The Ton's Most Notorious Rake

by Sarah Mallory

  ‘So why is such a life suddenly not enough?’ he muttered.

  At the sound of his master’s voice the big hunter pricked up his ears and sidled restlessly. Russ leaned forward to run a hand over the grey’s powerful neck.

  ‘I must be growing maudlin, Flash, and damned ungrateful, to have so much and yet want something more.’ He gathered up the reins and touched his heels to the hunter’s flanks. ‘Come up, boy. Let’s gallop off these fidgets, from both of us!’

  * * *

  Lady Currick might laugh at the idea of carousing rakes, but it did nothing to allay Molly’s fears and early the following morning she drove to Prospect House. She found Moses and Billy at work on the flower beds outside the drawing-room window.

  ‘Trampled, they was, ma’am,’ Moses told her. ‘In the night.’

  Molly grew cold. ‘Intruders!’

  ‘Nay, ma’am, no one got in. I didn’t hear anything, my room bein’ at the back o’ the house, but someone was prowling around last night.’

  Molly hurried inside, her imagination running wild with horrid scenes, but she found Fleur in her office, calmly writing up her ledgers. When Molly expressed her concerns she giggled, but refused to say anything more until she had summoned Nancy to join them in the drawing room.

  ‘I must not stay too long,’ said Nancy. ‘I have left Bridget making a potato pudding, but she will be at a loss to know how to dress the hog’s head when it is boiled. But where is your groom, Molly? Surely you did not come alone.’

  ‘The carriage horses needed shoeing and Gibson has taken them to the smith. And before you ask why I did not bring my maid, Cissy’s mother is still ailing and I have sent her home again for a few days to look after her.’ She waved an impatient hand. ‘Tell me quickly now, what happened here last night.’

  ‘Let us say we had visitors.’ Nancy went on quickly, ‘But the shutters were up and the doors bolted, so there was never any risk of them getting into the house.’

  ‘Oh, heavens!’

  ‘They were not housebreakers, Molly,’ Fleur assured her. ‘We could make out their white neckcloths and waistcoats quite clearly in the moonlight.’

  ‘You saw them?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Nancy nodded. ‘The first I knew of it was when Bridget came to tell me that she could hear someone on the drive.’

  ‘And did the puppy not bark?’ asked Molly.

  Nancy shook her head. ‘He is not yet fully house-trained, so Moses keeps him shut in the cellar at night. Shortly after Bridget had woken me, I heard gravel being thrown against the bedroom windows. Mine and Fleur’s. I was thankful they did not make their way to the back of the house and disturb Marjorie, she is so close to her time now she is finding it difficult enough to sleep as it is! It was two of the men—I will not credit them with the label of gentlemen—from Newlands. We had seen them in the market, but we did not learn their names.’

  Fleur said quickly, ‘Nancy and I both saw them, Molly. It was definitely not Sir Gerald.’

  Nancy nodded. ‘It was the very tall, thin one.’

  ‘Sir Joseph Aikers,’ said Molly. ‘And...and can you describe the other one?’

  ‘He was much shorter,’ said Fleur, ‘but he had a horrid laugh.’

  ‘Like a girl giggling?’ Molly was aware of an inordinate amount of relief when Fleur nodded. ‘That will be Mr Flemington.’

  So Russ was not involved. Molly told herself it meant nothing, he might well be aware of this night-time escapade. For all she knew he might have suggested it to his companions.

  ‘I saw their open carriage on the lane,’ Nancy went on, her lip curling. ‘Heaven knows how they managed to get to us without overturning it, for they were so drunk they could barely stand.’

  ‘Why did you not fetch Moses to see them off?’ asked Molly.

  ‘That was not necessary, we saw to it ourselves.’

  ‘Nancy! You did not go down to them!’

  ‘No, no, nothing like that. It is best you do not know, Molly, for it was not at all ladylike.’

  Nancy’s eyes were positively sparkling with mischief now and a gurgle of laughter escaped from Fleur.

