Rakehell's Daughters

by Gayle Eden

  When the coach rumbled up the drive, Van Wyc dropped back, glancing down at her.

  “What do you think?” She asked.

  “I liked it the first time I saw it.” He smiled and winked, glancing at Val who was also gazing out, before he kneed the mount and rode ahead. Van Wyc had met with the owner at the local Inn and they had keys to the house, and were to make themselves at home. The elder Squire who owned it had long moved out of the district, and other than his family occasionally using it, had no use for it. In fact, the upkeep and repair was more than he could carry and he would like to make the sell as soon as possible.

  “I like it too,” Alex whispered, her eyes tracing the lines of the old wings and the two center stories, the top most having a jutting balcony.

  By the time she exited, the two dozen servants, some she guessed hired local and recently, were curtsying and welcoming her. Alex was in love with the place. She could see a stone stable in need of repair, but knew that would be easily taken care of. There were flagstones around the house and a charming set of old gates at the walls before the woods.

  “Welcome, Milady. You must be weary and starved.” The elder housekeeper urged herself and Val to the door.

  She was, but inside, Alex hardly noticed servants carrying in trunks and going about. She removed her coat and handed over her hat and gloves while eyeing the fire in the great room hearth. There were big windows and beams overhead, furnishings that were aged and mellow, kept polished. The scent of beeswax mingled with dried flowers and herbs.

  Following the housekeeper and Val—who was chatting and talking, on the way to the dining room, Alex was already anxious to see more.

  Over a meal, she asked the servants questions about the manor and the area. The Abby had been a school before the Squire bought it. Apparently, he had wanted to use it as a hunting box but rarely did. The livestock drew income. And, there were a dozen tenants whom farmed, and fished, but it had been empty for the most part nigh on twenty years, and repairs remained undone.

  A tour came after dinner and coffee. Val walked with her through an empty back room, perfect for a study and library then the eastern chambers, a garden room, with doors off it and large wide windows. Other sitting rooms were open, and had beam ceilings, fireplaces, and scant furniture. Above, more chambers, bed and bathing, a dozen empty ones. The bones were rustic. There were interesting niches, mellow walls. On the top floor, she stood on the balcony and looked out, spying the lake the housekeeper pointed out, and liking the lay of the woodlands.

  In the back, a courtyard and lawn, a long rectangle fishpond neglected, though charming, statuary amid informal gardens with pathways, flowers, shrubs and fruit trees—that would bloom profuse in spring and revive in fall, plenty of lawn as in the front. The stables, slate roofed, and still in use, the housekeeper said again needed work. They were large however, and the yard of cobbled stone, in good repair.

  “It’s very nice.” Val put her arm around her waist by the time Alex was below again, picking out which would be the billiard room, and what should go where.

  “It is.”

  “I’m for bed.” Val laughed and hugged her. “My backside is numb.”

  Alex went too, finding herself in the master chamber, at the center of the house, and so immense, if not for the oversize bed and wardrobes, she would have felt dwarfed. Van Wyc was given a room of his choice and it did not surprise Alex it was on the same side of the hall as Val.

  She crawled under clean sheets and slept through evening and night, late into the next day.

  Dressed and at breakfast, she eyed Van Wyc. “You know what to do. I have only three days at the most.”

  He sipped his coffee and nodded, and after finishing said to her, “I’ll ride back to the Inn with the draft. He will, I am sure, have his man of business with him. I have the feeling he was anxious to get the sell completed. We will start with the stables. Make your lists and what we can’t find in the village, I’ll make inquiries.”

  Alex looked at Val when he had left. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes.” Val finished her coffee.

  “Good. I want to tour the grounds.”

  “You’re in a hurry.” Val laughed.

  Van Wyc was already standing, he said to Val, “I like a woman who knows her mind and knows a deal when she sees it.”

  Flushed, Val muttered to his broad back whilst he left, “And I like a man who doesn’t assume all women care what he thinks!”

