Love with a Notorious Rake

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Love with a Notorious Rake Page 5

by Karyn Gerrard


  “Full beast.” He thrust into her and she moaned in response, arching her back as she took him deep.

  Forget.

  Starting slow, he built into fierce, rapid strokes.

  Oblivion.

  Aidan spent the night at the club, then, after a hearty breakfast, bid farewell, for he would not be returning for some time—if ever. It had disturbed him to hear the gossip was still being discussed, and the farther he was from London—and temptation—the better. The multiple sex sessions had taken the edge off his frustration, especially when Bridget brought in a silver-haired vixen called Madeen to join them. It was a wild night, to be sure. But it had done nothing to banish Cristyn from his mind. She was his first thought as soon as he’d awoken to find both women curled up next to him.

  Yes, the sex had been hollow. And, surprisingly, it had left him feeling emptier than before—and more fatigued, which proved he was still recuperating.

  Since he was tired, he stopped at an inn at the halfway point of his journey. He had taken his time, soaking up the sun and inhaling the fresh air. Once refreshed, it was onward to Carrbury and his reunion with his brother.

  Carrbury was a small town in East Sussex, south of Wollstonecraft Hall. Aidan took a more westerly, circuitous route to avoid Kent altogether. It was a pleasant late spring day. Insects droned in the grass and in the bracken, mixing with birdsong high above. Aidan could not remember when he’d last appreciated nature. Perhaps he never had.

  From reading Riordan’s descriptive letters, he recalled that the school was nestled in a wooded area a mile north of town. It was going on five o’clock, and, according to Riordan, he usually stayed after dismissal to work. It would be prudent to meet his brother privately before venturing to Riordan’s town house. He clicked his tongue and sank his heels gently into Nebula’s flanks, and the gelding vaulted forward into a brisk canter. With luck, he would arrive at the schoolhouse before half past five.

  At last, a large wooden structure came into view. Damn it all, he was nervous. Would Riordan be angry? Show his disdain, and be distant? No, that described himself more than his brother. Aidan did not know if he could handle seeing the disappointment on Riordan’s face—or the face of anyone in the family. Especially their father.

  Bracing himself for the emotional reunion, he slipped from Nebula, tethered the reins to the post, and gave the gelding a pat. The horse nickered gently in response. All was quiet; was Riordan even within? Aidan opened the door and crossed the threshold. Moving through the small alcove, he stepped into the schoolroom. There was his beloved brother, sitting at his desk at the front of the room, scribbling furiously.

  “Riordan.”

  His brother looked up, his eyes widened in shock. He rose quickly from his chair, and it crashed to the floor. Before Aidan could form another thought, his brother ran toward him and gathered him in a fierce embrace. At first, Aidan stood stiffly, his emotions churning.

  “Oh, God, Aidan. Aidan,” Riordan said tenderly, his voice shaking.

  Hearing the stark emotion in his brother’s voice broke away any self-imposed restraints. He returned Riordan’s embrace, clapping him on the back for good measure. “I’ve missed you, Brother.”

  At last they parted, but still gripped each other’s upper arms. “Why didn’t you send word? Have you been home?” Riordan asked.

  Aidan shook his head. “No. I wanted—needed—to see you first.”

  Riordan leaned forward until their foreheads touched briefly, then, in unison, they clasped the nape of each other’s necks. God, he had needed this. That connection only they shared: the link—despite time, distance, and circumstance—that would never break. Not ever. No matter what Aidan had done or said to damage it.

  “Come, take a seat.” Riordan grabbed a chair and dragged it toward the desk. “Tell me everything. You will be staying a couple of nights?”

  “If you and your wife will have me.”

  “Sabrina will be thrilled.” Riordan smiled as he sat at his desk. “As will Mary Tuttle. She is already part of the family.”

  “It is serious then, between her and Grandfather?”

  Riordan chuckled. “He’s been here for a visit every month since February, bringing gifts of flowers, chocolate, and books. I would not be surprised if there were a wedding before the autumn.” Riordan winked. “He took her on a short trip to the seaside not two weeks past.”

  Aidan smiled. “The old dog. Good for him.”

