The Ton's Most Notorious Rake

by Sarah Mallory

  ‘But it will be a relief to your brother,’ remarked Molly, rising as the servant came in to announce dinner. ‘Mr Russington will no longer be obliged to call here.’

  * * *

  There was no mistaking the sting in the words, but Russ had no opportunity to respond. Molly had taken Gerald’s arm to go into dinner and he followed with Serena and Edwin, wondering what he might do to make amends. He had not intended to wound Molly, but his reaction to seeing her tonight had shocked him. When she had entered the room tonight, her eyes sparkling and a laugh trembling on her lips, his heart had soared, but then Serena had asked his opinion of the red gown and his only thought had been how quickly he could remove it. He had felt like a callow youth. Out of his depth, out of control.

  For years now Russ had considered himself immune to female charms. There were few women for whom he had ever felt affection and he had been able to leave them with no more than a momentary pang of regret. He was damned if he knew what it was about little Molly Morgan, with her serious demeanour and her high morals, that had found the chink in his armour.

  The answer came as he watched her presiding over her brother’s dinner table. He liked her. He admired the quiet way she went about her duties as her brother’s helper, her fierce dedication to protecting the women at Prospect House. Her honesty. He liked the little things about her, too. The way she pondered a serious question before answering, the way her face lit up when she laughed. In his opinion she should laugh a great deal more, which brought him full circle. He had hurt her tonight and he must make amends, if he could, before he left the vicarage that evening.

  * * *

  Russ curbed his impatience as Edwin refreshed the brandy glasses, but thankfully neither the vicar nor Sir Gerald were in roistering mood and it was less than an hour after dinner that they joined the ladies. Kilburn immediately crossed the room to where Serena was sitting at the piano and Russ watched them for a moment, aware of his duty as guardian, but Gerald was behaving very much as he did with his own sister.

  Serena and Gerald were happily engaged at the pianoforte and the others settled down to listen to them. Molly moved to a seat beside the table in the corner, ostensibly to take advantage of the candlelight for her sewing, but Russ had seen her do this before, effacing herself in company, avoiding attention. Avoiding him.

  With the fire blazing and curtains pulled against the autumn night it was cosily warm in the little drawing room and soon Edwin was dozing in his chair. Russ went across to Molly. She looked a little wary at his approach, but her first words were not unfriendly. She glanced towards the pianoforte.

  ‘Your sister and Sir Gerald perform well together.’

  ‘Yes. I am pleased to see Serena has learned something at the various establishments she has attended.’

  ‘She is a very accomplished young woman,’ Molly replied. ‘She also has the knack of putting strangers at their ease. I have noticed it during the past week, when she has come about the town with me.’

  He nodded. ‘She may be a minx, but she is an engaging one. As her guardians, Henry and I will need all our wits to keep her out of scrapes. Until she has a husband to take over that role.’

  ‘There will be no shortage of admirers for such a lively young heiress.’

  She glanced across the room again and he said, anticipating her question, ‘Serena is too young to be forming an attachment for a few years yet.’

  ‘She is sixteen,’ said Molly. ‘She is not too young to fall in love.’

  Russ knew she was talking of her own experience. He wanted to ask her if she still loved the villain who had stolen her dreams, but he was afraid to know the answer. She bent her head once more over her sewing.

  ‘And what of Sir Gerald?’ she murmured. ‘Has he any thoughts of settling down?’

  ‘Good heavens, no. He is far too old for Serena. They get on very well, I think, because he treats her very much as he does his own sister.’

  Russ paused. Gerald’s ease of manner made him think of his own fractured family. The comparison did not please him.

  He said suddenly, ‘Henry and I have seen very little of Serena. It would have been better, perhaps, if we had spent more time together. Henry was one-and-twenty, and already married, by the time our mother died. Father married again within a twelvemonth and barely a year after that Serena was born.’ His jaw tightened. ‘I remember all too clearly Father bringing home his new bride. He was besotted and only too happy to indulge his new wife. They pursued a life of pleasure, splitting their time between London and visits to friends.’

