When You Wish

by Alexandra Ivy

  With a prim sniff, Mr. Wingrove regarded the Devilish Dandy with glittering disapproval.

  “The Prince?” He sneered. “I fear I possess nothing but disgust for the fop. A most obscene and unsavory character. Nothing at all like his father.”

  Mr. Carlfield stiffened in dismay at the man’s traitorous disregard for England’s royal Prince. The Devilish Dandy, however, smiled in a manner that made Rachel feel a pang of sympathy for the stiff-rumped fool. No one bested Solomon Cresswell.

  “True. The Prince rarely needs to be locked in his room due to madness, nor does he foam at the mouth when his will is crossed.”

  “How dare you, sir?” Mr. Wingrove demanded, his eyes bulging like a toad.

  The Devilish Dandy shrugged. “Quite easily.”

  “Our King demonstrates the finest of English sensibilities. He is an upstanding and righteous gentleman. Nothing at all like his wastrel of a son.”

  Solomon flicked a mocking glance at the gentleman who was quivering with outrage.

  “He is a dull, plodding, incompetent fool who managed to lose the greater part of our colonies.”

  For a moment Rachel thought the rat-faced man might jump up and down in his frustrated anger. Then, clearly anxious to avoid an unpleasant scene, Mr. Carlfield loudly cleared his throat.”

  “Yes, well, this is a party. Shouldn’t argue politics in front of the ladies, you know.”

  Neither gentleman paid him the least heed as they continued to regard one another in open contempt.

  “No doubt Mr. Foxworth prefers to discuss the latest gossip from London or perhaps the current styles in fashion.”

  Remaining annoyingly aloof, the Devilish Dandy calmly withdrew his snuffbox to carefully measure out a pinch of the scented mix.

  “I am certainly a notable expert on fashion.”

  “Fah. A waste of a true gentleman’s intellect.”

  “You would think so, of course.”

  Mr. Wingrove pursed his lips as he watched the elegant gentleman replace his snuffbox and carefully wipe his hand on a lace handkerchief.

  “And what precisely does that mean?”

  “Any gentleman willing to employ a valet with such a painful lack of talent in tying a cravat must be indifferent to good taste. I should have him hung at first light if I were you.”

  The thin face darkened to an interesting shade of purple. “I have no desire to appear like a ridiculous dandy.”

  “No doubt a wise choice,” Solomon drawled. “A gentleman must possess an elegance of form to carry off true style.” Ignoring the man’s gasp of fury, he grasped Rachel’s elbow. “Come along, my dear. There must be someone of interest among this dreary gathering to converse with.”

  Rachel smothered her laugh as her father swept her regally away, leaving behind a sputtering Mr. Wingrove.

  “That went rather well,” she teased as they moved through the crowd.

  “Pompous twit,” Solomon muttered.

  “Yes, indeed.”

  “What is Mr. Carlfield thinking to tie his daughter to such a grim, ill-humored gentleman?”

  Rachel regarded him in surprise. It was unlike her father to concern himself with another’s troubles. He far preferred to laugh at the follies of society than to become involved. She could only wonder how Miss Carlfield had managed to stir him to such obvious annoyance.

  “I do not believe Mr. Carlfield is interested in his prospective son-in-law’s personality. He obviously has more pressing concerns.”

  The Devilish Dandy’s lips thinned as he pointedly glanced about the shabby room.

  “Yes. He is selling her to the highest bidder.”

  “Hardly an unusual occurrence. Few women are as fortunate as myself to have a father who is clever enough to create his own fortune without bartering off his daughters.”

  She expected her light words to bring a smile to his face. Instead his brows furrowed in an uncharacteristic fashion.

  “It should be a crime.”

  A tingle of unease raced through Rachel as she came to a halt and gazed at her father with a steady regard. She did not understand precisely what had occurred between her father and Miss Carlfield, but she did know that his practiced charms could be lethal to an innocent maiden.

  “You offered me a warning moments ago,” she said in firm tones. “Now, I shall return the favor.”

  He raised his brows. “Indeed?”

