The Rake (28 page)

* * * *

She had nigh forgotten how good it felt to
be fresh and well groomed, Elspeth reflected as she made her way to
the great hall the following morning at sunrise. The gown Lord
Arnaud had sent to her had been one of her own, which had caused
her more than a pang or two. It was an older gown and well
worn--Renard had taken her better gowns and sold them at the market
to put a few coins in his pockets--but it was far better than the
one she’d mended and worn for so long.

It made her feel hopeful of a future free
from fear.

It made her incautious.

She had already passed the men working on
the wall when someone caught her arm, jerking her to a halt.
Whirling, she found herself face to face with Renard. Terror closed
her throat instantly.

“
I have missed you, my pale
Saxon rose.”

Elspeth blinked at him rapidly, trying to
force her mind to work. She didn’t think to respond in his own
language or she might well have done so, even knowing that she
would not be able to reason with him regardless. All she could
think was that Jean had told her she would be safe. “Unhand me,”
she said, her voice cold, but shaking with the terror that gripped
her.

He grinned. “Fortunately for you, I cannot
understand your guttural tongue, or I might know that for the
insult I suspect it was.”

She tried to pry his fingers loose but to no
avail. “Lord Arnaud summoned me to serve his lady,” she said
desperately.

Renard’s eyes narrowed at the only two words
that needed no translation. “Lord Arnaud?” He stepped back to
survey her from head to foot. “He’d have no interest in taking my
leavings, chere, even if not for the fact that he expects his bride
this very day.”

Elspeth licked her lips and turned to look
at the manor, so near, and yet so far away. “Jean! Please come!
Jean!” she screamed, tugging at her arm again in an attempt to free
herself.

Renard laughed, glancing around at his men,
who’d gathered closer to watch, their gazes avid as if they had
been promised a special treat. “Do you hear that? She summons the
scrawny boy to her aid! I am quaking in my boots!”

“
You should be,” Guillume
growled from directly beside them.

Renard’s head snapped around so quickly that
he met the fist Lord Arnaud slung at him head on. The impact laid
him on the ground. Blood spurted from his nose and ran down his
face. Arnaud moved to stand over him, waiting to see if he would
rise to challenge him. When Renard merely remained where he’d
fallen, holding his nose and gaping up at his brother stupidly, he
stepped back and surveyed the men who’d gathered around them.

“
Know this--the war has
ended. This is my home and I will have peace in it. No man will
take an unwilling maid. Slake your needs on the willing, or take
your coin and pay for the services of a whore.” He glanced down at
Renard, his face tight with suppressed fury. “That includes you,
brother.”

Renard picked himself up and dusted his
clothes off. He was angry but trying hard to hide it. He laughed
unconvincingly. “She is willing. She likes to play coy, but she was
more than willing until she set her sights a little higher. If you
want her for yourself, though, brother, who am I to deny you?”

Lord Arnaud’s eyes narrowed. “She was
summoned to serve my lady. Lady Rosabel has been sheltered and
would be distressed to see her maids misused. I saw nothing to
indicate that she was willing, and much to indicate otherwise--but
if you want it verified, I will send for Jean to interpret for
you.”

Renard glared at him. “If you do not want
her for herself, then why not give her to me as a reward for
securing Rasgarth for you?”

Lord Arnaud gave him a look. “Do not draw me
into a discussion, here, regarding what you have done for me,
brother. She will serve my lady and you will look elsewhere for a
layman. I suggest, this time, that you use gentle persuasion. It
will take you further with the woman you choose to bestow your
favors upon.”

Lord Arnaud had already turned to leave when
Renard spoke again. “Your gentle bride will not be pleased to learn
that she is being waited upon by a Saxon whore.”

Lord Arnaud turned to survey his brother
coldly. “I would be … very displeased if Rosabel were to hear
anything that might distress her.”

With that, he turned and strode toward the
manor once more. Elspeth stared after him for several moments,
glanced at Renard, and hurried to catch up to him. She was so busy
trying to set herself to rights that she nearly plowed into him
when he stopped just inside the door.