  ‘And did you go with them?’

  ‘No. I was at school and saw them but rarely. Henry set up his own establishment, and when Serena was born she was left to the care of servants.’

  ‘That must have been a lonely time for you and your sister,’ murmured Molly.

  ‘Yes.’

  It was the first time Russ had admitted it. Molly was still setting her stitches, not looking at him, and sitting here beside her, within the cosy glow of the candles, he felt more at ease than he had done for years.

  ‘I never thought about it at the time, but Henry had a hopeful family, Father had his new wife, I was not necessary to anyone’s happiness. Serena, I thought of not at all. My godmother died and left me her fortune, which meant I did not need to consider any career, other than a life of idleness and dissipation.

  ‘My father died suddenly when I was twenty, by which time my habits were fixed. I was living in town, with sufficient fortune to enjoy myself.’ He fell silent, looking back over the years, before continuing quietly, ‘That was when my stepmother approached me. Having run through my father’s fortune, she hoped to seduce me into sharing mine with her. When I rejected her advances, she ran off with her Italian lover.’

  * * *

  Molly’s sewing lay unheeded on her lap as she listened to Russ calmly relating his history, but this last revelation was too much, even though she had heard something of it from Serena.

  ‘That is very sad,’ she said quietly. ‘How could any mother abandon her children?’

  He shrugged. ‘Her Italian count is very rich. Women will do anything for money.’

  ‘Not all women, Russ.’

  The words were out before she could stop them. He fixed his dark eyes on her, and she returned his look steadily, her heart going out to the wild and lonely young man he had been. She should not have spoken and should not have used his name, but it had been instinctive. Even now she wanted to reach out to him, to take his face in her hands and kiss away the years of hurt and pain.

  The sudden crashing of chords and Serena’s trilling laugh shattered the moment. Molly carefully fixed the needle into the material and folded up her sewing. What a conceited fool she was to think she might give comfort to Beau Russington, who had his pick of the most beautiful women in the land. He might talk to her as a friend, but he did not want her in his bed, his reaction earlier this evening had shown that all too clearly.

  ‘I should ring for the tea tray.’ She went to rise.

  ‘Not yet.’ He put out his hand to stop her. ‘Gerald and Serena have embarked upon another duet. Why not let them finish that first?’

  She sank back on her chair. His touch had sent a shower of burning arrows through her skin and she rubbed her arm as the lively strains of an English folk song filled the room. She searched around for something cheerful to say.

  ‘Despite everything, your sister is a most delightful young lady. She has enchanted everyone in Compton Parva.’

  ‘I am glad to hear you say that.’ Russ shifted in his seat to watch the singers. ‘She was barely eight years old when her mother left England, but Eleanor had no more time for her daughter than for her stepsons. Perhaps that was for the best. She would not have been an influence for good.’ He turned back to Molly. ‘I have to confess I can take no credit for the way she
has turned out. I did not wish to involve myself in my half-sister’s education, I left all that to Henry. She lived at Hambridge Hall with Henry and Dorothea in the short periods when she was not at school and he occasionally invited me to join them. A belated attempt to instil some family feeling into us, I suppose, but for the most part we went our own ways. However, I need to bestir myself a little now. My brother has a daughter, you see, who is to be presented in the spring. The last time I saw my niece she was not at all promising, so I suspect Dorothea is reluctant to have Serena live with them until her daughter is safely married off. I confess I am at a loss to know what to do with the chit!’

  ‘She is a young woman,’ Molly reminded him gently.

  He sighed. ‘Aye, you are right. It is clear that she has outgrown school. She needs a chaperon or a companion who can match her spirit and energy. Someone who can guide her and keep her safe without stifling her natural liveliness, but they must be of good birth and impeccable character.’

  Neither of them had noticed that the music had ended and Serena was approaching with Sir Gerald.

  ‘Are you talking about me, Russ?’ she cried, dropping a hand on her brother’s shoulder.

