Rakehell's Daughters

by Gayle Eden

  She and Jo did join Val. As they talked occasionally, Alex spent the next hours watching the entry to the card room. As it happened, the men were still at it by the time other guests had left.

  She and her sisters retired soon after. Her father, Auvary, and several men, were off to the billiard rooms for a late night, post-party brandy and chat.

  Upstairs, Alex lay in bed, her hair damp and curling, her mind’s eye seeing Edmund. She still wanted him. She wanted to strip off his formal clothing, muss that silken black hair and see the burning hot and sensual man she had seen in that private parlor.

  Muttering, groaning next, she rolled to her side. She would not chase him. Not this time. Who knew, perhaps, Auvary, would make her forget that Edmund existed.

  Chapter Three

  At the opera, two days later, Edmund De Forrest studied his sister, the Duchess of Summerton, objectively. Handsome in her black glittering gown, few knew the reason she never wore them off the shoulder—because of the scars from Albert’s applying a buggy whip to her more than once. They only saw what he did, that the gown was stylish and fit her tall and graceful frame beautifully.

  Ebony hair, a few silver streaks in the front, was still lush. Sonja wore it piled up, a diamond band peeking through the elaborate twists on top. Her ears sported the drop diamonds he had gotten her for her birthday. Over her black elbow length gloves, at the wrist, was a bracelet of diamonds and onyx that he had bought her several Christmases ago.

  With the same high cheekbones as himself. She had supple skin, full, and pink lips, and arched brows over deep brown eyes. Edmund saw only a few faint lines at the corners of her eyes. For too many years, there had been a guarded strain around her mouth and a distance in her gaze that he understood. In the years since she had been on her own, free of Albert, much of that had disappeared with her bitterness.

  However, Sonja never would completely trust anyone, except him.

  She turned her head, as if sensing his gaze, just before the end of the first act. Her look taking in his black and white formal wear, save for a thread of gold in his neck cloth.

  She leaned over toward him, whispering, “I know everything that goes on in my house, Edmund, so you can relax.”

  He winced slightly, chuckled next, because, he was not really surprised.

  Her smile met that. “You knew Alexandria Ramsey?”

  “No—and you’ve got a bloody good memory. That was…four years ago.”

  Her gaze roamed his face. “I know you in some ways, Edmund. I may not be a romantic dreamer, and I am a bit skeptical about love. But I was almost hoping there was something more going on....”

  Edmund grunted. “I did not intend to pursue her. I did not know her. She saw me, she says, wanted me and—.”

  “Yes. I thought her distracted for someone who professed to want to meet me. I found her charming, by the way. Very intelligent—exceptionally educated, by what she says. Though I do not normally spy, servants had told me she was in the house. I was too curious to see what she was up to.”

  “One hopes you didn’t linger too long?”

  She snorted and sat back a bit. “No. Of course not. I hoped that maybe she would be the one, without knowing what her background was. You live your life too remote, Edmund. I understand the reasons. However, you can have something real. Not many deserve you—but Lady Alex is not your typical Lady of the ton. None of the Marquis’ daughters are, I think.”

  “Don’t I know it?”

  “You seduced her?”

  “No. Not exactly.” He glanced at the stage, feeling his neck cloth tightening, as if he were fourteen, caught touching what he should not. “She seduced me.”

  Sonja laughed at that. “Well, she’s known for her level head thus she must have really wanted you. Besides that, I have observed the Marquis for many years, those Ramsey's are a passionate lot.”

  “Meaning I am not?”

  “Not at all. In private, I think. However, you have a rep as being formal and detached. I think the Ramsey’s have passion in every sense. They have been allowed to live as few females enjoy. As few can imagine. One reads and hears things—what men are not going to be intimidated by their brains, are dismayed by their other—er—talents.”

