The Perfect Rake

by Anne Gracie

  Nobody else had yet come down. His long, angular face was freshly shaved but retained that dark tinge that she found so attractive in him. Her skin tingled with remembrance of the sensual abrasion of those dark bristles. A faint, pleasurable frisson passed through her. Holding the banister rail, she managed to resume her progress down the stairs, hoping the heat in her cheeks did not betoken that glow Great-uncle Oswald had spoken of.

  “Yes, Aunt Gussie sent a note around informing me there was to be a small party and that I was required for escort duty. I did not dare refuse. A terrifying creature when crossed, my aunt.”

  “I’ve noticed,” said Prudence dryly, even as a lump rose in her throat. He knew she was feeling awkward after their last encounter and was talking nonsense to spare her.

  He strode forward as she reached the last few steps and took her hand, as if she were some fragile, delicate creature. Through her evening gloves, she felt his strength, his warmth. He took the silver tissue cloak that was draped across her arm, shook it out, and swung it around her, wrapping her in it, and him. His arms were around her and before she realized what he was about to do, he’d planted a soft kiss on the nape of her neck. A shiver passed through her entire body, and it was all Prudence could do not to lean back into his embrace.

  She forced herself to resist, saying in a voice that squeaked with tension, “Could we talk privately tomorrow morning, please?”

  “Of course.” He added in a low, sincere voice, “Fear not, Imp. I’ll importune you no more tonight. I did not mean to distress you just now, but you look so very lovely, like an angel in a silver cloud, I could not help myself. I apologize.”

  Prudence had no idea what to say. Just as the silence was stretching to uncomfortable limits, she recalled she owed him a debt of thanks. “I must thank you for sending us the sapphire necklace. I don’t know how you retrieved it, or how you knew which one to retrieve, of all the jewelry I sold.” She gazed up at him, “It was the very sapphire set my mother wore at her wedding, and it meant such a lot to Charity…and to me, for her to wear it. I will, of course, repay—”

  His face twisted. “Ah, don’t, Imp. You know I don’t want—”

  Just then, the twins clattered noisily down the stairs, dressed in pale yellow muslin and calling for Lord Carradice to admire them. This he did with alacrity, and her sisters were delighted by his lavish and very silly compliments. Grace hung over the banister, watching them a little wistfully.

  Lord Carradice glanced up and noticed her. “Greetings, young Limb,” he called up to her. “I thought tomorrow afternoon we might visit a fair. There is one to be held in a village not far from here. Would you care to accompany me?”

  Grace called down her assent, her eyes shining.

  Prudence bit her lip. Of course he would offer her little sister some sort of consolation for being left out of the party. He was Gideon. How could anyone resist him?

  Lady Augusta descended the stairs in a wonderfully lowcut gown of emerald-shot satin and a black-and-gold shawl draped in the Spanish manner. Around her neck was a necklace of gold and emeralds.

  When Great-uncle Oswald arrived, he snatched off his hat and gazed at her in stunned admiration, muttering, “Magnificent, b’gad. Magnificent!”

  Gideon nudged Prudence, and she followed his amused gaze to where Lady Augusta was adjusting her shawl with a vast deal of nonchalance and a satisfied little smile.

  “Are we all ready to leave?” said Lady Augusta. “Then let us do so at once.”

  Even though the evening was fine and Lady Gosforth’s home only a short walk away, Lady Augusta had ordered a sedan chair to carry her. “I know they are a little passé,” she explained to the girls, “but I always loved the look of these things when I was a gel. It looks so marvelous—a lady being carried along in a palanquin like an Oriental princess, with her cicisbei strolling along beside her, carrying her fan—drat it, forgot to bring a fan. Never mind. Oswald, you’re my chief cicisbeo, pretend there is a fan, will you?”

  To Prudence’s astonishment, he chuckled coyly and pretended to carry an invisible fan. The twins exchanged glances and giggled. And indeed it was like an Oriental procession, with Lady Augusta reclining in the palanquin carried by four liveried servants, followed by Great-uncle Oswald, who was flanked on either side by a twin in yellow muslin, then Prudence on Lord Carradice’s arm, and bringing up in the rear, James the footman.