  ‘Aye, I am wondering what the devil I am to do with you.’

  ‘Perhaps you should take a wife,’ Serena murmured, wickedly. ‘Then I could live with you.’

  Gerald laughed. ‘I wish I might see Beau Russington leg-shackled to a woman of impeccable character!’

  Molly saw Russ’s brows rise, and he replied with a touch of hauteur, ‘My dear Kilburn, I could not settle for anything less.’

  Feeling slightly sick, she flew off to ring for the tea tray. She did not want to hear any more.

  * * *

  A woman of impeccable character.

  The words had taunted Molly throughout her sleepless night. She had as good as told Russ that she had had a lover before her marriage.

  Yet he left Serena in your care.

  Only because there was no one else.

  She had tossed and turned, thumping her pillow, throwing off the covers, trying to find some rest and solace in the darkness, but her mind would not be quiet. By the time the sun came up she was resigned to the fact that Russ would never consider her for his wife. But she had never expected that he would, and until recently she had never even thought of marrying again. She had been quite content with her life in Compton Parva.

  Hadn’t she?

  Molly stopped brushing her hair and stared at her reflection. Russ had stirred up feelings and regrets she had thought long dead and she was not sure if she was most pleased or sorry for it.

  Chapter Ten

  ‘Steady, boy. Easy, Flash.’

  Russ eased his horse back from the headlong gallop that had seen them flying across the moor. He cursed himself for being so foolhardy. That last stumble might have seen him take a tumble or, worse, Flash might have broken a leg. And however careless of his own life Russ might be, he should not risk his faithful mount.

  He came to a halt on the highest point of the promontory that forced the road in the valley bottom into a curving arc around it. The sun was still shining over the high ground, but below the land was already in shadow and a few lights twinkled in distant Compton Parva, nestled at the western end of the valley. He would wager that at least one of those lights came from the lamp outside the vicarage, shining out to welcome all souls, however damaged.

  A movement caught his eye—a solitary vehicle had come into view from the east. He could see it was a gig making its way at a smart pace towards the town. The driver was a woman and although Russ could not be sure at this distance, he thought it might well be Molly on her way back from Prospect House.

  Molly. Why was it that at their every meeting, he acted like a crass fool? Last night he had been brusque to the point of rudeness when Serena had asked his opinion of Molly’s new gown. Then, just when he thought he had mended those fences, Serena, the minx, had said he should marry. That had caught him off guard, because at that very moment he had been thinking that Molly might well make the perfect wife. As if that was not enough, Gerald, damn him, had chosen that moment to tease him and he had answered angrily and without thinking. He wished now he had cut out his tongue before speaking. It was only after the words had left his mouth that he recalled what Molly had told him about being seduced by a rascally soldier. He had never thought any the worse of her for that, but he was sure she would consider herself disgraced.

  He closed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief that he, the celebrated Beau Russington, famed for his polished address, should behave like a doltish schoolboy over a woman. The fact was that he had never cared about a woman before. He had thought them all self-seeking fortune hunters, like his stepmother. Selfish beings, selling their favours to the highest bidder. It had been made abundantly plain to him from an early age that no matter how badly he behaved, any one of the beauties that graced the town could be his for a sum. But the price for the virginal debutantes who filled the London salons was marriage and that was a price he was not prepared to pay.

  Until now. He rubbed a hand across his face. Molly Morgan had already suffered in her young life and she deserved a better husband than a jaded rake with a dubious past. Opening his eyes, Russ glanced down, expecting to see that the gig had rounded the bend by now, but the road to the west was deserted. He followed it back until he saw the vehicle had stopped just short of the bend. He pulled out his spyglass and through the deepening gloom he could see that the vehicle was resting at an ugly angle. His heart jolted in alarm until he saw that Molly was on her feet and standing beside it. Without hesitating he touched his heels to his horse’s flanks.

  ‘Come up, Flash. It would appear the lady is in distress.’

