The Perfect Rake

by Anne Gracie

Edward observed him solemnly for a moment and then gave a large, satisfied sigh. “This,” he said, “promises to be vastly entertaining.”

  “What does?” Gideon asked, unaccountably annoyed by the smug expression on his cousin’s face.

  But the duke would not explain.

  “I don’t understand what you are hinting at, but you are wrong. I have no interest in Miss Merriweather. You know how I feel about marriage. And this is not about marriage, anyway. It’s merely a ruse to enable her sisters to find husbands.” Gideon speared a veal olive viciously. “I don’t pretend to understand why the whole thing must be shrouded in such mystery and subterfuge, but if a stand-in fiancé is what she needs, I’ll do it. I don’t mind helping her out—as long as it’s not the real thing, of course.”

  “Very selfless of you, cousin.”

  “You may scoff, but I think it is quite altruistic of me,” Gideon said. “There’s not many men who will risk parson’s mousetrap out of sheer disinterested helpfulness—”

  “Extremely sheer,” the duke murmured.

  “—to a female who is, after all, very little more than a stranger. But she is an orphan, you see, and—”

  The duke was overcome by a sudden choking fit.

  Gideon waited until he had subsided and added in an austere tone, “If she needs a false betrothed so badly that she must come calling on you to get one, there’s no reason why she cannot accept my assistance.”

  “None at all, dear boy. Call on her great-uncle, by all means.”

  “Well, as a matter-of-fact, I did earlier this afternoon, and he assumed I was there to ask for her hand. Silly fellow.”

  “So what did you tell him?”

  “Oh, well, it was complicated,” Gideon said in an offhand manner. “He was practically frolicking with delight, and I could not get a word in to disabuse him of the notion. But now, since the damage is done, Miss Prudence may take advantage of the misunderstanding. I don’t mind, if it will help her sisters out.”

  “They being orphans, too,” the duke agreed in a choked voice.

  “I don’t see what there is to amuse you so, Edward,” Gideon said crossly.

  “Nothing. Nothing at all, to be sure,” the duke murmured solemnly. His lips twitched. “I don’t suppose Sir Oswald gets his brandy from the same supplier, does he? He might have received a bad batch, too.”

  “He doesn’t drink brandy,” Gideon said, “but he did serve the filthiest-tasting wine.”

  Prudence was cross. More than cross, she was furious. The moment she had arrived home from the park, Great-uncle Oswald had called them all into the front parlor and congratulated Prudence on her great good fortune. Lord Carradice, it seemed, had done the decent thing and had agreed to a betrothal with Prudence. And since they were all so keen on it, Charity could now begin her coming-out, starting tonight, in fact, by accompanying him and Prudence to Lady Ostwither’s private musical soiree. He had already sent Lady Ostwither a note.

  “There must be some mistake,” Prudence had said, amid the general excitement caused by this announcement. “Lord Carradice has no interest in me.” Lord Carradice, in fact, had just told her she was more or less unmarriageable. So what was his game?

  “On the contrary, my dear, the fellow is not such a scapegrace as I thought him. He must have a conscience, after all, for he was here, in this very room, dressed to the nines in his courtin’ clothes and announcin’ that he fully intended to do the decent thing by you, Prudence, my dear, dear girl. And of course, I gave my permission. Twenty thousand a year!” Visibly moved, Great-uncle Oswald embraced her.

  With Great-uncle Oswald wreathed in delighted grins, blinking back tears and speaking ecstatically of the Carradice fortune, Charity fretting in instant pleasure-panic about whatever would she wear to Lady Ostwither’s, and the twins skipping in delight around the room predicting their own imminent coming-out and twittering on about how handsome Lord Carradice was, there was not much Prudence could do except grit her teeth and smile.

  The wretch!

  He was making mock of her, that was clear. One moment he was wheedling secrets out of her ten year-old sister, the next he was suggesting a false betrothal to Prudence—and in the next breath had told her she was plain and unmarriageable! And now—No, hold. Prudence frowned on a sudden thought. He must have spoken to Great-uncle Oswald before he met up with them in the park. It must be some devious ploy of his. But to what purpose?

  She was brooding about the sequence of events when her great-uncle made an announcement that shocked her out of her reverie.

