The Rake's Handbook

by Sally Orr

  Ross struggled to contain his fury.

  “If you do not immediately dissolve this engagement, there will be other severe consequences as well. Consequences in regard to your foundry. I suggest you think about your actions carefully.” Dr. Potts strode to the entrance without taking his leave.

  After waiting a minute for his anger to cool, Ross dismissed the doctor’s reckless threats, except those related to his mother’s state of mind, and returned to the drawing room. Since his mother had already heard about his engagement from someone else, he stood silently for several minutes, carefully watching her for any sign of distress. To him, she appeared well. There was no evidence of the return of her low spirits; therefore, the evidence proved the doctor’s concerns had to be unjustified. Unjustified too in regard to Mrs. Colton. Why would one little satirical tome be taken so seriously, as to cast off a popular neighbor, and a widow to boot? The doctor’s threats made no sense and sounded like overblown rubbish.

  Lady Helen eventually waved him forward. “Don’t just stand there. Give me a hand.”

  “What do you want me to do?” He kissed the top of her head again and noticed she worked upon a diagram of furniture placement.

  A frown covered her brow, a well-recognized expression of why-don’t-men-understand-the-obvious? “You must clear off the console table, then help me move it to the opposite wall.”

  “Mother, please, call the servants. If I help you move furniture, the servants will think you raised me in the local tavern.”

  Lady Helen snatched the shepherdess figurine out of his hand. “Don’t break the Staffordshire.” She cradled the statue in her arms and placed it on a table far away from his reach.

  He grinned. “This room looks fine. Why change it?”

  “My new Gillow pieces,” she said, placing her hands on her hips. “If we are to order mahogany furniture, I have to know what sizes to order. I can’t purchase a fifty-two-inch sideboard and expect it to look well on a twenty-foot wall, now can I?”

  “More furniture now? I thought we agreed to wait for the foundry’s first profits.”

  “Since you’ve decided to wed Mrs. Colton for her funds, I will no longer have to wait until this estate is fully on its feet, or the foundry is profitable, before I acquire new pieces.”

  “Mother. Money is not the reason for my betrothal.” He strode forward to tenderly embrace her. “How shall I put this? Yesterday, Mrs. Colton finally changed her mind and considered granting us a lease. A congratulatory embrace ensued, followed by…what followed is not important. But the town observed our affectionate gratitude. In fact, had we advertised the encounter by broadsheets, we could not have gotten better attendance.” He raised a hand. “No, it’s not what you think. I only gave her a…friendly kiss. So her reputation was compromised. I had no choice but to announce our engagement.”

  Lady Helen smiled weakly. “A peck on the cheek is not that scandalous. Mrs. Colton is a widow, so her reputation is not as fragile as if she were a young girl. You must not do anything rash. Apologize, but do not feel you have an obligation. I’m sure she will wish for the same.”

  “Ah, well…more than cheeks were pecked. My mind is set. In your heart you know it’s the proper course of action. My inappropriate behavior and announcement created public expectations, so I will privately offer for Mrs. Colton later. As a gentleman, I must marry her immediately.”

  “Nonsense. She already had one husband, and women don’t want two. Did you kiss her against her will? Of course not. Mrs. Colton must take responsibilities for her strumpet-like behavior.”

  “No, I gave you a vow to behave like a proper gentleman, so I must offer for her. Come now. I thought you’d be pleased. Marriage won’t be that bad. I’ll be the noble knight saving the queen from the dragon. Of course, I’m both the knight and the dragon, but it’s the saving part that matters.” He wondered how Elinor would behave toward him when he called upon her in the afternoon. Would she blush and flutter into his arms or vow undying love? Being female, she might expect him to use the “love” word. Humph. She would have to wait until men walked on the moon, because that would never happen. “What possible objections can you have to the match?”

  “What about Lucy? Mr. Allardyce will claim breach of contract. We could find ourselves in the midst of scandal…the disgrace. Please, I want to remain welcomed in the neighborhood.”

