A Rake's Reward Read online

  She took Sara’s hands in her own and pressed her cheek to hers. Sara inhaled the scent of roses—such a refreshing change from the damp smell of the carriage or the past months of salty sea.

  “Welcome, my dear Sara! Welcome to Darlington! Welcome to England!”

  Months of on-board practice had Sara automatically sinking into a proper curtsey.   “It is an honor to meet you, ma’am,” she said, exactly as her father had instructed her just before she’d left.

   “Ma’am? Why, we’ll have none of that! It is Aunt Deanna to you.” Her warm smile reassured Sara that everything was going to be all right.

  Unfortunately, her relief didn’t last long—only long enough for Sara to remember all of her father’s admonishments to make a good impression on her aunt. If only she knew how.  She gave her aunt the best smile she could manage, considering her nerves had dropped right back into the pit of her stomach.

  “I must admit to you,” Lady Darlington said, holding Sara at arm’s length and searching her face, “I have been exceedingly nervous all day at the prospect of meeting you. Is that not right, Alton?”

  She turned to face a middle-aged gentleman who had been standing by the window. Sara hadn’t even noticed the man until her aunt had spoken to him, but now he came forward. He looked exactly as Sara imagined all gentleman farmers would look, wearing buckskin breeches, a blue coat of superfine and a simple white neck cloth tied carelessly under his chin. He too wore a large welcoming smile, but he stopped short of Sara and bowed formally. She curtsied in response.

  “Indeed, Miss Whately,” the gentleman said, a broad grin covering his well-lined face. “Your aunt has been flitting here and there, unable to stay in any one place for more than a minute all afternoon.”

  Lady Darlington giggled. “Oh dear, how true, how true.”

  “Deanna, will you not do the honor of introducing us? I know who Miss Whately is, but I believe she must be wondering who I am.” The severity of his words was softened by the crinkles of a smile around the corners of his mouth and eyes.

  “Oh, of course, how forgetful I am!” Lady Darlington turned to her niece. “Sara, may I present my very good friend and neighbor, Justin, Baron Alton?”

  Sara curtsied again. “I am pleased to meet you, sir.”

  “The pleasure is mine. I hear you are come from the wilds of America,” he said with a grand gesture and laughter in his voice.

  Sara returned his smile, but wasn’t certain if he was serious or making some sort of joke. She answered carefully. “Not the wilds, sir. I have come from Philadelphia.”

  “Ah. Please do forgive me. I did not know from whence in America you had come. I must warn you that not many people here know the degree of civilization that has been established in Philadelphia.”

  “Have you been, sir?” Sara asked, now intrigued.

  “Alas, I have not had the opportunity. But I have heard and read a great deal.”

  Her aunt put a stop to what could have become a difficult, if not contentious, conversation by giving a gentle pull on Sara’s hands, guiding her toward the sofa. “You must be exhausted. Tell me how your journey went.”

  Now here was her opportunity to make a good impression! Sara knew exactly how to impress her father; his sister was bound to be the same.  “It was fine enough, ma’am, until I reached Portsmouth. Then I had a rather disagreeable encounter with a viscount.”

  “A viscount? I don’t understand,” Lady Darlington said, cocking her head a touch.

  Sara gave a giggle as she recalled the confrontation. “It was quite incredible. This man behaved in exactly the way I had been warned an English gentleman would act. First, he expected me to simply give up my post chaise—the last one available—simply because he had a title. Then, when I refused, he tried to intimidate me with his size. He was enormous! He quite filled the entire private parlor I had secured for myself. Finally, when that failed, he turned on his charm. Clearly, he expected to me to just give in to him because he was handsome!” Sara couldn’t help but truly laugh as she remembered how ridiculous the man had been.

  “Lud! What a picture you paint, my dear! What did you do?” her aunt asked.

