The Passionate Love of a Rake: HarperImpulse Historical Romance

by Jane Lark

  “If you have not been to London before, have you already visited the sights with Violet?”

  She laughed. “Violet? You are joking. You do not know her well, I note. Violet would consider such outings an absolute bore.”

  “Then you would not refuse if I offered to escort you.”

  She smiled at him. “I would not refuse, Robert. I would appreciate it very much. Thank you.”

  Robert felt something hard grip in his chest. This woman could melt him. Yet she blew so hot and cold. He had no idea where he stood with her from moment to moment. And at this moment, she was tepid. Lukewarm, that was his ladylove.

  But, by the saints, a moment ago, she’d been heated lava in his arms. She hid it well, but the woman was not impartial to him. Still, for some reason, she refused to yield to it. Unfortunately, he was no martyr. He wanted this, had wanted it for years. She felt right on his arm. He was warm and human again with her. This was beyond sex. This was about Jane. A light flared in his heart – that familiar torch he’d always carried for her. He could never face parting from her again, and if that was so, there was only one conclusion to this.

  His heart pounding a tattoo against his ribs, he felt his breath catch in his lungs and forced it out. “Jane.”

  He longed to make her stop, face him, and urge her to accept his words and answer, yes, but he held back. He dare not pin his heart so firmly on his sleeve for her to ridicule and wound. He’d done that once before. Instead, he was prudent and phrased his proposition casually. “For me, this, us rather, I do not see it as something temporary. If you were, I mean, in the future, once you are ready, if you felt that it was right … ” He hesitated, having reached the crux of the matter, and knew he was making a hash of it, but all he could do was lay his cards on the table. “What I mean to say is, I would not be against the option of revisiting my previous proposal.”

  He felt the gentle tug of her fingers on his arm as she stopped walking. He stopped, too.

  “Did you just propose to me?”

  Astonishment or outrage? He was not sure. Just in case, either way, he put up his guard. The same armour he’d been using for years. The very same defences he’d learned at her hands years ago. Lord, he was a glutton for punishment.

  His mask of indifference was set firmly in place as he faced her.

  Her fingers slipped from his arm.

  He felt her rip his heart right out.

  “Robert, what on earth are you thinking?”

  Was that not just the point? He was smitten and not thinking. That was the issue in a nutshell. He was quite obviously not thinking. Or at least, nothing of any sense if he was fool enough to make such an offer to a woman who clearly did not have the measure of his worth. Who, in fact, thought him worthless – else why did she take Sutton over me?

  There it was again, that damn question.

  The question that had disturbed his sleep for years, to the point he’d had to bury it behind sex. Why not me? Why Sutton?

  He’d answered himself a thousand times, too. Money. Power. Status.

  Yet those answers never satisfied him, and certainly never stopped his subconscious asking and analysing the question a million times more.

  God help him. He’d not even dared let any other woman close enough to risk them finding out his faults, for faults there must be, otherwise, why? But then, of course, none of them had ever measured up to Jane either. But, who the hell was Jane?

  He could surely not love a woman who would toss his love aside like soiled linen? Twice.

  Could he?

  It was a bloody, sorry state for a man whose reputation declared him a heartless rake.

  Aloud, he said, “It was no more than a suggestion, sweetheart. Take it or leave it. If you have an interest, you need only ask.”

  She burst into laughter which echoed along the pathway.

  It seemed he damned well could love a woman who saw no value in his affections. All he was worthy for was kisses. Those she liked. He knew that, if nothing else. At least his damned reputation remained intact then.

  “Sorry, Robert,” she whispered when her laughter died.

  He paid little mind to the insincere apology. Whether she was sorry or not, she still did not want him, and that was the rub, and God, but it hurt.

  “I just did not expect it. You need not be gallant for my sake. I’ve survived one marriage. I do not intend to launch into another. So you may come off your guard.”

  Speechless, Robert turned and walked on. Her gentle, slender fingers gripped his elbow. He felt them about his heart as she chattered on in her sweet, sing-song voice, merrily extolling all the novelties of the pleasure garden.