  “You’ll like Mary. She’s warm, humorous, down-to-earth, and exactly what Grandfather needs.”

  “And what of our father? What romance is brewing there?”

  “You know him; caution will win the day. He is taking things at a slower pace, but I believe it will end up in the same place as Grandfather’s. Eventually.”

  Aidan scratched his chin. “I really am the last man standing. And we have a young cousin. What a revelation.”

  “Megan is a charmer; you’ll meet her when you arrive at the hall. I’ve never seen Garrett so blasted happy. He and Abbie are a love story for the ages. I’m glad they found each other again.”

  “Much has happened…to all of us,” Aidan murmured.

  “Brother, I will not drill you about your absence. None of us will. But know I am here whenever you feel the need to talk. I don’t like that we have drifted apart—”

  “That is on me,” Aidan interjected.

  “Not all of it. I should have reached out. You will find that the rest of the family feels the same—about all of this,” Riordan replied.

  Aidan shook his head. “The state I was in? I would have refused all assistance. Probably would have sunk even lower, if that were possible. But I thank you for the concern, and in time, I will talk about it. As it stands, it’s an open wound.”

  Riordan stood and gathered up his papers, shoving them into a leather satchel. “On that note, let us head home. Dinner waits.”

  When they stepped outside, Riordan pointed at Nebula and smiled. “A near twin for Grayson. Well met, Brother.”

  “Except Nebula’s mane is white, not black. I couldn’t resist when he was shown to me. I had to purchase him.”

  “I like the name.”

  Aidan untied the reins and began walking side by side with his brother, with Nebula following behind.

  “The town house is a good size, completely furnished, with a small barn in the rear. Grayson is still boarded at Farmer Walsh’s. With the carriage and two horses I recently purchased, I thought, for the rest of this school term, that Grayson was better served at the farm than crammed into a small shed. For a two-night stay, I’m sure that Nebula will be fine.” Riordan gave him an appraising look. “You’re too thin and pale. Not what I remember.”

  “Believe me when I tell you, I was in much worse shape than this. The recuperation is ongoing. My appetite has been slow in recovering, and, as you can imagine, I have been indoors for the most part. The ride was quite pleasant, fresh air, sun, all that blather. I obviously need more of it.” Actually, the ride had fatigued him, but it was a good tired. “Although I did manage a quick stop at the Crimson Club.”

  Riordan laughed heartily. “Damn it all, you are recovering. I’m pleased to hear it.”

  Once they placed Nebula in the barn, giving him a quick rubdown and leaving him plenty of water and oats, they headed toward the house. Again, Aidan’s insides twisted in apprehension. It made him wonder if he’d left the sanatorium sooner than he should have.

  They entered through the rear, making their way to the front of the house. As they stepped into the parlor, two women stood and smiled. Riordan went to the younger of the two, kissing her on the cheek as his large hand splayed across the bump of her belly. She glowed, the love between them apparent. For a brief moment, Aidan was envious. The emotion was not a new one as far as Riordan was concerned, but it was high time he moved past such s
elfish indulgence.

  “My darling, this is my brother, Aidan.”

  Sabrina stepped forward, holding out both hands. Aidan clasped them tight. “Dear, dear brother. How I have longed for this meeting.” She stood on the tips of her toes and laid an affectionate kiss upon his cheek. Her words were lovingly and genuinely spoken.

  Aidan was grateful for the happy reception. “As have I, Sabrina.” His brother’s wife was attractive, and warm kindness reflected in her eyes.

  “And this is Mary Tuttle. Mary, my brother, Aidan.” The older woman’s eyes twinkled, and she looped her arms through his and his brother’s. A handsome woman with threads of gray at her temples, she gave him a friendly smile.

  “Sabrina, have you ever seen such a fine pair of bookends? Not a matched set, as such, but enough alike to warrant admiration.”

  Everyone laughed, and Aidan already felt at ease, the last of his apprehension slipping away.

  He had been welcomed—pulled into his family’s loving embrace.

  Never had he felt so humbled. And grateful. Well, except for his care at the clinic—more specifically, from Cristyn. Aidan had managed not to think of her during his long journey, but experiencing this warm affection and acceptance had him thinking he’d made a grave error in saying goodbye to his bold and beautiful angel.

