A Rake for All Seasons: A Regency and Victorian Romance Boxset

by Samantha Holt

  It should have been a terrifying thought.

  So why was it not?

  Chapter Eleven

  Though the hour was late, the inn proved to be crowded. Reed hoped the eyepatch and his general demeanor was intimidating enough to keep any wandering hands from finding Orelia. The damn woman might be dressed like a peasant but that did not hide her beauty. He was acutely aware that bringing her into The Red Lion was like bringing bread crumbs to a starving man. They’d scoop her up and eat her in one go if he let them.

  “Stay close to me,” he murmured to her.

  There was no chance they would stay here for the night. Once they were done, he’d find them a more suitable inn in which to stay. It would not be on par with some of the fine hotels in London or Bath but somewhere a little safer and quiet would do. If he’d have been alone, he might have stayed but even with knowing how well Orelia could handle herself, he did not want to be responsible for her coming to harm.

  He smirked.

  After all, she was his ‘fiancée.’

  What would his mother think?

  He wondered if his mother might not be at least a little impressed at her quick thinking on the road tonight. No one would stop for him, but for a pregnant woman... and she played the role so very nicely. It seemed he was not the only one with the ability to think on his feet.

  With Orelia’s hand clasped in his, he guided her through to the bar area. Smoke lingered in the air, partly from the fire in the grate which was burning with poor wood and likely a half-blocked chimney, and partly from the cigarettes some of the patrons smoked. It hung like a woolen blanket around his head.

  Underfoot the floor was sticky with spilled ale. He’d wager there were other foodstuffs likely added to the concoction along with rat droppings and whatever had been traipsed in by foot.

  She leaned into him. “How will we know who to ask?”

  “I’ll speak with the innkeeper first,” he told her over the din of male laughter and the general hubbub of conversation.

  “I do not see any Romani.”

  “You can tell?”

  “We do tend to stand out.”

  Reed shrugged. Were it not for Orelia coming from the gypsy camp, he would not have thought of her roots. Mostly he would have been considering her figure and beautiful lips. And if she had been dressed in a sumptuous gown, he probably would have thought her to be from Spain or some other warm place.

  They broke through the crowds to the bar. A man with tattoos on his arms and grey, wispy hair that stood at all angles served two gentlemen before turning his attention to them.

  “Two ales.”

  The man nodded, pulled out two jugs, spat in them and gave them a quick rub with his cloth. If this bothered Orelia, she made no mention of it. Reed could not help but grin. What a woman she was. If he had brought one of the society ladies like Lady Edith, they’d be out of here within moments. In fact, he didn’t think he’d have managed to drag them through the door let alone have them stand and watch such a display. With the ales poured, he handed over some coin and leaned against the bar.

  “I heard there were some ships asking for deckhands recently.”

  The man nodded. “You looking for work?”

  “Could be.”

  “We haven’t had anyone in for a while, I’m afraid to say. It might be worth going down to the docks and asking.” The barkeeper shrugged.

  “Which ship was recruiting before?”

  The man paused and scratched his head, forcing his hair into more disarray. “The HMS Norfolk I believe. A few of the regular men were on it, though they haven’t got work since.”

  “Are they here tonight?”

  The barkeep shook his head and huffed. “Lord, do you want me to go out and find a job for you?” He glanced around. “No, I don’t see them but then they aren’t usually in until Friday.” He motioned to the waiting patrons. “If you don’t mind, some of us do have a job to do.”

  “Now what?” Orelia asked.

  “Drink your ale.” He thrust the mug into her hand. “Then we shall find somewhere to stay for the night. We’ll have to come back tomorrow to find these men.”

  She peered over the edge of the mug and then at him. He took a generous drink of the weak ale. She gave him a jaunty grin and tipped it back. He watched as she gulped it down before slamming it onto the bar. Reed chuckled.

  “Thirsty?”

  She gave a tiny shudder. “Something like that.” Taking his hand, she tugged him away from the bar and he put his own drink down on a nearby table. “Let us get out of here, we’re garnering a few looks.”

  He peered around, surprised to notice she was right. That was unusual, and it worried him. Normally he could be counted on to know exactly what was happening around him. For some reason, he had not been so on guard, despite lecturing himself about looking after Orelia.

  Careful to keep his eye on their surroundings this time, Reed led her out of the inn and down the main road. “There’s a more reputable inn just down the road.”

  “You know Portsmouth?”

  “Yes, I sailed out from here once or twice.”

  “Will we fit in at a reputable inn? I hate to say it, Reed, but you are not your usual, dashing self in that disguise.”

  “It is reputable but hardly the sort of place the nobility stay. But it has clean beds and good food. What more do we need?”

  Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she swung a glance his way. “I never thought I’d hear a duke utter such words. Do you not need, oh I don’t know, a one hundred course meal, and a bed stuffed with dove feathers and servants to attend your every whim?”

  He grinned. “I hope you know me better than that by now.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew her close as they passed another inn with several patrons sitting outside. “I certainly wouldn’t complain about the dove feathers, but I can live on a lot less than my counterparts.”

  “Do you think them spoiled?”