  “I shall send a notice to the Morning Post immediately!”

  “No!” exclaimed Prudence, horrified. “You must not!” Grandpapa would see it.

  “Why on earth not, m’dear? You’ve made a conquest of a fellow the tabbies have been stalkin’ for years! Why not puff it off to the world? Nothin’ to hide, have we?”

  “No, no, of course not. It is just that…er,” Prudence snatched an excuse from the air. “Lord Carradice is in mourning.”

  Great-uncle Oswald looked surprised. “I’m sorry to hear that. I hadn’t heard. Who was it who died, m’dear? And if he is in mourning, come to think of it, why does his raiment not proclaim the fact? He was wearing a blue coat—dash it all—blue! ’Pon my soul, the fellow is a careless dresser!”

  Prudence thought frantically. “Ahh, his great-aunt died. But…she had a horror of black so she requested that her family continue to wear colors for her.”

  Great-uncle Oswald pulled a face. “Dashed peculiar, these modern notions. Colors for mourning. Pshaw! Which great-aunt was it? Not Estelle, was it? Or Gussie? I hope it wasn’t Gussie—although come to think of it, Gussie is Carradice’s aunt, not a great-aunt at all. Well, that’s a relief! Always been fond of Gussie.”

  Belatedly, Prudence realized Great-uncle Oswald was likely to be acquainted with all of Lord Carradice’s more elderly relatives.

  “Ah, no, I don’t think it was Estelle or Gussie. I, er, I think this great-aunt lived a very retired life…in Wales.”

  “Oh, Wales, that explains it,” said Great-uncle Oswald, quite as if Wales were Outer Mongolia. “And you didn’t catch the name, eh? No mourning! Dashed odd business all around. Still, if he wants a quiet betrothal, I’ll not oppose it. Twenty thousand pounds a year! I think that calls for a toast.”

  “Lord Carradice must have meant what he said in the park, Prue,” whispered Grace while Great-uncle Oswald poured them each a celebratory half glass of dandelion wine. “About wanting to be your fiancé faux.”

  Prudence nodded slowly. “Yes, but why? That’s the question, Grace, my love. Why would Lord Carradice want to enter into a false betrothal with me? I trust him not at all.”

  Grace looked solemn. “I don’t think he wants a false betrothal, Prue. I think he really likes you.”

  Prudence sniffed. “Nonsense! What he likes is playing games! He’s just teasing me, dearest. The man is frivolous to his bones! He knows I am promised to Phillip.”

  Hope had come up behind them and overheard Grace’s words. “Of course he likes you, Prue! Why, in the park, he could barely take his eyes off you!”

  “He didn’t even look at Charity,” added Faith. “Or any of us, except you.”

  Prudence raised an eyebrow at Charity for confirmation of this incredible tale.

  Charity shook her head. “I’m sorry, Prue, I didn’t notice. I was a little distracted by the other sights in the park.”

  Hope and Faith burst into giggles and went into a huddle of whispers. Charity turned a little pink.

  “Charity also has an admirer!” exclaimed Hope slyly.

  “Oh, don’t be silly, Hope,” said Charity, but she looked a little self-conscious.

  “Eh? What’s that? Young Charity made a conquest already, has she?” exclaimed Great-uncle Oswald in great good humor. “Don’t surprise me at all, such a dazzling creature you are, m’dear. I’m sure we’ll have ’em comin’ around in droves, soon enough! N
ow that we’ve got Prudence and young Carradice sorted out!” Beaming, he raised his glass of dandelion wine. “To the happy couple!”

  Prudence set down her glass. She could not drink, not even to a false betrothal, and to a man who had clearly done it all just to tease her. She felt wretchedly guilty about Great-uncle Oswald’s delight in her marrying into a title and a fortune. He would be horrified to learn she would actually marry a penniless younger son of undistinguished family.

  “Come on, Prudence m’dear, drink up. Do you a power of good, dandelion wine. Strengthens the blood, you know.” Great-uncle Oswald lifted his glass. “To the future Lady Carradice!”

  That was a toast Prudence could drink to. She could drink with a clear conscience to his unfortunate future wife. She heartily pitied the poor woman, whoever she would be.