  Chapter 4

  Dinner was an agreeable affair, and Aidan managed to eat three quarters of the food placed before him. When offered wine, he acquiesced, and sipped it slowly. Three quarters of the glass remained when the meal concluded.

  “Mary made lovely ginger scones. Would you care for them now, or perhaps later this evening, with a cup of tea? Or do you prefer coffee? We have both.” Sabrina smiled.

  “I do prefer coffee, and will attempt a scone later this evening.”

  “Are you sure you’ve had enough to eat?” Mary asked, a worried look on her face. Her concern warmed him, which again made him think of Cristyn. God, would she haunt him forever? He gave his head a shake to banish the thoughts.

  He agreed with Riordan; Mary was exactly what his grandfather needed. Hell, what the whole family needed: a caring and loving matriarch.

  “Believe me, this is the most I’ve eaten in months. And I actually enjoyed it. I am still recovering, as it were.” The first mention of his decline and fall in front of the ladies. Aidan waited for awkward looks and silence.

  Instead, Mary squeezed his hand gently. “I cannot tell you how glad we are you’re here. I’ve heard much about you, not only from Riordan, but also from your grandfather. You are loved, Aidan; never doubt it. I hope I’m not being too forward.”

  He laid his hand on top of Mary’s. “Not at all. I’ve always wished for a grandmother. Looks as if I’m to have one, and I could not be more pleased.”

  Mary blushed. “You’re a teasing imp, like your grandfather said.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “Riordan, why not take your brother to your study? I believe after we see the dishes are cleared away, I will take a nap,” Sabrina suggested.

  Riordan brushed the back of his fingers along Sabrina’s cheek, causing pink spots to color it. “Rest well.”

  The men headed toward the study, and as Aidan entered the room, he smiled at the books crammed into several bookcases. Riordan had always been a voracious reader, whereas Aidan read in fits and starts. He only rediscovered the joy of reading when Garrett had sent books along with his trunk.

  The room was small in comparison to the various libraries and studies at Wollstonecraft Hall, but a fire blazed in the hearth, giving it a consoling, flickering glow.

  “Not my books, though I’m pleased they are included with the residence. This house belongs to a magistrate who is away for a year, visiting his daughter and her family in Spain. I considered buying Sabrina’s former home, Durning House, from her destitute baron father, but she said it held no warm memories and would rather it be sold. Did I mention in one of my letters that Baron Durning was sent to debtor’s prison this past January?”

  “Yes. Well deserved for the part he played in Sutherhorne’s dastardly schemes.”

  “The baron will be released as soon as the royal verdict comes through on Sutherhorne. The Wollstonecrafts will pay his debt, in exchange for his testimony toward the prosecution of the marquess, and Durning’s agreed to leave the country. What he will do and where is still up for discussion.” Riordan chuckled as he observed Aidan checking his pocket watch. “You still have it.”

  His brother pulled out the identical one; they were given to them by their father when they had turned sixteen. It was inlayed with gold, with the Wollstonecraft family crest on the cover: a howling wolf standing on a large stone. Diamond chips decorated the face. Inside, the engraving read: Brothers by blood, friends by choice. July 29th, 1818. Their birth date.

  “I had left it behind at the hall last September. Garrett sent it along with the trunk.” Aidan ran the pad of his thumb along the etchings. “I would never sell this. At least I had the foresight to leave it,” he murmured. Snapping it shut, he slipped it into his waistcoat pocket.

  Riordan moved to the sideboard. “Drink? I have Mackinnon single malt. Or is it thoughtless of me to ask?”

  Damn it, he was sorely tempted. His hand trembled slightly, for the scotch reminded him of his descent. Though still shaken at how close he’d come to succumbing to the temptation of opium at the brothel, he was proud he’d fought it. Perhaps he should avoid spirits of all sorts. “No, not thoughtless. But I’d better not. I will stick with wine.”

  “Would you like your glass from dinner? It’s still full, or I can pour you a fresh one.”

  “The one from dinner is fine.”