  The setting sun sent the last shafts of pink and gold across the sky. In the distance, it was turning to a royal blue, a perfect romantic sunset, and on the third finger of her left hand, clutching his arm, her gold band caught the light, beneath the ostentatious emerald engagement ring.

  He was a bloody fool. But when he turned to hear her words, he saw the golden light catch her beauty, gilding her cheekbones, her magnificent green eyes, and her full red lips. She stopped speaking. His feeling must be in his eyes. He’d never understood why she’d cast him off, but nor had he ever stopped loving her. Jane. He suddenly could not quite believe that, after all these years, she was here.

  He may be a damned fool, but he could not walk away from her.

  He covered her fingers with his own. “Come along then. Let us do some more exploring.”

  ~

  Hours later, leaning one elbow on the table within their private supper box, tucking her fist beneath her chin, Jane took the opportunity of Violet’s and Geoff’s absence to steal a sideways glance in Robert’s direction.

  The male tightrope walker, suspended over the heads of a hushed crowd, drew a sudden sigh of fear from his audience. Jane was not at all afraid. He was as comfortable on the rope as any other man was on the floor, and yet, his talent was indeed awe-inspiring. She looked back when the crowd let out a chorused gasp. The nimble fellow landed a somersault. His audience applauded.

  Jane applauded, too, then transferred her gaze back to an even more enthralling sight, Robert in repose. He made no response.

  He was everything she wished for this evening, attentive and considerate – wonderful – everything was wonderful. He’d paid for their expensive yet sparse supper and they’d danced half a dozen times, because none of the rules of society counted here. There were no matrons or patrons to judge them.

  Even the hawkers and harlots who’d flooded the gardens after midnight and flaunted their wares, moral and immoral, did not tarnish Jane’s pleasure, and on the signal of the bell, Robert had taken her to see the cascade of water. It glittered in the lamplight. Then afterwards, he’d led her through the lit and unlit pathways, seeking temples and fountains. As they’d walked, they’d heard other couples in the darkness – whispers, laughter, and squeals carried on the balmy night air. This really was a pleasure garden. It stimulated every human sense. It willed you to abandon restraint and revel in vice. She was not immune.

  The memory of their brief kiss had haunted her thoughts, and she ached between her thighs for him. Perhaps she’d had too much champagne, or was it the wonder of dancing with him that had seduced her? They’d laughed as they’d skipped through the zealous steps of a country dance to the sharp, jolly ring of a brass band, and her hands had clung to him when they waltzed. Or it could have been the way his fingers had protectively gripped her waist or her hand as they’d walked along the dark paths? But whatever was making her wish for another kiss and more, he’d made no attempt to repeat it, and she felt as though, despite his attentiveness, since they’d kissed, he’d somehow withdrawn from her.

  She turned towards him, to watch him better, and tried to unravel the puzzle that was Robert. She knew he wasn’t concentrating on the tightrope walker. His thoughts were somewhere else. He’d not shown any tendencies of his youth tonight. He’d been witty, pleasant, enter
taining, but never truly sincere, not since they’d kissed. The old Robert was in retreat behind the solid, insurmountable wall of charm he’d built for his defence.

  She smiled, absorbed in his sober expression and his familiar profile. The way his hair, in a Brutus cut, swept a curl or two across his collar and hung over his brow. Had he meant his proposal, or was it a joke? He’d said he wasn’t known for his seriousness. Did that mean for his lack of sincerity, too? She’d taken it for a joke. She didn’t dare risk thinking of it as anything else. How could she accept him, even if it was real? Pain lodged in her chest at the possibility of being forced to reject Robert again.

  “You’re staring, Jane. I believe one’s eyes are supposed to be upon the entertainment.” He spoke without turning, and yet a rakish smile twitched at the side of his lips. The wolf. Barrington, the soulless rakehell. That was the Robert of tonight.

  “I’m caught out,” she whispered.

  “Indeed, you are.” His head turned and his gaze met hers. She still stared, smiling and studying the contours of his face.

  “Your Grace?”