  Edmund grinned in spite of his mixed feelings since seeing Alexandria again. “I have heard the tales of their lives at Hawksmoor from the Marquis. Apparently, they measure up to any male at sports. Alexandria, according to Sascha, who met her years ago, spent most of the evening talking about subjects she had studied. Far from hiding her brains, as I imagine most females are lectured to do, Alex won’t, nor do I think will her sisters.”

  “But in body and soul, she is a woman.”

  He looked at Sonja and surprisingly admitted, “All woman.”

  The duchess’s brow went up again.

  He said flatly, “Even should I let the attraction satisfy my desire, we’re strangers.”

  “She needs to get to know you, as a man.”

  “She’s not interested in marriage.”

  The duchess retorted, “Clearly she is exactly what you need. A woman who isn’t chasing after your title and fortune!”

  Edmund grunted, not giving an inch. “I’m fine, my dear. My life is wonderfully uncomplicated.”

  “That’s not always a good thing.”

  At intermission, he fetched them champagne. As they stood observing the rest of the crowd, Edmund asked mildly, “Am I banned from your doors?”

  “On the contrary.” The duchess winked. “Feel free to come and go as you wish. You may even bring Lady Alexandria by on Sundays when there is no one there save me and the staff.”

  “Very amusing.” He added, “I rendered your apologies for missing the party to Alexander. He seemed to be disappointed.”

  “Many would think the closeness between myself and his family not appropriate. You are different, but I am well aware—”

  “How long has it been since you joined any ton gatherings? I guarantee you that the Marquis would not disdain your company. Nor, would his daughters. You are my sister, Sonja, and I would take you anywhere on my arm—. Most of the ton has visited your house more than once. “

  “Yes. However, I can tolerate their two-faced attitude better not mingling outside that with them. When I did attend gatherings, they whispered about my late husband, and made me feel it was my fault that he was such a pig. Now they whisper about me, even though most of them conduct affairs under my roof. It is not a game I care to play—pretending. I enjoy my life, my amusements. I do not suffer from not intermingling in that society.”

  “Well, you are my family. I fully intend you should be in my life, and that includes getting to know anyone I care for.”

  “I will. I promise. In addition, I find it interesting you said, “Care for.”

  He shrugged. “The Marquis and I are friends. We have mutual friends also, which include Sascha, lord Auvary and the like.”

  She handed her glass to the waiter and confided as they headed back to the box, “I have sold the estate house and will be looking for a nice country dwelling in another district this fall.”

  “Good for you. The place was falling down. I shall let you know if I hear of anything—”

  After he seated her, she offered, “Thank you. I do not require anything elaborate. I would like to have stables, a large enough tract to enjoy it being in the country. Something quaint. Getting out of the city, one should delight in simplicity.”

  “I agree, although I own nothing like that. The way the Marquis and his friends speak of Hawksmoor, I envy him.” He described it as it had been told to him, relaying some of the stories the Marquis and Auvary shared too.

  “It sounds wonderful.”

  “Yes.” Edmund looked at her then asked, “Do you take lovers?”

  “I had a few, but only briefly when I first came to London. One night and men profess to love you, to get what they want. I was too controlled growing up, and in my marriage, to tolerate
any sort of suffocation like that. Moreover, one has to let a lover see one out of clothing eventually. I don’t particularly trust just anyone enough to confide the darker parts of my past.”

  She shook her head and sighed heavily. “There’s nothing wrong with spending lust, but you need more than that in intimacy. The men, who have shown an interest in me, are not interested outside the sheets. Besides that—they tend to be out of pocket, and I certainly can’t support them.”

  “You need to meet the right man.” He suspected his sister padded her answer and doubted she let any man close to her. Intimacy required trust for someone who had been through what Sonja had.

  “Doesn’t exist.” She looked at the stage and applied her fan.

  “He does,” Edmund, murmured turning his head too. “You deserve to be happy and loved, to have someone you can trust….”

  “It’s not my destiny, Edmund.”

