Saved by a Rake (14 page)

Chapter Nineteen

Dinner was a tense affair with neither Rebecca nor Daniel speaking very much. She asked a few questions about the running of the household
, and Daniel answered with one-syllable words. His countenance was marred with the deep frown, his jaw clenched and his voice was nothing but a growl. She would have been frightened of him had she not already known his character. He may be angry, but he would never hurt her.

As soon as dinner was over he excused himself, stating that he had work to do in his study. Rather than answer she simply nodded and watched him leave— a knot of despair coiling in her belly. The worst part of it was that she did not know how to make things better. She thought she was being a good wife. He would never be happy with just her.

She spent an hour in the drawing room, pacing and thinking. Perhaps she was being unfair to him. Had he not told her he loved her just before he had stormed out?

If he had spoken truthfully, then she must learn more about how to please him when
they were alone together. But how was she to do that? She could not ask her mama. Perhaps there would be a book in the earl’s library that could help her.

Gentleman often had books in the library that were not suitable for ladies. That would be something she could occupy herself with in the following few days as she was getting to know the household.

Her mind made up, she could think of nothing else to do. She had no book to read and she really did not feel like sitting in the huge drawing room by herself, embroidering. She may as well go to bed.

****

Daniel finished his letter, signed it, blotted it and sealed it with wax. He laid it on a silver tray for Anderson, the butler, to send in the morning. He ruffled his hair and sat back to survey the room. He really did have a lot of paperwork to do, but he was struggling to concentrate.

When he had announced his intention to work in his study, Rebecca had looked hurt. The confusion he felt over his marriage caused his temples to pound. On one hand, he could not be happier. Once he had helped her through their initial coupling, the sex had been wonderful. His new wife seemed to have the right amount of curiosity mixed with the right amount of willingness to be led by him. Sometimes just a look from her was enough to cause him to become aroused.

He really should not think about Rebecca and arousal. It brought to his mind the image of her writhing on the springy floor of the woods on Sunday as he had brought her to a climax with his tongue and fingers. Devil take it. Now he was hard as stone.

He got up and started to pace the room. How was he to convince her that he would not take a mistress—ever? And had he really told her he loved her? More importantly,
did
he love her?

Certainly, his feelings for her were stronger than they had ever been for any woman. And yet, he could not pinpoint a time when he had fallen in love with her. Was it that night that she licked his seed from her fingers, declared it salty and slipped under the covers? Had it been that day at the garden party when she intimated that she saw herself as impure and spoiled? Or had it gradually crept up on him?

Dash it all. He was becoming a simpering, lovelorn idiot. He rang the bell and told the butler he would be retiring and unless Lady Ramsey was still up, the staff could all go to bed—including his valet. He could undress himself. Anderson explained that her ladyship had rung for her maid an hour ago and had, therefore, retired for the evening.

Daniel wished him a goodnight and headed for his bedroom.

He arrived to find a solitary candle burning on a candlestick on the mantel and his wife sitting on the plush window seat—her knees tucked up to her chin, underneath her nightgown, her head resting on the pane. She gave him a wan smile before looking back out into the pitch blackness.

“
You know, even without my inheritance, my investments afford me an income of ten thousand pounds a year. We have enough money to buy candles.”

“
If you have enough money to live on, then why did you marry me?” He picked up a taper and walked around the room lighting the other candles.

“
My father is dying. His last wish was that I marry. I wanted to honour that wish. And I was drawn to you. You have an indomitable spirit, a quick wit and a pretty smile.”

“
You are very kind, my lord, but…”

“
Good God, Rebecca. Stop calling me ‘my lord’ when we are in private. I know that you use it to push me away. It is as if you are erecting a wall around yourself. Do you want me to be unfaithful? Because I feel as if you are trying to drive me away.”

“
Perhaps I am,” she said miserably. “I had a plan, you see. I was going to learn more about how to please you. I was going to borrow books from your library to teach me the things that ladies refuse to discuss. But the more I thought on it, the more I realised that I have no idea where to begin. Your library is so large, and I do not even know the name of an author of such a book to help me choose.”