  * * *

  The lurching jolt as the wheel cracked and splintered sent Molly tumbling out of the gig. She was winded, but not hurt, and scrambled to her feet. The mare was standing between the shafts, trembling violently, but she, too, appeared unhurt. The gig’s wheel, however, was smashed beyond repair. There was no possibility of moving on.

  Molly tried to unfasten the harness, but found her fingers would not work properly. She was shaking and decided she would need to sit down and recover a little before she tried to do anything. A convenient milestone provided a seat, which was much more welcome than its message, that she was still three miles from Compton Parva.

  She glanced up and down the road, but it was deserted and likely to remain so, since it was growing dark and there was no moon tonight to aid travellers. If only she had not hit that stone. If only she had not stayed so late at Prospect House. Her meeting with Fleur had lasted longer than usual, then she had spent a good half hour talking to Daisy about her good fortune.

  And it was good fortune, she thought now, to be offered the post as Sir Gerald’s housekeeper. Fleur had explained about Miss Kilburn visiting Prospect House and telling her how the old housekeeper had returned from Harrogate with her rheumatism no better for taking the waters, and how Agnes and her brother had agreed that she should be given a pension and allowed to retire to a tied house on the estate.

  ‘And then, dear Molly, Agnes offered Daisy the post of housekeeper, with a place for Billy in the stables. Is that not wonderful news?’ Fleur had ended, a soft glow of happiness shining in her eyes, ‘Agnes did not say so, but I think Sir Gerald must be behind this, do not you? I cannot recall having told anyone else that we have been training Daisy for just such a position.’

  As the main patron of Prospect House, Molly had felt it incumbent upon her to talk to Daisy and assure herself that she was willing to take the position. Ten minutes in Daisy’s company was long enough to convince her. There could be no doubting it, nor Billy’s joy at being employed as a stablehand. Molly began to wonder if she had misjudged Sir Gerald. Perhaps his attachment to Fleur was more serious than she had first thought. She wanted to
believe it, for Fleur’s sake, but could he be trusted, any more than his friend? Russ had flirted with her, even kissed her, but last night he had left her in no doubt that she could never meet his exacting standards.

  And yet he had confided in her, told her how shamefully his stepmother had behaved. Molly felt a tiny flicker of hope, although she was afraid to acknowledge it. Did that not argue a level of intimacy that went beyond friendship? She was still pondering the matter when she heard someone trotting along the road. Even in the semigloom she knew it was Russ, even before he spoke. It was as if she had once more conjured him by the sheer power of thought.

  ‘Mrs Morgan, are you hurt?’

  ‘A little bruised, perhaps, but nothing serious.’ She came forward, waving one hand towards the gig. ‘I am going to walk back to town, but first I n-need to unharness T-Tabby.’

  She could not keep the quiver from her voice. Russ jumped down and quickly led her back to the milestone.

  ‘Sit down again and I will do it.’

  She resumed her seat and looked down at her hands. They were still shaking and for the first time she noticed the mud and grass stains on her pelisse. No doubt her hair was an unsightly tangle, too. She wondered idly when she had become so concerned about such things. She glanced up at Russ, knowing he was the reason. Becoming acquainted with Beau Russington had made her much more conscious of her appearance. Much more dissatisfied with it, if she was to be honest.

  Molly watched him as he ran his hands gently over the mare, murmuring softly to reassure her while he checked for injury. There was little hope that such a connoisseur of women would spare her more than a glance when he could have his pick of the most beautiful women in society. And no hope at all that he might form any serious attachment. Although he might find it diverting to indulge her in a little flirtation, a few stolen kisses.

  If they were alone and she was sufficiently encouraging he might go further. He might lie with her on some grassy bank and make love to her. He had kissed her once. He might be tempted to do so again. She might tempt him to do so. A pleasurable shiver ran through Molly at such an outrageous thought, rapidly succeeded by panic as cruel memories intruded. She looked up and down the deserted road and glanced uneasily behind her at the dense woodland. Oh, why had she not brought her maid or a groom? She had thought herself quite safe, driving in the gig.