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

by Samantha Holt

  He stopped at the base of the tree and craned his neck upward. “Amelia?”

  She was crouched, straddling two branches, and looking awkward indeed. He could not quite fathom how she had gained such height as there were only a few branches lower down. Regardless, there was no chance she could get down with ease.

  She peered down at him. “N-Nicholas?” The tremble in her voice told him she was well-aware of the pickle she was in.

  “Whatever are you doing?”

  “I found an egg.”

  “An egg?”

  “Yes. On the floor.” Her foot slipped a little, sending his heart jarring against his chest. She squeaked and repositioned herself, gripping tight to the branches around her. “There’s a nest here. I wanted to put it back,” she explained.

  “Ah.” He eyed the branches and spotted the nest some three branches higher, nestled carefully amongst the leaves. “Did you get it back in?”

  “Yes. But now...”

  “Now you cannot get down.”

  She nodded frantically. “I made it some way down but...”

  Nicholas eyed the tree. She could slip a foot farther down perhaps but what would she grip onto then? The chances were she would go skidding down the tree and break an ankle. And that was if she was lucky. She might do even more damage.

  “Hmm.” Nicholas pulled off his hat and began unbuttoning his jacket.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Not quite sure yet.” He folded his jacket and put it next to the hat then unpopped the buttons of his waistcoat and added it to the pile.

  Taking a step back, he studied the tree again.

  “Nicholas?”

  He held up a hand. ”Just a moment.” Nodding to himself, he settled on his plan. If he could make it someway up there, he could help her more easily. If she made it up there, he could too, surely? He was taller and stronger than her too so it would be easier for him to get down.

  Making a grab for the first branch, he hooked one foot on a notch and dragged himself up. He made a grab for the second branch and pressed his other foot flat against the bark.

  “How the bloody hell did she do this?” he muttered through gritty teeth.

  “Put your foot there,” she said. “There’s a hole.”

  He glanced down and shoved his foot into the gap that was too tight for his big foot really. He grunted with effort and pulled himself higher. With some difficulty, he wrenched his boot from the hole and climbed until his face was level with Amelia’s ankle

  “Good afternoon,” he said, trying not to look at the revealed stocking and petticoats.

  Amelia laughed. “Good afternoon, Nicholas.” She glanced down at his position. “Now what?”

  He kept one leg on the branch below and clung onto the one that her left foot rested on. “Use me to climb down.”

  “Goodness no.” She shook her head vigorously.

  “You do not have much choice, Amelia.”

  “I shall take you down with me.”

  “I’m strong enough. Put your foot onto my shoulder then slide down me. You can grip onto my waist and lower yourself down onto that branch.” He nodded his head down toward the branch in question.

  “Could you not have just caught me?”

  “I’m strong, Amelia, but not that strong.” His arms trembled from the effort of keeping his weight off the branch below him. It didn’t feel strong enough to hold his weight. A crack sound told him he did not have long. “Make haste, Amelia, or we’ll end up trapped here forever.”

  “I--” She glanced at his expression and must have seen the sweat beading on his forehead to know he was deadly serious about her hurrying up. “Very well, but do not blame me if this all goes wrong.”

  “I take full responsibility. Now hurry.”

  She took an audible breath and moved her foot from its position on the tree, to his shoulder. He clenched his jaw and braced for the extra weight. She was a delicate thing but the branch on which he stood was not intended to be clambered all over it by two humans.

  Her other leg dangled in front of his face and he received a face full of skirts. If he was not so fearful of them both falling to their doom, he might have enjoyed the feel of her body sliding down his.

  “Oh.” She squealed as another cracking sound tore through the tree. He banded his fingers tighter around the branch above and his arms trembled. Sweat made his shirt stick to his back.

  Briefly, she came face to face with him. He saw it again. That flash of excitement. It was gone in second. Her foot dug into his thigh and he winced. Regret took its place and she mouthed a sorry before making her way farther down her body.