“
You want to read a manual—on sex?” If she was shocked at his usage of the word, she did not show it.

“
Yes.” There was a tone of defiance in her voice that gave him hope. He was penetrating her defences.

“
I see. Well I am sure I can help you out with some suitable reading material. But pray, tell me why you think it necessary?”

“
I do believe you are too honourable a man to be unfaithful. Therefore, it is my duty to… to please you in the bedchamber.”

“
You do please me, Rebecca—very much.”

“
No.” She was on her feet, pushing past him before beginning to stalk the breadth of the room. “No. I do not believe that. I was an innocent and you have taken courtesans and widows to your bed. I… my only experience until now was to be trussed up like a prisoner and mounted like a cow in a field. You married a sullied, pathetic creature. But I will not continue to be that person. I can be what you need me to be. You can teach me. I cannot see you unhappy.”

And at last Daniel understood. She had two concerns. Her lack of experience compared to his rakish wa
y of life. But also that her experience had damaged her own confidence, and she still saw herself as sullied and ruined. He had to think. He did not know how to ease her fears.

“
Would you help me undress?” he asked, hoping that the few minutes it would take for her to help him disrobe would give him time to come up with a plan. She nodded and as he sat on the bed, she lifted his foot and pulled off his boot.

He was stripped d
own to just his breeches and drawers and was about to undo the buttons at the placket, but she got her hands there faster.

As she dropped his drawers, her brow furrowed as she looked at him. He was not aroused
, and she bit her lip. He raised her chin and smiled.

“
We were having a serious discussion. If I was aroused by your distress it would make me a poor husband, would it not?” She shrugged slightly and climbed onto the bed, crawling to the other side and slipping under the covers.

He quickly snuffed out all but one candle and got in beside her.
“I have a book in the library that may help allay some of your fears. It is a sort of medical book, but you may find it helpful. As far as I understand, many married ladies have read it—they just do not discuss it in the drawing rooms of Mayfair during afternoon visits.” He rolled his eyes and pursed his lips, eliciting a much coveted laugh from his bride. “There are other books too, and I shall endeavour to find you some suitable reading material tomorrow.”

“
Thank you.”

“
We need to clear up a few matters before I give you a good night kiss. You said that when I married you, you were sullied and pathetic. Is that really how you see yourself?”

“
Yes. Though I do not believe I am so pathetic now, thanks to you.”

“
Even had you willingly gone to Newthorpe’s bed, I would not have called you sullied, or ruined. If I am truthful, I always assumed my bride would be a virgin as most young ladies of the
Ton
are, since their mamas ensure that they are well chaperoned. However, it mattered not to me. And I apologise unreservedly for asking if you are already with Newthorpe’s child. Of course you are honest. You could have chosen not to tell me what he had done to you and yet you did, knowing that some men would have cast you aside for an indiscretion that was not of your doing.”

“
I do understand why you had to ask.”

“
It was ungentlemanly of me to suggest you would hide such a thing. I am sorry. You are also far from pathetic. After Newthorpe ravished you, I know that your family urged you to return to Chapelbrooke and live out your life as an old maid. Had you been less brave, you would have taken that easier option and I would not have had the pleasure of waltzing with you the night I decided to seek out a wife. I must thank you for your bravery as now I cannot imagine having any other wife but you. I would not want another. I love you, Lady Rebecca Anne Ramsey.”

He moved to kiss her
, but she pulled her head away and bit her lip, a look of concentration on her face as if not sure how to phrase what she was about to say. He groaned inwardly but prepared himself for whatever it was. Her feminine form and the heat from her body through the flimsy nightshirt were beginning to distract him but he held her gaze.

“
I love you too, Lord Daniel Andrew Rutherford Ramsey, Viscount Ramsey.”

“
Thank God,” he muttered as he pressed his lips to hers. Maybe now he could make love to his own wife in his own bed. And it would be making love, for he really did love her.

