The Rake to Reveal Her

by Julia Justiss

  ‘I’ve had time to consider it.’

  ‘How could you? I’ve only just explained the situation!’

  ‘Jemmie found me at Holkham. In fact,’ he added with a smile, ‘he practically ordered me to come to London and sort this out.’

  ‘Jemmie ordered you!’ she gasped, her cheeks flaming red. ‘Oh, the...the rascal! I’ll strangle him for this!’

  ‘It was enlightened self-interest. He knows I like the children and the school, and if you married, a new husband might not.’

  ‘I’m still going to strangle him.’

  ‘He also said he knew I liked you—and that after we’d been together, you seemed happier than he’d seen you since your father died. I’d like to go on making you happy. Won’t you let me? Not to mention, we don’t want to let Jemmie and the others down.’

  The struggle played out over her expressive face. Attraction, affection, and the strong connection that went beyond the physical pulling them together; opposing that, her fierce sense of honour insisting she not allow him to make such an important decision so precipitously, badly as she needed his help.

  Had he ever met a woman so brave—or so stubborn? Then a niggle of doubt crept in.

  ‘Am I pressing you too hard? Would you truly prefer to marry one of the prospects your aunt lines up?’

  ‘There’s no one I’d rather marry,’ she blurted, sending another flurry of relief through him. ‘But,’ she added, biting her lip, ‘my wishes are not important.’

  ‘Why?’ He looked at her curiously. A disquieting notion occurred, and he frowned. ‘You don’t really think you should marry a man you don’t love or even like and be miserable for the rest of life as some sort of penance for the mistake of conceiving a child out of wedlock?’ At the slight alteration of her expression, he said, ‘Great Heaven, I’m afraid you might! Not that I can speak for the Almighty, but surely God forgave you for that sin long ago. You need to forgive yourself, and think seriously about what would make you, not just stoically endure, not just be content, but happy.’ He drew her back against him. ‘Delirious, even.’

  He kissed her again, harder, deeper this time, until they were both dizzy and gasping for breath.

  ‘Marry me, Theo,’ he urged, brushing his mouth over hers.

  She nuzzled into him, whimpering.

  ‘Was that a “yes”?’

  ‘I—I don’t know! My senses are swimming and my mind doesn’t know up from down. C-come back tomorrow, and I’ll answer you then.’

  He set her on her feet. ‘I’ll come back tomorrow. And ask you again. And kiss you again. Count on it.’ With that, he bowed and walked away, his heart pounding, desire pulsing through his veins.

  That he wanted her more than ever was no surprise. That he wanted so badly for her to marry him was.

  After that last kiss, however, he was feeling pretty confident that he was going to be satisfied on both counts.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Theo watched her erstwhile fiancé stride down the garden path until he was lost from sight. Her senses still tingling from his kisses, she tottered to a bench and sat down hard.

  She ought to pinch herself. Dominic Ransleigh—‘Dandy Dom’, formerly society’s darling who had snagged a duke’s daughter for a bride—couldn’t have just asked her to marry him.

  Could he?

  She took long, slow breaths, trying to settle her agitated body and calm her disordered mind. What, exactly, had he told her?

  That Jemmie had tracked him down to inform him about her abrupt departure from Thornfield. She really should strangle the boy when she got back, she thought with a sigh.

  That Jemmie knew she liked Dom, and Dom liked her. She felt a flush of embarrassment heat her cheeks.

  Obviously they hadn’t masked their mutual attraction as well as she’d thought.

  After the acute discomfort of Lady Staunton’s dinner, and with the prospect of a series of equally uncomfortable evenings to come, she’d had to resist the urge to throw herself on Dom and accept him immediately. But she’d paid a high price once for making a decision of enormous consequence without careful reflection, and she’d not do so again.

  Still, how great a contrast between the excitement and sense of safety she’d felt, just seeing Dom standing in her aunt’s drawing room, and the dread with which she viewed having to entertain other potential suitors—even the accommodating Lord Sayle.