  She sipped obediently, then returned to the subject of Charity’s mystery beau. “Now, Charity, tell us about this admirer.” She did not know what devious game Lord Carradice was playing, but if it meant that Charity had the chance to be safely settled, she would do her best to turn it to her advantage.

  “Never fret, Prudence my dear,” exclaimed Great-uncle Oswald. “We’ll fire young Charity off with no trouble at all—no trouble at all. Ravishin’ creature, she is! It was you I was worried about, but you’ve done us all proud, m’dear—twenty thousand a year! I couldn’t be more delighted, ’pon my word, I couldn’t. Our little Prudence, settled at last. Drink up, gels, drink up!”

  He raised his glass and drained it of every last drop of dandelion wine. “I’ll speak to Carradice and work out when we can have the betrothal celebration. If he’s gaddin’ about the town in colors, I can’t imagine his Welsh great-aunt would object to a small, tasteful party.”

  Prudence drank mechanically. As long as it remained a family secret, there should be no difficulty. She was confident she could carry off a false betrothal. She was almost confident she could manage Lord Carradice. Forewarned was forearmed, after all. All she had to do was keep Great-uncle Oswald happy and ensure Charity made a good marriage to a kind and loving man.

  In the meantime, she needed to know more about this mysterious admirer in the park. Charity had a streak of self-lessness in her that could be fatal. Prudence didn’t want her lovely, gentle sister to be dazzled into marriage, nor to sacrifice her own happiness in order to make her sisters safe.

  Marriage was supposed to be joyful. Prudence had learned that by observing her loving parents; her younger sisters remembered only the harshness of Grandpapa and duty. Charity desperately needed to be loved. All her sisters did, to make up for the terrible childhood they’d had. Prudence had promised them the sunshine and laughter and love and happiness her parents had had, and she was determined that if Charity married, it would be for love—nothing else would do. If necessary, Prudence would find another way to save them all from Grandpapa.

  She turned back to her sister. “Charity dearest, pray don’t be shy. Tell us about this admiring gentleman.”

  Charity blushed. “Oh, Hope exaggerates. There wasn’t anyone in particular,” she said. “Several gentlemen asked to be introduced in fact.”

  “No one in particular! What a bouncer!” interrupted Hope. “Why, a certain gentleman could not take his eyes off you, Charity, and you were looking right back—”

  Charity, cheeks rosy, shook her head vigorously. “Hush! it’s nothing, just…nothing. You must not refine upon it. He—they were just being polite, that’s all.”

  “Who couldn’t take his eyes off Charity?” asked Prudence.

  Hope opened her mouth, but Charity shot her a look that silenced her. “Nobody! The twins are talking nonsense.” She looked daggers at her giggling twin sisters. “You are such children!”

  But Prudence didn’t believe her denials. “Hope, who you are talking about!”

  Hope waved her hand airily. “That pudgy little duke, of course. Lord Carradice’s cousin. Hermit Ned. The Duke of Dinstable. He couldn’t take his eyes off Charity, from the moment they were introduced. And she was all cow’s eyes in return.”

  “He is not pudgy!” Charity pounced on her sister with fury. “He’s not the slightest bit pudgy! He’s solid! And strong! And he’s handsome. And kind. And intelligent. And—”

  “And worth thirty thousand a year, b’gad!” exclaimed Great-uncle Oswald.

  Prudence stared at her sister in amazement. She’d never seen Charity so vehement. So protective. So passionate.

  “The Duke of Dinstable?” she said. “But how…when—?” She broke off. It must have happened when he took the girls for the ride in the landau.

  “The Duke of Dinstable! I think that calls for a little more dandelion—no! Hang it! If we’re celebrating a duke, it had better be the very best stuff!” Great-uncle Oswald gleefully yanked on the bell cord. “A bottle of our finest cowslip, Niblett. We are celebrating! What a day! What a day! A baron already hooked, and now the nibble of a duke on our line! Romance is in the air, girls! To the tune of fifty thousand a year! Bless my soul! I haven’t had so much excitement in years!”

  Lady Ostwither’s soiree was just what Prudence would have wanted for Charity’s first appearance in society. The gathering was small—only about fifty or so people—but very select. And since Lady Ostwither’s own daughter was making her coming-out this season, Lady Ostwither had made certain many of the guests were wealthy and eligible young gentlemen.