  “Why, I told him precisely what I thought of him and his grand title then I sent him on his way. After having met this pompous gentleman with his lofty pretensions, I must say, I was never so proud of my papa for having stopped using his title. The nerve of these English noblemen! They all think that they’re better than everyone else simply because of the happenstance of birth.” She laughed just at the thought, inviting her aunt to join her, but Lady Darlington was looking confused.

  “I believe, Miss Whately,” Lord Alton said gently, “you will need to remember that I, your aunt and nearly everyone you are going to meet will be of the nobility. I believe it would be best if you set aside your father’s Republican ideals and remember where you are and with whom you are speaking.”

  Sara’s eyes widened. Clearly she'd made a major miscalculation. She sank back down on to the sofa, unable to speak a word or look either of them in the eye.

  Lady Darlington reached out and patted Sara's hands, which sat clenched in her lap. “Now, now, my dear, do not look quite so stricken. I’m certain you didn’t mean anything personally.”

  The lump in Sara's throat made it impossible for her to say anything, but she shook her head. She'd only wanted to make a good impression, and instead she'd done just the opposite. She didn't know what to do.

  “No, of course not,” her aunt continued. “Although I am afraid Lord Alton is right. Who knows what nonsense your father has filled your head with, but you must forget it all now that you are here and to be presented to society.”

  All of her father’s lectures now rang in her ears. How could she simply forget lessons she’d heard again and again throughout her entire life? An Englishman’s title was meaningless unless backed by responsible behavior such as taking care of one’s property and looking after all those who lived and worked there. Proper behavior and participating in government—these were the marks of a responsible nobleman. Not using one’s title to get things. Not strutting about society as if they hadn’t a care in the world and ignoring all save themselves and their pleasures. How many times had she been lectured thus?

  And now, here she was among the nobility she’d been warned of where she would be forced to be polite to such poppycocks, to dance and socialize with them—perhaps even marry one! No, she could not believe that her father had wanted that for her. She simply could not believe… and yet he’d sent her here to be presented to society by her aunt.

  But it was clear that Lord Alton was correct. She would not forget everything her father had taught her, but she should, at the very least, keep a sharp hold of her tongue.

  She turned to the gentleman. With a deep intake of air, she said, “I must beg your pardon, my lord. My father has indeed taught me well his Republican ideals, and yet he sent me here to be brought out by my aunt. The juxtaposition in his thinking still baffles me. The only reasoning I can imagine is that he did this so that I could learn. Clearly, I have just had my first lesson.”

  Lord Alton’s expression softened immediately. “You are an intelligent young woman, Miss Whately. I think you’re going to do very well.”

  “Thank you, sir,” she said, grateful he had no hard feelings.

  “Of course she’s going to do well,” Aunt Deanna scoffed. “Naturally she is intelligent. She is my niece!”

  Lord Alton burst out laughing. He looked for a minute as if he might say something, but then quickly changed his mind. “Indeed, my sweet Deanna, indeed.”

  “But who was this viscount?” Aunt Deanna said, getting back to what was clearly more important to her. “You don’t remember his name?”

  “No, ma’am. Only that he had black hair and slashing black eyebrows over the most striking gray eyes, and a smile... well, he was very handsome.” Sara felt her face heat once again, only this time, not from embarrassment. “O
h, and he clearly felt himself to be very important, saying that he had just come from India and had pressing matters of state to which he had to attend. Although, I’m certain he was just saying that to get me to give him my post chaise.”

  “India?” Lady Darlington turned to Lord Alton. “Justin, you don’t... you wouldn’t think it was...”

  Lord Alton was quiet for a moment, his eyes searching Lady Darlington’s as they shared some unspoken communication. “Yes, Deanna, I am sorry, but it does indeed sound like it was.”

  All the color left Lady Darlington’s face.

  “Are you all right?” Sara asked. She grabbed a magazine from off the table next to her and began waving it in front of her aunt’s face.