  Riordan left to fetch it. A loud meow filled the air and Aidan glanced down. A white and orange cat was staring up at him with curious green eyes. “You must be the elusive Mittens. Too shy to show yourself until now.” Aidan rubbed the cat’s ears and received a rumbling purr for his efforts.

  Riordan returned. “Now you’ve met the last member of the family.”

  “Good God, a young cousin, pets, a niece or nephew on the way, a sister-in-law, a new aunt, and a possible stepmother and step-grandmother on the horizon. What next?” Aidan mumbled. “Wollstonecraft Hall will be overrun. Not used to having women around. Or children.”

  Riordan laughed and handed him the glass of wine, then poured himself a tumbler of scotch. He settled into a chair opposite and met Aidan’s gaze. “It certainly will be overrun when we return to the hall at the end of June. Then we will prepare for the birth.”

  “When is Sabrina due?” Aidan asked as he scratched Mittens under the chin.

  “Mid-August. Maybe later; hard to ascertain.”

  “And what else is on the horizon?”

  “I already have men of means in place to fund my progressive school. Thanks to my presentation on education reform before Prince Albert last month, it has garnered a good deal of interest.”

  “Especially among those who wish to impress the prince, no doubt.” Mittens, apparently done with human interaction, headed to the fireplace and curled up in front of it. “Nevertheless, well done. I’m proud of you.” And he was, as the prince did not give an audience to just anyone.

  Riordan smiled. “Thank you. That means more than you know. As for those princely sycophants, I will take their money regardless. May I ask what your plans are? You know you’re welcome here for as long as you like. Until the end of June, of course.”

  “I appreciate the offer.” Aidan stared down into his wineglass. “My plans? Dr. Bevan suggested I immerse myself in one of the family’s causes. To give my life purpose, I suppose, and to have me focus on something besides my self-seeking extravagances.”

  “I heartily recommend it. I never dreamed that I would find such contentment and satisfaction in teaching. It has changed my life. This was to be a tem
porary experiment, to try out my education reforms in a schoolroom setting. Now I see it as my life’s calling.”

  Aidan sipped the wine. “It’s not much of a covert action any longer.”

  Riordan chuckled. “No, though my students still call me Mr. Black, as it is less of a mouthful than Wollstonecraft.”

  Hearing of Riordan’s strategy, a plan hastily formed in Aidan’s mind. “I thought to choose factory reform. Considering your success as a clandestine operative, perhaps I could do the same. Continue to use the name Black, find work at one of the worst factories, mills, or mines, and observe and report. It would assist Father in his push for an improvement of the current Factory Act.”

  Riordan seemed to contemplate the announcement. “It would at that. He’s still working closely with Lord Ashley and others on further amendments. Are you well enough for such a venture?”

  “If nothing else, my wan and pale self would fit in with the working class. And I do not mean that in jest. I’ve always been appalled at how workers are treated, particularly the women and children who toil in cotton mills.” Aidan paused. “The more I think on it, I believe this to be a sound plan. Surely Father can pull some strings and have me placed at a mill. I’m aware there are many that are not following the revisions of the Labor in Cotton Mills Act of eighteen thirty-one, or the Factory Act of eighteen forty-four. There are not enough factory inspectors, for one thing—only four for the entire country. And the fact that the workers do not report the owners, for fear of retaliation or losing their positions, makes it difficult to enforce the laws already on the books.”

  “Ah.” Riordan smiled. “So you did listen at the family meetings.”

  “More than you know. Do you think Father will be amenable to my scheme?”

  Riordan rubbed his whiskered chin. “If you lay it before him as you have with me. You’re truly interested in pursuing this?”

  “I’ve floundered about long enough. I’m weary of drifting through life with no purpose. How embarrassing to discover how low I sank.” Aidan swirled his wine. “I am ashamed, Brother. Utterly humiliated by my thoughtless and reckless behavior.” He met Riordan’s gaze and said in a soft voice, “I wish to redeem myself, not only in the family’s eyes, but, more importantly, in my own. I wish to banish this ‘notorious rake’ nom de plume once and for all. Hang society; I don’t give a toss what they think about me. But I do care about what the people I love think.”

 

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