She looked up at him when he turned to study
her, swallowing her residual fear with an effort. “Merci, my lord,”
she said shakily and bobbed a nervous curtsey.

He surveyed her with keen interest, his gaze
missing nothing. After a moment, his face hardened. Lifting a hand,
he caught the thick braid that lay across her shoulder, stroking
his thumb over her smoothly bound hair almost absently. “It is as I
thought--hair the color of sunlight; eyes as cool as a placid lake
under a summer sky; skin like cream; and lips like ripe
berries--you are clever as well as beautiful, chere--a dangerous
combination. But do not thank me so quickly.” Releasing her braid,
he ran the back of his hand lightly down her cheek. “If I were not
forsworn, I would have you for myself--and I am not at all certain
that it would sway me if you were unwilling. If you are as wise as
you seem, you will take care not to tempt me to forsake my
vows.”

Also available from New Concepts
Publishing:

DIVINE DEVIL

By

Georgeanne Hayes

Chapter One

Sebastian Stockbridge, Viscount Huntington,
was in his study going over the accounts and nursing a touch of
hangover when his butler scratched lightly at his door. “Come,” he
called absently.

The butler entered and hovered.

Sebastian looked up at last. “What is it,
Meeks?”

“
There is a Mr. George
Winston, Esquire who requests an audience, my lord.”

Sebastian frowned. “A solicitor? He’s not
one my solicitors, is he?”

“
No, my lord.”

Sebastian thought it over. “Did I seem
excessively intoxicated to you when I came in last night,
Meeks?”

“
Not excessively, my lord,
no.”

“
Did I appear to be
laboring under any sort of distress?”

Comprehension dawned. “I’m certain this has
nothing to do with your evening, my lord.”

Relief flickered over Sebastian’s face. “In
that case, you may show him in.”

The butler bowed. “Very good, my lord. Where
should I put the--uh--females?”

Sebastian stared at his butler blankly. “Did
you mention females?”

Meeks cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I
may have failed to mention that the solicitor arrived with two
females.”

Sebastian studied the butler uneasily. “This
is very bad news, isn’t it Meeks?”

“
As to that, my lord, I
couldn’t say. Mr. Winston did mention that his business had to do
with a will, my lord.”

“
A will,” Sebastian echoed
blankly. “And he brought two females with him? How old?”

The butler thought it over. “A young lady
and a woman I presume to be her companion or governess.”

Sebastian sighed irritably, but it was
obvious the only way to get to the bottom of the mystery was to
speak to the solicitor. Finally, he waved the butler off. “You can
seat the child and her nanny in the parlor--and have some
refreshment brought. And escort Mr. ---uh--whatever the hell his
name was in here.”

The butler bowed again. “I already took the
liberty of showing them into the parlor and ordering refreshment. I
will fetch Mr. Winston.”

Mr. Winston, it transpired, was a stout,
elderly barrister, and it seemed that it was he who was laboring
under some sort of distress. Despite his attempt to behave with all
dignity, Sebastian couldn’t help but notice the man was visibly
shaken when he entered the study, sweating profusely despite the
chill of the season and looked more than a little relieved that
Lord Huntington had agreed to see him. He took the hand Sebastian
held out in both of his and wrung it for a good few minutes before
he seemed to collect himself and released it, looking around for a
seat.

“
How may I help you?”
Sebastian asked politely once he had seated himself, although the
sense of impending disaster that he’d felt from the moment Meeks
mentioned the visitor had only grown deeper when the man had
appeared.

Mr. Winston allowed a faint smile. “I’ve
come on my client’s behalf, Lord Dermot Marshall.”

Sebastian’s brows rose. “Dermot? Good, God!
He is barely three and thirty, if that much, for he and I were at
Cambridge together and I am only a couple of years younger than he.
You’re not saying--?”

Mr. Winston looked suitably solemn for one
bearing bad tidings. “Alas, we fear so. As you may or may not have
known, Lord Marshall took it into his head to go off adventuring in
the wilds of the colonies about eighteen months ago. He has not
been in communication with us in almost a year--he was in the
uncharted territories when last he sent word to us--and despite
every effort, we’ve had no luck in tracking him down.”

