The Rake's Handbook

by Sally Orr

  Of her many mixed thoughts since yesterday, she had not considered the legal ramifications. However, she quickly dismissed Henry’s accusation. The event in the carriage was spontaneous—no preconceived gain of a pecuniary advantage was involved. The moment was one of pure celebration mixed with natural physical attraction, and an expression of fondness generated from reaching a mutual agreement, nothing more.

  “You must marry,” he said. “Think of the outrage if you don’t. People have forgiven you for your peccadilloes before, but this is too much. No one will attend you, and you will be forced to move to hide your ignominy. Perhaps disappear into a big city like London or relocate to another country.”

  “No, I will never leave Pinnacles—never.”

  “Then you must send Deane away for his own good, at least until you wed. Had you listened to my warning, this action would be unnecessary. For his sake, send him to London and his father now.”

  Picking up her fallen shawl, she threw it around her shoulders and returned to the overstuffed chair. She already resolved to send Berdy from Cheshire, for his sake, but she could not immediately speak of his departure with any degree of composure. She smoothed the shawl’s fringe flat against her knee until the tassels lay straight. “Yes. I am sending him to London directly, but not to his father. That—parent—would only set a bad example for a young impressionable man.”

  Henry knelt before her, covered her hand with his damp one, and she caught the scent of his wet wool clothes. “I hoped one day we would marry,” he said softly. “I would step in and take Thornbury’s place, but an attorney in my situation cannot afford even a hint of bad connections.” Deep furrows appeared around his mouth, making his face appear older.

  While she had never considered marriage to Henry and avoided dealing with his previous hints, she regretted that he suffered by her actions now. “Yes, I understand. The loss is mine, Henry, and I’m truly sorry.”

  He glanced down at her with regret written in his green eyes. Then, after a long silence, he collected his greatcoat, hat, and gloves before striding toward the door. When he touched the door catch, he paused. “I wish you had listened to me, my dear. I won’t see you again before I too must leave for London on business.” He exited the room.

  Henry had forced her to realize the strong arguments for the marriage, but she remained steadfast in her decision to refuse. She accepted the blame for the situation and planned to live with the isolation of censure. To do otherwise would be like losing more of William. Her throat seized, and her mouth possessed a sudden metallic taste. Henry also made his position in regard to her situation clear. She would have to survive the scandal alone, without his assistance. She sipped her tea and found it had become cold.

  She snuggled back deep into the chair’s cushions. Amongst all this confusion, she clung to her sole anchor, the memory of William’s love. She tried to imagine what William would do if he were in her shoes and faced her current difficulties. No doubt, he’d charm the town into laughter, and the scandal would be quickly forgotten. If only William were here to make everyone laugh.

  She glanced at her chest, and at William’s mourning brooch pinned over her heart. After removing the brooch, she examined a lock of his soft hair sealed under glass, isolated from her touch. Small plaits of his light hair looked so smooth and orderly, it gave her comfort to be gazing on him again. Even if it was just a tiny piece of the funny, complex man she loved. She turned the brooch over, and on the front a painted sepia figure in her likeness gazed out to a ship on the distance horizon. A small dog lay at her feet. The diamonds along the brooch’s border represented her tears, the dog represented her fidelity, and the ship out to sea represented William’s voyage. In the sky above, an angel carried a banner with the words: “Not lost, gone before.”

  ***

  That afternoon, Elinor sat on a tight-weaved oilcloth in the tall grass amongst the apple trees. The sunlight burned her nose, the bees buzzed loudly, and even this far from the garden, the too-sweet scent of China roses filled the afternoon air. The cacophony from the bees serenaded her uneasy feeling of being bound in a tumbrel and headed for the gallows. Since she refused to wed after yesterday’s scandal, society and her friends would soon be lost to her. If only scandal would burst through the row of roses, so she could battle it head-on—a tangible object to defeat. She bit off a hunk of tart apple and tucked the bitter piece into her cheek, picked up her novel, and continued to read.

  Minutes later she glanced at the trees and realized she had no memory of what she just read. Her mind remained fixed upon her predicament. What if she changed her mind and accepted Mr. Thornbury’s proposal? Her imagination orchestrated that future like a symphony composed of many musical variations. First, the pleasing effects of simple scales. Berdy would remain in Cheshire, and her reputation would be restored. Second, her future might resemble the discordant sounds of ill-played chords. Mr. Thornbury might abandon her to resume his old life as a rake. Finally, her future’s symphony reached its crescendo. Henry might be right, and Mr. Thornbury was scheming to obtain her real property by marriage. Unsettled by the disharmony, she sought comfort by touching her mourning brooch, while the tumbrel’s wheels continued to turn.

  Around three o’clock, Mr. Thornbury appeared without being announced.

  Her book dropped from her hands. “Oh.” The sight of his striking figure and jocular grin gave her the same rapid pulse and confused thoughts his presence had always created. Her anger grew enough to be discourteous. She had enough of his outrageous charm for a lifetime.