  ‘We put up the window and told them to be off, but they were too drunk to do anything but fall about, crushing all the flowers, which made Nancy very angry, because we had worked so hard to plant them all in the spring.’

  ‘So how did you get them to go away?’ asked Molly, intrigued.

  ‘Nancy suggested they should serenade her, under her window, so we persuaded them to move across to the little bay at the end of the house.’

  ‘But that is the landing window,’ said Molly, confused.

  ‘I wanted them away from the flower beds,’ muttered Nancy. ‘Besides, that window juts out over the drive.’

  ‘Is that important?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ said Molly, thoroughly exasperated. ‘Tell me!’

  ‘We waited until they were both singing their hearts out, then we emptied the contents of our chamber pots out of the window.’

  Nancy and Fleur collapsed into giggles and, after struggling against it, Molly joined them, relieved of her worries, at least for a while. When Nancy had returned to the kitchens Molly went upstairs to visit Marjorie, who was embroidering a little gown for her baby, whenever it should appear. Then she went off with Fleur to speak with Moses about the harvest and talk to the other girls, who were collecting apples from the orchards.

  However, when Molly set off from the house it was not Marjorie’s imminent confinement, nor the excellent progress that occupied her mind, but last night’s occurrence. Nancy might laugh at what had happened and say they were very well able to look after themselves with Billy and Moses to help, but Molly wondered if perhaps another manservant should be hired. Billy was only ten years old and, although he was very useful around the farm, he was far too young to be thought of as a protector.

  Indignation welled up inside her as she slowed the gig to negotiate a tight corner. No protector had been needed before Sir Gerald and his friends came to Newlands! As if conjured by her thoughts, she rounded the bend to see Beau Russington sitting at the side of the road, his horse quietly cropping the grass close by. She pulled up the gig beside him.

  ‘Are you hurt, sir?’

  He rose gingerly. ‘I think not. I was enjoying a gallop along this stretch of open grassland when the girth broke.’ He began to brush off his coat. ‘If I had been paying attention, I would not have been thrown.’

  Molly had been so intent upon the man that she had not noticed his horse was missing its saddle. A glance showed it lying on the ground a little distance away. She gave Russ another look. He appeared decidedly pale.

  ‘I will take you back to Newlands,’ she told him. ‘Can you manage to tie your horse to the back of the gig? And I am sure we can find somewhere to put the saddle.’

  Five minutes later they had set off, Molly keeping a steady but slow pace.

  ‘I do not want to put your horse under stress,’ she explained. ‘Nor do I wish to subject you to more jolting than necessary.’

  ‘Your concern is very comforting, Mrs Morgan.’

  ‘I would do the same for anyone, Mr Russington.’

  ‘There is no need to show hackle, madam, I was being quite sincere.’

  ‘Were you?’

  Russ observed her sceptical look and his lips twitched.

  ‘I thought we had agreed to be civil to one another,’ he remarked. ‘That resolution did not last long.’

  ‘As I told you, it was conditional upon you deserving civility.’

  ‘Oh? And what is it I am meant to have done?’ He twisted around so that he could look at her, resting his arm along the back of the seat. Several unruly dark curls were peeping beneath her bonnet and he was tempted to tug at one of them, but th
e frowning look upon her face gave him pause.

  ‘Come, madam, to my knowledge I have done nothing to warrant your disapproval.’

  ‘Not you, perhaps, but your friends.’

  ‘Oh? Would you care to explain?’

  ‘They...called, last night. At Prospect House. They were intoxicated.’

  He frowned. He and Gerald had stayed up talking until gone midnight.

  ‘Are you sure it was anyone from Newlands?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ She threw him a swift, angry glance. ‘The ladies—and they are ladies, despite what you might think!—recognised them. They remembered seeing them with Sir Gerald at the market. Once they had described them to me I knew it was Sir Joseph and Mr Flemington.’

  ‘Damned fools!’ He straightened in his seat. ‘How much harm did they do?’

  ‘Apart from the inconvenience, and unsettling everyone, very little. They trampled a flower bed.’

