Redeeming The Rake (Delicate Hearts Book 3)

by Catherine Mayfair

  “No,” he said. “You are right in your anger. Perhaps something else will come available. He cannot be the only landlord with a place to rent in London.”

  She seemed to study him for a moment. “You are right,” she said firmly. “If I need to stay at an inn for a short time, I will. There must be more properties available; I simply must keep looking.”

  “Everyone wants to live in London,” William said. “I always thought the city a grand place filled with excitement at every turn.” He could not stop the flood of memories that came to mind. Parties, balls, dinners. Yet, then the image of the dead woman rose above the memories, and his stomach ached. “It is also an illusion. Those with money only see the sparkle of the city, and they spend their days attempting to impress the others with money who are, in all reality, just as sad as they.”

  “My first time here was when I arrived four years ago. There was no party to greet me. Instead, I endured the stares much like I imagine you have suffered yourself recently.”

  He nodded but made no comment, for it had been his doing that she was forced to come to London in the first place. She had been in much the same position as he, and as a woman it had to have been much more difficult. Yet, here she stood, as strong as ever despite the trials she had to endure.

  “Caroline,” he said as he reached out and placed a hand on her arm to halt her step. Her eyes widened, and he removed his hand. “I’m sorry. I thought you should know that I find your strength of character encouraging. I admire your tenacity; you possess more than you realize.”

  She looked up at the sky. “Let us hurry before we are drenched,” she said as if he had not spoken.

  He gave a nod, and they hurried off into the storm, William wondering if he had gone too far once again.

  ***

  The upper floor above the office the doctor had used contained two small rooms.

  “This is my room,” Caroline said as she tapped her nails on the door. “You may use that room there.”

  Inside was a single couch, the red fabric long since faded. The only other furniture was a table with a cloudy mirror and a mismatched stool.

  “As I said earlier, you may remain here for the next few days.” She pointed to two burlap sacks that leaned against the far wall. “Take whatever you need from those sacks, and I will put water on for your bath. “

  He turned and offered her a smile, finding her kindness overwhelming. “Thank you. You do not have to help. I can draw my own water.”

  She gave a heavy sigh. “Helping you is not something I must do,” she replied. “I simply choose to do so. The bathtub is downstairs, so choose some clothes and meet me there.” She did not wait for his response before leaving the room and closing the door behind her.

  Kneeling on the floor, he dug through the first sack and found an assortment of well-worn, but decent, clothing. He came across a shirt for a young boy, and he closed his eyes as he recalled a time when he was ten. His father had taken him to a shop near their home to buy him a new suit. When he was done, his mother had exclaimed how handsome he was. Even his father had been pleased. How he wished he could go back and tell that young boy that owning such garments was nice, but they did not make the person who he was. Perhaps if he could have given himself such advice, he would have taken a very different path.

  With a sigh, William continued on his search for appropriate clothing. He found a pair of breeches, well-worn but clean that would fit him. Then he smiled as he produced a white shirt with three tiny stains on it. Granted, neither item had been crafted by skilled hands, nor were they made from the most expensive cloth; however, what did matter was the fact that someone had donated them for someone in need. Someone like himself.

  He made his way downstairs, his new clothes draped over his arm, thankfulness in his heart. At the back of the ground floor, he found the kitchen where Caroline had set a large tub and was filling it with steaming water. When she turned, she let out a small scream.

  “You startled me!” she gasped as her hand went to her breast.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “It was not my intention.” He glanced at the bucket. “May I?”

  She pulled the bucket back and shook her head. “No.” She nodded toward a mirror braced to a wall. “There is a razor that you may use. Unless you have plans to keep that beard.”

  He reached up and touched his cheek. “No. I think it’s about time to rid myself of this mass.”

  She walked past him but stopped at the door. “I will be in the front room. Take as much time as you need. I’ll put on the kettle.”

  “Thank you,” he said. When the door closed, he draped the clothes over a nearby stool. Trying to recall the last time he had bathed properly brought on a feeling of disgust, and he went over to the mirror to gaze at his reflection. To have a clean face, a bath, food in his stomach, he had never appreciated those things more than he did at this moment. And now he cherished them.

  Chapter Twelve

  The rain tapped a melody of worry on the window of the office. In three days, Caroline had to leave, and with no place to go, she worried she would once again be forced to find a bed in quite unsavory places. The lack of employment was as concerning, and she sighed as she took a sip of her wine.

  Her mind turned to William of its own accord. The man had been kind commenting on her strength earlier, to which she did not respond. Old memories had come to mind, and by the time she had dismissed them, she thought it best to leave him alone. She could not stand there as he undressed!

  Although she had forgiven him, the memories still lingered, which was troubling. Was that not one of the reasons to forgive another, so one is able to move on? Perhaps the man had come into her life as a test to see if she truly had absolved him of his wrongdoing that night so long ago. Thus far, he had been kind to her, and his words seemed genuine.

  Well then, she thought as she closed her eyes, it is up to me to take the next steps in easing these memories. Indeed, she would do more to return the man’s kindness. That had to be the key.