  Most would have crumpled beneath the cool warning in the green eyes. Rachel, however, was very much her father’s daughter.

  “Miss Carlfield is very frightened and vulnerable at the moment,” she retorted bluntly. “She could be easily hurt.”

  Solomon appeared sincerely startled by Rachel’s warning. “I would never hurt her.”

  “I do hope not.” Rachel allowed her gaze to move to the pale, sad maiden currently attempting to sink into the shadows. “I fear she has been hurt enough.”

  Five

  Anthony had debated long over his choice of presents to take to the child in the dowager house. He had any number of trinkets he had built that might prove intriguing to an intelligent girl. Still, he had wanted something that might help occupy her through her long days of boredom. Something that would ease her loneliness.

  He had at last hit upon the boxes of wooden puzzles he had brought as gifts for the children in the neighborhood. The puzzles were simple polished walnut that he had hand-carved. They were unpainted, but instead created various shapes when they were put together. To make them difficult enough to occupy her agile mind he had tumbled several puzzles together and put them in a lacquer box with a pretty Chinese garden painted on top.

  He had not been disappointed in the girl’s reaction to his gift. Seated once again in her bath chair beside the window, her thin face had lit with unabashed pleasure as she had reverently stroked the polished puzzle pieces. He had even managed to coax her to reveal that her name was Julia and that she was sixteen years of age.

  He knew that his stammer helped to ease her discomfort with the strange gentleman who had intruded into her solitary world. Like her, he was different from others and that provided a bond they could both sense.

  They were busily discussing the best means of keeping the puzzles hidden from Mrs. Greene, who was once again locked in her rooms for the afternoon, when a faint noise had him turning about to discover Miss Cresswell standing in the doorway, holding a large basket.

  His breath caught at the lovely vision. Attired in a mulberry gown with a black spencer, she was a vivid beauty in the drab darkness. It was little wonder that he had lain awake half the night plagued with the memory of her warm satin skin beneath his lips, he wryly acknowledged.

  Ironically, his deliberate seduction in the library had been designed to ignite the flames of her own untested passions. He knew she had been caught off guard by his first caresses earlier in the day. It had seemed rather clever to press his advantage while she was still vulnerable.

  What he had not expected was the fierce, hungry desire that had clutched him the moment he had touched her. Dash it all, he was a grown gentleman, not an overeager schoolboy. He had possessed the most beautiful mistress in all of London. But he had known his mistake the moment he had felt the searing heat flood his lower body. He had not even dared to pull her into his arms for fear he might sweep her off her feet and tumble her onto the nearby couch.

  His near lack of control had never occurred before. And neither had the dull ache that had kept him tossing and turning most of the night.

  Oddly, however, the realization did not deter his temptation to pursue her. His fascination was not yet sated and he could not walk away.

  With a smile he offered her a faint bow. “Good day, Miss Cresswell.”

  She regarded him with a clear, steady gaze that was unclouded by maidenly confusion or embarrassment. He discovered that he admired her refusal to pretend a dismay for their shared moment of desire.

  “I did not realize you would be here, Mr. Clarke.
”

  “I brought Julia a gift.”

  “Julia.” Miss Cresswell smiled kindly at the young girl in her chair as she moved forward. “What a pretty name.”

  As dazzled by Miss Cresswell’s potent charm as everyone else, the girl regarded her with shy appreciation.

  “Thank you.”

  “What has Mr. Clarke brought for you?”

  Julia readily held out her open box to reveal the wooden pieces.

  “Puzzles.”

  “Actually there are ten puzzles,” Anthony said. “It will be up to Julia to sort them out and discover which pieces belong to which puzzles.”

  The blue eyes lit with enthusiasm. “It shall be great fun.”

  Miss Cresswell abruptly turned to meet his dark gaze. “Did you make these?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are they not lovely?” Julia breathed.

  “Quite, quite lovely,” Miss Cresswell agreed. “I fear my gift is vexingly paltry in comparison.”

  Anthony took a deep sniff. “It does, however, smell far more appetizing.”