  She was far more comfortable around him than she’d been with any other man since Marshall, and had been from their first meeting. Feeling at home in the heart of one’s home was a valuable thing. Plus, they shared a love of books, horses, and a common interest in the children and their futures.

  Marrying him would certainly meet the criteria required by Lady Hazlett. She’d gain an incomparable role model for her son and the support of Dom’s well-connected family when it came time for Charles to attend university and choose a vocation.

  She could return to the countryside she much preferred, get back to running her school—and have Dominic Ransleigh at her side and in her bed.

  Ah, how often had images of heated encounters between them invaded her dreams! Accept him, and she’d no longer have to resist the desire he aroused so effortlessly. After awakening many nights in the dark, afire with longing, she’d be able to follow through on all her erotic imaginings, with the right to explore every glorious inch of his body and discover every possible way to bring them delight.

  It was several moments before she could drag her mind from those enticing possibilities back to cold, hard reality.

  He didn’t love her, and in marrying him, she’d deprive him of the chance to fall in love—or risk turning into the duty wife of a man smitten with another woman. Wincing at the unpleasant possibility, she concluded that boredom or outright misery would be preferable.

  Plus, marriage should be an equal bargain. He offered her salvation from an untenable situation, but what did she bring him, save a school full of problems and the possibility that an unsavoury old scandal might one day pop up out of the box into which her lies had crammed it and shock his world, like some evil grinning jack-in-the-box?

  Was she, on some unconscious level, pushing herself towards an unhappy marriage as a penance for her sins, as he’d alleged? There might be more truth to that charge than she’d like to admit.

  Or was her reluctance, as she hoped, based more on high principle—not allowing him to sacrifice himself in a cause not his own. Though, as he’d argued, he was a man grown, making this choice of his own free will. She had no right to keep him from making it.

  Though she had every right to refuse, if after sober analysis she deemed the benefits he offered did not outweigh the risks of marrying a man she could all too easily fall in love with.

  For she had to admit—if only to herself—that she more than liked Dominic Ransleigh. All the reasons that made it so attractive to accept his hand, made it far too easy to go from liking to loving him. Hadn’t she promised herself, after the total devastation of Marshall’s death, she would never, ever put herself at risk for that kind of desolation again?

  The possibilities of loss were more than just having him fall for another woman. True, with the war over, she needn’t fear losing him in battle. But there were still fevers and carriage accidents and any manner of dangers that could snatch away one’s beloved.

  Then she had to laugh at herself. Had the girl who once had been sublimely unconcerned about sending a soldier off to battle now become prey to such alarm she must worry about every ghostie, goblin, and terror that whispered in the dark?

  All she knew for sure was she very much wanted to marry Dominic Ransleigh—and that she very much feared doing so would be a huge mistake.

  Unable to resolve the matter, she jumped up in disgust and headed back to the house.

>   Aunt Amelia would want to know what they had discussed, and she’d have to come up with something glib to fob her off. She could not bear revealing her conflicted feelings for Dominic Ransleigh to anyone, even her sympathetic aunt. Who, in any event, would be certain to dismiss any reservations she might have and urge her to get Dom leg-shackled before he changed his mind.

  First, she had to make up hers.

  Mercifully, she had the rest of the evening and all night to wrestle with it.

  * * *

  Next morning, in the wake of a mostly sleepless night, Theo could hardly recall what tale she’d spun for her aunt or how they’d spent the rest of the evening. Pleading a very real headache, she’d taken herself off to bed early, only to toss and turn as the clock struck through the hours. Marry or not, marry or not, its steady tick seemed to taunt her.

  It wasn’t fair, she thought, sitting in bed in the pale morning light, clutching a cooling cup of chocolate she would gag on if she tried to sip it. Wanting him too much couldn’t be good, could it? It would be so easy to fall in love with him—and therein lay disaster.