  Alex laughed but did not tease her. She could tell Val was struggling to ignore anything but a civil relationship with the Viking.

  They arose and got to work.

  * * * *

  London, Five Days Later

  Sonja had recently entered the Earl’s residence and sat on the edge of Edmund’s desk, peering at the duns he was entering into his account books.

  “I have accepted the Marquis’s invite to Hawksmoor. I wanted to stop by beforehand, and deliver your birthday gift.”

  It was raining out and the city seemed wet and yet muggy. Edmund sat back, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Is it my birthday already?”

  “Yes.” She chuckled, arose, and looked around. “Have you heard from Alex?”

  He picked up the bill that had come with Alex’s neatly detailed lists and totally impersonal missive. “Yes. She has purchased a property called Winfield Abby, in York.” Edmund let the dun fall back to the desktop. “She invites me to join her there in two days.”

  Sonja was obviously now studying his face. “And you, of course, will?”

  “Yes.” He arched his brow with something between irritation and amusement. “She has very specific instructions on what I am to pack and even sent a note to my valet, Kenworth, which shocked him to no end.”

  “Did she?” Sonja bit her lip to keep from laughing.

  “Um. Yes.” Edmund arose and rubbed the back of his neck. “After packing my trunk, he was given a week’s vacation. My groom received the same after his task. He has already left with my mount—after fetching hers from the Marquis’s townhouse.”

  This time Sonja did laugh.

  “Kenworth was dumbfounded as what to do. Assuring me that he had no intention of “abandoning” me in the wilds.” Edmund paused and shook his head. Upon reaching the sideboard, he poured a brandy. “I assured him that obeying the Countess in this instance was the best course for us both.”

  Sitting now on the arm of a chair, Sonja watched him, saying, “All of this impulsiveness and breaking your routine is difficult for you, is it not?”

  “Not as difficult as Alexandria being gone.” He drank from the glass before turning to her. “It is amazing how quickly I got used to her being here. Even when I…”

  “—Pretended to ignore her?”

  Edmund met her gaze. “Yes. Even then.”

  Tilting her head, Lady Summerton murmured, “This trip to Hawksmoor is very impulsive for me—not something I would do. I have avoided the Marquis and his invites, for all the reasons you know of. However, Alex asked me to go. And somehow I found myself packing and preparing, sending a note off, and doing just that.”

  Dryly he intoned, “She thinks we live too much on self-preservation and not enough following our passions.”

  “We do.”

  Edmund walked over and sat on the edge of his desk, looking down into the brandy glass. “The Marquis calls it trust.” His gaze raised and held hers. “Trusting someone with our emotions, our private self. Trusting them—enough to build deeper bonds.”

  “I admit why I can’t. With good reason.” She nodded. “But I feel somewhat guilty that you struggle with it. It is very obvious to me, Edmund, that you are mad for Alex. That you want to breathe life the way she does. Don’t throw away any chance to do that.”

  After holding her gaze for a moment, he nodded.

  Sonja rose and went to him. She kissed him and then departed.

  Edmund walked over to the small table, before the sofa, where she had left the wr
apped package. Sitting down his drink, he took it, sliding back, relaxing whilst he untied the bow. In a few moments, he was holding the gift in his hands.

  It was a key, along with a note, which Sonja had written:

  Alex sent this to me and asked that I give it to you. It is not only the key to Winfield Abby, Edmund, which she bought and has worked furiously to make presentable for your arrival…. Nevertheless, I feel ‘tis the key to your freedom and your future happiness. To a life with your spirited countess Alexandria, who will fearlessly embrace whatever the future brings to you both.

  Unlock your heart, Edmund. See what this means. Alexandria has fallen in love with you, even if she cannot say the words yet. You think that she was not meant for a man like you, but I believe with all of my heart that you knew the moment you met her, four years ago, that she was all that you secretly longed for and needed. Let go of the past, my dear. You have your greatest gift already in that Rakehell’s daughter.

