The Rake

by Mary Jo Putney

  “So is yours,” he said, admiring her silhouette in the door of the bottle oven.

  A teasing laugh was his only answer.

  The works supervisor, Jamie Palmer, was outside, and she waved at him as she and Julian left. They had walked over from Strickland. As they turned their steps back toward the manor house, Julian said, “Merry, I want to talk to you.”

  They were walking along a hedgerow. Acting as if he hadn’t spoken, she picked a sprig of pale pink flowers from a lanky plant growing among the hawthorn. “This is valerian. Did you know the roots make a tea that will help a person to sleep?”

  As she sniffed the cluster of pink blossoms, Julian asked, “Why are you trying to avoid talking to me?”

  She stared down at the flower, not meeting his eyes. “I don’t want our summer idyll to end,” she said softly. “But I suppose it already has.”

  He cupped her chin in one hand and looked into her sapphire eyes. Shocked to see tears gathering, he said with alarm, “Merry, what’s wrong? Is it that you don’t want to hear me say that I love you because you don’t feel the same?”

  Her eyes shut as the tears spilled over. “Oh, no, not that! Not that at all.”

  It seemed the most natural thing in the world to take her in his arms and hold her. Julian had known that he loved her sweetness, beauty, and gaiety. Now he discovered a tenderness beyond anything he had ever experienced. “Hush, my dear,” he murmured. “If I love you and you love me, what cause is there for tears?”

  Merry pulled away from him. “I never expected being in love to hurt so much.” She gave a brittle smile. “Alys used to laugh at how well I had my life planned. I had decided that I would find a kind man of moderate fortune who would adore and cherish me. In return I would make sure he never regretted his choice.”

  She dug a handkerchief from a concealed pocket and blew her nose in a futile attempt to recover her composure. Julian found even her pinkened nose endearing.

  Realizing that serious talk was needed, Julian sat down in the shadow of the hedgerow, sparing one pained thought for his fawn-colored inexpressibles. He took Merry’s hand and tugged her down beside him. “Why are you finding love so uncomfortable? I’ve never been happier in my life.”

  She stared bleakly down at the crumpled muslin square in her hand. “It hurts because I can’t believe we’ll have a ‘happily ever after.’ We are too far apart in birth and fortune. Why couldn’t your father have been something less lofty than a viscount?”

  “I wouldn’t have thought you would mind the idea of being a viscountess. You will make a very good one.” He laid his hand over hers, where it rested on the grassy turf. “Since my father is hale and hearty, you should have years as the Honorable Mrs. Markham before you have to face becoming Lady Markham.”

  Her smile was rueful. “Julian, my mother was the daughter of a minor country squire, my father a city merchant who was reasonably successful, but nowhere near rich enough to overcome my deficiencies of birth. I will have a portion of five thousand pounds. That’s quite decent by the standards of rural Dorsetshire, but I can’t believe it is what Lord Markham wishes for his only son and heir.”

  His respect for her increased. Obviously she had been doing some clear thinking. “I don’t expect my father to like it, but he hasn’t the authority to forbid my marriage, or to disinherit me.” Julian smiled reassuringly. “He should be delighted to hear my news, since he has suggested several times in the last couple of years that I marry. I think he wants to see the succession assured for another generation.” He halted a moment. “I’ve gotten ahead of myself. Will you marry me?”

  “I would like nothing better.” As Julian began to smile, she added, “But not at the expense of separating you from your family.” She swallowed hard and looked away. “That is why love hurts. I find that I care more for your happiness than my own. I ... I know too well what it is to lose one’s parents. I won’t be the cause of cutting you off from your family.”

  Another wave of tenderness swept through Julian. Merry’s generosity of spirit was vivid proof that love had deeper levels than he had realized. A lifetime with her would introduce him to kinds of loving that he could not even imagine now.

  Sunlight shafted through the hedge to touch her golden hair to a halo. Her loveliness was unearthly, but her expression was such a blend of sorrow and longing that Julian could restrain himself no longer. He leaned forward and touched his lips to hers, first as lightly as a butterfly wing, then with increasing pressure.