  They turned the corner. “I thought you said it was to be a small party, ma’am,” exclaimed Prudence. Dozens of people milled in front of Lady Gosforth’s house, some awaiting entry to the house, others simply there to watch.

  Lady Gussie peered out of the palanquin. “Small by Maude’s standards, I meant. You didn’t think I would bring you to something insipid, did you?”

  Prudence had to laugh, but it crossed her mind that this might indeed be what Phillip meant by “in public.” It was too late now, however, for they had reached the front door.

  Inside, despite the unfashionable early hour, it was a sad crush, by which Prudence was given to understand the party was already a success. The entry foyer and large withdrawing room were filled with people talking and laughing and exclaiming. Lady Gosforth, a tall, Roman-nosed matron, stood at the foot of the stairs, greeting her guests. Prudence thought she looked rather stern and intimidating. Then Lady Gosforth’s gaze fell upon them.

  “Gussie!” she shrieked.

  “Maudie!” All formality disappeared as the two middleaged ladies embraced like excited schoolgirls, chattering nineteen to the dozen. However, the press of new guests arriving soon forced Lady Gosforth to return to her duties. “But stay here with me, Gussie dearest, and I shall introduce you to everyone. It’s been such an age since you were in England that you must be quite out of touch.”

  She glanced at Lord Carradice, who had reclaimed Prudence’s hand and replaced it on his arm the moment she had completed her curtsy. Her shrewd blue eyes dwelt thoughtfully on Prudence, then traveled to her sisters. “I see you have lost no time in meeting the latest beauties on the scene, Carradice. Sir Oswald, my congratulations. These twin angels of yours will cause a sensation when they come out. Enjoy my little party, girls. Gussie, stay with me. I want to hear all about everything.”

  Gussie agreed enthusiastically and sent the girls and Gideon on ahead, promising to join them later.

  It was very crowded in the front drawing room. As they shuffled their way forward, the crowd separated Great-uncle Oswald from them. Lord Carradice cupped Prudence’s elbow in a protective grip and steered her through the crush, the twins following in their wake. He was greeted by dozens of people, most of them ladies. Numerous gentlemen, their eyes passing from Hope to Faith and back again, also pressed forward, recalling their acquaintanceship with Lord Carradice and demanding introductions to the new beauties. Eventually they reached a much less-crowded room with French doors standing open, leading out to the terrace and down to the garden. On either side was a shallow alcove, where a number of chairs had been placed.

  “If you care to wait here,” said Lord Carradice, “I shall procure refreshments. A glass of champagne, Miss Merridew? Ratafia for you, I’m afraid, Miss Hope and Miss Faith.”

  He had been on his best formal behavior. Prudence wondered why it made her feel so lonely. Given her doubts, formality was the safest, least-distressing path. But it made her feel a little melancholy all the same. She was not at all in the mood for a party. She watched as he disappeared into the crowd.

  Instantly a small group of gentlemen surrounded them. They crowded around the twins, pelting them with questions, vying for the beauties’ attention. Prudence was quickly relegated to the outer. She felt like the chaperone she had intended to be, but she had had a taste of being wooed, and returning to the role of the plain one was harder than she had expected. Not that she wanted any of these young men to court her.

  There was only one man she wanted; she prayed he wanted her in the same way. Until that was resolved…


  She moved aside and took pleasure in watching her young sisters enjoy their very first social success. Hope, in particular, had yearned for this for so long. She was no longer the clumsy, defiant girl of Dereham place. Now she was a beacon of loveliness and grace, growing in poise by the minute. Faith, too, was in her element, glowing with shy excitement.

  Was it only a little over six weeks ago they’d been imprisoned at Dereham, subject to Grandpapa’s harsh tyranny? An event such as tonight’s had been but a hopeless dream then.

  And in a matter of days, it would be Prudence’s birthday.

  “Prudence, what are you doing here?” It was Phillip, looking appalled.

  Prudence offered him an apologetic smile and started to explain, but Phillip cut her off. “I thought I could rely on your promise, and look! You are here, when I specifically forbade it!”

  “You do not have the power to forbid me anything,” Prudence retorted. “I admit, I agreed to forgo public events for a week, but I understood this to be a small, private party—at least that’s what Lady Augusta told me.”

  “Do you know the harm you have caused by coming here? You must leave immediately!”

