Georgina Devon

by The Rakes Redemption

  He smiled at her. ‘My felicitations on your marriage, Mrs Chevalier.’

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘Are you mocking me?’

  Genuinely puzzled, he asked, ‘Why would I?’

  She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. It just seemed like something you would do, mock someone else who wedded. Particularly since everyone knows you have no intention of becoming leg-shackled to any woman.’ She cocked her head to one side. ‘And since I so brazenly ran after you and you encouraged me.’

  He should have expected that from her. He had made it plain he had no plans to offer for her. At one time he had had no plans to offer for anyone.

  He made her a half bow. ‘Is your sister at home?’

  She stepped closer, studying him as though he were an exotic bug. ‘Emma?’

  He curbed his exasperation, but couldn’t totally control his tongue. ‘Do you have another one I don’t know about?’

  A slow, sly smile curved her plump lips. ‘No. But I don’t think Em wants to see you.’

  Her words were like a blow to the gut, but he had not expected this to be easy. ‘Perhaps you will tell me where she is anyway.’

  She tossed her head so her blond curls danced. ‘Why should I?’

  Now he studied her and decided to take a risk. ‘Because you love her and want her to be happy.’

  ‘Hah! And seeing you will make her happy?’ She shook her head. ‘Really, Mr Hawthorne, you have a highly inflated idea of yourself.’

  ‘One does one’s best,’ he murmured with his wicked grin. She giggled at him and he knew he was close. ‘Please, Mrs Chevalier.’

  ‘You are begging?’ Incredulity filled her voice.

  He ignored the butler, who still stood frowning at the situation, and focused on the girl. ‘If needs be.’

  ‘Hmmm…’ Amy tapped one finger on her chin. ‘I’m not sure if she will receive you now.’

  ‘Let her be the judge.’

  ‘Are you going to hurt her?’ Her eyes blazed.

  ‘That is not my intent, but I can’t promise.’

  She closed the space between them. ‘Then what can you promise? For I won’t let you harm her again.’

  ‘Again?’ Hope flared.

  Chagrin pinked her face. ‘I talk too much.’ She sighed. ‘Are you here to seduce her only to run away again?’

  He focused on the first part. ‘So she told you.’

  ‘No, but I knew something happened between you. That is the only thing that would hurt her as she has been hurt.’

  ‘Ah, I am sorry for that. More than I can tell you.’

  Amy gazed at him. ‘I believe you really are.’

  ‘Well?’ He sensed she was close to telling him.

  She fell back several steps. ‘She is in the garden.’

  Relief lifted the corners of his mouth. It was too soon to feel like a winner. ‘Thank you.’

  Not smiling, she added, ‘In the maze.’

  Already half turned away, he looked at her. ‘The maze?’

  She nodded. ‘The easiest way is to go out the front door and around to the east wing and follow that to the back. Our garden is not so large that you will get lost.’

  He unclenched the one hand that had fisted in tension. He was so close. ‘Thank you, again.’

  Just as he finished turning, he heard footsteps on the tile. Thinking it might be Emma, he twisted around. William Chevalier. The look on the young man’s face as he saw his bride spoke clearer than any words of his devotion. He took Amy’s left hand in his and kissed the ring she wore. Charles hadn’t noticed the ruby and diamond piece before.

  She radiated happiness.

  Charles continued out the door, an ache in his chest. That was the sort of love and commitment his brother and sister had found with their spouses. He hoped to find that now.

  He made short work of the walk to the back. The grounds would be beautiful if they were cared for. As it was, weeds mingled with late summer roses. The gravel was sparse in parts of the path and the lawn could do with a good cutting.

  As Amy had said, the maze was easy to find. It stood out, a building of boxwoods, carved like walls. He stopped at the entrance unable to see above the tops. No doubt Emma was in the center. Would she answer if he called her?

  ‘Emma?’ He spoke loudly enough for her to hear. ‘Emma.’

  Emma roused with a start from the daydream she both wanted and feared. In it Charles Hawthorne always came for her and asked her to marry him. It was a fantasy to pass the time while she waited for a future employer to contact her. In her reverie he had just called to her.

  She stood and walked around the wooden bench to stretch her legs. From the sundial that would soon be completely shaded and of no use, she saw she had been here an hour. A blissful sixty minutes without Papa’s looks of recrimination or Bertram’s smoldering resentment.

  Then there were Amy and William. They had been wed last week in a small ceremony in the nearby village. She was happy Amy married for love, for she cared deeply for her sister. Yet, sometimes, in moments of weakness, it was hard for her to watch Amy and William’s happiness without feeling envy and sadness for her own lack.

  ‘Emma?’

  She froze. Surely not. She had been daydreaming. That was all. That was why whoever wanted her sounded like…

  ‘Emma, where are you? I am lost in this damnable maze.’

  Charles Hawthorne. He was here. Searching for her.

  Her lips curved up at his choice of words and the undisguised irritation in his voice caused by his unaccustomed lack of control. Joy filled her so she felt light enough to float.

  Don’t be daft, she told herself. He wasn’t here to see her. Still, she could not seem to stop her heart from racing. Quickly, wishing she had taken more care in dressing this morning, she smoothed down the skirts of her lavender morning dress and tucked an errant curl behind her ear.

