A Rake Like No Other (Regency Rendezvous Book 12)

by Sue-Ellen Welfonder

  His eyes rounded when he saw a large gray cat sitting on Conley’s head.

  Not a fleeting shadow at all, but a real flesh-and-fur cat who was staring at him in the same way the big gray cat at Farmer Steckles’ Frogbottom Cottage had done.

  In fact, Lucian would swear it was the same cat.

  “I’ll be damned,” he said, chills sweeping him.

  “What’s wrong?” His bride gripped his arm, looking worried. “You’ve blanched.”

  “I am fine,” he assured her, his mind racing. “It is just-”

  “You know we will be adopting that cat?” Melissa beamed at him. “My mind is set.”

  “That I already know,” he said, his amazement growing as the cat hopped down from Conley’s head and strolled over to them, looking as at home and happy about it as his new lady wife.

  “I’ll be damned,” he said again as the cat began winding in and out of their legs, purring.

  “Strange things do happen in these hills,” he added, shaking his head.

  “That be true!” Budge rocked back on his heels, grinning. “And I almost forgot your wedding gifts.”

  Lucian glanced at Melissa, then back to the steward. “You shouldn’t have troubled yourself, Budge. Our pleasure is being home now. That is enough.”

  “Nae, nae.” The steward shook his head. “The gifts aren’t from me. A little old woman delivered them the other day,” he announced. “Strange old bird she was, too. Black-garbed and all twinkly-eyed as she just appeared at the door, handing over two animal woodcarvings, saying they were for you and your lady.”

  “Woodcarvings?” Lucian and Melissa spoke as one.

  “Aye, and right fine ones,” Budge said. “A beautiful but clearly aged horse for your bride, and for you-”

  “A badger,” Lucian said, sure of it,

  “Aye, just!” Budge yelled, his answer giving Lucian another rash of chills.

  But good ones, he couldn’t deny.

  “Tell me, Budge…” He glanced again at his bride. “Did the old woman’s boots have red-plaid laces?”

  The steward’s brows swooped low. “How should I know, laddie? Think ye I’d raise the skirts of a woman so old?”

  Lucian laughed, sure that was so.

  He also knew the answer to his question.

  And if his beautiful bride’s smile meant anything, so did she.

  ~*~

  And so it came that much later that night as he and his bride stood on Lyongate’s battlements, watching the moon ride high above the dark and mighty North Sea, they both decided that Highland magic was alive and thriving, let no man doubt it.

  The only question remaining was how did the crone get the carvings? And what was her connection to Farmer Steckles?

  “How well do you know the farmer?” Lucian looked down at his bride.

  “Fairly well,” she told him. “My father was fond of him and told stories of Steckles collecting fallen Cranleigh wood to whittle when my father was a lad.”

  Lucian frowned. “Steckles was a man then?”

  “I suppose. My father spoke him as an adult.” She was looking again to the sea. “And that reminds of the oddest thing…”

  Lucian’s nape prickled. “What?”

  “My grandfather told the same tales,” she said, her brow pleating. “Steckles must be older than Methuselah.”

  “Or he is the crone’s friend.”

  Melissa’s eyes widened. “You mean…”

  He nodded. “Do you have a better idea?”

  She didn’t, but her face held wonder. And as Lucian slid his arms around her and drew her to him, he knew when she nestled against him that the mystery of the crone and the farmer didn’t matter.

  All that did was that he and Melissa were together.

  And that they loved.

  Author’s Note

  Dear Readers,

  Writers are avid readers, too, and as such, I always enjoy a writer’s thoughts on a story. For that reason, I add such behind-the-scenes commentary to my own work. So here are my musings on A Rake Like No Other…

  This story has an interesting history ~ Back in the ‘old days,’ I was a so-called traditionally published author writing for two New York publishers. One year, I was asked to participate in a promotion with a few other authors.

  We were to write a short scene based on certain criteria. A reader poll decided the criteria.