  “I feel like a new man.”

  Caroline started, her heart bursting from her chest as her eyes flew open. How could she have not heard him leaving the kitchen?

  Before her stood William, most certainly a new man from the one who had accompanied her from the pub. The clothing was loose but did not hang, and his face was now smooth, the beard gone. She could not help but notice that he was still as handsome as she remembered four years earlier, and there was a twinkle in his eyes that was not there before.

  “I see I startled you yet again,” he said with a chuckle.

  She smiled. “A bit,” she replied, unwilling to admit how lost in thought she was, for if he asked, she would have to admit she had been thinking of him. “Please, sit.” She indicated the chair Doctor Brown favored, a brown armchair with a sinking cushion due to years of use. “Would you like a glass of wine? I doubt it is as palatable as what you drank while in Applefield Estates, but it is not too bad.”

  He laughed. “I imagine it will be even better.” He accepted the glass from her and took a drink. “It’s just as I expected. Much better.”

  “You are far better suited without a beard,” she said.

  “I believe you are right about that,” he said with a light chuckle as he rubbed his now bare chin. “The clothes are comfortable, and I feel like they were made by the finest fabric in the land.”

  “Over the years, we have many come here sick and in need of clothing, so Doctor Brown made certain we had a variety from which to choose. Many kind people with money donated the majority of the finery, but even those with much less gave us what they could no longer use for one reason or another.”

  “That,” William replied, “is true charity, something to which I have been and will continue to aspire. Much like you.”

  Caroline could not help but blush from his words. “You are kind,” she replied in a near-whisper. “Thank you.”

  Neither spoke for a while, and Carol
ine watched the rain trickle down the panes of the window.

  “What are your plans now?” she asked.

  “To sleep,” William replied with a wide grin as he brushed back a wave of dark brown hair. “And to do so upon a real bed will be a treat.”

  Caroline laughed. “I was not speaking of tonight,” she said. “Where will you go from here? What will you do?” Her question came from a bit of concern and even more curiosity.

  William seemed to study his wine glass for several moments before responding, and Caroline wondered if she had asked too much. Was it her business what he did? However, his reply did not seem offended. “I’m going to Cornwall.”

  “Cornwall?” she asked in shock. “Why Cornwall, if I may ask?”

  “There is something I must do there,” came his reply. He studied his glass a moment longer and then looked up at her. His eyes narrowed as if struggling with a decision, and when he had made it, or so she assumed, he sat up in the chair and leaned forward. “May I share a story with you?”

  “Of course,” she replied, her interest piqued.

  “A man named Ezra resided in the prison, a highwayman. He was the man who died and the other prisoners ransacked his body in order to take what little he had.” He looked down, his jaw drawing tight. “How could anyone take from a man who has just died?” he spat. “People have no respect.” He shook his head and sighed. “That is neither here nor there.” He took another drink from his wine and sat back, his arms splayed over the arms of the chair. “Ezra knew he was dying, and his illness became worse every day. One day, he shared a story with me.”

  “A highwayman with a story?” Caroline said. “It must have been quite interesting. Was it about a daring robbery?” She had meant it as a dash of humor and not to make light of the man’s death. She was relieved that William seemed to take her words as such.

  “Yes,” he replied with a nod. Caroline could not help but feel a wave of excitement rush through her. “Ezra and his brother robbed a man of great wealth. However, according to him, the man did not earn his money through typical means but rather by engaging in illicit activities. When they took his money, they hid it in a cave in Cornwall, but he was caught not long after for another crime. According to him, the money is still there.” Now he looked straight at her, a wide smile on his face. “If I can find a way there, I can retrieve this treasure.”

  As exciting a tale as it was, doubt crept into Caroline’s mind. Why would this man, a thief by trade, tell someone he met in prison about this money? Another question arose. Was this man attempting to get more money out of her? It would not have been the first time a man in his meager position had attempted to swindle her out of what little money she had. Luckily, she was much smarter than that.

  “The tale is fascinating,” she said carefully. “I do hope you find it. I do not have much to spare, but I can give you a little more money so you are able to travel there and go in search of it.”

  What if there was a treasure? It would be a means to help William get back on his feet, and everyone deserved that chance. Granted, she did not have much, but she had much compared to him. Even if he was simply attempting to get more money from her, what would it matter to her either way? He could say he promised to repay her for her kindness, but that did not mean he would.

  “You do not believe me, do you?” he asked. He chuckled. “Oh, I do not blame you.” He rose and walked to the window. “It does sound like a tale woven of desperation.”

  “I must admit that it sounds like so many stories shared between drunken men at the pub. You do not know for certain that this man told the truth.” She walked over to stand beside him, and as the rain pelted against the window, she was taken back to a night years past. However, this time, she was not in fear of the man before her.

  “Everything you say is true, but I must take the man at his word. He had no reason to lie to me, and I was the only person there who treated him with any form of decency. There is more to the story that I think will only complicate matters, but I will not go into all that now. I just ask you to consider one thing.”