  Where was her hat? She looked frantically for the chip bonnet. It wasn’t in sight. Hadn’t she worn one? Perhaps not. She was more forgetful of things since returning home.

  Well, she couldn’t let him continue to wander and call her name. Sooner or later Papa or Bertram would hear him or be told by one of the few remaining workers and that would disastrous.

  ‘I am here,’ she said, dragging her feet to the place where the maze entered the quiet solitude of the center. She moved into the path only to see him turn the corner and head toward her.

  ‘Emma.’

  She stared at him, trying to breathe normally and finding it impossible. She felt winded and light-headed. ‘Mr Hawthorne.’

  All she wanted to do was move to him and have him take her into the shelter of his arms. But she could not do that. He had rejected her on countless times. She wasn’t even good enough to be his mistress for more than one night. That hurt.

  She stayed put and let him come to her.

  When he finally stopped, he was too close. She felt hemmed in by him and by her feelings for him. All her desire and love were his for the taking. The knowledge threatened to overwhelm her. She knew tears would not be far behind.

  ‘What do you want?’ She made herself sound calm, as though it meant nothing to have him here.

  ‘Will you sit with me?’

  He indicated the bench she had just left. It would barely hold two. They would be much too close. A frisson ran her spine. ‘I will stand if you care to sit.’

  ‘Then you may sit and I will stand,’ he countered.

  Her lips pursed in exasperation. ‘Why are you always so contrary?’ The words showing such familiarity with him slipped before she thought. She had intended to remain impersonal.

  His disreputable smile broke through. ‘Because you always provoke me to be so.’

  Her fingers, nervously twisting in spite of her efforts, stilled. The entire world seemed to still. She forgot to breathe.

  He took a step closer to her. ‘Emma?’ His voice was barely above a whisper and felt like a caress.

  She caught herself
leaning toward him and stiffened up. But the effort it took for her to maintain a façade of indifference began to take its toll. Her knees felt like sponge cake.

  ‘Charles,’ she finally said, deciding she could not keep up the energy to freeze him, ‘tell me why you are here and then go away. I have finally found a sense of peace and am waiting to hear on employment. The last thing I want is for you to stay and disrupt everything.’

  ‘You don’t want to be a governess.’

  He moved still closer until his warm breath fanned her cheek. He smelled of bergamot and mint and himself.

  Befuddled, she said, ‘I don’t?’

  He shook his head. ‘No.’ He bent down. ‘You want this.’

  He kissed her before she realised his intention, or so she told herself. She stood still and let his lips move over hers as she drank in the emotions he always created in her: love, desire, pleasure, need; the list was endless. In too short a time for her to store away a lifetime’s worth of memories, he stepped back.

  ‘I have something for you.’

  Her stomach clenched. What could it be? Nothing of value. Nothing that would indicate a seriousness of affection on his part. She forced herself to take a deep breath.

  From the inside of his pocket, he pulled a velvet box. She stared at it. Surely he wasn’t going to give her jewellery. That was what he would give his mistress.

  ‘Are you here to offer me the position of your mistress after running away from me?’ The words spurted from her, a mixture of pain and anger and hope.

  He stopped in the midst of opening the hinged lid. Anger darkened his blue eyes to black. ‘No.’

  ‘Oh.’ Pain and disappointment joined her relief. She didn’t know what she felt or wanted—or wouldn’t admit to herself.

  ‘You are not suited to that position, Emma Stockton.’

  She sighed. He finished opening the box and drew out a strand of pearls which he held out for her inspection.

  ‘Mama’s pearls!’ Delight filled her, bringing the dreaded tears. Only these were of joy. ‘Mama’s pearls.’ She extended a tentative finger to touch the necklace. ‘Where did you get them?’

  He gave her the smile that so many women more experienced than she had been unable to resist. ‘From the pawn-broker Bertram sold them to.’

  ‘But how did you know?’ Her gaze went from the beloved necklace to his face. The tenderness in his eyes made her gasp.

  ‘I made Bertram tell me.’ He moved to her side and then behind her. ‘These are for you, Emma. I know how it hurt you to lose them.’

  ‘But I can’t—’

  ‘You can.’

  She stood stiffly, thinking if she didn’t move he wouldn’t touch her. She didn’t want him to touch her. Except that she did. She drew in a deep breath, thinking that once she had been sensible and had known her own mind—and heart. Now she seemed to flow with whatever emotion this man sent her way.

  She felt the heat of his body along her back. His fingers brushed lightly on her nape as he fastened the clasp. The pearls slid along her skin, their warmth familiar and welcome, as a drink of water after a drought.

  He felt the same to her. Welcome and precious.

  She realised with a flush that seemed to rise from her feet to the crown of her head, that she felt safe with him here. Even as she was scared of what happened to her when he was near.

  ‘There,’ he breathed softly against her sensitised skin. ‘They are back where they belong.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly, hoping he didn’t hear the longing in her voice and realise it was because of him. She reached up and fingered the necklace. ‘I have missed them.’

