuse to speak to her again. Yet, in the end, it was a prostitute and not a lady of wealth who had been his undoing.
Keys jingled, and William opened his eyes and sat up in the cot. The guard said nothing as he opened the door to the cell. Rising from his bed, William looked at what had constituted as his home for the last four years. The bedding he received upon his entry had already been stained. Besides a cot, there was a simple wash bowl that sat beside the stub of a candle and a bucket in the corner that was emptied less often than it should have been. He had no personal items, no servants, and no wine. Yet, worse of all, he had no family.
His father, rather than coming to his rescue, had disowned him, using what leverage he had to force the court to find his son guilty of robbery and not murder.
“You have used the last of any favors I have for you as my son,” his father had told him. “Understand this; there will be no others. I now have only one son.” And with that, he had walked out of the prison to never return for even a simple visit.
All inheritance of property and business had been stripped; therefore, when it was time for William to leave, he would be penniless. But at least he would be alive.
Shaking his head, he tried to forget his former life as he headed to the main room, which other prisoners called The Pub. It had no resemblance of even the lowest establishment, however. Old wooden tables made from scraps of discarded wood and chairs one sat on with care in hopes it would sustain his weight sat around the room with no semblance of order. Groups of men settled around the tables, hunkered over, eating the watery porridge given them. It was the same meal William had eaten every morning for the last four years, and he suspected it would not change in the near future.
It could have been worse, of course. He had heard that some prisons consisted of a single room wh
ere prisoners claimed a pallet and defecated wherever they found a place. Food was a rarity in those places, oftentimes bread and water the only forms of sustenance offered, so he was glad for the watery porridge, as flavorless as it was. And at least he had his own cell, what little privacy that provided him made him feel the luckiest prisoner alive.
A man guarding a cart handed him his bowl of goop along with a splintered spoon, and William went to a table where Ezra, the oldest prisoner in residence, sat. The man had become a friend of sorts to William, and if his stories were to be believed, he was once the greatest highwayman in all of England.
“Mornin’ to ya,” Ezra said as William lowered himself into the chair, the legs wobbling but holding. The old man coughed, his lungs rattling.
“Good morning to you,” William replied. He glanced around. Fights erupted often and not done in a gentlemanly manner. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m ‘fraid my last days are comin’ to an end,” the old man said. His once blue eyes had faded over the last year as his cough increased. He leaned in and lowered his voice. “I need to tell ya somethin’, and it’s dire ya listen good.”
William nodded. This man had treated him well thus far, and William respected him. As well as a man in his position could respect a man such as he, that is.
“You recall how I came to be in this place?”
“I do,” William replied. “You robbed the Duke of Chesselberry, though the sum was only twenty pounds.”
Ezra smiled, displaying his four remaining teeth. “That’s what they accused me of,” he said.
“You did not do it?” William asked in surprise.
“Oh, I did it,” Ezra replied with a light chuckle. “But it was far more money than that.” Curiosity grasped William as the old man continued. “The Duke, well, he was involved in tradin’ women, ya see. He had so many estates, he needed lots of servants. But many disappeared.”
Redeeming The Rake (Delicate Hearts Book 3) Page 1
