“So you did,” she said, smiling up at him. She knew then, knew that whatever happened, he would not abandon her.
“Greer,” he said, the sound of her name like a plea as he lowered his forehead to hers. “Greer, I—”
A sudden commotion outside the room they were in made them both freeze.
“Hell! Not again,” Raphe cursed, pushing away from her. “Quickly,” he urged, pulling her upright as they scrambled to adjust their clothing. They were badly rumpled, and Greer was frantically coming up with a good excuse for why exactly she was alone with a notorious rake, when there was the soft glide of wings accompanied by a discordant screech.
“Cock! Oooh, what a big one!”
Raphe choked, scrambling to fasten his trouser buttons as Greer snorted with amusement. The wretched parrot flew low over their heads, and the next moment, the dogs burst in upon them.
“Look out!” Greer yelled, as Thorn careened past a small inlaid table, making it lurch sideways. The chinoiserie vase atop it shook violently and toppled.
Raphe lunged for the vase, fumbled it, and lunged again, falling to his knees with a muttered curse, but grabbing the thing before it smashed to pieces.
“Oh, I say, good catch,” Greer said, clapping his effort and grinning.
Raphe rolled to his back and lay there for a moment, still clutching the vase as he got his breath back. Growling and barking came from the far side of the room where the parrot had landed on the curtain rail and was marching up and down, throwing insults at the dogs and bobbing its head excitedly.
“Thorn, Thorn, Thorn in my ar—”
“Good heavens,” Greer exclaimed over the din the dogs were making. “That parrot has the worst vocabulary I’ve ever heard.”
Raphe snorted from his position on the floor. “Belonged to Bainbridge’s mother. She taught it as many filthy words and phrases as she could to annoy the duke, and Lady Beauchamp has been continuing the tradition. I’m certain it’s learned some new ones,” he mused.
“I expect Arabella is helping,” Greer said, chuckling at the thought before moving to stare down at Raphe. “Are you getting up, or shall I leave you there?”
“You certainly ought to leave me alone,” he muttered gloomily. “I damn near ruined you.”
Greer shrugged. “Ah well. The night is young yet, there’s still time.”
“I didn’t mean—” he spluttered as she took the vase from him.
“I know that, silly. I was teasing you,” she said, giving him a swift grin.
Raphe huffed and got to his feet, adjusted his clothing and then bellowed at the dogs. “Silence!”
They all stopped at once, wagging their tails guiltily whilst furtively sending longing glances at the parrot.
Raphe raked a hand through his hair, not looking at her. “I must get these idiotic dogs to the stables. If I take Thorn, the others will follow me. You’d best get back to the ballroom and pray to god no one noticed you’ve been missing.”
Greer watched him as she did her best to tidy herself, well aware he’d sunk himself into gloom over what had happened between them.
“I don’t regret it, Raphe,” she said, reaching out and taking his hand.
To her disappointment, he did not curl his fingers about hers but moved away, putting distance between them.
“Well, you damn well ought to.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Why not?” he sneered. “It’s the truth. Christ, Greer, we don’t love each other, and I can’t possibly marry you. I won’t. I never want to marry, so stop throwing yourself at me because I’m not interested. Or are you just after a quick tumble? Is that it? You want a taste of wickedness before you go on and marry a decent fellow? If that’s it, say so and I’ll oblige, but you should hold yourself in higher regard than that. I’m not bloody worth it, and you ought to know better than to trust me. I’ll say anything to get what I want. Surely you understand that by now?”
Greer jolted at his cruel words. She told herself that he was being deliberately hard to protect her; she knew that, but his words stung all the same. The pleasure he’d given her had been indescribable, but for her, there had been more than that. She’d felt he’d cared for her, that it had been about more than physical gratification, but perhaps he was telling her the truth now. This was why he was so dangerous, after all. He could get women’s clothes off them with ease. Perhaps she was just the next in line because she was close at hand. The depressing thought made her eyes burn, and she turned away from him before she made a fool of herself.
“Greer—”
“And this is the famous Venus of Urbino,” came a strident voice as a group of people wandered into the room.
