When You Wish

by Alexandra Ivy

  Rachel gave an impatient click of her tongue. “Of course I do. I have been very attached to her since her first Season in London.”

  “She is a remarkable young lady,” he murmured.

  A growing suspicion bloomed to life in Rachel’s heart. Her father had always been an outrageous flirt. And while he had always been discreet she did not doubt for a moment that he was very successful in seducing any number of women. But never before had he ever spoken of one of his conquests. Certainly he had never asked her opinion. She was beginning to realize her charming, elusive father had perhaps stumbled into a situation he could not manipulate.

  A rather delicious thought, she had to acknowledge with wicked humor. It would serve the devious old man right to be dancing attendance on a woman half his age.

  “Far too remarkable for the likes of Mr. Wingrove,” she said deliberately.

  The lean features tightened with a dangerous intensity. “Yes.”

  “You intend to save her, do you not?”

  The green eyes blazed at her soft words before his lips twisted with rueful amusement hat having been so easily baited into revealing his emotions.

  “If I am able to,” he confessed.

  Rachel suddenly understood Violet’s interest in a life of scandal. If she was correct in that assuming her father intended to spirit the young lady from beneath her father’s very nose, there was no doubt that there would be a dreadful uproar. Not only would Mr. Carlfield lose his only chance to save himself from his enormous debts, but he would soon discover that his only child had irrevocably attached herself to the notorious Devilish Dandy. Not an easy blow for any gentleman to bear. He would no doubt turn his back on Violet and insist that all others do the same.

  Rachel sincerely hoped that Violet considered being saved from the clutches of Mr. Wingrove worth the cost of being branded with scandal.

  “What will you do?”

  “I can not discuss my plans. At least not yet. Be assured that I shall let you know when all is settled.”

  With a faint frown Rachel moved forward to place her hand on her father’s arm. Although the Devilish Dandy always appeared invincible, she knew that he was all too human. She could not bear him taking unnecessary risks. Not when the threat of the hangman remained a distinct possibility.

  “Father.”

  “Yes, my dear?”

  “You will be careful?”

  “For once I intend to take the greatest care, he assured her as he gave her hand a small squeeze. Then with a charming smile he stepped back. ”Now I really must check on my valet. I can not have him shifting the buttons on any more coats.”

  Rachel allowed him to leave, familiar enough with his secretive nature to realize that she could not force a confession of his plans. She did, however, pause long enough to send up a silent prayer. She sensed her father would have need of every bit of his legendary skill and luck to perform his latest theft. It could not hurt to have some heavenly intervention on his side.

  * * *

  Rounding the corner of the house, Anthony caught sight of the familiar slender form seated on a bench in the garden. He came to a halt as he studied the delicate profile currently set into uncommonly somber lines.

  For the past two days she had managed to avoid him. He realized that she had been intent on discovering her father’s secret and that she had been concerned the older man might do something rash. But he also suspected that she had deliberately avoided being alone with him.

  She had clearly sensed his possessive manner, he wryly acknowledged. And she was no doubt aware that he had every intention of proposing. She obviously preferred to avoid their inevitable confrontation rather than be forced to decide whether to follow her heart or to cling to her ridiculous fears.

  Anthony had allowed her to elude his determined pursuit. Indeed, he understood it far too well. For years he had carried the uncertainty that his father’s disappointment had lodged in his heart. It had been a long and difficult path to develop faith in himself.

  Somehow he knew he would have to convince Rachel to gain her own faith.

  He had waited long enough, he decided. Today Rachel would consent to be his wife or ... well, he would toss her over his shoulder and carry her off to Scotland.

  Anthony smiled ruefully at his obvious descent into madness. What sane gentleman would willingly tie himself to the daughter of the Devilish Dandy? And be determined to do so whether she wished it or not?

  He gave a shrug as he moved toward Rachel. Sane or not he had made his choice. Rachel would be his.

  “You are appearing rather pensive, my dear,” he said softly, coming to a halt beside her.

  She glanced up in surprise. “Anthony.”

  “Is something troubling you?”

  She paused for a long moment before she heaved a heavy sigh.

  “I have the oddest premonition.”

  “What is that?”

  “That everything is about to change.”

  The wistful note in her voice tugged at Anthony’s heart, but his determination never wavered. He could make her happy, he told himself. He would devote his entire life to that purpose.

  “Is that so terrible?” he asked softly.

  “I am not certain that I like the notion.”

  “Certainly change can be unnerving, but it can also be quite d—delightful.”

  “Delightful in what way?” she demanded.

  “Rachel.” He reached out to gently pull her to her feet. For a moment he debated whether to propose first and kiss her after her agreement, or go straight for the kiss. Then the sound of approaching footsteps intruded into the peace of the garden. “Damn. I wish to speak with you. Will you take a stroll with me?”

  She hesitated a long moment, then clearly sensing his unyielding determination, she gave a slow nod of her head.

  “If you wish.” She allowed him to take her arm and lead her from the garden. In silence they crossed the parkland, then as they entered the fringe of trees she glanced to his set countenance. “Are we going to visit Julia?”