  “Yes. Yes, my dear. You are very kind. I just felt a trifle dizzy for a moment. But I shall be better directly, I assure you.”

  Lord Alton sat down on her other side, concern filling his eyes. “Deanna, do not worry so. He will do nothing.” He gently took her other hand and patted it.

  “No, I am not worried about him—but society?”

  Lord Alton frowned for a moment. “Their memory is not so long, I assure you.”

  “I do hope you are right.” She took a deep breath to compose herself. “Now Alton, if you will be so kind as to leave. Sara and I are going to sit and have a nice little coze, just the two of us.”

  A small smile formed on Lord Alton’s face as he rose. “Miss Whately, do you also have a habit of telling your friends what they may and may not do, and when they must leave your presence?”

  “Yes, I must admit that I do,” Sara replied, giving a little laugh at his pretense of being put out.

  “Of course she does! And I am sure we will find that we have many more things in common if you would only go away so that we may discover them,” said Lady Darlington with what Sara could only think of as a coquettish smile.

  She shooed Alton away with a gesture. “On your way out, tell Coddles to send in some tea.”

  Coddles? The uptight butler’s name is Coddles? Sara nearly let out a burst of laughter, and then choked trying to hold it in.

  Lord Alton, perhaps thinking that she was laughing at her aunt’s dismissal of him, gave her a wink and then both of them a small bow before leaving.

  Lady Darlington turned back to Sara. “There. Now that that man is gone, we can finally talk.”

  “He is a very close friend of yours, ma’am?”

  “Justin? Oh yes, of course. He and I have been friends for years. He was with me when Darlington died. Don’t know what I would have done without him all these years, honestly.” Her aunt surreptitiously wiped at the corner of her eye with her handkerchief. “But enough about him. And I want you to forget all about that horrible viscount, Portsmouth and your journey. Just tell me about yourself.” She took Sara’s hands in hers again and looked at her expectantly.

  “I... I don’t know what to tell you, ma’am.”

  “Well, first of all you must stop calling me ‘ma’am’. And tell me about your father. How is he? I can never tell from those letters he writes. They are so...so literary. I can’t make head or tail of what he is trying to say, if anything.”

  Sara smiled. Her father’s writing style was, in fact, very difficult to decipher. Sara had been reading her father’s writing her whole life and so was used to it, but she could clearly see how her aunt would have trouble.

  “My father is well, thank you. I left him in the care of our neighbor, Mrs. Cartwright. We have no housekeeper, you know, and I took our only maid with me for he would not hear of my traveling alone.”

  “Absolutely correct. You cannot go anywhere alone, my dear, but I am sure you know that,” her aunt concurred.

  Sara was silent for a moment. Surely, her aunt meant she could not go on long journeys alone. She was used to her freedom when going out shopping near to her home in Philadelphia. She turned her mind back to her father.

  Gently pulling her hands away from her aunt’s grasp, she clasped them tightly together in her lap. She had never felt so worried before, but had never been away from her father either. It was a completely helpless feeling she did not like at all.

  Thousands of miles away, she was completely unable to ensure that her papa was being properly taken care of. Even if she were to write to see how he went on, it would take weeks, if not months, for a letter to reach him—if it did at all, with the hostilities growing between America and Great Britain. She still felt an enormous amount of relief that she had reached British shores safely.

  “I do hope he is all right. He is rather lost in his work most of the time. He probably would not remember to eat or sleep if someone were not there to remind him.”

  “Do not worry, my dear. I am sure he is fine.” Lady Darlington patted Sara’s hand. “I did not mean to upset you.”

  Sara swallowed hard and pasted a smile on her face. “It is all right. I am being silly, of course. I am sure he is greatly relieved to be out from under my thumb and is enjoying his new found freedom.” The words came from her mouth but not her heart.

  Lady Darlington stood up. “I believe I have been terribly selfish, Sara. You must be exhausted from your trip, and here I have kept you gabbing. Let me show you to your room so that you may rest a spell before supper.”