  “Almost there,” she said. “Almost—”

  It happened in a blur of splintered wood and Amelia’s cry in his ears. His body felt the fall before his brain understood what had happened. Wood grazed his palms. His shin bashed against the trunk. He saw Amelia’s panicked face. Pain speared through his rear and back as he landed, kicking up a cloud of dry dirt.

  With a groan, he pushed himself up from the ground. He might have taken more time to analyse where he’d hurt himself had he not seen Amelia in a crumpled ball at the base of the tree. The branch must have cracked and he’d taken Amelia down with him. Stupid fool.

  He pushed up quickly, aware of a slight pang in his ankle, and hastened over to her side. “Amelia?”

  She lifted her head slowly, her face pained. “Ouch.”

  “Where does it hurt?” He scanned her person for obvious signs of damage. There was no blood but her skirts were torn and dirty.

  “My bottom mostly.” She laughed and winced. “My leg too I think.” She lifted an arm and peered at her elbow. A bloody graze marred her skin.

  “Nothing too serious?” He did not let himself breathe a sigh of relief until she shook her head.

  Couching in front of her, he pressed his shirt sleeve to her elbow and wiped away the worst of the blood.

  She sucked in a sharp breath. “Why do scrapes hurt so much more than anything else?”

  “Perhaps so we can learn from them. It’s a good way for our body to tell us not to do foolish things without damaging it too much.” He pulled away his shirt sleeve from the cut and put a hand to her dress. “May I?”

  Amelia nodded. “My left calf.”

  He lifted her skirt with care and grimaced at the sight of torn stockings and a sizeable cut down the front of her calf. “You will need to go home and have that cleaned.” He reached for his jacket and retrieved a handkerchief. “It is not too serious but it’s bleeding fairly rapidly.”

  She leaned over to eye it. It brought her face that much closer to his. She glanced up and met his gaze. Her green eyes darted to his and that tell-tale color rose in her cheeks. Nicholas glanced at her lips, admiring the petal pink color and recalling how soft and pliant they had been.

  Amelia’s lips parted. He forgot the handkerchief and the pain in his body. He forgot falling from trees and reading books and visiting sisters. He leaned forward and touched his lips to hers.

  A startled but pleased sound escaped Amelia. He gripped her face in both hands and moved his mouth more forcefully over hers. Her hands came to his shoulders and dug into his shirt. When her tongue met his, hot desire spiked through him. He kissed her hard and fast and hungrily, feeling as though he had been stranded in that tree for weeks and she was his first taste of food.

  A pang in his body reminded her that she was hurt and this was not how to tend to an injured woman. When he broke away, they were both panting. He smiled apologetically and took the two torn sides of her stockings in both hands. He ripped them asunder, making Amelia gasp. Once he had the handkerchief pressed against the cut, he untied his cravat and used it to bind the fabric to her leg.

  “Can you stand?” he asked.

  “I think so.”

  Nicholas came to his feet and aided her up. He had to force himself to let go of her. He might not have had the opportunity to speak with her but coming upon
her like this had told him everything he needed to know. There were no more questions in his mind.

  “I had better return home,” she said, clasping her hands in front of her and twining her fingers together.

  “I should walk you home,” he offered.

  “No!” She paused and smiled. “I mean, I do not think that’s a good idea. After all, I have torn skirts and stockings. It would look awfully scandalous if anyone caught us.”

  He gave a reluctant nod. “You are right, of course.” But he still wanted to spend more time with her. Still, if could, he was going to ensure they spent a lot more time together in future. “I hope you have learned your lesson, Amelia.”

  “And what is that?”

  “No more climbing trees.”

  She pursed her lips and thought for a moment. “Where’s the fun in that?”

  He chuckled and watched her pivot away to the direction of her house. She stopped as though she wanted to say something but instead gave him a little wave and hastened off into the field.

  Nicholas winced when he put weight on his ankle. He was likely bruised in several places and would be feeling the after-effects of this adventure for days, but it was utterly worth it. In that one sentence, Amelia had confirmed all his suspicions.

  She was the woman for him.

  Chapter Ten

  “Girls!”