  Gently, yet firmly, he put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. Her light touch on the pearls became a clutch. What was he going to do?

  He looked at the pearls and then at her face. ‘If you grip them much tighter, you might break the strand.’ There was a half smile on his mouth that invited her to join him in appreciating the situation.

  It took an effort of will for her to release the pearls and let her arms drop to her sides while he continued to hold her shoulders so their faces, their lips, were only inches apart.

  He slid his hands down her arms, his fingers caressing her as they moved over her until he took her hands in his. ‘Will you marry me, Emma?’

  Her mouth dropped. ‘What?’ Surely she had heard wrong.

  For the first time since she had met him, many years ago when she had been engaged to his brother, a look of wariness entered his eyes. ‘Will you marry me?’

  The heat his touch had created fled. She felt as though an arctic wind moved over her. ‘Don’t insult me. If you want me for your mistress—which I highly doubt after what happened at Lady Johnstone’s—then you definitely don’t want me for a wife.’ She twisted to escape him. His fingers tightened on hers.

  ‘Don’t insult me, Emma. I am not a boy who doesn’t know his mind. I wouldn’t ask you to marry me if I didn’t mean it.’

  Tears threatened to blur her vision. She blinked rapidly, determined not to be weak. ‘You don’t want to marry anyone.’

  He sighed. ‘I didn’t.’

  ‘See.’ She pulled but he held firm. ‘Let me go. This farce has gone far enough.’

  His jaw tightened until a muscle twitched. ‘This is no farce.’

  ‘You don’t love me,’ she said, throwing her final, most condemning accusation at him.

  He blinked as though she had caught him between the eyes with a stone. Then his wonderful smile lit his countenance. ‘Is that the problem?’

  She wasn’t sure if it was the only problem, but it was the largest. She nodded.

  ‘If I didn’t love you I wouldn’t be here now. I ran after making love to you because what I felt scared me. I’ve never felt like this before.’ His grip on her hands eased. He slipped one arm around her waist to bring her closer. ‘And I will never feel this way about another woman.’

  ‘You left the next day,’ she accused him.

  ‘I was a coward. I ran from a feeling I had never had for a woman before.’ He lightly kissed the tip of her nose. ‘Please forgive me.’

  ‘You cannot want to marry me. You don’t even like me.’ She persisted, thinking that if she repudiated him enough he would finally admit his true reason for this proposal.

  He chuckled. ‘I think I have always liked you too much. Why do you think I did everything in my power to torment you? I wanted your attention, although I didn’t realise that until I had nearly ruined your relationship with your sister.’

  ‘You did?’ She sounded like a benighted fool, but could not stop herself. Hope began to blossom.

  ‘I did.’ He pressed her close. ‘Will you accept me, Emma Stockton?’

  ‘I…I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘Say yes.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘There are advantages.’ He pursued her. ‘I have enough money to pay off most of your family’s debt.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘I have a bank draft in my pocket. It is why I could not come sooner. I needed to have the funds to pay your family’s debts so you would have no excuse not to marry me.’

  Shock stilled her feeble attempts at freedom. ‘You sold your business so you could pay my family’s debts?’

  He gave a wishful, lopsided smile. ‘I think that is what I just said.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Emma,’ he said softly, gently shaking her. ‘Haven’t you heard anything I’ve said? I want to marry you.’

  ‘You haven’t said you love me.’ Wistfulness filled her with longing.

  He groaned. ‘I have done everything else.’ Exasperation deepened his tone. ‘I have done everything you have asked of me and more. If that isn’t love, then I don’t know what love is.’

  ‘You love me.’ She could barely believe it. He had sold his most precious possession for her. ‘But I can’t let you do this.’

  His brows snapped together. ‘Do what?�
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  ‘Pay off my family’s debts. It wouldn’t be right.’

  He clenched his teeth together and said slowly, ‘If that is what I must do to win your hand, then that is what I will do.’

  Wonder filled her. Love quickly followed. ‘Oh, Charles.’ She melted against him. ‘I don’t want you bailing my family out.’

  He rubbed the small of her back before releasing her so quickly she nearly stumbled forward into his arms again. He knelt on one knee. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a velvet box, the twin to the one that had held her pearls. He opened it to show a large ivory, pearl and diamond ring.

  ‘Please marry me, Emma. I love you and I promise to do everything in my power to make you happy.’

  She gazed down at him, thinking there was nothing more he could do. She felt ablaze with joy already.

  ‘Emma?’ he prompted.

  She fell to her knees in front of him and wrapped her arms around his neck. ‘Charles.’

  She lifted her face to his. The kiss was long and deep and very unsatisfying.

  He broke away chuckling. ‘I think we are better matched than anyone would have thought. But first, this.’ He took the ring from its box and slipped it onto her ring finger. ‘You are mine now.’

  She looked at the sparkling ring and back at him. He glowed with happiness as she knew she did. ‘We belong together.’

  She leaned forward just enough to kiss him again and once more start the sparks that would keep them warm through any winter night.

  ISBN: 978-1-4592-2520-6

  THE RAKE’S REDEMPTION

  Copyright © 2007 by Alison J. Hentges

  First North American Publication 2007

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.