  * * * *

  Alex saw Valerie and Van Wyc off. They planned to head to Hawksmoor. She sent hugs and well wishes to the family.

  Their coach rolled down the long drive, and Alex eyed the Viking’s figure on horseback. He had an amazing character, possessing leadership and confidence, so many qualities that were rare. He had gathered her a crew who worked to repair stables and ponds, the gardens and like. Working along with them, Van Wyc often laughed and shared a pint in the shade with grooms and laborers—most of them in awe of his size and strength.

  Alex knew that Val noticed everything about Archard. Nevertheless, after everything Leland put her through, her fears seemed to overwhelm her, even when Alex discerned she could not help herself from watching Van Wyc with that female/male fascination.

  Sighing, having sent letters to her father and Jo, the duchess, Alex walked back in doors to prepare herself for Edmund’s arrival, having slept little the night before—wondering—what she would do if he refused to come at all.

  Now she walked through comfortable rooms, there were furnishings, enough sun arching in to flatter them, and polished floors. The back chambers had stone floors, which had been repaired. Turning, she went up the stairs, hearing the maids off in other parts of the house. She had hired two grooms for now and several chore boys. The housekeeper found her a passable cook who had already been told the meals would be informal whilst Edmund was there.

  Alex did not want routine and formality to interfere with their week. She wanted Edmund to herself, relaxed and at ease.

  She soaked an hour and then dressed in a cream gown and slippers. Her hair up casually, pieces falling free as it dried, Alex then checked the bathing room again. There would be no separate master chambers here. The one assigned was big enough and with some artfully arranged screens and furnishings, had a sitting area by the windows.

  The bathing chamber held fresh linen and soaps, two mirrors and two large tubs. On the window ledges and vanity, were scented candles and dried potpourri, warmed by the rare day of sun and emitting a pleasant and soothing aroma.

  Emerging in the hall, she was met by one of the young maids.

  The girl curtsied. “He’s arrived, Milady.”

  “Thank you.”

  The girl nodded and scurried off. Alex walked down the stairs, reaching the bottom just as Edmund came through the door.

  Wearing a coat with short cape and in his dusty boots, having windblown hair—he was still the most breathtaking thing she had ever laid eyes on.

  The housekeeper was hurrying towards him, but Edmund’s eyes were lifted on Alex, his tawny gaze was going over her from head to toe.

  “Welcome, my lord.”

  Jerking his gaze away from Alex, Edmund murmured, “Thank you.” However, after removing his coat, went back to staring at Alex.

  “Will you have a bath first, or something to eat?” Alex heard the husk in her voice.

  “I’d like to get rid of the dirt first.”

  She held out her hand. “Come then.”

  He spared only a glance for the housekeeper before going forward. Tugging off his gloves before his fingers met hers.

  Alex walked with him up the stairs, wanting to look at him, to touch more than his hand, but making herself wait. She saw he was looking around when they reached the upper floor. In the master chamber, their hands parted. Lads were carrying in steaming pails of water and Edmund walked to the windows to study several views of the land.

  The boys left and his trunk was brought in.

  “What did you think of it?”

  “It reminded me of Hawksmoor.” He glanced over his shoulder at her and then turned.

  Alex smiled slightly. She nodded. “It does me too.” She headed toward the door. “An informal lunch, in the back courtyard?”

  “Yes—Alex?”

  She paused at the door, seeing his gaze fixed on her with that certain expression in them. Her heart thudded. Her body flushed. She wanted him, dirt and all.

  Edmund walked to her, close, and gazing down into her face said, “Thank you.”

  She swallowed and fisted her hands to keep from grabbing him, kissing him. “You’re welcome.” She made herself leave else he would get no bath, no rest, and Alexandria knew he had likely ridden most of the journey on horseback.

  Getting a wink from the housekeeper in passing, Alex busied herself while the luncheon was laid out. Leaning against one of the arches afterwards, she enjoyed the trimmed lawn and repaired fishpond, watching birds’ hop along the stone rim searching for insects.