  Watching her, Russ saw a sudden lightening of her countenance.

  ‘What was so amusing, Mrs Morgan?’

  He was surprised when she gave him a look brimful of mischief.

  ‘Nancy and Fleur paid them well for their impudence.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘They emptied their chamber pots over them.’

  Russ was silent for one stupefied moment, then he put back his head and roared with laughter.

  ‘Well, that explains something,’ he said, when at last he could command his voice. ‘When I came downstairs this morning the valet was just coming out of Flemington’s room with his master’s clothes bundled in his arms and there was a distinct smell of the privy surrounding him.’

  She shook her head. ‘I beg your pardon. It is most improper that I should have told you.’

  ‘It is most improper that they should be skulking around Prospect House at night!’

  ‘Yes.’ Her brow furrowed again and he felt a twinge of regret that she was no longer full of merriment. ‘It was most reprehensible. And it could be very damaging. You see, Prospect House can only continue here if it keeps its reputation as a respectable establishment. Which is why this escapade of your so-called friends does not help at all.’

  He wanted to tell her that they were no friends of his, nor were they long-standing friends of Kilburn, if truth were told. Aikers and Flemington had been on the town for years, but had only recently become friendly with Gerald. Russ had never liked them, but he gave a mental shrug. He was only a guest at Newlands, after all. He could do little about it. He glanced at her, suddenly curious.

  ‘Why are you so passionate about Prospect House?’

  ‘It is impossible not to be touched by the plight of the women there. Not that I expect you to understand that.’

  ‘No?’ He turned to look at her again, once more resting his hand along the back. ‘I might understand better, if you were to explain it. Believe me, I have no ulterior motive, madam, only curiosity. You say some of them are ladies?’

  ‘Fleur and Nancy’s birth is equal to yours or mine, Mr Russington, but circumstances made it necessary for them to quit their homes.’

  ‘Tell me about the others,’ he invited, enjoying the animation that lit her countenance when she spoke of these women.

  ‘Well, there is Betty, a gentleman’s daughter who was cast out of her home after being persuaded to elope with a plausible gentleman. He took her only as far as the next town, where he abandoned her, and when she tried to return to her family, they disowned her.’

  ‘That is very sad, I agree, but what hope can you give her for the future?’

  ‘She is well educated and I am not unhopeful of finding her a place. In a girls’ school, perhaps. For now, she helps out in the charity school my brother has set up. And Bridget, who helps Nancy in the kitchens. She is the widow of a sailor. She was left destitute and found her way to us. Daisy and her son, Billy, were turned out when her employer discovered she was not married. Then there’s Marjorie. She was earning her living as a seamstress until an encounter with a so-called gentleman. He promised her the earth and she believed him, until she discovered he had a wife and he left her penniless, alone and with child. Now she makes clothes for the house and for us to sell in the market. She also teaches the others how to sew.’ She was at ease now and eager to tell him more. ‘One of Marjorie’s protégées now works for Miss Hebden, in the town. And a couple more are looking promising—two housemaids who were both thrown on to the streets after being seduced and have horrific tales to tell. One lost her baby and without a character she has been unable to find more work. The other, Ruth, left her newborn son at the foundling hospital—’

  ‘In London!’

  ‘Yes. She was affianced to a sailor, the father of her child, but after he had gone back to sea she discovered he had tricked her and had no intention of returning. Then she met another man, who promised her if she went with him they would go back for the baby. Instead he brought her here, to the north, and abandoned her in Compton Magna. Her intelligence is not high, but her needlework is exquisite. Marjorie has put a plan to me that I hope the committee might approve—once her baby is born we might set her up in a little shop in one of the bigger towns, such as Harrogate, which is becoming quite fashionable. Then the other two girls could live and work with her. We might even be able to have Ruth’s baby returned to her.’

  ‘Quite an ambition.’

  ‘But not impossible. The girls are all hard-working and determined to improve themselves. They merely need a little help.’

  She fell quiet and he prompted her with another question.