  Sounds like fun? It was. But at first I winced at the chosen criteria. It was Regency, and I write Scottish medieval. (well, mostly)

  Here are the points we had to follow:

  Heroine hair color: Reddish-brown hair, the color of mahogany

  Social status: Dishonored heiress

  Family situation: It’s complicated

  Hero’s archetype: Rake

  Scene takes place in: The cloakroom

  You can see why my medieval muse broke out in hives. To resolve my quandary, I decided to give the ‘Regency’ scene my own special twist.

  A Rake Like No Other was the result.

  The mini cloakroom scene was featured on a popular romance blog, Buried Under Romance, and much to my surprise, the scene was well received. Many readers urged me to expand the scene into a full story. So when I was asked to do a book for Regency Rendezvous, I remembered the cloakroom scene. Lucian and Melissa finally received the full tale they deserve. I hope they are happy now, and that you will enjoy their adventure.

  England ~ Readers who enjoy my work know how much I love Scotland. But I love England, too. It was fun, and a real pleasure to revisit some of my favorite corners of England in the writing of this book.

  Hampstead Heath ~ The heath is a must-see in London and a truly special place. Hampstead Heath’s history stretches back to earliest times, with remains of Mesolithic settlement and Neolithic cultivation as well. Every century left a mark, and the sandpit ponds mentioned in this story existed. They were a result of the quarrying of sand, gravel, and loam. Space doesn’t allow a detailing of Hampstead Heath’s fascinating history, so I will just urge you to swing by there if ever you’re in London.

  Spaniards Inn ~ This is a real and absolutely wonderful historic pub. It, too, has a long and colorful past and a visit to Hampstead Heath wouldn’t be right without a stop here.

  Bamber’s Tree ~ I’m a nature nut. Yeah, a tree-hugger. I live in an area with lots of live oaks. These trees are big, really old, and beautiful. It seems ever more popular for new residents here to chop down these mighty oaks, leaving only a bare grass lawn. Several such trees were felled as I wrote this story and so I ‘brought them back to life’ as Bamber’s tree. (and I made the damage come by natural means and not a saw)

  Guid ~ Adding this so no one thinks it is a typo. It’s the Scottish word for ‘good.’

  Atholl Brose ~ This traditional Scottish dessert is sooo good! If you haven’t tried it, look for a recipe online. You’ll be so glad you did.

  Marriage by Declaration in Scotland ~ The type of marriage Lucian and Melissa enjoy really existed and was possible well into modern times. 1940 is when the practice was outlawed.

  The One-Eyed Hare Inn and its Legend ~ Both are products of my imagination. That said, I have visited many inns in Scotland that could well be the Hare. As for the legend, it was simply a nod to my great love of animals (hares are amazing) and also my passion for Robert Bruce and his era.

  The stone circle ~ The inn’s circle of standing stones was based on a variety of small stone circles I have visited in Scotland. The bit about the recumbent stone and its two framing stones bracketing the moon is true. The astronomical alignment of such sites is astonishingly accurate. Unless the stones have been moved by man or somehow shifted by nature, a recumbent stone’s upright framing stones will capture the rising moon.

  That’s it for this book. Till next time…

  Wishing you Highland Magic!

  Sue-Ellen Welfonder / Allie Mackay

  Worth of a Lady

  USA Today and Bestselling Autho
rs

  Tarah Scott & Sue-Ellen Welfonder

  The Marriage Maker

  Book One

  No one guessed that an innocent would bring the Devil of Delny to his knees…

  Spinster Chastity Hamilton is the Duke of Roxburgh’s heir. Her father insists she marry. She insists that the man who wins her hand must first find matches for her three younger sisters. Sir Stirling James takes up the challenge, and the sisters are shocked when he announces the engagement of their youngest sister to the Devil of Delny.

  When Quin Ramsey’s surrogate brother Sir Stirling James informs him he is to wed the fourth daughter of a lesser duke, he refuses. But when he waltzes with the lovely innocent, he realizes that he wants no other man to waltz with her

  Gledstone Hall

  Inverness, Scotland 1811

  Chapter One

  Chastity resisted the urge to fling her morning tea at her father as he paced the floor at the head of the breakfast table. Her three sisters—Jessica especially, who seldom sat more than five minutes without causing some small havoc—managed to keep neutral expressions when he bemoaned his advanced age.