  “That is not necessary, Aunt, I assure you...” Sara began.

  “Pish-tosh! There is no need to stand on formality with me, my dear. I am your family. I can see in your eyes that you are ready to drop.”

  Chapter Three

  Reath urged his horses to a faster pace. The perfectly matched pair were exceptional, and his father’s curricle was built for speed. If for no other reason than getting this equipage, the delay in his trip caused by stopping at his family seat was worthwhile. Of course, his mother would have skinned his hide if he hadn’t stopped to pay his respects to her as well.

  Appreciating the sight of strong muscles rippling under the horses’ sleek brown coats, Reath found himself momentarily distracted from his driving. They really were an excellently matched pair. If there was one thing his father had known about, it was prime-blood horses. He’d always had the best, and in this Reath took after his father—he truly appreciated a fine horse—and two were even better.

  At the other extreme, of course, there was the mount that had gotten him out of Portsmouth. The nag he had finally been able to borrow just barely got him as far as the next posting house along the road. He laughed at the contrast. In fact, he had been quite relieved that the beast had been able to carry him so far—a sorrier looking creature Reath had never ridden.

  This pair was able to maintain an impressive speed, and Reath thrilled in the feeling. The drive along the main roads had been quick and easy, and now he kept a strong hand on the reins as he guided the pair through the narrow winding lane. Such speed and power was heady to one who had been cooped up on a ship for the past five months.

  He still couldn’t get his experience in Portsmouth out of his mind. That American girl had such temerity! No one had spoken to him like that, ever! It still made him laugh. He didn’t know if it was the strangeness of the experience, or her mere presence—those beautiful, flashing blue eyes and such a strong, determined stance in one so delicate and petite—which made him forgive her rudeness.

  The light curricle swung around a tight corner, one wheel nearly lifting off the ground. On the other side of the blind curve, a girl was slowly riding down the middle of the road. Within moments, he would be upon her.

  Reath acted quickly, pulling hard on the reins and veering off to one side at the same time. The horses managed to move over just enough so that he missed the girl by a hair. From the corner of his eye, he saw her fly from her rearing horse.

  He brought his frightened pair to a standstill, realizing that both he and the horses were trembling at the near miss. But he had no time to dwell on his own feelings or deal with his own terrified horses. Jumping down and running back to the girl, he found her lying face down on the ro
ad where her horse had thrown her before bolting.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, kneeling down in front of her.

  >>*
  “What idiot in his right mind comes barreling around a curve like—”

  The words in Sara’s mouth dried up as she looked over her shoulder. It was that villainous viscount from Portsmouth. And now here he was bending over her with such concern in his beautiful gray eyes.

  He had sucked in a breath the moment she’d turned her face toward him, clearly recognizing her the same moment she had him. But the shock on his face had quickly turned to something else. He began to laugh.

  “Only you could be thrown into the dirt and respond with acid on your tongue,” he said, with a shake of his head. “No, no, don’t move,” he said quickly when Sara made a move to turn over and sit up.

  Intense embarrassment rushed through Sara so fast she felt light-headed. Briefly, she wondered whether he would go away if she fainted — no, he’d probably become even more concerned for her. Damn! There was nothing she could do.

  “Are any bones broken?” he asked, reaching down to feel her ankle without waiting for a response.

  The heat from his hand shot up her leg. Instinctively, Sara pulled back out of his reach.

  “Do you simply expect me to lay here nibbling dirt while you enjoy yourself?” she asked, unable to stop her traitorous tongue from speaking before she even had a chance to review what it was going to say.

  He pulled back, drawing his eyebrows down over his eyes.

  Sara dropped her forehead on to her hands. “I’m so sorry. I don’t think… Yes,” she lifted her head again and looked at him over her shoulder, “I don’t think. You must excuse me, my tongue seems to have a mind of its own.” She rolled over and sat up.

  This time her head really did reel.