  “Very well,” she replied. There was no harm in considering something.

  “You asked me earlier what plans I had for the future. I might ask you the same.”

  “To find a place to live,” she relied readily. “And employment. Eventually, I would like to open a charity that caters to those who have no home, much like you and I have experienced. A place where people can come to find peace, and maybe a bite to eat and what little I can offer them for medical care. That may be a long way off, but it is not unachievable.”

  He grasped her arm, clear excitement on his face. “If this treasure of which Ezra spoke exists, which I believe it does, it can provide funds for a number of things. If you come with me, I swear to give you half of what we find.” He released her arm and stared out the window, a fervent look in his eyes. “It’s there, I know it is! You can open your charity here, or move to another city. Whatever you wish to do, you may.” He turned back to her. “However, I cannot do this alone. I have but the few coins you gave me, and that will not get me all the way to Cornwall.”

  Caroline worried her lip. “I need time to consider this,” she replied. “May we discuss it further in the morning?”

  “Of course,” he said before turning back to the window.

  “I’m off to bed, then,” she said as she collected her now empty glass. She left the remainder of wine for him.

  As she headed toward the kitchen, his voice made her stop. “It was a night much like this, was it not? Perhaps this will be a chance for me to make things right.”

  Caroline said nothing. What could she say? However, his words echoed in her mind even as she made her way to her bedroom.

  Later, as she lay in bed, she considered his proposition. Was this yet another chance for him to redeem himself? Or was it an attempt at some sort of trickery? Yet, what would he gain by beguiling her in such a manner? Would it not be easier to find something closer to London?

  Soon sleep overtook her, her mind still undecided as to how to handle William Lymington.

  ***

  The next morning, as Caroline was putting the kettle on the fire, a knock came to the door. A young mother arrived in search of Doctor Brown.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong,” she lamented. “He could barely form two words last night, and I worry it’s the plague come back to haunt us.”

  Caroline examined the boy, who had shockingly bloodshot eyes and pale skin. He was no older than twelve, and she suspected she knew the cause of the boy’s ‘malady’, though his mother would not be happy to hear her diagnosis. Nor would the child when she told the woman.

  “No, I do not believe it is the plague, Mrs. Thomas,” Caroline said. She raised an eyebrow at the boy, and he looked down at the floor, his cheeks red. “I believe Christopher is on the mend from whatever ‘ailment’ that has besieged him, and I doubt it will return.” She gave the boy a stead gaze. “Will it?”

  The boy shook his head. “No,” he whispered.

  Caroline smiled. “William will take you upstairs to get you a new shirt.” She gave William a pointed look.

  “Yes, let’s go find you something new, shall we?”

  When the two had gone, Caroline turned to Mrs. Thomas. “Your son has not contracted the plague. I rather believe he may have been taken by something much more common.”

  “What would that be?” the woman asked with wide eyes.

  “Liquor.”

  Mrs. Thomas pursed her lips. “It’s those boys he’s always with,” she said, her anger clear. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”

  Caroline offered the woman a warm smile. “You have nothing for which to apologize. Young boys tend to be partial to trying a sip or two, and if they are not careful, they will become inebriated. They do not have the countenance to handle a large amount. I imagine that, after last night, and how he is feeling this morning, he may think twice before attempting such
actions in the near future.”

  “Thank you,” Mrs. Thompson replied. “His father left us over a year ago. He found another woman, you see, and since the man left, Christopher’s been rebelling ever since. What he needs is a man to teach him right from wrong. Like your husband there.”

  “My husband?” Caroline asked in shock. “William is simply a friend.” Then she paused. Had she just said those words? Had her view of him changed that much? Yet, when she had said the words, they felt right.

  “You could’ve fooled me,” the woman replied. “The way he smiled at you as you attended my boy…” she leaned in and lowered her voice. “They’re a rare find, the good ones. You have to hold onto them and never let go.”

  William and Christopher returned, much to Caroline’s relief.

  “Now, what do you say?” Mrs. Thomas asked the boy.

  “Thank you,” Christopher murmured, clutching his new clothes in his arms as if he had received the greatest gift. “And I promise not to…you know.”

  “I understand,” Caroline replied. She walked mother and son to the door. “Now, remember, after Tuesday, this office will no longer be available.”

  “I will,” Mrs. Thomas said. “‘Tis a shame, though. Thank you for seeing us.”

  “Of course,” Caroline replied. “And be well.”

  After she closed the door, she turned to the front room to find William wearing a smile. Had Mrs. Thompson been correct in her assessment of the man? Did he look at her in a way a man does a woman to whom he holds affection? She reached up and touched her spectacles. Apparently, their frames were not functioning as they should. However, even if he did not see her in that way, she did not reciprocate the same. And she doubted rather highly that she ever would.

  “You are a healer,” William said. “The way you use your hands and mind, and even your heart. You bring hope to those without it.”

  She was reminded of what Doctor Brown had told her. Consider opening that beauty to share with someone special. Don’t allow yourself to remain alone for too long. Was this what he had meant?