  Having met Prudence, Lady Ostwither was rather disconcerted when Sir Oswald Merridew’s second orphaned niece turned out to be a Diamond of the First Water. She collected her face with commendable dignity and said in a voice that grated only a little, “You might have warned me, Sir Oswald!”

  However, being a kindly lady she made both girls welcome. And if it galled her to see so many of the young men she’d earmarked for her daughter now vying to find Charity the best seat, the most refreshing lemonade, and anything else that should take her fancy, she didn’t allow it to show for more than a moment or two.

  Prudence watched the buzz around her sister with satisfaction. There would be plenty of young men for Charity to choose from. If Hope and Faith were wrong about the Duke of Dinstable, there were other fish in Charity’s sea.

  And though her sister was surely the most beautiful and sweet-natured girl, Prudence could not really see her becoming a duchess. A duke would expect to marry within his own rank, surely. Charity was only the granddaughter of an obscure and unfashionable baron, a girl, moreover, whose father had made a mésalliance with the daughter of a tradesman; Grandpapa had drummed that flaw into them time and time again. Would inferior breeding matter to a duke?

  What nonsense, she told herself. There was no reason to fret at this point. She had no real cause to think the duke was interested in Charity—only the mischievous reports of a pair of silly young girls. And Charity’s blushes and vehement defense of him. If there was truth in the report, Prudence would do what she could to promote the match, but in the meantime, it was important that Charity meet a variety of eligible gentlemen.

  And then there would be the twins to be settled. As for herself…She would look after Grace.

  She wondered whether a letter had arrived from India. She’d left money with the scullery maid, to give to her brother in the village, and had written out Great-uncle Oswald’s address for him, but she was not sure how well the lad could read and write, and if he copied the address wrongly, well…

  How frail a thing was a letter, to carry such weighty responsibilities. And with so many possibilities for something to go wrong…

  All the more reason for trust and faith to remain strong, Prudence reminded herself firmly.

  “That particular shade of sage is exquisite on you, my Prudence,” a dark velvet voice murmured in her ear.

  She whirled. “L-Lord Carradice.” He was staring at her in a way that made her feel hot all over, even though her gown was rather thin and she had been feeling a little chilly. She tugged her shawl around her.


  He did not move, but it was as if his eyes caressed her all over.

  Prudence felt the heat spread.

  “I asked you to stay away from me.”

  He simply smiled, and Prudence could see why so many women had made fools of themselves over him. Well, she would not be one of them!

  “I would appreciate it if you would stop…stop…ogling me like that,” she hissed, tugging her very modest neckline higher. “It is very embarrassing.” She folded her arms across her breasts defensively.

  He tried to look contrite. “It wasn’t me,” he confessed. “It was my eyes. They are bold and easily led and have no sense of propriety.” His eyes wandered back to where her arms were folded, and he added softly, “Besides, you are so lovely. My poor eyes cannot resist the temptation you give them.”

  Prudence went breathless with pleasure at the unexpected compliment. You are so lovely. She tried to squash the small surge of delight. It was utter foolishness to believe a word he said, of course. Such empty flattery no doubt came to his lips as easily as breathing. In the park earlier he’d implied she was too plain to attract a husband. A fly in the ointment. He was flirting, and only naive country nobodies would fall for it. She pursed her mouth in what she hoped was a governessy fashion. “You are talking nonsense. A short time ago you said I was a fly in the ointment of my sisters’ marriages and that—”

  “I said nothing of the sort!” he interrupted indignantly. “Why would I say anything so patently ridiculous?”

  “You did, too. In the park.”

  “I did not! In fact I distinctly recall telling you that you would have no trouble finding a husband—beauties like you invariably attract suitors in droves—and that whatever is wrong with your sisters, it wouldn’t lessen your own chances.”

  She stared at him suspiciously. Beauties like her. He couldn’t possibly mean it. Was he just trying to make up for lost ground. “What do you mean whatever is wrong with my sisters? There is nothing wrong with my sisters!”

  “No, that’s what Edward says, too. So you’ve no need to worry.” He heaved a satisfied sigh. “So that’s why you were cross with me! Because I insulted your sisters. I wondered about it all evening. I’m sorry. I’m sure they’re very nice girls and you’ll manage to find someone for them eventually.”