  She knew he’d be here soon, expecting the answer she’d promised. The butterflies in her stomach turned to swallows, swooping and diving against her ribs.

  Would she be giving in to her sensual self against her better judgement if she accepted?

  Yet, accepting him would solve her problem immediately, making it much less likely that Tremaine could cause any more damage. Thereby safeguarding the school, and giving Charles the most wonderful mentor she could ask for.

  Shouldn’t protecting herself from the dangers of falling in love be her own task—her peace of mind in avoiding that possibility less important than the security of Charles and her orphans?

  Susan arrived with her gown, and had just helped her into it when a knock sounded at the door.

  ‘Mr Ransleigh is here again,’ the butler informed her with a frown. ‘I told him it was much too early to call upon a lady, but he insisted.’

  The swallows swooped through another circuit. Placing a hand on her stomach, she said, ‘Yes, I was expecting him.’

  His disapproving glance now settling on her for having encouraged such a breach of decorum, he said, ‘Very well. I shall inform him you’ll be down directly.’

  A few minutes later, Theo slipped quietly into the room. Dom stood by the window, gazing into the garden, tapping one booted foot impatiently. She took in the tousled blond locks, the noble profile, the tall, broad-shouldered torso, no longer so thin. This man may soon be my husband, she thought with a sense of wonder.

  Then he turned and spied her, and every nerve in her body vibrated with awareness. ‘Good morning, Mr Ransleigh,’ she said, hardly able to get the words out of her tight throat.

  He paced over, pulled her against him, and kissed her fiercely. Fuelled by lust and terror, she kissed him back just as hard.

  Finally he broke away, still binding her against him with his one good arm. Gazing at her intently, he said, ‘Was that a yes?’

  She hesitated, still unsure of her answer. She truly hadn’t decided before she walked into the room what she was going to do, her thoughts and emotions having yawed wildly back and forth from ‘yes’ to ‘no’ since he’d left her yesterday.

  His fierce gaze softening, he cupped her cheek with his good hand. ‘Do you trust me, Theo? To watch out for you, and protect you, and cherish you?’

  That question, she had no trouble answering. ‘Yes, I trust you.’

  ‘As I trust you, to watch out for and protect and cherish me. Is there anything else more important than that?’

  Her lips trembling, she shook her head.

  ‘Then, Theo, will you marry me?’

  With his touch gentle and his voice tender and his bright blue gaze fixed on her face with affection and concern, she said the only thing possible.

  ‘Yes, Dom, I will marry you.’

  With a cry of triumph, he hauled her close and kissed her again. Finally releasing her, he said, ‘We will be happy, Theo, I promise you! Now, shall I go and inform your aunt?’

  Having now committed herself, Theo felt a succession of conflicting emotions rush through her—excitement, elation, anticipation, desire, doubt, fear. It was all she could do to say, ‘Not now. She’ll be abed for hours yet.’

  ‘When and where do you wish to wed? With the need to resolve Charles’s position, it’s probably best to make it soon. I can ride to Doctors’ Commons and procure a special licence, and we could marry whenever you wish. Here, at your aunt’s house, or back in Suffolk. Unless you’d prefer to wait to establish residency so we could wed at St George’s in Hanover Square?’

  ‘Soon, in this house, would be best,’ she confirmed.

  ‘I’ll be off, then, and call on your aunt later.’ Gently he took her chin again and angled her head up, his good eye searching her face. ‘Are you sure? You won’t change your mind later, feeling you were coerced into this?’

  She laughed feebly. ‘Shouldn’t I be asking you that?’

  He grinned, the eye patch making him look positively piratical. ‘I’m getting what I want. Or I will be soon. Ah, what a wedding night I anticipate!’ He drew one finger across her lips.

  Yearning ignited in its wake. ‘How long do we have to wait?’

  His grin broadened. ‘I’ll try to make it as short as possible.’ He gave her another quick kiss. ‘I’ll see you this afternoon.’