  “Thank you, Teresa.” She smiled at the maid who finished setting the table.

  “Welcome, Milady.” The woman curtsied and then went inside.

  Alex felt Edmund when he exited. She felt his eyes sweep her. She turned, admiring his plain linen shirt and snug black trousers and boots. His raven hair was damp and drying in a soft breeze. He had shaved. His face was sensual, and eyes, obviously hungry for more than food too.

  He went to the table and pulled a chair out for her. She joined him, seating herself, watching him do so and pour wine, before they were uncovering plates. During the meal, he asked about the area and the repairs she had done. By the time coffee was served, Alex had talked through the rushed days of work.

  The table cleared, he held her chair again. She stood and then he lit a cheroot. They drifted towards the pond and lawn, walking casually, Edmund occasionally commenting on the landscape.

  Secretly thrilled he approved—more than that, he obviously liked her choice, Alex said, “Since you’ve likely ridden most of the day, I won’t suggest riding this evening. But the woodland trails are lovely.”

  Leaning against the old gates, he gazed aside at her. “I thought you were looking for a retreat for yourself.”

  “I wanted you to think that.” She laughed softly. Then, “But in a sense, it is ours.”

  His eyes roamed her face. Edmund put out the cheroot and reached for her hand. He pulled her close and probed her gaze whilst he murmured, “What is it you want me to be here, Alex?”

  “Not what—whom. I want you to be yourself, Edmund.”

  Reaching up his free hand, he brushed a curl from her temple, still gazing in her eyes. “The way I am in London, is part of who I am.”

  “I know that. Nevertheless, I made you my lover, and you made yourself my husband, my lover too. I realize that the title, and who you are, requires that I play the role of your Countess. That is not what either of us wed. We didn’t unite for fortunes and bloodlines and titles, Edmund.”

  His thumb brushed the corner of her brow. “You believe I wed you to protect my own rep from scandal.”

  Alex wondered when he figured that out. “I did.”

  “Did?”

  She pulled away, not touching, but still meeting his gaze. “I suppose it doesn’t matter why at this point. However, to me, the future, what I give in this marriage, is not about the Earl and Countess Sotherton. Maybe it is not really about the passion either, Edmund. Nevertheless, I must know w
hom the man is that I am bound to for life. I want things, many things, and I want to live, not exist, not play roles.”

  “I didn’t expect you would. In my own way, I was trying to show you how to get on in our social world. Regardless of what we—achieve, in this relationship. I am never going to confuse those in the social realm with the true friendships I make.”

  “I realize that.” She shrugged. “You will always care more than I do.”

  “It’s not a matter of caring, Alex. Yes, it is fake and shallow, with enemies and gossips, smiling and bowing to each other—but it is a world we can’t ignore.”

  “All right.” Alex stared at him. “I will be aware of why you wear that mask. Why you hold yourself aloof. I won’t take it personally.”

  She turned and strode back toward the courtyard.

  He caught up with her.

  Alex took him inside for a tour of the house, and he met the servants, surprising Alex when he talked with them about the house and area, as he never seemed to with the more formal London servants.

  Dinner came. Served in the dining room, a small one, that would hold perhaps fifty people. Alex could tell Edmund was tired by nightfall, and she left him in the study/library on some excuse to speak to the housekeeper.

  Entering after the lamps were lit, she found him lounging on the hide sofa, hands behind his head and boots crossed.

  “Why don’t you retire early?”

  He sat up slowly and looked at her. Edmund nodded.

  She supplied, “There’s no schedule here. No formality.”

  “That will be welcome,” he sounded distracted when he passed her on his way out.

  Alex did not join him for two hours. She spent much of that in a muse before entering the moon lit bedroom.

  Removing the gown, she let down her hair, brushed it, and then sat to roll her stockings down.

  He was on his stomach, his skin warm against the white sheets, and hair mussed on the pillow.