  He let his brow furrow. “I’m not sure. Not more than I am, I suppose, but my experience has been different. I think they just do not know any better.”

  Orelia gave a sigh. “I used to dream of living in a house like yours. Of course, I hardly knew what one would look like inside, but I imagined there to be a lot of gold.”

  “Gold?”

  “Yes.” She giggled. “Gold everywhere!”

  “Even the beds?”

  “Especially the beds. A golden bed with the softest mattress you could imagine. That’s what I used to dream of when sleeping in the caravan.”

  “Help me with this and perhaps I shall find you a golden bed.”

  She shook her head and leaned into him. “I cannot deny the idea of living as you do holds appeal, but I know full well I could never fit into a life like yours.”

  “What makes you think I fit in with a life like mine?”

  “Do you not?”

  “Why do you think I took up the chance to go to France? Far more interesting than sitting around playing duke.”

  “So you decided to play spy instead?”

  He motioned to an inn tucked into the corner of the town square. White washed, with an uneven roof, it was hardly an imposing building but that kept away too many visitors and would be ideal for them. He ignored Orelia’s question and pulled open the heavy wooden door to let her in.

  He didn’t consider what he’d done playing as such. Heck, he’d been in danger several times during his years in France. But of course there had been an element of avoiding his duties. What man in his right mind wished to sit around and manage farm land? Well, Noah did. It had been all he’d ever wanted as a boy. Fleeing the country and helping the war gave them both an opportunity to do what they actually wanted.

  Reed arranged them a shared room, signing them in as Mr. and Mrs. Moseley.

  “Moseley?” Orelia asked once they entered the room.

  “My butler.”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  “It giv
es me a little pleasure to imagine how he’d feel being involved in something so sordid.”

  “Sordid?” She did a loop around the small room that was tucked up in the eaves of the building. A tiny window looked out onto the town square under which a table and basin sat. The bed was a decent size and clean, as promised. With the low eaves, however, he would have to be careful not to strike his head.

  “Well, you and I sharing a room...” He motioned around.

  “Is that sordid?”

  He narrowed his gaze at her. “I have no intention of making it so, but I know Moseley would think it is.”

  She dropped onto the bed and shoved the tip of her thumb into her mouth. “We will be sharing a bed?”

  He paused to truly look at her. Sometimes he forgot she was quite young. She seemed so experienced and confident at times. Did the idea of sharing a bed with him scare her?

  “I shall sleep on the chair.” He tapped the side of the rather fragile-looking piece of furniture with his foot. It gave a creak, and something snapped. “Or the floor perhaps.”

  Orelia shook her head and laughed. “You can share with me, I do not mind. I just was not sure what was expected and I’m sure the ladies you spend time with would be shocked at anyone allowing such liberties but...I trust you.”

  Who would have thought three such simple words could have such an impact? She trusted him.

  A grin escaped him. The words created a terrifyingly warm, fuzzy feeling inside him. What the devil was wrong with him? Yes, she was a fascinating creature and he enjoyed her company. But there were many women who had fascinated him in the past and there would surely be many more. So why on earth did gaining her trust mean so much to him?

  “Well,” he said, “you will be astonished to hear you are much mistaken. There are many members of the ton who are far more scandalous than you could imagine.”

  “One of my friends used to read the scandal sheets out loud to us all.”

  “The scandal sheets hardly skim the surface of it.” He shucked off his jacket and began to flick open the buttons of his waistcoat. “What happened to your friend?”

  “She married. They went to Ireland, I believe.”

  “And what of your other friends, will you not miss them when you do...whatever it is you plan to do?”

  “The Romani community is a close one, but we have many rules. What happens in our community remains in it. That means that if a husband is a bad husband, there is little anyone can do about it.”

  Reed snorted. “That sounds like the ton.”

  “I am not sure I can count many of them as true friends. They are more like...” She pursed her lips. “More like family. Sometimes you do not always like your family, even if you love them.”

  “So will you miss your family?”

  She shook her head. “I always felt I was meant for something else. To be free perhaps. I’m not sure. It is probably my English blood that does it. It means I am not quite one of them.” She gave a smile. “I quite like the idea of opening a tea shop.”

  Reed rubbed his forehead. Of all the ambitions to have, Orelia’s amounted to serving others. The woman would never cease to amaze.

  “Come on, we had better try to sleep,” he suggested. “We have another busy day ahead and you need to rest that leg of yours.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Orelia rolled and eyed the plump pillow on which her head was buried. It might not be as luxurious as the bed at the abbey but it was certainly more pleasant than sleeping in the wagon. She rolled to the other side again and froze mid-stretch. Reed was standing with his back to her.

  His bare back.

  She swallowed and eyed the flex of muscles across his shoulders, hardly daring to breathe.

  He dipped his hands into the wash basin on the table and sloshed water across his chest. Trickles ran over his shoulders and she eyed them as they trailed down his back. Her mouth grew incredibly dry. Reed was a remarkable specimen of a man. Witty, clever, funny and far too handsome for his own good. How on earth had she ended up in such a position? A gypsy girl sharing a room with a duke whilst hunting for would-be killers... If she could read, she doubted she would have ever read a story like it.