  “No, not today, I think,” he murmured, steering her deeper into the dappled shadows.

  “You are very quiet. Is something the matter?”

  Coming to a halt, he firmly turned her to face him. Absurdly he felt a faint flutter of nerves deep in his stomach. He had never proposed before. He sincerely hoped he did not make a hash of it.

  “You could say that, I suppose.”

  “What is it?”

  “Actually it is you.”

  The haze eyes widened at his blunt retort. “Me?”

  “Do not look so surprised, my dove.” His hands absently stroked the line of her shoulders. “You are well aware that you have been leading me a merry chase. It was only a matter of time before I was firmly captured.”

  She stiffened with a wary unease, her tongue peeking out to wet her dry lips. “I suppose you are teasing me?”

  “N—no. I have never been so serious in my entire life.”

  He heard her breath catch at his low words.

  “I think perhaps we should return to the house.”

  His hand tightened on her shoulders. “I have never know you to be a coward before, Rachel.”

  As expected, his insult scraped at her staunch pride. “I am not a coward. I merely wish to return to the house.”

  “No, you wish to avoid discussing our future,” he retorted in stern tones. “You do not want to admit that something magical is happening between us.”

  He felt her shiver even as she jutted out her chin in a stubborn motion.

  “Magical? Is that your way of implying you desire to lure me into an affair?”

  He resisted the urge to shake a bit of sense into her. Blast, but she could be difficult when she wished to be.

  “If I wished an affair you would even now be my mistress and I would not be spending every deuced night pacing the floor.”

  His bold claim made her lips part in shock. “You are very confident in
your skills, sir.”

  “Can you deny that had I been bent upon seduction I would most certainly be your lover by now?”

  A surprising hint of color stained her cheeks as she struggled to evade the truth.

  “Many gentlemen have attempted to seduce me.”

  “But has one ever stirred your passions?” he relentlessly demanded. “I have only to touch you to feel you shiver in response. Has any other gentleman ever made you feel in this manner?”

  His hands shifted, trailing up the curve of her neck and lightly along the line of her jaw.

  “Please,” she said softly. “I can not think when you do that.”

  Anthony’s entire body tingled with the sharp-edged pleasure he always felt when he touched this woman.

  “Admit the truth, Rachel. You desire me.”

  For a moment Anthony feared that she might refuse to acknowledge the searing heat that simmered between them. Then the heavy lashes fluttered downward.

  “Very well,” she grudgingly whispered. “I will admit that I have never before felt as I do when you kiss me.”

  “And if I wanted to seduce you I could have,” he persisted.

  “Perhaps.”

  His fingers moved of their own will to race the softness of her lips.

  “But I do not desire an affair, Rachel. I have known from the beginning that this was no passing fancy. This is no flare of lust that will swiftly die.”

  In a sudden panic her gaze flew upward. “You do not know what you are saying. Of course it will die.”

  “I am not a callow schoolboy that allows his p—passions to rule his heart,” he retorted with rising impatience. “Certainly I want you in my bed, but I also want you seated across from me while I eat my breakfast and close beside me when I ride in my carriage and growing heavy with my child.”

  She abruptly slipped from his grasp, her hand pressed to her heart.

  “You must stop this.”

  He relentlessly followed her retreat. “Why?”

  “I have told you that I shall never wed.”

  “You must realize that you are being nonsensical.”

  “It is not nonsensical.”

  “Yes, it is.” His gaze bore deep into her wide eyes, willing her to realize he was not to be turned aside by her absurd notions. “You are far too intelligent to allow insubstantial fears of what you may or may not do in the future to ruin your life.” He abruptly reached out to grasp her hand and pressed it to the erratic beat of his heart. “Tell me what you fear, Rachel. Is it me?”

  She appeared genuinely startled by his question. “Of course not.”

  “Then what is it?”

  Her fingers splayed against the thin lawn shirt, testing the heat of his chest. Anthony shuddered in response.

  “I am afraid of hurting you.”

  Anthony briefly closed his eyes as he regained command of his renegade body. He would not seduce Rachel into marriage. She would agree to his proposal of her own free will.

  “There will no doubt be occurrences when you do hurt me,” he said in gentle tones. “Just as there will b—be occasions when I unwittingly hurt you. I do, after all, have an annoying habit of disappearing to my workroom and I am not as romantically inclined as some maidens might desire.”

  A small but genuine smile tugged at her lips. “Yes, there is that.”

  His heart leaped beneath her hand as he sensed her initial panic beginning to subside.

  “I am also faithful and extraordinarily loyal to those I love. You will never want for anything as my wife.”

  “Wife.” She tasted the word slowly, almost as if she were trying it on for size.

  “It does have an appealing ring to it, does it not?” he questioned in husky tones.

  “Anthony.”

  Her hand raised from his heart to tentatively touch his cheek. A warm tide of relief surged through Anthony at the revealing motion. It was the sign of surrender he had been waiting for.

  A low groan rumbled in his throat and his arms reached out to wrap about her so he could at last claim the kiss he had longed to savor, but before he could lower his head a shrill giggle tore through the silence and Rachel was abruptly spinning away.

  “What was that?”

