The Redemption of Lord Rawlings (24 page)

“
Beast!” Abigail gave an offending look before kissing him on the mouth. Oh how he wanted her to do it again. Tasting her, it seemed, would never satisfy him, he had to be next to her, to overwhelm her. She was his addiction, and he had no plans to ever quit.

Darkness began to envelop them as the sun went down, and Phillip was anything but tired. So he spent the night in his lover’s arms completely happy to shed his earlier persona and watching in utter fascination and ecstasy as Abigail embraced him fully for the man he always wanted to be.

Chapter Twenty-two

Everyone within this author
’s social circle is set to be invited, even those of lesser families—to my great disapproval. However, it seems that a surprise is in store for us. For not only is Lord Renwick scheduled to make an appearance with his new bride, but his mother as well. Let us watch the entertainment as the woman in question makes a public display of stupidity, shall we? Tonight will be an unforgettable night. Remember good people, it was I who said this first, for don’t I always know what’s to happen before it does? Take my word on it, my friends, this author promises drama to be the main course.

—
Mrs. Peabody’s Society Papers

Phillip managed, just slightly, to calm his breathing as he escorted Abby through the doors of the large Mansion in Mayfair. The De Creaux, it seemed, were trying to out-do themselves. The décor must have cost dearly.

Candles were littered with reckless abandon everywhere. Large billowy pieces of white material hung like clouds from the ceiling. And by the looks of it, everyone was waiting for their arrival, for when their names were announced, the room went deadly quiet. That is, until the Dowager of Barlowe began clapping. As usual everyone followed in her wake and soon cheers were heard for the newlyweds.

Abby blushed and held so tight to Phillip’s arm he thought a vice would be more pleasurable.

“
Nervous?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Not so much nervous as I have this dreadful feeling that your mother is going to come storming through the doors and yell hateful things.”

Phillip shrugged. “My stepmother is many things–vain, selfish, a liar—but surprisingly enough, insanity is not one of her attributes. Though I’m willing to believe she’s dangerously close now. It’s far too important for her to hold up appearances. Believe me, if she does attend, she will stay far away from us. By now, she should have received my missive ordering her immediate removal from London to our estate in Scotland.”

“
I can’t imagine her taking that well,” Abby muttered under her breath as they passed a few smiling couples.

“
It was reported back that my stepmother has quite the ability with words. And was sent to bed soon after the missive. Naturally a doctor was called for. He prescribed Laudanum and a good vacation. Which is when her maid stepped in and suggested she leave the city for a while, not knowing that was exactly what had her so upset.”

“
Oh dear.” Abby stifled a laugh as they made their way toward Sebastian and Emma.

“
Yes.” Phillip held her closer as he whispered in her ear, “The dowager was not pleased and tried to fire the girl.”

Abigail gasped.

“
Have no worries, I’ve hired her. We need more staff at our home. It was not an issue. So you see, my dear,” he continued as they came upon their destination, “she is either home sleeping off that dreadful stuff or packing.”

Abby let go of his arm and smiled. “I am glad we can enjoy the night together then.”

Phillip, forgetting he was in public, leaned in to kiss his wife, but was interrupted by a kick to the shin.

He cursed. “What was that for?”

Sebastian shrugged. “Isn’t proper in public.”

Phillip rolled his eyes. “Says the man who only months ago nearly mauled his wife in front of the
ton
.”

“
Yes well, I was proving a point,” Sebastian argued.

“
As am I.”

Sebastian scoffed, “We all know how much in love you two are, it’s the only thing people are talking about. Well that and your stepmother’s disgrace.”

“
I was just telling Abigail that I doubt she’ll make an app—”

”
You!”
A shrill voice screamed above the noise.

The music stopped. Abigail’s mouth dropped open. With a knowing smile on his lips, Phillip turned around and cursed.

“
Hello, Mother.”

“
You, you,
rake
! Of all the horrid things you have done, this tops them all!” she screamed, both of her hands fisted at her sides, looking much like a three-year-old having a public fit set to get her own way. Her dress, though fashionable, was slightly wrinkled, and dark spots were visible beneath her eyes. All in all, he had never seen her look so haggard, and in public nonetheless.

Phillip managed not to laugh. “Yes, I do believe that has been established, though I would now like to put forth that I’m reformed, just so there isn’t any confusion, you understand.”

Sebastian choked on his laugh behind him. Several other greedy gazes took in the scene with utter delight.

“
You have taken everything! Have you no love for your only living relation?” She snickered coldly. “Oh well, I guess that isn’t entirely true. You do have that bastard John, don’t you? Though he’s somewhere in Newgate.”

A lady gasped next to him, though he couldn’t tell if it was Abigail or a stranger.

“
You will cease, madam, and I will escort you from the premises.” He made a move to touch her but was pushed away by strong hands.

“
Don’t touch her!” Whitmore stood in front of the Dowager Rawlings.

“
It's like the theatre, is it not?” Sebastian whisper behind him.

“
Always so helpful when others are in distress,” Phillip muttered as a crazed-looking Whitmore stood proud and inebriated in front of his mother. Not sure on his feet, the man swayed this way and that. Pity, for Phillip would have liked a good fight.

“
Whitmore, go home.”

“
I will not, not until you…ap-apologize!” He hiccupped and wiped his sleeve across his mouth. The man was completely foxed, so deep in his cups that he was falling all over his words.

“
Drooling, Whitmore?” Phillip commented and took off his jacket, handing it to Sebastian who had now joined the fun by standing closer than he was before. In slow, fluid movements, he rolled up his sleeves, ready for the very unfair fight to take place.

“
I’ll fisht you!”

“
He’ll what?” Sebastian asked.