  Miss Cresswell smiled. “I thought it would be a lovely afternoon for a picnic.”

  “A delightful notion.”

  Julia’s eyes widened. “You mean outside?”

  “The sun is quite warm,” Miss Cresswell swiftly assured the girl.

  “I do not believe Mrs. Greene would approve.”

  “Then we must be very certain that we do not awaken her.”

  Anthony glanced toward the open bottle of brandy set on a table. “I doubt an invasion by Napoleon could awaken her at the moment.”

  Following his gaze, Miss Cresswell grimaced. Then, with a determined air, she reached into the basket to reveal a cloak.

  “Here, I have brought this to keep you warm,” she said, wrapping the garment around the girl’s slim shoulders.

  “You are certain we will not be caught?”

  Miss Cresswell brushed a hand over the pale curls. “Trust me.”

  There was a pause before Julia gave a nod of her head. “Very well.”

  At a glance from Miss Cresswell, Anthony willingly moved to scoop Julia into his arms so that he could carry her from the dark house. His heart clenched at the painful frailness of her form. What the girl needed was fresh air and decent food, he thought with a flare of disgust toward her family. And the loving concern of someone who truly cared for her.

  With Miss Cresswell leading the way, they moved out of the house and toward a sunny patch of grass well hidden by an unkempt hedge. With swift movements she spread out a blanket, then as Anthony lowered Julia onto the cover, she began to unload the large platters of pheasants, cream potatoes, fresh trout, peas, strawberries, and custard.

  He shared a smile with Miss Cresswell as Julia’s eyes widened with disbelief as she was handed several plates of the tempting feast. With obvious delight the girl tackled the mounds of food, thankfully unaware she was supposed to pretend a feminine delicacy. Miss Cresswell also revealed a hearty appetite, displaying the same passionate delight for food as she did for everything else in life.

  Anthony found their company a refreshing change from most companions at picnics. There were few things more off-putting than females barely nibbling at their food and shrieking at every ant and bee that might happen by.

  At last satisfied, Julia leaned back and heaved a happy sigh.

  “I have never tasted anything so wonderful. Do you always eat so grandly?”

  “This is not so grand as some dinners,” Miss Cresswell assured her. “It is said that the Prince will have as many as twenty-five dishes during just one serving and that his dinner can last as long as four hours.”

  “So much?” Julia breathed in disbelief.

  Anthony gave a shake of his head. “T—too much.”

  “Have you attended a meal with the Prince?” Miss Cresswell demanded.

  “As it so happens, I have,” Anthony confessed, recalling with a shudder the hours he had spent in Brighton Pavilion upon the Prince’s command.

  Julia regarded him in awe. “What was it like?”

  “Hot, smoky, and so crowded that one could barely breathe,” he retorted honestly. “I can readily assure you that this pleasant meal with two beautiful maidens is much more to my liking.”

  “Very charming, Mr. Clarke,” Miss Cresswell said.

  He met her sparkling gaze. “Well, there are those who claim that my charm is irresistible.”

  “Oddly, I have only heard that particular claim made by yourself,” she charged.

  “Then clearly you have not been conversing with the proper people.”

  “Indeed?”

  Oblivious to the flirtatious banter, Julia smiled in a dreamy fashion.

  “I should love to attend such a gathering. All those lovely women in beautiful gowns and gentlemen leading them onto the dance floor.”

  “I f—fear that they are vastly overrated, my dear,” Anthony warned. “The entertainments usually consist of ripping reputations to shreds while the majority of gentlemen with any sense seek the back rooms for a private game of cards.”

  The delicate features abruptly crumpled in disappointment. “Oh.”

  Anthony grimaced as Miss Cresswell sent him a chiding frown. “Do not pay any heed to Mr. Clarke, he is merely teasing you.”

  “Yes, indeed,” Anthony quickly agreed. “Please forgive me.”

  “And someday you will enjoy such parties yourself,” Miss Cresswell promised.

  “Oh no.” Julia shook her head. “That will never be possible.”