Greer gasped as three sets of eyes fixed upon her, and then Raphe. She recognised two of the ladies as Bainbridge’s aunts, who looked delighted by the possibility of having walked in on a tryst. The third woman’s eyes were cool and full of disgust, however, and Greer did not know who she was, but recognised trouble when she saw it. She looked to be exactly the kind of purse-lipped harridan who disapproved of her on principle.
“Miss Cadogan,” the woman said, satisfaction dripping from the words. “Like mother, like daughter, it appears. I would have thought you might have more sense than to slip away with a man like that. Surely, you know the baron is good for nothing but ruination?”
Greer stiffened at the slight to her mother, and to Raphe, but before she could answer, another voice boomed through the prickling silence.
“They’re not alone, Mrs Hampton,” Bainbridge said calmly, from the other side of the room, though Greer could not fathom where he’d sprung from. “We’ve been chasing my father’s blasted dogs all over the house before they got into the ballroom. The children have been up to mischief, the little devils. Well done, Raphe. You’re quicker than I am.”
“No trouble at all,” Raphe said easily, picking up on the lifeline the marquess had just thrown them. “Ladies. If you’ll excuse us, we must take the dogs back to the stables.”
Bainbridge nodded. “Aunt, be so good as to escort Miss Cadogan to the ballroom. I have imposed on her long enough.”
“Of course, dear,” his aunt, Lady Dorcas Beauchamp, replied, her eyes twinkling with interest. Greer suspected she hadn’t believed a word of it, but nothing could be proven otherwise, so she was saved. “Are those little jockeys on the dogs' backs? How charming, and what fun. Such clever little monkeys my grandchildren are. Don’t you think, Cora?”
“Oh, I do. I do. Spirited children, just like Raphe and dear Laurie when they were boys. Such mischief makers they were.”
“Still are,” his aunt muttered, sending an amused glance towards Raphe, but led her friend and the glowering Mrs Hampton towards the door before turning back to Greer. “Come along, my dear, before you miss the party entirely,” she said kindly.
Greer nodded, hurrying after her, and did not look back.
Chapter 10
Nic,
What the devil am I supposed to say to the duchess? She wishes to know of any traditions or recipes I remember fondly from Christmases past. Perhaps I should ask her to toss me a crust of stale bread or allow me to sleep on the kitchen floor? The best Christmas I ever had was when that bastard was too drunk to beat me. You know I loathe this time of year.
Why, in God’s name, did I agree to go? I wish you would all let me alone.
―Excerpt of a letter from Louis César de Montluc, Comte de Villen to his brother, Nicolas Alexandre Demarteau – translated from French.
Still the night of the 13th of December 1840, Royle House, Derbyshire.
Raphe watched Greer leave the room and not look back. His chest felt unpleasantly tight, and the desire to run after her was hard to resist. Selfishness, he told himself. She was beyond his touch and that was all to the good. He didn’t want to get married and settle down, anyway. If she didn’t learn her lesson and keep away, he really would ruin her and there would be no choice. They’d both be trapped, an
d she would come to loathe him. They’d had yet another lucky escape. How many more did he expect to walk away from unscathed?
“Bad form, old man.”
Raphe looked up to see Bainbridge scowling at him. He really didn’t look best pleased. Raphe could hardly blame him, but he shrugged, pretending an indifference he did not feel.
“Where did you spring from?” he asked sourly.
“Secret passage. The house is riddled with them. I heard the dogs and followed the noise,” Bainbridge said, watching him intently. “What the hell do you think you’re playing at?”
“Bastard! Cock! Wicked devil!”
Bainbridge narrowed his eyes at the parrot. “Yes, thank you, Macintosh. I’ll handle this.”
Raphe glared between the parrot and Bainbridge. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Bainbridge tutted, impatient now. “Debauching an innocent is what I mean, you bastard. There are rules, remember. I knew you’d sunk pretty low, but I thought that was one rule you’d yet to break.”
“Sorry to disappoint you,” Raphe retorted with a smirk, though his guts had tightened into a knot. Christ, he’d hit a new low if even Bainbridge disapproved of him.