  “We’ll see.” Edmund responded, aware of how strong Sonja was, and how much she could have used an equally strong man over the years. He had listened to her talk when the past began haunting her. He had held her through tears, prodded her to pursue her interests and live her life fully when her mind was heavy. It would take a confident and empathetic man, a special man, who could see her strengths and flaws, to make her laugh… and remind her of how beautiful, how alive, she still was.

  After they parted, Edmund walked the streets restlessly. He laughed at himself. He was turning into a bloody romantic. No. Alexandria’s sudden return—her going from a phantom, one name fantasy, to real-reality, was definitely cluttering his head.

  Fog drifted damply around and over him. It was too much like the dreams he was apt to fall into after that encounter. It did not fit his life. What he knew, of himself. It was supposed to be something out of time that—one time—experience. He did not lose himself in women. He never lost himself in dreams. He did not know who that man was and had not dealt with letting it happen easily. In fact, he had dealt with it by relegating it to that—once—in the past—place.

  Before entering his house, he lit a cheroot and gazed up at the balcony where he sat with coffee during his morning ritual. So normal, so benign a thing he had done every morning whilst here, and somewhere across the way, a young woman had been watching him…. desiring to seduce him.

  His blood turned hot.

  Cursing, he crushed the cheroot and went inside, speaking absently to the butler. His life had order, purpose, and structure. It worked the way he designed it for a reason.

  * * * *

  Edmund visited his sister the next day, to render information on a small manor he had heard about in Surrey. He afterwards left her house on Regent and went home, changing into casual ware. He spent several hours in the study on accounts. In his shirtsleeves, coffee kept fresh by the servants, while he caught up on work normally neglected during the season. He looked up at the clock with some surprise when one of the footmen entered.

  It was eight-o clock when he was handed a missive from the Marquis.

  After cracking the seal and reading it, Edmund simply called for his coat and left.

  He met up with Lord Ramsey, Sascha and Auvary, two other peers. They did the rounds of a few out-of-the-way taverns and coffeehouses, before the Marquis shared confidences.

  Apparently, there had been a row at a private supper. Van Wyc had attended with the family, and some dowager had implied something improper between himself and Val as being the real cause of her divorce.

  Jo had nearly overturned the table on the guests, all but calling the woman out. In addition—calling her a few choice names.

  Valerie was mortified, humiliated, and although the Marquis wanted to strangle the old biddy—it was Alex who stood up and reminded the woman that during her cousin’s debut, four years ago, she had heard of a diary a certain duke had left—naming that woman as one of his lovers, and accusing her of all sorts of perversities. It left the woman sputtering. However, the coach ride home was tense and silent. Van Wyc had left the house after Valerie screamed at everyone, who were all talking at once; saying they would squash the rumors, call this or that one out, knock a few biddies on their arses….

  The Marquis poured brandies, got everyone calmed, and reminded Jo that she could not simply plant a facer on every gossip in London. Although—the rumor bothered him as much as it did Val. Since Val was so humiliated, she could not even look at Van Wyc.

  A typical night out for the Ramsey’s, it seemed. Or, would be. Edmund could not imagine how Alexandria got her information, any more than he could have imagined himself knowing a family like that, one where the females, were as fierce and loyal as any male. One where they actually did not think of scandals, and whispers—but stood up for the truth, and each other.

  Although he had heard it before, he was surprised that the Marquis said his daughters could defend themselves. One of the masters, the Marquis said, taught Alex, fencing, and Jo, needless to say, could handle an array of weapons. Part of him was amazed by them; part felt a certain wariness, because he was having a hard time forgetting Alexandria and that encounter.

  After unloading all of that, the Marquis and the gathered men talked, once relaxed, Edmund discovered the Marquis had a droll wit that even made Auvary smile. As they talked about everything from races to politics, he realized that Alexander Ramsey was experiencing the emotions of new fatherhood to grown women—that he was, no doubt, wishing for the younger days when he could have called Leland out, shot him, and been done with him.