“
Fight!” Whitmore shouted. “I will fight for her. I l-loves her!”

“
I think he means love,” Sebastian said.

“
Ah, and how does she feel about you, Whitmore?” Phillip asked, for his mother had been uncharacteristically quiet.

She blanched and began stuttering, “I, well, I…it isn’t true! We’ve nothing going on. He’s lying! He’s trying to ruin me! Whitmore is nothing more than an acquaintance I’ve seen from time to time. Truly, he means nothing to me.”

Not good.

Whitmore jerked around to face her. “All those times, those moments! I spread rumours for you! I delivered gossip to that horrid Mrs. Peabody! I even—”

As the room bustled with excitement, Phillip let out a bark of laughter and began clapping. “Bravo, at least now the mystery is solved. To think, all this time I was being attacked by my own family and a man whom I once called friend.”

“
Ahem,” A man cleared his throat.

Of course, why not add more mayhem?

Phillip looked to the stairs. A bronze fellow, one who suddenly made Phillip feel a tad inadequate, began descending the stairway. He was a giant among others, at least a head taller than the rest. His golden hair reached all the way down to his shoulders, slightly waved at the bottom. With a tanned face more suited for the colonies, Phillip gaped in curiosity, the man smiled, white teeth glowing against his skin.

It was the same gentleman he had seen at Whites. The one who had pulled him off Whitmore.

The man slowly made his way to the middle of the dance floor where Whitmore and his stepmother stood fuming. As Phillip scanned the crowd, he noticed a flicker of familiarity across some faces. Who was this man and why didn’t Phillip recognize him?

“
Saints above,” the Dowager of Barlowe gasped. “Stefan?”

Truly, it was something straight out of a Greek Tragedy.

Walking forward, the dowager, a tear running down her cheek, embraced him. And Whitmore, whose eyes were now trained on the strange fellow as if he were a ghost, turned deathly pale and made a slow motion toward the door.

The man hugged the dowager and kissed her hands before facing Whitmore. “Brother,' tis good to see you.”

Whitmore froze in his steps.

The Dowager of Rawlings fainted on the spot, only to be caught by the hard ground. She was quickly carried out, per Phillip’s head nod and Sebastian’s instructions. Leaving the two brothers in the middle of the dance floor.

Abby approached on Phillip’s left. “Well, I guess the saying is true. Just wait for another scandal to happen and they forget about yours.”

“
Astonishing!” Phillip answered, pulling her to his side.

The Dowager of Barlowe, teary-eyed, walked to the man announcing guests. Everyone looked up, awaiting the introductions.

“
Presenting Stefan Harris, Marquess of Whitmore, returned from the dead.”

Whitmore, or the old Whitmore, backed away and fled the scene, leaving the true Marquess the center of attention.

Laughing, the marquess said, “Is it not a ball? Why is there no music?”

Straightaway, the music started up again. The marquess approached Phillip and Abigail.

“
Did I not say in due time you would discover my identity?”

She swallowed and looked to Phillip then back to the marquess. “You did.” With a bow, he left.

Phillip continued to stare with jealousy as the man turned on his heel.

“
How did you know that fellow?” Phillip asked, still watching the giant of a man move through the crowds.

“
Who?” Abby smiled.

“
That man.” Phillip, now flustered, pointed, but noticing the look of adoration on his wife’s face, forgot immediately why he was so jealous. And kissed her, against Sebastian’s wishes, in the middle of the ball.

“
What a mess,” Phillip murmured as he escorted his wife to the refreshments. “Champagne or lemonade?”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Do you truly need to ask?”

“
Champagne it is.” He handed her a flute, but not before kissing her again full on the mouth. He knew Sebastian was probably off somewhere fuming over their ability to scandalize everything. But he didn’t care. He loved—no adored—no, worshipped his wife and wanted everyone to know it.

“
Rawlings?” A lady’s voice interrupted him. Snapping his head to the left, he noticed the approach of the Dowager Barlowe.

“
Your Grace.” He bowed and waited. The woman was always full of such surprises.

“
I need to apologize, and I do not like apologizing. So this stays between us or there will be the devil to pay, understand?”

Was he getting scolded? Because it felt like it. Heat crept up his neck. He glanced at Abby, who seemed just as bewildered.

“
I understand.” He was more curious as to why she would feel the need to apologize.

“
You see,” the dowager said in hushed tones. “I have kept this very thing a secret for so long and for it to get out, well my favorite hobby would be lost, and you know what happens when one has idle hands. One does things that aren’t the least bit respectable. Not that what I do isn’t a little scandalous, but what do they expect me to do, sit in my house and wait to die?”

“
Er, I am confident nobody expects that, your grace."

Abigail covered her mouth with her hand and coughed. The minx better not laugh or he’d lose control as well.

“
Thank you, Rawlings, for your kind words.”

“
Absolutely.” He smiled, and waited with anticipation.

“
I am sorry that I listened to that horrid step mother of yours in regards to your reputation. It wasn’t my place, and I see now how difficult I made life for you. I am forever grateful this girl didn’t give up on you,” She patted Abby’s hand and somehow Abigail lost her balance and tipped champagne right onto the dowager's gloves.

“
Oh no! Your Grace! My apologies!” Abigail began patting at the wet glove on the dowager's right hand.

“
Oh, have no fear. I’ll just remove my gloves. I am after all a dowager—what can society say about me?”

The woman had a point.

She removed her glove very slowly and scandalously stuffed it inside her bodice. Phillip had momentary flashes of Lady Fenton doing the same thing. Why was he was always looking at his elder’s breasts? Or forced to look is more like it.

“
Well then, may I ask one thing?” The dowager questioned.

“
Anything,” Phillip answered.

“
Actually, my dear, this question is for your wife.”