  He pushed his hands through his hair and snatched a nearby towel. Her breathing grew thick while he dried himself, each flex of muscle making her heart pound harder. There was no denying it. With all these kisses and the time spent with him, she was finding herself increasingly attracted to him. But what good would that do her? She was hardly the sort to take lovers. Despite having travelled the country, her existence had been quite sheltered.

  Orelia tried to turn her attention to the ceiling. However, the dark wooden beams would not hold her attention for long and it traitorously tracked back to Reed. He dropped the towel on the table and reached for his shirt. The cotton skimmed his skin. A hint of slightly whiter skin teased her at the waist of his breeches as he stretched to put the garment on. How often did he spend time out of doors shirtless, she wondered. And what would his skin feel like beneath her fingertips?

  He turned abruptly, and she snapped shut her eyes. Her breaths were heavy in her ears. Had he seen her looking? What would he think if he had caught her? Did he enjoy her admiration? He was a confident man, he likely would. But would it mean anything more coming from her?

  Foolish girl. Of course it wouldn’t. There was some rustling and a few footsteps. She risked drawing open her eyes to find him tying his cravat. He glanced at her, a half-smile on his face and a twinkle in his eyes. Oh dear, perhaps he’d known she was watching. He was a spy after all. He’d likely be aware of everything that was going on around him.

  She feigned a stretch.

  “Sleep well?”

  “Wonderfully,” she replied. “Have you been awake long?”

  “A little while.”

  She pushed herself up to sitting, acutely aware of her bare legs beneath the sheets. The previous night when they had been sore and tired from travelling, it seemed foolish to make him sleep on the floor or the horribly rickety chair and astonishingly she had been too worn out to worry about her legs brushing his strong hairy ones or the inappropriateness of the situation. She snorted to herself. Not that it would matter to anyone. After all, she was meant to be engaged to him. Of course, sharing a bed before they were even married would be frowned upon even in the Romani community, but no one would know, and her mother cared little for her reputation now.

  Running a hand through her hair, she eyed Reed. “What was keeping you awake? Are you concerned we won’t find these men?”

  He gave a smirk. “Hardly.”

  “Then what...”

  He glanced over her cotton wrapped form and the slightest darkening of his eyes told her why. He had found sharing a bed with her distracting. It should not but the knowledge warmed her. She did not feel so guilty for her voyeurism now.

  “I shall see what I can rustle up for the morning meal whilst you dress,” he said, snatching up his jacket. He strode out of the room before she could answer. When Reed left, the air remained thick with unspoken...desire?

  Orelia washed and dressed with haste, listening out for the returning footsteps of Reed. He didn’t come back until she was running her fingers through her hair and had been dressed for quite some time. He entered holding a steaming pot of what smelled to be coffee and generous slabs of bread and a pot of jam.

  He placed them down on the table and ran a glance over her. “All dressed I see.”

  “Yes.” She smoothed down her gown. “I’m ready to go when you are.”

  “So we shall speak to your contact today?”

  “That is my hope,” he confirmed, finally reaching for a slice of bread. “Then tonight, we can head to the inn again and see if your friends are there.”

  “They are hardly my friends.”

  His lips tilted. “You’ve defended them well, considering you don’t think so.”

  “Because you are all so quick to judge. What if it’s t
he captain of the ship that was behind it? What if it was someone else?”

  She watched as he took a bite from the bread, admiring his even teeth and watching the crumb that dangled briefly on his lip before he swiped it away.

  “I have to research every avenue, Orelia. Like it or not, your fellow Romani are the most likely suspects. After all, there are many who are not exactly law-abiding are there not?”

  She blinked, having hardly heard him. A rush of heat surged into her face. She’d been too busy thinking of when those lips had been upon hers.

  “There are many people who are not law-abiding, not just the Romani. We all do what we must to make sure we do not starve. I wouldn’t expect you to understand that.”

  “I have never had to worry about starving, I shall give you that much, but I like to think that my experiences during the war mark me out a little from the usual rich heir to a title. However, I cannot let personal experience and my own judgement get in the way of the investigation. I have to find the would-be killers.”

  “And if you’re wrong?”

  “Then I shall continue the investigation until I track them down.”

  “It will not be the Romani men,” she said determinedly.

  “If you do not eat up, then we shall never know.”

  She glanced at the remaining food and any annoyance vanished. He had somehow eaten his fair share of the bread while she had been getting annoyed with him. And now he grinned at her with that charming smile that made any frustration disappear like a puff of smoke.

  The tension that had been clouding around her eased. They were back to where they were before, and she was grateful.

  Orelia had another slice of bread before they left the inn. She didn’t know the town at all so let him lead her through the busy streets. Though the hour was early, and no fashionable people were awake, merchants and poor folk hurried about their business. They passed a ribbon shop and she paused to admire the beautiful colors and fabrics with a little envy. Before long, she reminded herself, she would be able to purchase all the ribbons her heart desired.

  Reed led them through the streets and alleyways to a tiny chandlery. She wrinkled her nose. The odor of hot wax hung strong in the air.