  By the time the whiskey flowed and was consumed most eagerly, Edmund sat back and listened to Ramsey speak of his feelings at that supper—seeing a man who felt helpless to undo damage Val’s marriage had done—and like many a lord, feeling guilty of his own past, wondering, if he’d done more harm than good claiming them?

  Friendship, friends like these, were rare—for Edmund. Yet he felt himself bonding with the Marquis.

  Having no advice to give, save thinking of his own father’s disregard for Sonja—Edmund, for the first time in his life, shared that part of his past—of his sister’s past. Moreover, the years…just the fact that his father lived, kept Sonja tied to an existence that was beyond enduring.

  He said, amid the swirls of smoke and flickering smoky lamps of the Tavern, “I could do nothing. I begged her, sent her money to run away. But really, I could do nothing. She should have hated me. I certainly hated my father. The sight of him sickened me. Everything I did to meet the expectations of the title, he threw some grand party and celebrated. I would think of Sonja with that despot, suffering God knew what, and simply stare at him as if he were some inhuman species.”

  The Marquis stared at him now. “I remember the talk. Many were aware. However, it is not something anyone can interfere in. They are all dead now. Don’t carry it with you forever.”

  Edmund nodded, drank, and brooded. Sascha talked of his own predicament. Having heard it all and wishing he could do something there too, Edmund found himself looking at Auvary next—a man he had known many years.

  Adam served in the war, and Edmund discerned it changed him as much as losing a brother had. He wanted to find some flaw aside from the fact Adam was a bit of a rakehell himself, but that was simply because he was not ready to wed. Men with wealth and titles knew to avoid “potential matches” if they did not want to find themselves betrothed.

  Those dark eyes flickered to him and Edmund looked away.

  He did not want to think of Auvary with Alexandria.

  It was foggy and near dawn when Edmund left the last Tavern, more foxed than he had let himself get in years. He walked several blocks to clear his head. He had not meant to share his past with those men; in fact, he had not made friends except for Sascha and Adam. Their friendships were different. He talked of Sascha’s problems, but did not touch upon his own private life. He and Auvary were men who on some level knew each other, and needed no “deep” conversations on a regular basis.

  He was nearly home b
efore he realized something else he’d felt since meeting the Marquis. Around them, he did not have to keep pretenses or be on his guard. In the company he had left, he felt a sense of brotherhood—

  Oddly, like a family.

  * * * *

  Alex rode in the park with Lord Auvary on Thursday. He’d come to collect her, and brought flowers, which she put in a vase and thanked him prettily for.

  Wearing her buff habit and mock top hat, her curly hair merely tied with a ribbon at the nape; she enjoyed their ride while she admired his expert seat, as she had at Hawksmoor. He was one of those men who rode as effortless as he walked.

  They led the horses after some time. Alex caught him studying her whilst they stopped for a group of children and their nanny to cross the path. He wore black riding ware, no hat on that wavy raven head. Given his tall build, the broad shoulders and hard handsomeness, she was not un-attracted. His almost black eyes were quite compelling.

  “Shall we give the horses over and stroll?”

  He nodded and took the reins, handing his black and her bay to the groom who had followed.

  Alex took his arm and walked with him by the Serpentine.

  “I like your scent. What is it?” He leaned his head slightly toward her.

  “Something I bought at the perfumeries on St. James.” She slanted him a pert grin. “It reminded me of pastries. My grandfather would let me go down the street and buy from the pastry sellers if I finished my lessons for the day. I liken that scent to a feeling of accomplishment. Of course—I simply like to eat pastry, too.”

  His hard face smiled back.

  At one spot, he leaned against a tree. She turned to regard his pose of one foot against the trunk, his fingers idly twirling some twig he had plucked.

  “You’ve not courted much?”

  “No. Not much.”

  “Why is that?”

  “My previous err—relationships didn’t require it.”

  She retained her easy grin. “Well, men may have their mistresses and court ladies too.”

  “True. But I am not the simplest man to understand, so it sometimes seems easier to avoid any real relationships.”