  The smile instantly fell from her lips, and her heart thumped harder. She turned immediately, standing up as she moved. Robert stood, too.

  What on earth was Joshua doing here? What had he seen? Of course, he knew none of her history with Robert, but even so, anyone, anything, anywhere near Joshua was in danger.

  “You will, of course, dance with me.”

  Jane felt herself blanch and lowered her head as she dropped a restricted curtsy, deliberately but surreptitiously insulting him.

  What could she do? She’d rushed into giving up her mourning, engrossed in thoughts of dancing with Robert and desperate to be free of the cage Hector had built about her during his life, only to forget entirely the cage he’d forged for her on his death. She’d played directly into Joshua’s hands. He could approach her now whenever he liked. She could not say no without making a scene, and she refused to have her humiliation known, especially by Robert. Robert moved to her side in a possessive, protective gesture.

  “Of course,” she answered, her voice wooden.

  She did not look at Robert, but moved forward. What would he think of this? Everyone knew Joshua disapproved of her.

  Joshua offered her his hand. She took it, a tattoo drumming in her chest as his fingers gripped hers.

  They walked from the shallow steps of the supper box to the dance floor, and she felt Robert’s gaze on her back. Somehow, she knew he was still standing.

  The music suddenly changed tempo to a waltz. “I asked for it,” Joshua whispered against her ear. A shiver ran the length of her spine.

  Robert watched, unmoving. He’d seen Sutton’s wife cut her in the park. He thought he’d rationalised it. The son of the deceased Duke had disapproved of such an obscene age gap between his father and his stepmama. Sutton had made no secret of that in the years Robert had been back in England, and certainly, he must dislike Jane inheriting the old man’s money. But this?

  Robert’s eyes followed them across the dance floor.

  She was stiff, uncomfortable, no longer the carefree, laughing girl of an hour ago.

  Sutton’s wife cut her. Sutton did not. Sutton danced with her on the first opportunity that arose. There was only one conclusion a man could draw from evidence such as that. Hell. Robert did not want to accept it, but it made sense. It would explain why she kept refusing him. “I cannot.”

  It was Robert’s turn to stare at her. He leaned a hand on the rail of the supper box. He could not see Geoff and Violet among the dancers. They’d probably slipped off to seek private entertainment. What hour was it now? One, perhaps two. Pulling out his pocket watch, he clicked it open. It was one-fifteen. His gaze returned to the dancers. He could no longer see Sutton and Jane. They’d disappeared.

  His breath quickened, and his heart picked up its pace. He felt strangely suspended as he descended the steps. He looked left and right then chose the promenade path leading towards the river. The area of pathways there were the darkest and particularly known for offering privacy.

  By the time he reached it, he was moving at almost a run, his stride hard and sharp, crunching on the gravel, his heartbeat the only noise he could hear.

  He found them in minutes, in a darkened stone alcove hidden in the hedge. It was Sutton’s voice which carried, although Robert hadn’t caught the words. Jane was pressed back against the stone. Sutton leaned to her ear. His hands gripped her shoulder and her arm. Robert couldn’t move. He actually felt the moment his heart splintered. He was suddenly intensely cold. She was doing this to him again. The woman he’d known and loved was a bloody fake. His imagined Jane was not capable of this. This was her husband’s son! No wonder Sutton’s wife had cut her. Robert’s Jane did not exist. The fiction he’d mourned was gone. This was the truth.

  Thank God. I am free of her now.

  She saw him and he viewed both the scene and himself from afar.

  When her eyes fixed on his face, he saw horror in her expression then watched her fight free of Sutton’s grip.

  Suddenly released from his transfixion, grimacing in disgust, he turned away, leaving it all behind.

  She was upon him in a moment, her fingers clutching his arm. He shrugged her off, neither slowing nor reducing his strides to allow her to keep up. He had no wish to hear her explanations. He did not want excuses.

  “No! No! You will not do this to me again! Robert! You do not understand! Please! It is not as you think!”

  The anger, the hurt of years roiling inside him like a beast over which he had no control, he suddenly stopped and spun back to face her.