  “Anything is possible, is that not so, Mr. Clarke?”

  “Absolutely. You only have to wish hard enough.”

  The blue eyes searched his countenance. “Do you truly believe so?”

  He did not hesitate. “Yes.”

  “What would you wish for, Julia?” Miss Cresswell demanded.

  She smiled in a shy manner. “A new gown in a lovely shade of blue with lace about the hem. And to attend a ball. And ...” The girl’s words trailed away as a flush stained her cheeks.

  “Yes?” Anthony gently prompted.

  “You will think me foolish.”

  “Impossible. What do you wish?”

  “To fly like a bird,” she confessed shyly. “I told you that it was foolish.”

  “Not at all. It is a wonderful wish,” Miss Cresswell said firmly, then suddenly turned to regard him with a teasing glance. “And what of you, Mr. Clarke? What would you wish for?”

  Anthony took a moment to consider his answer. “To view the wonders of China. To touch the stars. To discover a warm, passionate woman to fill my life.”

  Her breath seemed to catch as her eyes widened. “Sir.”

  He gave a pleased chuckle at her response. “And now I believe that it is your turn, Miss Cresswell.”

  Readily recovering, she gave a shrug. “Well, I should wish for a lovely town house in an elegant neighborhood. The pleasure of my sisters’ company. And”—she paused before giving a wry smile—“my father free of danger.”

  Anthony studied her for a long moment, considering her obvious close ties to her family. He experienced a faint flare of envy. Despite their scandalous and highly unconventional life, they possessed a far greater bond than he felt toward his more respectable family.

  “You do not wish for a h—husband and family?” he probed with undeniable curiosity.

  She gave a startled blink at his unexpected question. “Goodness, no. I am enjoying my independence. Why would I desire to sacrifice it for any gentleman?”

  His gaze narrowed at her deliberate challenge. “There would surely be some benefits?”

  “Not nearly enough to tempt me.”

  He leaned slowly forward. “Perhaps you have not yet tasted true temptation.”

  Their gazes locked and Anthony was seized with an unbearable urge to close the small distance and capture her lips with his own. Gads, but she had bewitched him. But even as his body tingled in anticipation, an emp
ty plate was suddenly thrust beneath his nose.

  “May I have more strawberries?” Julia demanded, unaware of the pulsing shimmers that filled the air between her companions.

  With an overly brisk motion Miss Cresswell refilled her plate and then busied herself with wrapping the remaining food into napkins.

  “Here. We shall make sure these are properly covered and you may save them for a midnight treat.”

  The blue eyes lit with pleasure. “Oh.”

  With reluctance Anthony rose to his feet, knowing they had tempted fate long enough.

  “I should return Julia inside. We would not wish to have Mrs. Greene discover our secret.”

  Miss Cresswell gave a nod of her head. “Yes. I will finish packing our things.”

  Once again scooping the girl into his arms, Anthony returned her to the bath chair and removed the cloak to replace it with a nearby blanket. He was pleased to note that her cheeks appeared nicely colored from her brief time outside and her eyes sparkled with happiness. She had obviously enjoyed her afternoon.

  “Do not forget to keep the food and puzzles hidden beneath the blanket,” he warned, knowing that there would be trouble if the items were discovered.

  “I will,” Julia promised, then regarded him with an uncertain expression. “You will return?”

  “Certainly,” he promised.

  “Thank you for a lovely picnic.”

  “It is I who should thank you for being such a charming companion.” He gallantly raised her thin fingers to his lips. “Good-bye, my dear.”

  Leaving the room, he carefully listened to make sure that there were no sounds from above before hurrying from the house. He discovered Miss Cresswell waiting for him beside the gate and taking the basket from her, he carefully relatched the lock and led her toward the nearby trees.

  “Your picnic was a charming notion,” he congratulated his companion, delighted to have her alone for the moment.

  “It was too lovely a day to remain inside.”

  “Still there must have been any number of entertainments offered for your enjoyment this afternoon.”

  She gave a casual lift of one shoulder. “None that captured my interest.”