Chapter Twenty

“
Reverend and Mrs Galloway are here to see you, Your Ladyship,” announced Anderson as he came into the drawing room. It was the right time of day for calls and she had been expecting one or two, for it was tradition for certain persons to call on the new wife of the earl’s son on their first visit to the family’s principal seat.

“
Thank you. Could you show them up please? And is his lordship available to join us?”

“
I believe he said he would join you presently, my lady. He is just finishing a letter.”

“
Oh good. Once you have shown them up, would you arrange tea for us?”

“
Of course, Your Ladyship.”

He bowed and stepped outside before closing both doors together. No sooner had the sound of his footsteps disappeared but there was a commotion outside. The hurried trot of more than one horse, a male Scottish accent crying out for help, and more voices—possibly those of the Reverend and Mrs Galloway.

Rebecca lifted her skirt and hurried to the window. Two brown geldings were being held steady by stable hands as a man slipped off one of the beasts. Another man was slouched over the neck of the other horse. He looked familiar.

“
Simon!” Daniel’s brother. She could not tell why he was slouched but the sudden wailing of the minister’s wife caused her to jump. Rebecca ran for the door, down the stairs and collided with Daniel just as she reached the bottom.

“
What is that infernal row…?”

“
Simon has just arrived on horseback with another man, and he appears to be hurt.”

“
He was shot.” Simon’s friend was carrying him over his shoulder, and Anderson was holding the door. The Reverend and Mrs Galloway were bringing up the rear.

“
Quick, upstairs to the countess’s bedchamber. First door on the right,” said Rebecca, taking charge. Anderson was hurrying past them to lead the way. “Daniel, is there an apothecary or a doctor in the village?”

“
There is an apothecary.”

“
Get him then?”

“
I cannot leave Simon.” She spotted a footman hovering nearby.

“
Send the stable master for the apothecary and tell him to be quick.” The footman nodded and hurried away.

Rebecca followed Simon
’s friend upstairs and waited while he laid him gently on the bed.

“
Where?” she asked, trying to see.

His friend pulled back Simon
’s brown coat. A dark red mark the size of her fist covered the linen shirt just above the waistband of his riding breeches.

“
Who shot him?” Daniel was behind her, possibly still in the doorway but she was too busy pulling at Simon’s shirt to look around.

“
I pressed my neck cloth into the wound until the bleeding stopped. We were so close to Drumbane, I thought it best just to make haste and come here. I think the jolting of the horse…”

Rebecca slowly peeled the soaked cloth away from Simon
’s skin, showing a dark red bullet hole, oozing blood. At least it was not spurting blood. That would have been a lot worse.

“
Make way, my lord. I have supplies here.” The voice of the housekeeper made Rebecca feel instantly better. She would have worked out how to help Simon but she was also sure that Mrs McPhee knew more about bullet wounds than she did.

“
Who did it?” Daniel ground out. She nudged his friend gently and gestured behind her to where her husband was now standing.

“
I do not know. We were riding along and suddenly there was a bang, and Simon yelled and clutched at his side. He nearly fell off the damned horse. I looked around and could see no one but I was too concerned about Simon to care.”

“
Where did it happen?”

“
About a mile from here. Between the village and the end of your private road.”

“
Show me.” The young man hesitated, looking at Simon. Daniel’s tone softened slightly. “Come on, let the ladies work. They know what they are doing until the apothecary comes. Are you Simon’s valet?”

“
I…well…that is to say…”

“
I see. A friend then. We’ll get you a fresh horse and we shall take some men out to scour the area. What’s your name?”

Just as the door closed she heard the young man state that his name was Andrew.

She was now holding Simon as Mrs McPhee tried to stem the bleeding. “That bullet will have to come out, Mr Simon,” she said, as if her charge were awake.

“
Do you know how to take it out?” Rebecca asked, suddenly feeling completely useless.

“
I do not but I imagine the apothecary will know what to do. The best we can do is keep him comfortable. He should not be long.”

“
Do you think he shall survive?”