  She responded with such sweetness that he ached, longing to enfold and protect her forever. His arms went around her, and he drew her close. He’d had his share of experience with the physical side of loving, but her simple kiss moved him more deeply that the most unrestrained passion in his past.

  When he found himself on the verge of pulling her down full length on the soft grass, he knew it was time to stop. He released her, his breath unsteady. “We had better get on our feet and moving, or I am going to betray Lady Alys’s trust.”

  Her face shaken and vulnerable, Merry hastily rose and brushed her crumpled skirt. Then she tucked her hand into Julian’s elbow, clinging more tightly than she usually did as they resumed walking along the footpath.

  When Julian had himself under control again, he said, “Why are you so sure my family will object to you? It isn’t as if you’re an opera dancer.”

  She giggled, as he had hoped she would, but sobered swiftly. “I’m just being logical. I’m not the least bit romantical, you know. You could do far better for yourself.”

  Julian stopped and turned her to face him, his hands lightly resting on her shoulders. “No, I couldn’t,” he said intensely. “Remember that.”

  Having lost parents, aunt, and several homes already in her life had made Merry pessimistic, he decided. What mattered was that she loved him. All he had to do was convince his father that there wasn’t a better, sweeter girl in all of England. Uneasily he acknowledged that he had his work cut out for him, but he had no doubts about his ultimate success.

  Making an effort to hide her fears, Merry laid the back of her hand against his cheek for a moment. In some ways Julian was far more innocent than she. But at least she’d had her summer idyll.

  In an everyday voice she asked, “How did you meet Reggie? I’ve often wondered. You’re so different, yet you’re obviously the best of friends.”

  Accepting the change of subject, Julian released her, and they resumed their stroll. “In a gambling hell. I was just down from Oxford, feeling very much a man of the world. Then I got into a game of whist with some deep players. Over the course of a very long evening, I lost every penny I had, including my allowance, a small inheritance I had just received from a great-aunt, and vowels drawn against my future expectations.”

  “Merciful heaven!” she exclaimed, shocked to the bottom of her practical soul. “How dreadful. Did you lose it to Reggie?”

  “No, but he was in the game. He was playing casually and running about even, neither winning nor losing much.” Julian grimaced. “As I floundered around, losing more and more, Reg watched me like an angry eagle, which didn’t help me feel any less of a fool. Soon I was so far in debt that I would cheerfully have jumped in the Thames rather than confess to my father. It was the wretchest night of my life.

  “I was quite drunk, of course, and must have looked desperate. I finally had the sense to drop out of the game. I was going to leave, but he told me very harshly to sit down and watch how the game was supposed to be played.” Julian smiled with self-mockery. “When Reggie says, sit, one sits.”

  Merry nodded, understanding perfectly.

  “I’ve never seen such an example of concentration in my life,” Julian continued. “Reggie was so absorbed it was frightening. Over the next four hours he won everything of mine back, and several hundred pounds besides. Then he took me home with him, saying I was too drunk to walk the streets. I didn’t really want to go with him, but I did, since the alternative wa
s Markham House and a lot of explanations I didn’t want to make.

  “The next morning, I woke up with the devil’s own hangover, and Reggie proceeded to give me the dressing down of my life.” Julian smiled reminiscently. “My father is a dab hand at that sort of thing, but Reg is in a class by himself. He called me a stupid young cawker and spelled out in excruciating detail the folly I had committed. Then he asked me to promise that I wouldn’t gamble again until I learned how to do it properly. After I agreed, he burned all my vowels.”

  Fascinated, Merry asked, “And he asked nothing in return?” Julian grinned. “He made me buy him breakfast that morning.”

  Merry started laughing. “That’s an incredible story. Yet it sounds like Reggie. I’ve gotten the feeling that his reputation does him considerably less than justice.”