  “You will be welcomed wherever you go, for your own sake. Everything will be fine, I promise. The marriage settlement with Allardyce had yet to be publicized, and the man was a friend as well as business partner.” Ross expected nothing more detrimental than a difficult and embarrassing conversation. Allardyce had the right to seek a breach of contract suit, but he considered that possibility to have long odds, since the betrothal had not been announced. He had no regrets as far as Lucy was concerned, because she deserved a younger husband, a more respectable man, a gentleman who could show the appropriate deference to sleeves.

  “The engagement with Lucy was never announced, even to our friends,” he said. “We are far from the City, and no one outside of our two families—except Drexel and Parker—know of the intended betrothal. Allardyce is my friend, so when I cry off, I’m sure he will be reasonable.”

  Lady Helen shook a finger at him. “Listen to me. Plenty of women admire you. It’s not as though you were a regular libertine—a cat chasing a mouse—in your case the mice seem to be chasing the cat. If you wait a few years and give up this absurd notion of marrying either Mrs. Colton or Miss Allardyce, I’m confident that with a little effort you will find love. My efforts to furnish Blackwell can wait, because love is more important.” She hesitated, moved to retrieve the shepherdess, and cradled it in her arms. “You are my son. Whomever you choose for a wife, I will welcome—for your sake. But I cannot wish you happy now.”

  “Why?”

  She kept her gaze on the sheep resting near the feet of the shepherdess. “I—I do not know how to say this.” A slight tremor claimed her whole body. “I will never have grandchildren.”

  “Pardon?” He noticed the figurine shake in her embrace.

  “Mrs. Colton is barren. She was married for a long time and produced no offspring. Dr. Potts has just reassured me of that fact. He is her physician, after all, and he should know these things.”

  “Mother! You did not—”

  “You will have no children.” The statue slipped from her hands and fell to the floor. The figurine burst into pieces, leaving a pile of white paste rubble. The only recognizable parts being half the shepherdess’s torso and one little sheep with three missing legs. Falling upon her knees and close to tears, she gingerly picked up and held the legless sheep. “No grandchildren.”

  “We’ll buy another,” he whispered, pulling her to her feet. He took the sheep from her hand and called Rowbottom to quickly remove the pile. With his arms firmly around her, facing away from the rubble, he led her to the sofa. “Please, tell me about your new furniture. What will this pile of lumber cost?”

  She did not reply. Instead, she twirled one of her long curls around her finger. Several minutes passed before she picked up her embroidery and started to stab it with the needle. She tried to speak, stopped, and took another minute to assemble her thoughts. “I seek your forgiveness, son. I don’t know what came over me.”

  “No forgiveness is needed.” Seeking a subject to lighten her mood, he said, “You did not answer my question.”

  “What question?”

  He swept his free arm in a half circle toward the room. “The cost of the lumber to fill this stadium?”

  She slapped his shoulder. “You.” A pleading look entered her eyes. “Three hundred pounds.”

  “You jest!”

  “I know the amount is a large sum, but each piece is mahogany and mahogany from the West Indies. Furniture like that is worth the expense, I can assure you.”

 
; “We’ll see, my dear, we’ll see.” He stood and placed his hand on the console table. “Shall I move this table or leave it?”

  “Leave it.” She took up her needlework again. Before he exited the room, she said, “Ross, you are my son. I believe Mrs. Colton is to blame for luring you on. But this is the last time I will say it. I hope you find happiness with this marriage.”

  Ross remembered Elinor’s reddened expression and angry words in the carriage. “Your good wishes may be premature. She could refuse my offer.” Suddenly he considered the possibility Elinor might reject him. Nothing could explain his sudden anger at the thought of her refusal, not the loss of her lands, nor the loss of their reputations. He failed to understand his discomfort, so he ascribed it to a manly aversion to rejection. Gentlemen like to win, and he could think of no reason for her to refuse him. As his wife, her life would surely be better than social ostracism. Their union would not be a love match, but many marriages were arranged for other reasons, such as the joining of estates. No, it was unlikely she’d refuse his hand, since marriage was the proper thing to do.