  Chastity bit back a laugh when Jessica silently mouthed his words as he said, "I have no male heir; therefore, it is your responsibility to marry and give me an heir to carry on my title." Three years ago, Chastity would have interrupted the speech. Now, however, she waited as he added, "I am old. Don't I deserve to go to my grave knowing the title doesn't end with me?”

  “Papa, please,” Lucy, the youngest, interjected as she always did, “we cannot bear to hear you talk as if you will die tomorrow.”

  “For all we know, I may,” the duke replied with his usual dramatic flair. He turned his stare onto Chastity. “You will marry.”

  In the past, Chastity had answered with a dozen different arguments. 'I am young and carry your title. I have plenty of time to find a suitable husband.' Or, 'Would you doom me to a life shackled to a fortune hunter?' Today, she said, “What will become of my sisters if my husband doesn't care for them as we do?”

  Lucy smiled affectionately at him. “You cannot blame Chastity for wanting to find a man as kind as you.”

  Lucy, only seventeen, was by far the wisest, for she understood the power of flattery on a man. This time, however, even her shrewd maneuverings failed to move their sire.

  He stared down at Chastity, eyes bright with an intelligence untouched by his fifty-five years. "Ye have put me off for five years, Daughter. No more. You will marry within two months."

  "Two months?" Olivia blurted. "It cannot be done."

  He ignored Olivia. “You are twenty-four years old, Chastity, and well on the shelf."

  This argument was familiar, but she couldn't halt the retort. "Even were I grayed with a grizzled chin, I would still have suitors. Few men care about age or beauty when a title is included. I will always have my pick of marriageable men."

  His eyes blazed. "Then pick one—or I will."

  He reached into his coat pocket, withdrew a document, and tossed it onto the table. It slid a few inches, then halted against a plate of eggs. Chastity caught sight of the header Robert Campbell Esquire, her father’s solicitor—and the words ‘Marriage License’ below his name.

  She snapped her gaze onto the duke. "You wouldn't dare."

  Olivia picked up the document and unfolded it. Her eye caught on the word ‘Bride’ and— She looked up. “Oh dear, that is your name.”

  Olivia turned the document toward her. Chastity’s gaze shifted to Olivia’s place-keeping fingertip where her name was written. Olivia scanned ahead to the groom’s name. Blank. Maybe their father wasn’t serious, after all, but only meant to frighten Chastity.

  She looked up. “At least the groom’s name isn’t recorded.”

  Chastity shot to her feet, heedless of the napkin that dropped from her lap. "You would marry me to some stranger?"

  The duke shrugged. "Not a stranger. Lord Hathaway comes to mind. As you well know, he expressed an interest in marrying you this last year."

  “Eww.” Jessica shuddered. “He’s old.”

  Chastity curled her fingers into fists. "Not to mention despicable."

  “He is a very decent man, and he would take good care of ye."

  "No doubt,” she muttered. “He is twenty-five years my senior, and would enjoy a young wife in his bed.”

  "A man expects to enjoy his wife’s charms."

  She started to reply, but he cut her off. "Marry, or I will sign these papers."

  He didn't mean it. He couldn't. But the glint in his eyes revealed a determination she'd never before seen.

  "Would you really see me wed Lord Hathaway?"

  "He is a good man. I have no qualms with him."

  Chastity leaned on the table for support. "And it matters not that I do not want him?"

  "You do not want anyone," he said with an effort at calm.

  “How could I want any of the men you have paraded before me these past years? They are greedy, stupid, weak-kneed idiots. That is the sort of man you want to sire your grandchildren?”

  Jessica shoved aside a lock of red hair that had escaped her chignon. “There was Lord Everson. He was not weak or stupid.”

  “Jessica.” Olivia cast a quick look at their father, but his expression revealed nothing of his memory of the fortune hunter who had tried to elope with Chastity four years ago.

