Rakehell's Daughters

by Gayle Eden

  “Excellent. Merely craving a bit of quiet.” Alex laughed and tucked the book away.

  “John Kindle came up from the village, says that the other guests have arrived. Apparently, they’re refreshing at Stokers Tavern before coming on.”

  Alex met her gaze. “That’s… nice.”

  Val’s sable brow arched. “Both Edmund and Adam are in the group.”

  “Both are friends of fathers.” Alex tried to sound neutral.

  Val glanced around the forest and then back. “I may have been preoccupied at times, Alex, but I’m not blind.”

  “I’m sure not.” Alex gazed down and picked through the basket for a tart she did not really want.

  “Which is it? Or rather who?”

  “Obviously—I am with Auvary.”

  “Not obviously,” Val said softly. “Oh, I’ll admit that you two seem the pair and on the surface—”

  Alex looked at her. “What do you want me to say, Val? Edmund is not courting me. Edmund is not showing an interest in me. Edmund is—bloody ignoring me most of the time.”

  Val let that hang a moment and then supplied, “Perhaps not everyone notices, but the air fairly crackles when you two are within sight of each other. And I recall a kiss—”

  “I can’t deny either one.” Alex tossed the tart back and wiped her hands on her thighs. “It changes nothing.”

  “The duchess and I correspond.”

  “I’m glad. I’d hoped you would become friends.”

  Val sighed. “She thinks that—”

  “I know what she thinks.” Alex sounded as frustrated as she felt. She closed her eyes and drew up her knees, resting her elbows there while she rubbed her forehead as if to ease the tension. “Thinking, feeling, nothing changes what is. You have seen the Earl in society. You have seen him at our house. You have the benefit of having some normal conversation with him. I promise you—I have no such thing. What I’ve had is—”

  “What?” Val prodded softly.

  Alex dropped her hands and opened her eyes. “Passion. Passion with a man who is like two different men, and in only a few brief and stolen hours do I even prove to myself that I’ve not imagined it the rest of the time.”

  “And Auvary?”

  “He’s…intense. A man with all the right things, but even were I not afraid I’m not the one for him, I cannot erase something that began four years ago.”

  Val’s lips parted. “Four years—”

  “Yes. But, it was…I seduced…oh, bloody hell.” Alex got to her feet and paced, folding her arms and shaking her head. “I’ve got to decide or just be all right by myself. I have to get Edmund out of my head, Val. I have told him I will not chase him, but I cannot stop my thoughts, no matter where I am, what I am doing. It’s an obsession with trying to hold onto this illusive lover—that doesn’t really exist.”

  “My lord.” Val got her feet. “I had no idea.”

  Alex laughed and glanced over her shoulder. “Don’t worry for me. I am not about to be a fool…Oh—God, Val. I didn’t mean—”

  “Of course you didn’t.” Val waved her hand at Alex’s frown.

  “He’s making me bloody daft.”

  Helping her collect her things, Val carried the basket, Alex her satchel, as they walked slowly back.

  Hooking her arm through Alex’s, Val confessed softly, “Leland never prepared me for lovemaking. Not even on our wedding night. He was so foxed and so rough. When he got me pregnant—I let him take me—rough and rutting, enduring, because I wanted a child.”

  “Christ, Val.” Alex glanced at her.

  Val kept her eyes on the path. “It’s terrible to be that confused, that desperate for something. He did not touch me often—sexually, not after the wedding night—and I was a bit traumatized considering my mother had described it much more pleasant. Then with the getting me pregnant….what he…I was terrified.”

  “And so anyone should be.”

  “I can’t give any advice, Alex. You have likely already done—”

  “No. Well…not the…” Alex flushed and laughed.

  Val waited, her brow wrinkled.

  “There are other things a man can do…”

  “I see.” Val’s own cheeks flushed and she cleared her throat. “In any case, I cannot help. I’m not sure I know beyond what I sense between you and Edmund.”

  “I could very well end up wed to Adam.”

  “I’d wish you happy. I like him.” Val paused as they were nearing the clearing. She dropped her hand and regarded Alex. “But I would not believe you loved him.”