  She looked shocked and afraid and stepped back beyond his reach as his glare threw his revulsion at her. Tears stained her cheeks, and her chest heaved.

  When he did not speak she stepped forward and touched his cheek.

  Pulling back, he growled, “No, Jane. This is it, the end. How many times do you think you can make a man look a fool and expect him to dance attendance on you? No. Not anymore. I will not do it. I will leave you to your friend.” Thrusting the words like a knife, he tilted his head towards Sutton, who watched from a few feet away, looking pleased and gloating. “Tell Geoff I will find my own way home.”

  With that, Robert turned and, swallowing back the anger and bitter taste in his throat, he walked away.

  Chapter Ten

  Her arms wrapping about her waist, Jane shivered, despite the warm evening air, and tears tracked down her cheeks. A single sob wrenched from her throat as she tried to breathe and watched Robert walk from her life a second time. If he’d ever really loved her, surely he would know she would never do what he’d thought he’d seen.

  “That man is no loss to you.” Joshua’s voice came from behind her, deep and gloating. Her fingers forming claws, she swung about and launched her anger at him. He’d done this deliberately, for pure malice.

  She understood her dead husband’s pleasure now. Oh yes. It came to her in a blinding light.

  Joshua simply caught and held her wrists, laughing in her face and leaving her rage impotent.

  “Now, now, my little cat. Such claws Her Grace hides until she is roused.” He hauled her against him and twisted her arms behind her back. “You’d better find yourself a good solicitor, my dear. You will receive a letter from my own in the morning. Shame. No more pretty dresses, Jane. He tells me my father’s will is nonsense and shall never stand. I will drag you through the courts, if I must, and then, my dear, you will depend on me. You’ll surrender to me in every way in the end, Jane. Do you understand? But for the moment, you’re lucky. Before I sate my desire for your body, I want to see you beg me to take you.” He let her go. She stumbled backward. He walked away, laughing, leaving her in near darkness, alone.

  A deep, tremulous breath pulled into her lungs. She wiped her tears away with her shawl and began walking, stiffening her spine, ignoring her shaking hands. She had to get back, to go on.

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nbsp; Joshua had manipulated Robert because he’d seen Robert as her potential ally, and, in a single move, Joshua had closed that door to her. Just like his father, he wanted to control her. She saw everything now. Her former husband was controlling them both from beyond the grave, like puppets. He’d not given her security and freedom on his death. He’d set a new key in her cage. Hector had known how Joshua would react. Like this. What had just happened was what Hector had willed.

  She knew Joshua was right. The will would not stand, not once it was tested before a court.

  It was all clear – Hector’s cruel plan. He had taken as much pleasure in taunting his son as in breaking her youthful spirit and resilience. That was Hector’s way, to destroy everything he envied, and make everyone envy him. His rift with Joshua had begun before their marriage. Hector had always intended writing this will. He’d married her to infuriate Joshua. She’d been a pawn for Hector to play against his son. He’d manipulated Joshua and broken her, but ultimately, he’d always intended Joshua would win. He’d left her nothing, done nothing for her, right up until the end. She would never have the chance to be happy.

  It was no wonder Joshua had grown into a monster like his father.

  Her fingers still shaking, she gripped her shawl, pulled it up over her shoulders, and walked blindly in the direction of the music. The sound of raucous voices echoed behind her. She looked back and walked into someone screaming as hands clasped her arms.

  “Jane?”

  “Geoff.” Both relief and distress rang in her voice, and a sob escaped her throat. But then, instantly, sanity returned. She didn’t even really know him. She forced herself to be calm. “Thank goodness,” she whispered in a steadier voice, pulling away. “I was lost.”

  “What happened, Jane?” Violet said at her side, her fingers resting on Jane’s shoulder. “We passed Barrington leaving, with a face like thunder. He didn’t even pause to speak. We were looking for you.”

  “We argued. I’m sorry. I’ve ruined your evening.”

  “Do not be ridiculous, Jane. Did Barrington upset you?” Violet’s voice was deep with concern.