  With a purposeful stride, he went out...leaving Theo frozen, a hand to her trembling lips, torn between elation and terror.

  * * *

  Exultant, Dom practically danced out of the parlour. Until the very last minute, he wasn’t sure Theo was actually going to accept him—and somewhere over the course of the last few days, it had become terribly important to him that she did. Strangely enough for so important a step, and one he’d not seriously considered until very recently, the idea of marrying her seemed so natural and right, he’d had not a single second thought from the moment he decided to propose.

  He’d make sure she never regretted accepting him, either, he vowed. Living with and loving Theo—ah, especially making love to Theo—was going to be an entertaining life’s business. He couldn’t wait to begin.

  Ticking off in his mind all he needed to do to put together a wedding with the least possible delay, Dom paced towards the entry door. He had little doubt Theo’s aunt would enthusiastically approve their plans, especially given the delicacy of her niece’s position.

  Then it suddenly occurred to him that for his marriage with Theo to be a success, one other important person must approve their union. Stopping short so quickly the footman escorting him out nearly ran into him, he turned to the servant and said, ‘Before I go, I’d like to speak to Master Charles. Would you show me to his room, please?’

  Whatever the footman thought about escorting a visitor who’d arrived far too early up to the room of a person who generally did not receive guests, he merely blinked and motioned Dom to follow him. A few minutes later, he gestured towards the open doorway of a third-floor bedchamber. ‘He’s in there, sir.’

  ‘Thank you. I can find my own way out.’

  As the servant retreated down the hallway, Dom moved to the doorway.

  Peeking in, he noted the maid, Constancia, in a wing chair, bent over some sewing, and Charles by the window, sunlight glowing on his fair curls as he repositioned an array of toy soldiers in rows before him.

  Dom watched for a moment, curious about this child who meant so much, his mother had been ready to sacrifice her own happiness to keep him. What would you do if you were threatened with losing one of your cousins...wouldn’t you do whatever you had to, in order to prevent that?

  That argument he could understand—losing Will or Max or Alastair would be unthinkable.

 
Tapping on the doorframe, he said, ‘May I come in?’

  Charles looked over to the newcomer, his face brightening. ‘Mr Ransleigh!’ he cried. ‘Have you come to take us home?’

  Clever boy, Dom thought. Nodding a greeting to the maid as he entered, he replied, ‘I thought I might. Would you like that?’

  ‘Oh, yes! London is big and noisy and there are some very nice horses in the park, but I like Thornfield better. And I miss Georgie and Jemmie and even stupid Maria. Will we go soon?’

  Dom walked over and knelt down, so his face was level with the boy’s. ‘It should be very soon. Before we go, though, Charles, I wish to ask you something. I want to marry Miss Theo.’ Ignoring a gasp from the maid, he continued. ‘When we get back, you’d both come and live with me at Bildenstone Hall. Would that be all right with you?’

  The child paused, considering him. ‘Could we still go to the school?’

  ‘Every day, probably.’

  ‘Will I still get my pony?’

  Ah, the things of importance to a child. ‘Did Miss Theo promise you a pony?’

  ‘After my papa’s friend visited us at Thornfield, she did.’

  ‘You mean Lady Hazlett?’

  Charles considered the matter for a moment before giving an affirmative shake of the head. ‘She said it was time for me to have a pony, like my papa did at my age.’

  So the grandmother’s blackmail began immediately, he thought. ‘Of course you may have a pony. But you will have to learn to ride him properly.’

  ‘Oh, I will!’ he exclaimed, his eyes wide with excitement. ‘Will you teach me? Jemmie says you are a s’perior horseman. I think it means you ride well.’

  ‘Yes, I’ll teach you,’ he said, agreeing upon the instant—his first obligation as mentor to Theo’s son. Oddly enough, he found himself looking forward to the task. ‘Riding well is an important skill for a gentleman.’

  Charles nodded. ‘Miss Theo says I have to learn to be a proper gentleman, like her papa and mine. They both died in the war.’