  “Very true,” Julian agreed. “He undertook to give me lessons in intelligent gaming, and I have never gambled more than I can afford to lose since. London can be treacherous, and it’s been a blessing to have a friend who is up to all the tricks. The irony is that my father is absolutely convinced that Reggie is leading me straight to perdition. Whenever I’ve tried to correct his misapprehensions, he just rants and raves.”

  “So your father isn’t very reasonable?” Merry said in a stifled voice.

  Guessing her thoughts, Julian patted the small hand curled around his arm. “Not always—but he will be about you.”

  Merry wished she could share Julian’s confidence, but that was impossible. In her heart she believed that she would never see him again after he left the next day.

  Julian asked for a private interview with Lady Alys later that day, after she had returned from the fields and bathed and dressed for dinner. She was delighted to grant his request for Merry’s hand, with the proviso that there be no formal engagement before he had talked to his father. He saw that she had the same doubts as Merry about whether Lord Markham would approve.

  The rest of the household had retired after an evening of music and charades when Julian broke the news to Reggie. The two men were lounging in the library, Julian sipping a glass of port, Reggie smoking a long, slim cheroot, and Nemesis snoring by the open French door. His friend’s face split in a grin. “Wonderful, though not unexpected. A blind man could see what has been going on.”

  Julian shook his head in mock despair. “And here I thought I’d been a model of discretion.” A besotted gleam in his eyes, he continued, “Isn’t Merry the loveliest of creatures? And such a delightful disposition.”

  Patiently Reggie spent the next half hour listening to similar paeans to the young lady’s myriad perfections, making agreement noises as required. Finally Julian broke off with a laugh, “I’m babbling like an idiot, aren’t I?”

  “Yes, but anything less would be inappropriate to the occasion,” Reggie said genially, tapping ash off his cheroot.

  Julian frowned at his port. “Both Merry and Lady Alys think that my father will oppose the marriage. What do you think?”

  “I think it very likely,” Reggie admitted, “but I imagine that with persistence and tact you can win him around. While it isn’t a brilliant match, it is respectable. If you have trouble persuading your father, just take Meredith to meet him.”

  “A marvelous idea, Reg,” Julian said enthusiastically. “Who could resist her?”

  Before he could continue in that line, Reggie held up one hand. “You needn’t repeat her splendid qualities. I don’t think they’ve changed in the last five minutes.”

  With a sheepish expression, Julian rose and went to the liquor cabinet. He brought out a decanter of Reggie’s best brandy. “Shall we have a toast to my success with my father, and to my future happiness?”

  Reggie hesitated. “You must have noticed that I haven’t been drinking.”

  “True,” Julian said cheerfully, “but this is a special occasion.” He poured generous measures into two Venetian cut-glass goblets and brought one to Reggie.

  Reggie accepted the goblet and stared at the clear amber liquid, wary of the fierce longing that literally caused his mouth to water and his heart to beat faster. He had vowed to stop drinking until the craving went away. It had subsided in the last fortnight, but there were still times when the desire for alcohol nearly overwhelmed him.

  Then insight struck. Since he’d always enjoyed the taste of alcohol, it was unrealistic to wait for the craving to disappear. To do that was like assuming that abstinence would end sexual desire. On the contrary, abstinence increased desire—he should have recognized that sooner. Not drinking was probably actually increasing his desire to drink.

  Relief flowed through him. He had proved that he could stop. Now it was time to resume his normal habits.

  He raised the goblet. “You’re right, this is a very special occasion. May I be the first to wish you and Merry long life and every happiness?”

  As Julian beamed, Reggie drank the entire glass of brandy in one long swallow. Then he hurled the empty goblet into the fireplace, as befitted a toast from the heart.

  He watched the crystal shatter and spin away in glittering fragments, savoring the marvelous taste and feel of the brandy. The sweet burn tingled on his tongue, warmed his throat, then curled and soothed throughout his entire body, stilling the incessant longing that had consumed him since his last drink.