There was a taut silence and, as Raphe did not know how to fill it, he made a show of walking to a gilt-framed mirror and rearranged his neckcloth, which was askew thanks to Greer. He tried to push away the memory of her hands in his hair, the sounds she’d made when he’d pleasured her, but she’d burned them into his mind. He still ached for her, wanted her, and he very much feared it was not only lust that made him pine for her touch.
“Ah, well,” Bainbridge said, his tone even. “No harm done. I suppose Miss Cadogan ought to have expected as much from you, and she appears to be a game girl. If it hadn’t been you, no doubt some other blighter would have persuaded her into naughtiness this evening.”
“What the devil do you mean by that?” Raphe turned to glare at his friend as anger surged through his veins. Greer wasn’t like that at all. He could not understand why she’d formed a tendre for him, but it was only for him. She had risked everything to be with him, God knew why, but that did not mean she was a light skirt. To hear his friend disparage her made him furious.
Bainbridge shrugged. “Only that I suppose it wasn’t entirely your fault. She must know of your reputation, so she knew what to expect. I suppose she might be an innocent, but she’s a wild one, ripe for a tryst. Not like her sister. She’s bound to come to no good— Oof!”
Bainbridge staggered back as Raphe lunged at him. Raphe realised his mistake too late, as Bainbridge flashed a knowing grin. The devil had provoked him on purpose.
“Liar, liar,” he taunted Raphe, wagging a finger at him. “Methinks the lovely Miss Cadogan has got under your skin. Considering getting leg shackled, are you? I can recommend it.”
To his mortification, Raphe flushed. Damn Bainbridge, he’d always been able to get under his skin like no one else had. “Go to the devil, Laurie.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” his friend demanded before clicking his fingers at the big mastiff, who was still regarding the parrot with wistful brown eyes. “Come, Thorn. You too, Raphe, you great clod pole. Help me get these wretched dogs back to the stables, and you can tell me what exactly you’ve been up to with Miss Cadogan along the way.”
Raphe let out a long-suffering sigh, but grabbed hold of one of Thorn’s wives by the collar. He didn’t want to explain himself to Bainbridge, of all people, but he knew better than to evade him. Bainbridge would get it out of him in the end.
“Come along, girl,” he muttered, and followed Bainbridge and Thorn back to the stables.
Greer found the quiet spot behind the potted palm where she’d hidden earlier and retreated there with a glass of lemonade. She told herself she was perfectly fine. Raphe had given her a glorious education in how wonderful such wickedness could be, and she ought to be grateful for that. She ought to be exceedingly grateful she wasn’t ruined. The dogs arriving when they did had been timely, and she realised that was something else she was glad for. She could not quite believe how close she had come to giving him her virginity. Thank goodness she hadn’t, for how worthless she would feel now after his words, and how full of regret? She did not want her first time to be a hasty coupling with a man who did not care for her, or at least, did not care enough to marry her. Greer did not believe Raphe was entirely indifferent to her, nor that he meant all that he’d said. For reasons she did not fully understand, his past filled him with self-loathing and, in his own clumsy fashion, he was trying to protect her. Perhaps it was time to heed his and Elspeth’s warnings and leave him be. Melancholy settled in her bones and the lavish ball around her, and all the joyous excitement of the Christmas season, only made her feel increasingly alone.
“Miss Cadogan?” Greer looked up to see the young man she had hidden from earlier in the evening had caught up with her. “Might I have the pleasure of this dance?”
He had a pleasant face and kind eyes, and looked like a well-bred, respectful gentleman, exactly the type a girl like her ought to wish to marry.
Greer forced a smile to her lips and set down her glass of lemonade. “Yes, of course. I’d be delighted to.”
Raphe watched Greer as she moved around the dancefloor with another man. She was as graceful as always, but the exuberance which had so enchanted him was missing now. His fault. The fellow was shorter than he was and had a youthful, almost boyish face which would not appeal to Greer, he assured himself. Though what right he had to jealousy he didn’t know. The fellow was gazing at her as if he held a goddess in his arms, as if she was precious.