  “Refuse! You?” Lady Helen jumped slightly in her seat, her spirits greatly improved. “That will never happen. You’re the catch of the county, and I’ve seen the way women look at you. Besides, you are the grandson of a duke, and one day you’ll be the wealthiest man in the neighborhood. She will not refuse your offer, of that I’m certain.”

  Thirteen

  The walnuts had soured. Sitting at the breakfast table, attempting to enjoy a bumpy piece of her favorite butter cake, Elinor hastily swallowed to remove the taste of bitter walnuts. She had been caught in an embarrassing embrace with a reputed rake and seen by the entire county of Cheshire. “Entire county” might be an exaggeration, but only a small one.

  Engaged, heavens.

  Other than standing before the congregation on Sunday morning and shouting, “Pardon, Reverend, while I kiss my neighbor,” there was no greater public forum for her ruin. She had played with fire. She excused her behavior as childlike affection or normal physical attraction and got burned. No doubt everyone in the village would hear of her recklessness soon enough, followed by immediate censure. Once again, like her mourning period, she’d find herself cast into seclusion from society. Only this time, there would be no foreseeable end.

  What would she say to him today? The only possible answer was “no.” Her fidelity and love for William demanded it.

  Picking up her knife, she teased the offending walnuts from the dense cake onto the white porcelain plate. She then pushed them over the lip to drop on the table. Finally, she moved her plate a few inches to hide the bitter nuts from view. The remaining cake felt dry on her tongue, so she gulped her tea, hoping the scalding brew would remove the taste of horrid cake and make her troubles tolerable.

  Berdy entered the morning room the very minute she could no longer wait for his appearance and remain sane. Watching him eat his meal, she wondered how to explain the situation, and if the words would spill out before she cast up her breakfast. She tried to remember every detail of yesterday’s transgressions, but failed. Her recollection of the fair’s events had been purposefully forgotten, shoved back, entombed. Just flashes of unwanted memories intruded, like the sight of his blue eyes betraying the fog of shared desire. She gathered up her courage and attempted a casual tone. “How do you feel today?”

  “Funny thing that, m’ head hurts this morning.” He scratched the back of his head before rubbing his rosy cheek where a light ginger-colored whisker growth shadowed his jaw. “I’m not sure why. Must be the excitement of your betrothal yesterday.” Before she clarified her current situation, he spoke again. “I really must remember to compliment Cook on this cake. I’ve never tasted better.” He tossed another, larger piece into his mouth.

  “Cook meant it to be a lighter cake, but two of the eggs were off. Love, I need to speak to you.” She twisted her napkin into a long cylinder before recounting some, but not all, of the incidents in the carriage he had not witnessed. Despite her nervousness, she was pleased her voice sounded even and its cadence instructive, as if the events were just facts.

  Berdy dropped his jaw, his mouth open wide. Thankfully, it appeared empty.

  “You need to understand the behavior of men like Mr. Thornbury. His actions, according to his judgment, were normal, but these behaviors leave a trail of victims behind. Rakes use allure to make ladies forget their obligations to others, and entire families suffer the consequences. That is why you must never become a rake. Let’s end this subject, please. We shall never speak of the fair again.”

  He nodded in firm agreement, but seemed more interested in smearing butter on his cake with a vigorous back and forth movement of his knife. “Don’t blame yourself. A true gentleman must take all of the responsibilities—the swine.”

  Whenever her high spirits had led her too far from propriety in the past, William had kept her from the precipice. Following her most frequent transgressions, like speaking too freely or giggling in public, William would discreetly wrap his arm around her shoulders to quell any further unladylike behavior. “That’s enough, luv,” he’d whisper in a slight Yorkshire accent. Only this time her benevolent guardian had not been around to rescue her. Her history of spontaneous indiscretions would easily reinforce society’s belief she was capable of this current improper behavior.