  ‘Where do these women come from? How do you find them?’

  ‘Some of them find us, but usually Edwin comes upon them through his work. Some, like Ruth, are displaced and the parish will not help them.’ She sighed. ‘It is much worse in the cities, of course, but even in a small town like Compton Parva there are many who need our help. Cissy, my own maid, for example, was seduced by a travelling man and abandoned. If Edwin had not agreed to employ her she would have had to leave the town.’ Molly paused as she slowed the gig. ‘Heavens, we are already at the gates of Newlands. I beg your pardon to have rattled on so. You must be thoroughly bored with my chattering about people you do not know.’

  ‘Not at all.’ Russ was surprised to find it was the truth. He added quietly, ‘I understand now why you are so prejudiced against our sex, Mrs Morgan.’

  ‘I do not think I am prejudiced,’ she responded. ‘There are very many good people in the world. The townsfolk of Compton Parva, for example, are in the main very generous. I admit that I am cautious, although I hope I am fair-minded. I believe one should judge a man on his deeds.’

  ‘But you judged the party at Newlands before you had even met us,’ he challenged her. ‘You know very little about Kilburn. Or about me.’

  Molly kept her eyes fixed on the winding drive and did not speak until she had brought the gig to a halt at the steps of the house.

  ‘I know you are a dangerous man, Mr Russington.’

  ‘Dangerous?’ He sounded genuinely surprised. ‘What makes you say that?’

  She turned towards him, determined to be honest. ‘You are...a danger to women.’

  Those sensuous lips curved upwards and she felt the devastating force of his smile.

  ‘I could take that as a compliment.’

  She had to fight the urge to smile back. ‘I did not mean it so.’

  He shook his head. ‘I have never forced my attentions upon a woman.’

  No, he would not have to, she thought, taking in the dark brown eyes, the curling black hair and the lean handsome face. He had the lithe grace of a cat, the body of an athlete. He only had to walk into a room for all eyes to turn towards him. She had seen it for herself, the way the ladies looked at him and not only the young, unmarried ones.

  ‘Can you also be sure you have
never broken a woman’s heart?’

  ‘I have never set out to do so. In most cases, the ladies fall in love with my fortune.’

  The smile was still there, but it no longer charmed Molly. Now it was full of self-mockery.

  She said quietly, ‘Then I am very sorry for you.’

  She knew she had surprised him. His eyes became dark and unreadable and she braced herself for some withering remark. It never came. Instead he looked over her shoulder and she heard the scrunch of footsteps on the gravel.

  ‘I beg your pardon for keeping you waiting, ma’am, Mr Russington.’

  Sir Gerald’s butler was hurrying towards them, but he was overtaken by the master of the house demanding to know what had happened. The moment was lost and Molly could not be sorry—the mood between her and Russ had grown too serious.

  ‘I took a tumble when the girth broke, Kilburn. No harm done and Mrs Morgan kindly brought me home.’

  Russ gave her a rueful smile and climbed down from the gig while Sir Gerald barked orders for the horse and the damaged saddle to be taken to the stables. Until this was done Molly could not drive off, but she refused Sir Gerald’s invitation to step inside, explaining that she needed to get back to the vicarage.

  ‘But surely you can spare five minutes,’ Sir Gerald pressed her. ‘You must give Russ the chance to thank you properly.’

  She glanced at the beau, standing beside his friend and a laugh bubbled up. She said sweetly, ‘Mr Russington will need to change out of his muddy clothes, Sir Gerald, and I really cannot wait while his valet restores him. I am sure it will take an hour, at least.’

  Sir Gerald gave a shout of laughter, and Russ’s lips formed the word witch, although his eyes were gleaming.

  ‘Very true,’ he said gravely. He reached out for her hand. ‘We have one rescue apiece now, Mrs Morgan. Shall we cry quits?’ He added softly, ‘Shall we cry friends?’

  Her fingers were wrapped in a strong, warm grasp, his eyes were smiling at her. She felt no alarm, no fear, only comfort. She smiled.