  Amelia suppressed a groan as her mother’s voice rattled through the house.

  “Girls! Amelia, Catherine, where are you? Girls!”

  Catherine looked up from her book and placed down the pencil. “Do you suppose we have to answer?”

  “She will not give up until we do. It must be important.”

  “Julia!” their mother screeched. “Emma! Where are you all?”

  Julia glanced longingly out of the window. “I had so hoped to go out and sketch today. The wildflowers are blooming wonderfully at the moment.”

  “Maybe she will not keep us long,” suggested Emma.

  All four of them moved from their various spots in the rear drawing room and made their way through to the entrance hall. Mama had not yet removed her pelisse nor her hat. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement.

  “Where were you all?” she demanded.

  “We came as soon as we heard you,” Amelia said. “What’s the hurry?”

  Mama thrust a letter her way and Amelia scanned the writing. “An invitation? That is why we were to hurry?”

  “An invitation to a ball,” her mother said smugly. “In only two days’ time. We must hurry to town and ensure you have new ribbons and flowers for your hair.”

  “Ooh, shopping,” Catherine declared.

  Emma clapped her hands together at the idea of something new.

  Julia rolled her eyes. “I don’t need any new ribbons and you know I detest wearing flowers.”

  Mama waved a dismissive hand. “Yes, we all know, Julia. You remind us every time we wear them.”

  “I’d rather see them in a field—”

  “Than on a head,” everyone finished for her.

  Julia huffed and folded her arms.

  “Where is the ball, Amelia?” Emma asked. “Perhaps I shall be able to play one of my songs.”

  Amelia resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands. If Emma sang one of her songs, they would never hear the end of it, and the Chadwick girls would have another black mark to their name.

  “It’s at Uxbridge. Nicholas is hosting it,” Amelia explained, trying to ignore the little skip it created in her chest.

  “But that is not all,” their mother hissed. “I have heard from a reliable source that he intends to announce an engagement at the ball.”

  Catherine swung a glance Amelia’s way. Amelia gave her head a little shake.

  “Engagement?” Catherine demanded. “He said nothing of any such occurrence when we visited with him only a few days ago. Are you sure, Mama?”

  “Quite sure. I heard it from Mrs. Lamb who had been speaking with dear old Mr. Whitby. He heard it from Miss Davis who had been speaking with one of the maids at Uxbridge. It cannot be denied.”

  “It’s hardly certain then, is it?” Catherine whispered to Amelia. “Mr. Whitby is half-blind and almost fully deaf. How could he pass on gossip?”

  “Well,” their mother continued, finally unbuttoning the pelisse and motioning for Mrs. Bramley to remove it, “it seems this mysterious fiancée has been writing to the viscount. The maid caught sight of one of the letters.”

  Catherine shot another look Amelia’s way and Amelia shook her head once more. She tried to absorb the information, really she did, but it was hard to understand. Indeed, it had only been recently that they had renewed their friendship but surely he would have mentioned a fiancée? Especially after he, well, kissed her.

  Twice.

  A heavy pang of dread settled in her stomach. She had been on that road before...that dark and dangerous one that would mean years of heartache and longing. She supposed at least she found this out sooner rather than later. Before she fell head over toes in love with him again.

  Because she was not in love with him again. No. Not one bit. Just because she liked his kisses and the way his eyes creased in the corners when he saw her did not mean she loved him.

  “It’s about time he married,” mused Mama. “Of course, we always hoped Lavinia would marry him but I cannot begrudge my daughter a handsome Scotsman. Perhaps she shall be willing to return home for Nicholas’ wedding.”

  Just the thought of Nicholas marrying and her having to attend the wedding, all pretend smiles and false wishes made Amelia’s stomach hurt.

  “I cannot deny I had hoped he might choose one of you instead but what is one to do when one has bookish, redheaded daughters. One cannot expect too much.”

  Julia rolled her eyes. “Is that all then, Mama? Did you need us for anything else?”

  “I was not done yet, Julia,” her mother scolded. “You need not be rude.”