  “I will do no such thing! There is no harm, Phillip. You are overreacting. Nobody knows of our—our past.”

  He cast a hasty glance around the room. “You must leave. Trust me on this, Prudence. You have no idea how mortifying it would be for me if you are seen, here—with such a woman.”

  “Poppycock! She is an old friend of Lady Gosforth’s. And I will not leave, particularly when the twins are having such a lovely time.” Her voice softened. “Look, Phillip, see how happy they are? It is their first grown-up party—their first party of any sort, in fact, and I will not spoil it for them.”

  “Oh Lord, she cannot be a friend of Lady Gosforth’s! You must leave now! If you do not, it will jeopardize everything I have worked for!”

  Prudence clenched her fists. “I will not leave! You are too fearful of idle gossip. I assure you, Lady Augusta is of the utmost respectability.”

  Phillip glared at her in frustration and anger. Prudence glared back.

  “Greetings, my bantams,” said an amused voice at Prudence’s elbow. “Your champagne, Miss Merridew.” Lord Carradice handed her a tall glass, glanced from her to Phillip, and gave her a quizzical look. “Will you not introduce us, Miss Merridew?”

  “Lord Carradice, Mr. Otterbury,” Prudence said baldly.

  Lord Carradice gave an affected start of surprise and seized Phillip’s hand to shake it. “Let me be the first to congratulate you on your incredible escape, Mr. Ottershanks.”

  Prudence almost choked. Phillip’s escape? From Prudence? But she hadn’t yet told him she’d broken their betrothal. The devil was in his smile. She trusted him not an inch! She looked daggers at him.

  Lord Carradice smiled blandly back at her.

  Phillip bowed stiffly. “My name is Otterbury. Your servant, Lord Carradice.” He glanced at Prudence, then added in a suspicious tone, “Escape from what, may I ask?”

  “Why, from the tiger, of course.” Lord Carradice took a leisurely sip of champagne.

  Phillip stared. “I beg your pardon?”

  Prudence suddenly realized what he was talking about. She pressed her lips together and tried to keep a straight face.

  Lord Carradice frowned. “Or was it an elephant? That was it, yes—you were sat on by an elephant. I must say, you’ve recovered well—it hardly shows—of course, your head is rather an odd shape, but no one would ever suspect it was the elephant, I assure you.”

  A small snort of laughter escaped Prudence. She tried to turn it into a cough.

  “Miss Merridew, you must be careful of the bubbles in champagne,” Lord Carradice said solicitously.

  Phillip stiffened even more. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

  “I understood you’d been eaten by a tiger or squashed by an elephant. And yet here you are.” Gideon smiled affably. “I don’t suppose you’d care to tell us the tale of your escape?” He tucked Prudence’s hand through his arm and regarded Phillip with every evidence of fascination.

  Phillip focused on the hand and frowned. He glanced at the door again. “Miss Merridew, it is time you left. The company is”—he shot a significant glance at Lord Carradice—“inappropriate.”

  Prudence explained, “Mr. Otterbury wishes me to go home, Lord Carradice. He’s afraid my presence here tonight with your aunt and yourself will reflect badly on him.”

  Lord Carradice turned to Phillip in mild surprise. “On you?”

  “My…my hostess is a relative of Lady Gosforth,” Phillip said stiffly, “and I was concerned her ladyship would be…” Unsettled by the look in Lord Carradice’s eye, he faltered. “Lady Gosforth is the aunt of a duke, you know,” he finished feebly.

  “Yes, I know. She and Aunt Gussie have been friends for years,” Gideon explained in a friendly fashion. He added, “Aunt Gussie is the aunt of a duke, too. And was once the sister-in-law of one.”

  “Ahh,” Phillip said in a strangled tone.

  “Mr. Otterbury suspects the Duke of Dinstable is an impostor,” Prudence offered helpfully.

  Phillip made faint noises of embarrassed denial.

  “No! Is he? An impostor!” Lord Carradice was enchanted. “I shall tell Lady Gosforth at once. She is his godmother, you know. How exciting!”

  Puce with mortification, Phillip ran a finger around his collar. “I must have been misinformed. I hope you haven’t taken offense, my lord.”

  “Oh no, not at all, Ottershanks. Any friend of Miss Merridew is a friend of mine. She’s the sister-in-law of a duke, you see.”