“
Well, I am no doctor but there is not a lot of blood, so chances are that the bullet has missed all the vital organs. The poor lad probably fainted from the sight of blood. Mr Simon was always a bit more sensitive than his brother. Young Lord Ramsey would have run around all day with his arm hanging off if I had let him. But Mr Simon is strong in other ways.”

There was a loud groan from the bed
, and Rebecca and Mrs McPhee had to move quickly to stop Simon from rolling and possibly re-opening the wound. That would probably happen once the apothecary came, but until then it was best that he bled as little as possible.

“
Where the hell am I?”

“
Now, now, Mr Simon. There is no need for that kind of language at Drumbane.”

“
Drumbane? Devil take it. Where is Andrew?”

“
Out with Daniel looking for the person who shot you,” answered Rebecca.

“
Shot me? Why would anyone sh… oh!”

“
You know why you were shot?”

“
I can’t see who you are. But you are English. Is that my brother’s wife?”

“
Yes. Please, call me Rebecca. Why would anyone shoot you?”

“
Because they think I killed Newthorpe.”

“
The Earl of Newthorpe? But why would you kill him?”

“
I did not. But his brother thinks I did. That idiot is only fit for Bedlam.”

At that moment, Anderson came into the room.

“The apothecary, my lady. Mr Clarke.”

Rebecca swivelled on her heel, relieved that the man had come at last.

“Thank you for coming so quickly, Mr Clarke. Mr Simon has been shot. The wound is not bleeding heavily, but the bullet is still lodged inside him.”

“
Thank you m’ lady. I will take it from here, if you do not mind.” The older gentleman gave her a reassuring, toothless grin, laid his old leather bag on the bed and raised his quizzing glass to look at Simon’s wound. “Hmm! Yes. I need whisky, hot water and some more light. An oil lamp will do.”

“
I’ll open the drapes farther. That should help.”

“
Yes, it will.”

“
I’ll get the whisky and the hot water, and I will ask Mr Anderson to bring up a couple of oil lamps,” said Mrs McPhee before she bustled out of the room.

“
Ah yes. Well, Mr Simon, it looks as if you have had a lucky escape. Nothing seems to be too badly damaged and now we just have to get that lead ball out. It is not too deep at least.”

“
I think he was too far away. The bullet must have slowed by the time it hit me. Damned good shot if you ask me.”

“
Lady Ramsey, I am sure Mrs McPhee can stay to help if you feel faint.” Rebecca had managed to pull the heavy drapes aside and more sunlight flooded into the room.

“
No, I am fine. I would prefer to stay if Mr Simon will allow me.” Simon gave her a dazzling smile then winced.

At that moment, Mrs McPhee returned, holding up a bottle of whisky, a wooden spatula and a jug.

“I brought the wood for Mr Simon to bite on. I doubt the whisky will completely numb his pain.”

Mrs McPhee poured almost a full glass of whisky and handed it Rebecca.
“Make sure he drinks it all.” Rebecca nodded and moved him so that he was half leaning against her. She lifted the glass to his lips, but he growled and placed his own fingers on the tumbler.

“
I am not a child.”

“
I know. I just did not want you using your arm and hurting yourself further. The less you bleed now, the easier Mr Clarke can see to remove the lead ball.”

“
Hmm! Yes.” He slugged down the amber liquid and frowned. “Good God, that is foul. Has my brother been in England so long that he does not recognise good whisky anymore?”

“
That was the cheap stuff I sometimes use in the sauce, Mr Simon. I thought you would prefer to savour the malt.”

“
Aye. Mayhap. Oh dear. Devil take it. I am feeling a bit… Gosh, it does work fasht doesh it not.”

“
It does if you swill it down like water. Looks as if we are all set, Mr Clarke.” Mrs McPhee passed Rebecca the wooden spatula. “Get him to bite on that when the pain gets too bad.”

Rebecca took the spatula and held it. She had decided not to watch since she was not entirely sure how strong her stomach was for blood and had no wish to be another casualty. Instead she busied her mind, soothing Simon and wishing that his brother would hurry up and come home. Somehow having Daniel in the house made her feel much better.