  Now with Berdy apprised of the situation, all she had to do was confront Mr. Thornbury in the afternoon. She leaned over to kiss Berdy’s cheek. “You will be glad to hear that your trip to London will start sooner than expected.”

  Berdy jumped to his feet. “What? Do you mean it? I’ll be here when you wed, of course.”

  “Don’t worry about my affairs. Nothing will happen without you by my side.” She let out a protracted sigh. “You’ll leave immediately, within the week. I’ll write to your aunt Amelia today. She will be delighted to have you lodge with her. Company in the City can be thin this time of year, especially with the weather being so warm.”

  “Capital! I can’t wait to fall in with Father. Learn the ropes, what?”

  “Berdy, you must—”

  “Not now. No objections. I cannot ignore him when I’m in London. He’s m’ father.” With a final shove of the last piece of his cake into an already distended cheek, he excused himself and hurried upstairs for the stated purpose of a thorough wardrobe inventory.

  She sat at the table and remained unmoving. Her spirits were so remarkably low, she needed another pot of tea before she could continue with her plans for the day.

  Sometime before noon, Henry was announced. Thoroughly soaked from the rain, his many-caped greatcoat dripped from every fold.

  She observed his impassive face, but noticed his gaze never met hers for any length of time. Rare for a lawyer who routinely obtained a confession from his opponent after just a prolonged stare. Instead, he glanced in rapid succession from the rug to the fire, to the desk, and to the windows. She curtsied before offering him the wing chair closest to the warm hearth. “I am surprised to see you here so early.” Then she returned to the refuge of William’s chair and another cup of tea.

  “Yes, I apologize.” Henry suddenly changed his behavior and fixed her with an unwavering glare. “I’ve heard disturbing news from the vicar, so I came in haste. You must set the situation to rights.” He coughed, looked at his boots, then the hard stare returned. “I understand you and Thornbury were observed…observed in a compromising position at the fair. And members of the town witnessed this…exhibition. Since I have previously given you excellent advice and warned you to avoid Mr. Thornbury’s advances, I am here to seek clarification. Because of my warning, I believe this rumor to be a gross falsehood. Probably another woman was misidentified as you.”

  She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and rapidly explained the situation. “Yes, the rumor is true. My reputation is compromised.” Even thoug
h she was still furious over Mr. Thornbury’s public announcement of their engagement, she now realized her anger had been unjustified. She had not been coerced or her hands tied. Moreover, during the carriage ride back to Pinnacles, it occurred to her that his pronouncement was the only course of action he could have taken at the time. She should be grateful for his quick-witted response and accept the generous offer of his hand. “I’ve no excuse, but I hope someday you’ll see it in your generous nature to forgive me.” She pulled her soft Indian shawl tighter around her shoulders.

  Henry extended both arms. “How could you? I warned you about this rake, the very person who wrote the book on the subject, and now look at the results. You realize that after your marriage he will continue to have dalliances with other women, mistresses too. Rakes never reform. I wish you had been wise and heeded my counsel. If you had, you might have avoided this scandal.”

  The sad tone of his last words caused her heart to sink under the additional weight of his grief.

  He began to pace in front of the fireplace. Drops of water fell from his hair and sizzled on the hearth’s hot stones. “I don’t know what to do about this unpleasantness. It’s not my place to call the man out. That should be Deane’s job.”

  “No!” She rose, crossed the room, and grabbed him by the sleeve. “There will be no duel. Do you understand me? Why do gentlemen have this ridiculous fixation with duels? Honestly, I’m a grown woman—a widow no less. I will remain here at Pinnacles and try to avoid venturing into town, so this unpleasantness, as you call it, will be of short duration. I have to believe that.”

  Henry used both hands to smooth his wet hair behind his ears, but one lock escaped and stood straight out on the side. “Then you must marry. You realize, of course, that Thornbury instigated this situation to obtain your property by marriage? I can legally protect you from many things, but under the terms of William’s estate, Thornbury would control your real property.”