  “I don’t love Edmund. I do not bloody know him. I mean I don’t—”

  Val held her gaze.

  Alex felt her eyes sting. She rasped, “I don’t love him. I can’t!”

  Those kind eyes moved over her face. Val leaned in and kissed her cheek before turning and walking on.

  Alex stood there, time drifting beyond her consciousness and thoughts splintered in too many directions. Her stomach felt heavy, heart beating much too hard. She turned and ran back the way she had come, dropping again to the ground and pulling up her knees, her arms folded on them and forehead against them.

  “I’m not. I am not. I do not love any man. I cannot love a man I do not know. I cannot love…” She gulped in a breath and raised her head, her eyes blind on the woods ahead. “…. Edmund,” she whispered.

  * * * *

  Edmund had ridden in the coach with Sascha and Adam, another ahead of theirs was filled with other guests, including two ladies. At the nearest village, he and his companions refreshed, whilst their horses were saddled, all of them eager enough to avoid the jostle of a coach, even with the well sprung and amply padded one they had taken.

  Having washed and shaved, he donned buff riding breeches and a white linen shirt, a supple buckskin jacket. He sat down and pulled on wine hued riding boots, hearing Sascha’s tread before the man entered. Edmund looked up seeing that the Viscount had made use of a bathing chamber, his thick hair still damp and Sascha had changed into a forest green jacket, a buttery shirt and buff trousers. His boots were the same he had arrived wearing. Sascha had little coin for luxuries.

  Having heard some interesting mutterings the last time they’d visited a hell—and Sascha had gotten so foxed he’d had to nearly carry him out to the coach. Edmund read the signs of tension on that handsome face and noted a glitter in those lime eyes.

  “Careful, ole boy,” he said softly.

  Sascha turned from the window. “Don’t worry, my friend. I am well aware that my time is running out.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” Edmund stood and went over, laying a hand on his shoulder. “And I don’t give a bloody damn what she said in that missive. I do not for a moment think she can sell your home.”

  Sascha shrugged. His cheek flexed. “I’m not sure I care anymore. It is not my childhood home. It is an albatross around my neck. A trump card, for the bitch.”

  Edmund insisted, “You can’t marry her.”

  “No. I won’t go that far,” Sascha, uttered grimly. “But I may have to let her have Whitford Abby.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m going to leave.”

  “England?” Edmund frowned.

  Nodding abrupt, Sascha walked away and over to the unlit fireplace.

  “I’ll pay her twice the notes and you can bloody owe me.”

  “No.”

  “Christ. Do not be stupid about this, Sascha. You know I have a bloody fortune and I—”

  “You’re my friend.” Sascha smiled tightly at him then turned back to the fire. “Thing is, Edmund. I have become disgusted with my role as puppet. I had such an attachment to that house…”

  “Of course you did. It is your home. Your family has owned it for generations.”

  “It’s not just that,” Sascha supplied. “I slept with her. I was her lover for two years. I was—”

  “Young, and without funds, bitter at your brother. A h
uman with—”

  ‘Perhaps all of that, but it does not excuse the fact that I have to pay for my mistakes. It is more than money with her. She asked me to wed her before I even knew she’d use the loans and before I knew she’d start collecting my notes—”

  “You aren’t the first man she’s tried to snare. It’s a sick sport with the duchess…”

  “Perhaps. Nevertheless, I think she cared for me then. And I used her.”

  “Good—God, Sascha. Do not we all when we are sowing oats and randy? She’s older, more experienced, she’s—”

  “Okay. She is all those things. But what am I?”

  Edmund could feel his words hitting a stone wall. He felt the physical reactions inside him to what Sascha was telling him. That bloody bitch was going to not only rob him of everything; she was driving him from his home. Was not five years of her pulling the strings enough?”

  Suddenly something dawned on Edmund, and he rasped, “She found out about Johanna?”

  The very stillness on Sascha answered that.

  “You didn’t sleep with her?”