Sebastian rose abruptly and paced to the
hearth, fiddling unnecessarily with the fire poker while he
collected his thoughts. He hadn’t seen Dermot in nigh two years,
but they had been the best of friends since their school days
together--or so he had thought. He had certainly not heard that
Dermot had taken it in his head to go off to the Americas,
though--not that he could recall. “And you fear foul play?” he
asked slowly.

“
The possibility exists,
but from what he wrote, the territories are fairly wild--anything,
or even nothing, may have happened. All that I can say for certain
is that sufficient time has passed with no word that I felt that I
must implement his wishes.”

Sebastian turned to look at the man in
surprise. “His last will and testament? Surely you are being
precipitate in executing his will when you’ve no solid evidence
that he is--that anything has happened?”

Mr. Winston looked uncomfortable. “It’s
not--precisely his will--but his affairs must be put in order. I
feel confident that I, and my partners, can continue to handle his
financial affairs and his estate. It is his orphaned child who
requires--uh--parental care.”

Sebastian felt his jaw sag in stunned
disbelief. “His child? I didn’t even know he had wed!”

Mr. Winston reddened. “Well, my lord, as to
that, he didn’t. The girl is a--uh--legacy of a youthful
indiscretion. But when the girl’s mother died some years ago, he
took her in to rear her himself and had the paperwork done up so
that if he did not wed and produce an heir, she would inherit. The
thing is,” he added quickly, “he held you in the highest regard.
And he has requested that guardianship of his daughter pass to you
in the event that he is not here to fulfill his parental
obligations and see her suitably settled.”

“
I see,” Sebastian said
tightly, setting the poker down and moving back to his seat behind
his desk. “If that isn’t just like Der,” he muttered. “Running off
and leaving someone else to deal with his mess!”

Mr. Winston blinked, paling noticeably. “I
beg your pardon, my lord, but Miss Kathryn is a lovely young
lady….”

Sebastian cut the barrister off with a sharp
motion of his hand. “She may well be, Mr. Winston, but as it
happens, I am not wed--I’ve no desire to do so simply to provide
the chit with a home and, I don’t mind telling you my reputation
isn’t the best. I’m not only ill suited for the role of guardian, I
am not prepared … Even if I wished to be, which I don’t mind
telling you, I don’t.”

The solicitor’s shoulders slumped. He shook
his head sadly. “I feared as much. Poor child.”

Sebastian stared at the man uncomfortably.
“She has other relatives…?”

Mr. Winston shook his head sadly. “Nay. Not
a one. A few distant cousins on her father’s side, but ….” He
shrugged. “They were not best pleased that he took the girl in and
made her his heir. I hated to turn her over to them ….”

Sebastian frowned. “Where has she been
staying all this time?”

“
At Lord Marshall’s country
estate, but you must see as well as I do that that simply will not
do at all--to leave her there with no one but Miss Shirley and a
gaggle of servants? I would take her in myself, but my wife and I
are very old to be trotting after a young girl.”

Sebastian sighed irritably, but he realized
he was lost. He would have to do something for Dermot’s child. He
couldn’t simply turn his back on her.

Perhaps, he thought a little hopefully, he
could convince one of his sisters to take her in? Fanny was good
hearted, and a very motherly sort.

She had a half dozen girls of her own,
though, and the eldest just out this year. She would not be
thrilled to take another under her wing when she already had her
hands full.

Amelia he dismissed. He wouldn’t wish her on
his worst enemy. He couldn’t in good conscience push the child off
with a cold fish like that.

He shook the thoughts off. He was certain
something would come to him. Sighing, he stood. “Dermot was a dear
friend. I will do what I can for his child.”

Mr. Winston beamed at him, sitting forward
in his chair. “You will? Oh! That would be splendid! Splendid! I
have the paperwork right here if I could just take a few more
moments of your time to go over it?”

Sebastian frowned, feeling a faint
uneasiness that the man had brought the papers with him when he had
seemed to expect a rejection of the plan. If he had, then the only
explanation for bringing the papers that presented itself to
Sebastian was desperation, which was almost a more unnerving
thought than the suspicion that he had been manipulated into taking
the girl.