  “Otterbury,” croaked Phillip.

  “And I’m a duke’s cousin and was once the nephew of a duke, before he died. Do dead dukes count?”

  Phillip mumbled something and bowed again. Prudence buried her nose in champagne.

  “There you are, Prudence, Carradice,” a voice said from behind. “Wondered where you got to. Twins seem to be havin’ a good time of it. There’s dancin’ in the back parlor, Prudence, if you and Carradice want to join in. I’ll keep an eye on the gels here.” He noticed Phillip edging inconspicuously away. “How d’ye do, sir.”

  Phillip bowed swiftly and turned to leave, so Prudence took great pleasure in calling him back and introducing him as a gentleman recently returned from India.

  “India, eh? Have a few interests there, myself. And what were you doin’ in India, young Otterbury? Ah, Maudie, Gussie, here you are,” Great-uncle Oswald said. “Prudence and Carradice are off to dance.”

  “I suppose I should come with you, then,” Lady Augusta said.

  “No need for that, Gussie.” Great-uncle Oswald stopped her. “Betrothed couple don’t need chaperonin’ at a private party.”

  “A betrothed couple!” Lady Gosforth exclaimed. “Carradice is betrothed?”

  “Ha! Surprised you, did I, Maudie? Thought you was always ahead of the news, didn’t you?”

  “Betrothed!” Phillip sounded shocked.

  “No, no,” Prudence insisted. “It is a mistake! I am not betrothed to Lord Carradice.”

  “Yes, you are,” Great-uncle Oswald contradicted her.

  “No! I told you it was off.” Prudence darted a guilty look at Lord Carradice. “I’m sorry.”

  “Nonsense,” Great-uncle Oswald declared. “A tiff, that’s all. Two of you were smellin’ of April and May on the way here tonight.”

  “No, we were not!” Prudence said despairingly. “Truly we were not.”

  “Actually, I thought you smelled of gardenias,” Lord Carradice said. “And I was wearing a cologne scented faintly with sandalwood. It may have worn off; it is very subtle. But you definitely smelled of gardenias. And moonlight.”

  She gave him a wrathful look, which he returned with a limpid smile. Prudence felt like shaking him. She was embroiled in a stew—of her own making, admittedly—and all he could do was say she smelled of
gardenias and moonlight? The foolish man! Did he want to be trapped into having to marry her?

  Phillip muttered so that only Prudence could hear him, “So your uncle forced his hand, eh, Prudence? Well done.”

  Prudence winced.

  Instantly the humor left Lord Carradice’s eyes. “Got something to say, Clotterbury? Spit it out. If you don’t like Prudence being betrothed to me, tell it to my face.”

  “I am not betrothed to you,” Prudence wailed.

  “’Course you are,” Great-uncle Oswald contradicted her. “But what’s it got to do with young Clotterbury here, eh? Clotterbury? Explain yourself.”

  Phillip’s mouth opened and closed silently, like a codfish.

  “When did this betrothal happen?” Lady Augusta demanded, distracting Great-uncle Oswald’s attention from Otterbury, who heaved a sigh of relief.

  “Several weeks back. Carradice came callin’ on me in his courtin’ clothes, asked my permission. I gave it. Betrothed, all right and tight. Not announced publicly yet because of his Welsh aunt, of course.”

  “Rake Carradice, caught at last,” Lady Gosforth exclaimed with delight.

  “Why didn’t I know about this, Gideon?” Lady Augusta demanded, clearly aggrieved at not being first with the news. “And what Welsh aunt is this?”

  “Auntie Angharad,” Gideon informed her solemnly.

  Lady Augusta thought for a moment and then declared, “You don’t have an Auntie Angharad!”

  “No,” he agreed in a sorrowful voice. “She’s dead.”

  Seeing that the conversation was heading down an impossible path, Prudence declared in a loud voice, “Lord Carradice and I are not betrothed and never were.” She turned to him, her eyes beseeching him to rescue her. “It is all a misunderstanding, isn’t it, Lord Carradice?”

  He just looked at her, a small, odd smile on his face. His eyes were dark and suddenly serious. Their audience fell silent, awaiting his answer. Prudence suddenly realized he was not going to save her. He was going to be stupidly noble and confirm the betrothal story to protect her reputation.