  What a fool he had been, to torture himself unnecessarily for weeks. He could no longer remember why he’d thought it necessary to prove he could stop drinking.

  Crossing to the liquor cabinet, he poured himself another glass of brandy, then turned to Julian with a smile. “What else can we drink to?”

  When Alys and Meredith retired early for the evening, they went to Merry’s room for a comfortable coze. Alys expected her ward to be ecstatic at having won Julian’s heart and hand. Instead Merry was deeply sad, convinced that when Julian left the next day his father would prevent him from ever returning. Nothing Alys said could change Merry’s mind.

  When Alys went to her own bed, she found herself unable to sleep even though she’d had a long and tiring day. Julian was a kind and thoroughly honorable young man; he would not have spoken to Meredith and her guardian if there was a serious likelihood that the match would be blocked. Nonetheless, Merry’s conviction of disaster, coupled with Alys’s own doubts, held sleep at bay.

  Hours passed and Alys ached with fatigue, but her anxious mind allowed her no rest. Being a surrogate parent was so stressful that she didn’t know how a real, biological parent managed to survive the experience.

  Her bedroom allowed her to hear traffic on the stairs and in the halls, and eventually she heard Julian come upstairs and go to his room. She knew it wasn’t Reggie; his step she always recognized.

  Finally, after mauling her pillows and blanket with restlessness, she decided to go downstairs and see if Reggie was in the library. Her employer had considerable worldly experience, and surely was acquainted with Julian’s father. Perhaps he could give an informed opinion on the likelihood of Lord Markham’s accepting Merry into the family.

  She fumbled in the dark to put on her robe and slippers, then made her way down to the library. As she’d expected, light still showed under the door. But the scene that greeted her eyes when she opened the door was unexpected, and deeply unwelcome. Alys halted in the doorway and surveyed the room with distaste.

  Reggie was sprawled casually in his favorite chair, his long legs crossed in front of him. If she was right that his sobriety could measured by his neatness, he must be roaring drunk. His coat and cravat lay where they had been tossed on the floor, his white shirt and tan pantaloons were blotched by spilled liquor, and a miasma of brandy fumes hung in the air. One empty decanter lay on its side on the liquor cabinet, and another, nearly empty, sat on the table next to him.

  Because the night was a warm one, the French doors were open and Nemesis lay by the sill. The dog jumped to her feet and pattered over to Alys, making whimpering sounds, as if seeking aid for her master.

>   Alerted by the collie, Reggie glanced up and gave a hazy smile. “Good ... good to see you, sweet Alys. Julian had ’nough and retired. Good lad, but no ’ead f’r drink. Night’s young ’n I could use a drinking companion. ’Ave ... Have some brandy.” He lurched to his feet and poured the remaining brandy into another glass, spilling half of the spirits over the tabletop.

  She had seen him foxed before, but his present state went far beyond that. The superbly conditioned, athletic body nearly fell over when he turned to bring her the glass.

  “I didn’t come here to drink,” she said coldly. “I wanted to talk about something important, but obviously you’re in no state for that.”

  He raised the glass and emptied it himself, a drop of brandy trickling from the side of his mouth. Grasping only part of her statement, he said with pleased surprise, “Glad you didn’t come to drink. C’n think of better things to do m’self.”

  For a drunk he moved with amazing speed as he closed the distance between them in two swift strides. He enfolded her in a hungry embrace. The lurch of his weight shoved Alys back until she was pinned against a bookcase, the warm weight of his body pressing against her from knees to chest.

  His brandy-spiked kiss aroused the same fierce response that his touch always did, and for a startled moment she kissed him back. Then he shifted his hold and murmured into her ear, “’S been hard keeping my hands off you. Anyone ever tell you what a glorious body you have? ’S enough to drive a man mad.”

  His words brought her to her senses. “Let go of me, you drunken rakehell,” she said acidly as she planted both hands on his chest and pushed. “The only time you ever notice my ‘glorious body’ is when you’re too drunk to care what female you’re fondling. If you’re randy, go find your housemaid.”