  “I didn’t have to.” Sascha sounded empty, hollow, “She was at a Masque ball and the duchess was also there. I did not know it until later. Also—she saw me kissing Jo at another gathering, too.”

  “Very well. However, what can she do? Really Sascha, what can she do?”

  “Besides being furious?” Sascha laughed bitterly. “Let me see, she’s forcing me to tell a woman I am losing my mind for—the humiliating facts of my relationship with her. Because, I damn well must before I leave. I have chewed off my tongue when pushing Johanna away, wanting nothing more than to spill the truth of my desire for her. I have pushed and pulled Jo the same way the duchess does me. What she can do—is make me look the fool I am.”

  “Jo will—”

  Sascha laughed coldly again. “Don’t Edmund. Do not. You know her. You know them. Johanna would never respect a man who used someone like I did, let alone allow himself to be a puppet—”

  “You’re making it sound worse than it was, dammit. You were a young man, and do not think for a moment the duchess did not pounce on your weaknesses.”

  “Jo is a young woman. She has none.”

  “Rubbish.”

  “It’s not the point, my friend.” Sascha looked at him. “Either I tell her the facts and leave, or I simply leave. The latter is better, but I find I am somewhat selfish—I am perhaps sadistic enough to want to see either her loathing or her understanding. I want to know, dammit, if she loves me.”

  Edmund stared at him in shock.

  Sascha turned and said before heading out the door, “If I leave Hawksmoor abruptly you will know why. I’ll send word to you once I know my destination.”

  Edmund eyed the closed door for lost moments, before he collected his gloves and took his carpetbag below, to go along with the coach. By the time they met up with Auvary in the stables, Sascha was putting a convincing face on the happy prospect of seeing Hawksmoor.

  Edmund rode in the center; the trio staying well behind the dust kicked up by the coaches. He glanced at Adam, who wore dove trousers, black boots, and white shirt, a dove-riding jacket. Thankfully, he had not mentioned Alex all that much over the miles. Of course Edmund kept the conversation on any subject but that, so a man of few words anyway, Adam had no entry to mention Alex.

  “There is the marker.”

  Edmund attended as they rode over the Marquis lands. Wild or not the landscape was quite beautiful. Part rugged, part tamed, he could see livestock and scattered stone cottages. They passed herders with flocks, and a male in a pony cart dressed in tweed and puffing a pipe.

  Further, there was wildlife visible in the strands of woods, and somewhere dogs barked excitedly. The weak sun was lowering in another two miles. Edmund saw the rise of the old stone manor in the distance, before the coaches stopped. Footmen lit the lanterns and climbed back atop, Edmund watched, as they proceeded, seeing a bonfire in the distance.

  “It’s an annual thing,” Auvary said. “One of the Marquis well stocked lakes, good for fishing or boating, swimming too. They hold a picnic down there.”

  “How old is that manor?” Sascha asked.

  “Eh, who knows? I believe the Marquis said his great grandfather inherited it. There was another, more modern one, in Lincolnshire, that burned. Alex has several holdings, but it is obvious this is his home. He bought up land, owns a dozen stables, a couple of ships and who knows what else.”

  “Odd for a Rakehell—”

  Adam grunted. “Not really. Not when that Rakehell is Alexander. I cannot see where he has done anything predictable in his life. “

  “Too true.” Edmund agreed. He did not have to investigate to add up the Marquis wealth. He knew simply by getting to know the man that he was well off.

  They passed an ancient wall before seeing the newer one leading up to the main road and drive to the winged manor. Edmund wondered if rather than being impressed, Sascha’s heart was sinking with the realization of what Johanna was likely to be given by her father. He decided that now he knew Sascha’s feelings for Jo, he was going to have a private word with the Marquis. He had to try.

  * * * *

  Alex was late slipping back to the manor house. The men had turned over their catch, and everyone was already down at the bonfire. When she had crossed the lawn, servants were already setting up makeshift tables, and carrying down plaids and cane chairs.

  Reaching her rooms, she took a long soak, hearing the commotion on the stairs and above, which told her the “other” guests were likely there already. Finished with her bath, she drew on a chemise, white stockings and plaid skirt, a white linen blouse and her half boots.