  "I would rather see the title die than marry—” Chastity broke off at the thunderous look in her father’s eyes.

  “Rather than marry…” he repeated in a quiet voice.

  She swallowed against a dry throat. “I will not marry Hathaway."

  "If you haven't married another within two months, you will.”

  “Two months?” Chastity blurted. Her head whirled.

  Even Lucy blanched at the decree. “What of Lord Blakely?” she quickly asked. “He is preferable to a relic—er, gentleman—such as Lord Hathaway. He is only three years older than you.”

  Chastity snorted. “He is an arrogant fop. His mother governs him.” The thought of his long white fingers touching her intimately soured her stomach.

  Lucy exchanged a knowing glance with Olivia, then said, “Truly, papa, two months is unreasonable. Four months, at least. We cannot have even a decent wedding gown sewn in so short a time.”

  "What of my sisters?" Chastity demanded. "Who will care for them when I am gone?"

  “It isn’t Chastity’s fault that she spent the last eight years being our mother,” Jessica said.

  Chastity started at the wistful note in Jessica’s voice. Did she still miss their mother so desperately?

  Lucy patted Jessica’s hand. “Of course, it isn’t her fault, but perhaps we have stood in Chastity’s way of finding happiness.”

  Chastity blinked. “What?”

  “You have selflessly cared for us these eight years.” Lucy smiled gently. “You deserve a family of your own.”

  “You are my family,” Chastity insisted.

  "It is your duty to marry,” the duke said. “Your sisters will follow suit.” He waved a hand. “You only set an example for them in avoiding marriage."

  The younger sisters cried out in protest.

  "You know nothing of your daughters,” Chastity said coldly. “They are women of sense who will not marry out of obligation."

  He nodded slowly. "Another notion you put into their heads."

  Chastity pursed her lips. "I suppose you will marry them to some old reprobate if they don't follow your dictates."

  “Chastity,” Olivia and Lucy said in unison.

  "Your three sisters will have no trouble finding husbands,” he continued. “Olivia had two offers, but you said the men weren’t up to snuff, so she rejected them. It is because of you that she has no family."

  The younger sisters gasped.

  Chastity scooped up her teacup and hurled it at her father. Tea spewed across Olivia’s pale blue morning dress. He barely jerked aside as the cup whizzed a
hair’s breadth past his nose then crashed into the marble hearth behind him.

  He shifted his gaze onto the shattered china, stared for two heartbeats, then slowly turned cold eyes onto his daughter. “I tolerated your mother’s temper. I will not tolerate yours.”

  A chill raced across her arms at the deadly quiet in his voice. Her heart pounded. “I will not marry Hathaway,” she whispered.

  “Then marry another.”

  He was serious. Her head swam. She couldn’t bear life with the moon-faced Lord Hathaway. If she didn’t find someone else— She felt sick.

  Lucy jumped to her feet and hurried around the table to her. “Look, Papa, you have upset her. Come.” She eased Chastity back onto her chair. “You must not worry about us,” Lucy said. “We are old enough to care for ourselves. We are all going to enjoy a season—this is to be my first, remember? Who knows, we might find husbands of our own. We wouldn’t want to leave you all alone. You may search for a nice gentleman when you chaperone us this season.”

  Chastity looked at her. “What did you say?”

  “I said, you will probably find a very nice gentleman this year at some ball we attend.”

  Not bloody likely, she thought. Despite Lucy’s youth, she was too wise to fall for the first handsome man who whispered pretty nothings in her ear. Jessica had no intention of marrying—ever. Olivia— Shame stabbed. Was her father right, had she doomed Olivia’s last two offers? Bah! The men were not worthy of her sister, nor had they understood her bluestocking ways. The fact no other gentleman had offered for her only demonstrated the male sex’s insecurities. Olivia found more pleasure in her books than she would in a man. She would be miserable with anyone who insisted she give them up.

  Chastity looked at the duke. "What if I agree to marry?"

  A hard glint appeared in his eyes. “Refuse and I marry you to the first man who proves he can use a sword.”