  Their mother moved through into the second parlor room and they all followed like ducklings following the mother duck. They knew well enough that it was easier to indulge their mother in her need to share gossip than to make excuses to escape.

  She sat and waved a hand in front of her face. “All this news has me quite weary. Ring for some tea, Catherine.”

  Catherine did as she was bid while their mother leaned forward. “Now, girls, if there is to be a ball, there shall be some eligible gentlemen.”

  Emma barely stifled a groan. Mama shot her a sharp look.

  “I want you to be on your best behavior. And no talking of books or nature or stars or...” Mama’s gaze settled on Emma. “Or whatever it is you’re doing now, Emma.” A dreamy look entered her eyes. “Imagine your father’s surprise if I managed to marry one of you off before his return.”

  “Mama,” Amelia cautioned. While she might hope for happy endings for her sisters, none of them would be willing to marry a man they had met once at a ball. Nor would they be willing to suppress their interests for a man. She feared her mother’s dreams were going to be dashed.

  “Well, I like a good dance,” Catherine said cheerfully. “Especially if my partner is handsome. But I cannot promise not to speak of the stars.”

  Mama’s smile vanished. “Whatever did I do to deserve such bookish daughters. I swear I do not know where it comes from.” She sighed and cast her gaze over all of them. “Oh well, at least one of you is married off.”

  “Exactly.” Julia stood and gave their mother a kiss on the cheek. Mama’s dour expression softened. “Now I will wear new ribbons but you will not catch me with flowers, Mama.”

  A reluctant smile came across her face. “That is progress indeed. What say you, girls? Shall we do a little shopping to ready for the ball?”

  “Yes!” they all declared.

  Amelia’s sisters crowded around their mother and covered her in kisses. They all laughed but Amelia could not bring herself to join in the fun. Who could Nicholas be engaged to an
d why had he been so…so charming and pleasant to her? Why had he led her down a false path of hope? Her sisters might be looking forward to a chance to dance and be merry, but she could not, not when all her hopes would be dashed forever.

  Chapter Eleven

  Lamps and candles glimmered in every corner, highlighting the gold embellishments surrounding the ballroom. Re-designed by his mother when she had married his father, the room spoke of subtle elegance. Cream striped walls were set off by large golden framed mirrors while the ceilings were plain with only a large ceiling rose in the center to draw attention to the spectacular chandelier. The orchestra played a subtle tune in the background.

  Nicholas drew in a breath. He rocked on his heels and peered down the long line of guests. Tonight was a risk, to be sure, but if he had learned nothing from life, he had learned that risks were often necessary...and far too much fun.

  He greeted his guests with the usual courtesy and he hoped none could tell he was entirely distracted. There was only one guest he cared about.

  A flash of red caught his eye and his heart did a leap in his chest. He heard them all before he saw them again—all four girls talking excitedly whilst Mrs. Chadwick tried to calm them. When they finally reached him, he could not help but grin. Particularly when he laid eyes on Amelia.

  Dressed in a slender column of pale silk, her hair was coiled carefully and scattered with dainty white flowers. The red tone of her hair made everything that much more vibrant and interesting. She met his gaze—just—before dropping it to the ground. He eyed her lips and that same thought that always occurred to him ran through his mind. Why had he never seen her before? Not properly at least. He could have saved himself a lot of heartache if he had.

  “Everyone looks wonderful,” Emma gushed. She peered over his shoulder. “Do I see a piano? Oh I hope—”

  “So kind of you to invite us,” Catherine cut in.

  “My pleasure.”

  “Yes, so, so kind,” Mrs. Chadwick agreed. “But what, pray tell, is the occasion? And to put together a ball with such haste! It must be an important occasion indeed.”

  He doubted Mrs. Chadwick fully understood quite what the ball was in honor of but she had likely heard some gossip. He certainly hoped so. He had been trying to ensure word spread of this mysterious letter-writing lady. Apparently, Amelia had either not heard the gossip or had not understood his intentions, or else she would surely have grasped what was happening would she not?