He is holding a goddess, whispered a taunting voice in his head. She is everything you desire, and she could have been yours if you weren’t such a waste of space.
Panic rose inside him like a wave, smothering him. His chest was so tight it hurt to breathe. Christ, he wanted a drink. The urge to forget everything and lose himself in drink and bad behaviour was a wicked temptation. It was all too easy to escape reality in such a way and he’d done it too often, too many drinking binges following one after another. He’d been too close to never stopping at all that last time, his indulgence so profound he’d damn near killed himself. All around him people laughed, drinking endless glasses of champagne. A waiter moved past him, silver tray aloft, filled with sparkling glasses. Raphe snatched one up and stared at it. He realised he was shaking, knowing how reprehensible of him it would be to give in again, to lose himself in drunkenness and vice. The dark pit yawned before him, the magnetic pull of it fuelled by his despair. His friends would be disappointed in him, disgusted even. Perhaps they’d wash their hands of him. Rothborn certainly would. Raphe closed his eyes, willing the misery away, but he had already lost. His father had seen to that, destroying everything that mattered before he’d even had a chance. What was the point? Bad blood. He was his father’s son, that was all.
“Thank you, I’m spitting feathers,” said a cheerful voice as she plucked the glass from his hand.
Raphe jolted, blinking as he stared into eyes very like Greer’s, except these crinkled at the corners, laugh lines highlighting a face full of warmth and kindness.
“Mrs Cadogan,” he said, numb with shock.
“Call me Bonnie,” she said, smiling at him and setting down the glass she’d drained.
She gave a muffled hiccough and covered her mouth with her hand. “Oops. Drank it too fast,” she said, her eyes twinkling merrily.
Raphe laughed, wondering what his life might have been like if he’d had parents like Greer’s. Would he still have made such a mess of things? He frowned as she took his arm, staring up at him with an affectionate, motherly expression. “Take a turn about the room with me, there’s a dear.”
He hesitated, not wishing to offend but feeling like the worst kind of fraud. If this woman knew what he was guilty of, if she knew what he’d done with her daughter… shame flooded him and, to his horror, heat burned up his neck. G
ood God. Blushing? That was the second time tonight, and he hadn’t believed himself capable, not after everything he’d done.
“Yes,” Bonnie said, her tone dry, and she regarded him, her gaze intent now, too perspicacious. “I don’t doubt you’ve been a very bad boy. My daughters and I can never resist one of those. Still, there’s no escaping me. Come along.”
She tugged at his arm and Raphe had very little option but to go with her.
“Greer is very taken with you,” she observed, and Raphe could not look at her, though he still felt the weight of her gaze upon him like judgement.
“I can assure you I’ve done nothing to deserve her regard,” he replied, unable to do anything but offer her the truth as far as he was able.
“Nonsense. She’s a bright girl, far cleverer than I was at her age, and she’s an excellent judge of character. She gets that from me,” she added with a satisfied smile. “She sees something in you. So do I, if you want the truth. Rothborn certainly thinks you’ve hidden depths.”
Raphe snorted, unable to hear those words without a burst of bitter laughter. “Rothborn wishes me to the devil, I’m sure. I’m a great disappointment to him.”
“Now, now, none of that. He thinks no such thing, and wallowing in self-pity won’t do you a lick of good, you know. If you want to marry my daughter, you must buck up your ideas.”
Raphe staggered, almost tripping over his own feet.
Bonnie turned back to look at him and he stared at her in shock.
“Did… Did Greer…?” he began, uncertain how he felt about that, but his heart hammered behind his ribs.
Bonnie rolled her eyes. “Of course she didn’t. She’s hoping you’re thinking about such things but, unlike me, she is uncertain of how much sway she holds over you. No, whatever you said to her earlier has hurt her feelings and now she’s blue devilled. Which is why she’s dancing with every eligible young man in the room and looking like she’s on her way to the gallows, of course.”
Raphe swallowed down a burst of guilt, even as his heart rose at the realisation that her mother was right. She must be. She knew her daughter better than anyone.
Dare to Risk it All (Daring Daughters Book 7) Page 11