  Anthony heaved a frustrated sigh. Gads, would he ever get his kiss?

  “I believe our mysterious ghosts have returned,” he muttered, wishing them in Jericho.

  He was on the point of suggesting they return to the house when he realized that Rachel was paying him no heed. With undisguised curiosity she impulsively plunged through the underbrush in the obvious intention of discovering the owner of the ill-timed giggle. Anthony swallowed a curse, already suspecting precisely what Rachel was about to discover. “Rachel, no.”

  “I wish to discover who it is,” she called softly, darting between the thick trees.

  “Wait,” he commanded, already in swift pursuit.

  He was not swift enough, however, and as he rounded a large bush he discovered Rachel standing in frozen shock.

  “Bloody hell,” he muttered, giving only a brief glance to the couple locked in a passionate embrace upon a blanket before dragging Rachel away. She stumbled in silence beside him until he at last forced her to sit upon a fallen tree at the edge of the woods. “Rachel, look at me.”

  She slowly lifted her darkened gaze to his pale countenance.

  “That man. He was a servant?”

  “Yes,” he admitted in tight tones, recalling the livery coat that had been tossed on the ground.

  “Do you know, I had begun to feel a measure of sympathy for Mary,” she said in soft tones, destroying Anthony’s vague hope that she had not had the opportunity to recognize the young woman who had been with the servant. “Lord Newell is a weak, selfish gentleman with no love for her.”

  “Rachel, this is none of our concern,” he said firmly, cursing the ill fate that had brought the indiscreet lovers to the woods on this afternoon.

  “Of course it is.” She lifted her head, a bit of color returning to her pale cheeks. “Lord Newell believes Mary to be a virtuous maid. For all we know she might already be carrying the child of that man.”

  “It is between Lord Newell and Miss Hamlin,” he said, his brows lowering as she absently nibbled on her full bottom lip. “Did you hear me, Rachel? This matter is a private affair.”

  Without warning she abruptly rose to her feet, a distinct glow of battle in her hazel eyes.

  “Not any longer.”

  Anthony’s heart sunk at the crisp determination in her voice.

  “Rachel, what are you plotting?”

  She smiled with a sweet innocence that sent a cold chill down his spine.

  “I have just been struck with the most amazing notion. It will solve everything.”

  Anthony stepped back, throwing his hands up in the air.

  “Dear God, save me from the plots of Cresswells.”

  Fourteen

  Rachel dressed carefully the next morning, girding herself for battle with great attention to detail. For once she ignored the brilliant gowns that shimmered in the morning sunlight, choosing instead a muted rose gown with a black spencer trimmed with rose velvet ribbons. Tying a rose bonnet on her curls, she retrieved the brooch she had discovered in the woods and dropped it into her reticule. Once assured she looked the role of a determined lady of business, she slipped from the quiet house and made her way through the garden.

  She sucked in a deep breath of the spring-scented air as she headed directly for the parkland. Although she was confident in her scheme, she knew that it would take every bit of her courage and skill to succeed. She had, in fact, devoted the entire night to rehearsing precisely what she would say when she reached Broswell Park.

  Well, perhaps not the entire night, she conceded with a tingle of excitement. At least a part of the long night had been spent recalling Anthony’s lovely proposal.

  Who would have thought such an intelligent, charming, utterly delectable gentleman w
ould ever fall in love with her? Or that he would be so determined to make her his wife?

  For so long she had lived for the moment, unwilling to consider the future out of fear that she would see the stark loneliness that awaited her. But Anthony had changed all that. He had forced her to consider a future with him. A future that included a husband and children. A future filled with love.

  He believed in her, she had slowly acknowledged with a thrill of warmth. He believed that she was not doomed to follow in the footsteps of her father. That she could become as steadfast and loyal as her mother. And it was that faith that had slowly stirred a belief in herself.

  It was true that she possessed her father’s reckless spirit, but she also possessed an unwavering love to those she held dear.

  And she did love Anthony Clarke.

  Her steps felt lighter as she crossed the parkland, just thinking of the man who had so disrupted her life.

  He was simply everything a woman could possibly desire in a gentleman, she acknowledged. He was kind, he possessed a clever wit, and he made her feel the most wicked sensations when he was near. He had also revealed his extraordinary patience when he had been with Julia. He would make a wonderful husband and father.

  The thought of Julia abruptly brought her back to her senses.

  She would have ample opportunity to moon over the pleasure of possessing Anthony as a husband, she sternly lectured herself. This morning she needed to concentrate on her upcoming confrontation with Lady Broswell. She was not foolish enough to underestimate the wily old woman. It would not be a simple matter to outwit her.

  Stepping into the fringe of the woods, Rachel absently opened her reticule to ensure she had the brooch with her. She knew that having such tangible proof of Mary’s infidelity would be vital.

  It was the rustle of leaves beside her that abruptly brought her head up. Her heart skipped a beat as a shadow fell across the path, then a large form emerged from behind a tree.

  She stepped back, but as her gaze caught sight of a familiar black coat and perfect shoulders her fear melted to a fond exasperation.

  “Anthony, you nearly scared me witless.”