  Walking over by the window, she let the woodsy night breeze flutter back her hair, drying the curls. Some of the locals invariably showed up at the picnic. She could hear music, a flute and such.

  Unable to put it off any longer, Alex took the soft plaid cape from the wardrobe and had it around her shoulders as she left.

  On her way across the lawn, just before walking down the knoll towards the lake, she could see guests in chairs back from the bonfire and servants going back and forth. It looked like the men were a bit away, no doubt with various spirits flowing and flasks being passed about. They stood or sat on the grass—the Campbell’s spinning tales about the day of fishing.

  She picked Jo and Megan, Val and two other women out, lounging in the chairs as she made the slope. Indeed, one of the Campbell’s and three men in tweed caps and homespun were providing music, sitting on stools to the side of the bonfire, one with flute, the other with fiddle and another a drum.

  “I was wondering if you were going to hide out all night.” Jo reached back for her hand as she neared their chairs.

  Alex took it and greeted the two visitors, ladies from London who seemed to be enjoying themselves. Val pat the space on her wicker chase for Alex to sit, and she did, talking awhile to the background of male laughter, and conscious of trying to pick up Edmund’s voice, without looking for him.

  Eating a plate of food, drinking a pint of beer—which Jo brought to her, Alex, caught the festive and happy spirit of the gathering. She was standing when she spied the Viscount amid a group of men laughing, and telling some amusing story. In the shadow, just out of the bright circle, it was hard to pick out who was whom, save for the glow of Van Wyc’s blond hair and the Campbell’s brawny frames.

  “We’re going to dance.” Jo suddenly hooked her arm and dragged her with her to the spill of light. Laughing, Alex let herself be whirled to the lilting tune, hearing Megan and Val clapping and laughing.

  Not to be left out, Jo was soon hauling them out of chairs, and shortly with the Ladies from London too, their hands were joined as they skipped and twirled around the circle of fire.

  Alex could not help but laugh and enjoy herself, particularly when Val too was throwing herself into it. They broke clasps and twirled, clapping, and trying to follow step
s that Jo and Megan were performing—to the cheers from the Campbell men.

  Alex threw her head back and chuckled as one of visiting Ladies suddenly tossed her fancy hat off—since the daughters wore theirs down, it was amusing to see a woman of thirty years toss her hat, pick up her hem, and dance something other than the prim and proper steps allowed in ballrooms.

  Breathless, the faces around the fire and beyond a blur, Alex linked Megan’s arm and went through a series of turns, before Megan let her go, dizzily spinning her into Val, who screamed with laughter and hauled her in the opposite direction.

  By now the music was lively, the men laughing, clapping and shouting, Alex forgot her troubles. On the next pass, she stepped out, and grabbed her father’s hand. In shirtsleeves, like most of the men, he laughingly came with her, his hands at times lifting her off the ground and whirling her. He moved to the rest of the ladies, and by then Megan had grabbed someone—who surprisingly turned out to be Auvary.

  He went Past Alex with a grin of resignation, realizing he had no choice with the ladies taking the lead.

  Alex got flung a few times by Campbell’s, before she was so out breath she had to cut from the circle, and dash for the chairs and something to wet her throat.

  Her skin dewed and breath panting, she pushed back her mussed curls.

  “Here.”

  “Thank you.” She took the beer and drank, her eyes flickering to see who handed it to her.

  Edmund.

  He stood there by the chairs, his hair ruffled by night breeze, sinewy throat glowing in cast off from the fire. The white shirt had rolled up sleeves, his very snug riding trousers and boots enhancing those long muscular legs.

  Swallowing several drinks, she ran her tongue over her lips, and sounded too breathless from the wrong reasons when she teased, “Are you hiding back here?”

  “Yes.” His smile was distracted, his eyes going over her flushed face, and the throat of the blouse, back to her lips. “I’m only a passable dancer most times, but I’m afraid I’d end up roasted trying to keep up with you ladies.”