  He seemed to have better control, for he approached her and executed a low bow. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Colton, er…may I call you Elinor?”

  She nodded. “Of course, Mr. Thornbury.”

  “In the dock, am I?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” She focused on the book in her lap.

  “That bad, eh?”

  “Mr. Thornbury, if you are going to apologize, please do so and take your leave.” Right then she decided to throw her book at him if he gave her one of his beguiling smiles.

  “Call me Ross, please.” His fine linen shirt billowed out several inches from between his cream waistcoat and navy breeches, suggesting he hadn’t the time to compose himself after his ride.

  For some inexplicable reason, she found the sight unnecessarily funny. She bit her lip and scowled in an attempt to maintain her level of anger, but it was hopeless and took too much effort. Oh, bother.

  He observed her glance at his shirt. “Don’t suppose I can drop my breeches and tuck my shirt under properly, can I?”

  She giggled and understood she couldn’t stop if she tried. “If you did, no doubt you would be discovered by the entire town hiding under the apple tree behind you.”

  He spun to view the tree, then turned back, sporting a wily grin. “And all of Manchester up in its branches.”

  They laughed together.

  His happy demeanor regrettably banished the majority of her anger. Damn the man. She’d have to learn to live with her attraction to him but somehow find the will to resist his charms, even in private.

  He leisurely stepped over to the large apple tree. When the fruit did not immediately yield, he forcibly tugged it from the tree. After close examination, he tossed the small apple into a wicker basket placed near the trunk. “Too green.” He returned to the heavy oilcloth and sat a respectable five feet away.

  With her anger somewhat abated, she regrettably found herself pleased to see him. While their acquaintance had been of short duration, she hoped she could always count upon his lively company in the future.

  “Elinor, I…” He raked his dark forelock back into place. “I must apologize for my boorish behavior at the fair. To announce our engagement was the only way to remedy—”

  “Please.” She waved her hand like a fishtail. “You needn’t say more. I’m a grown woman and
should have stopped you. The consequences are mine.”

  “Ah, you are too generous. Please give a gentleman the opportunity to apologize.”

  She nodded. “Of course, apology accepted. But you must know I had been warned about your behavior before our first meeting. Warned that something like our current situation might happen. Even warned not to be seen in your company.”

  “Excuse me?” His black brows lifted. “Do you mean all of the ladies in the county were warned of my arrival?” He chuckled. “Lock up the women. Thornbury is coming.”

  “At the risk of flattering your vanity,” she said with a grin, “yes, we were warned.”

  That famous smile brightened his handsome face. A smile only a few men possessed. A smile that seduced every person into agreement. “Ah, madam, you know me well. Tell me, was your intended, Mr. Browne, the man who warned you?” In apparent indifference, he brushed his right hand back and forth over the tops of the long grass at the edge of the cloth.

  She exhaled a resigned sigh. This expectation of her eventual marriage to Henry must have been commonplace. “Mr. Browne is not my intended, although he is a close connection.”

  He squinted up at the sun. “From what he told me weeks ago, a very close connection.”

  “Pardon?”

  He faced her directly now. “Because of my abhorrent behavior at the fair, I understand Mr. Browne has withdrawn his offer of marriage?”

  She tucked a wayward curl behind her ear, and another extended sigh escaped her lips. “Mr. Browne and I have no understanding; however, my actions have hurt others.”

  He nodded and fell silent. They sat without speaking, listening to the bees hum in the distance. Minutes later, he knelt at the edge of the cloth and faced her. “I…” He inhaled loudly. “I formally offer you my hand in wedlock. I’m not the husband you desire. I understand that. But we should wed. You know it is the proper course of action. I…admire you and know we will suit. Moreover, I will join you in taking responsibility for young Deane. If you agree, together we can find a suitable living for him.” By the end of his speech, he was breathing fast.

  Gratitude swelled in her breast upon hearing his offer to assist Berdy, making her unable to think or immediately respond. Stealing a peek at his face to discern if he was serious, she discovered genuine goodwill in his expression. Maybe even a touch of softness in the depths of his sapphire eyes. Certainly a nervous fidget about his whole person. They remained silent again while he plucked grass.

  Regardless of his promised assistance to Berdy, she was somewhat surprised by his current declaration and disappointed that he planned to continue this farce. “I understand your generosity toward my reputation is what led you to that sudden announcement yesterday, but I cannot agree to marry you. I’m sorry.” Her throat seized, keeping her from further explanation.

  He jerked his head to examine her countenance.

  Once again she caught his fleeting expression of sadness. She expected him to delight in gaining his freedom from a forced engagement. Her spirits, which had lightened with his charm, now failed her entirely. His happiness, his mother’s, Berdy’s, and Henry’s all rested upon her decision. A sharp pain grew near her heart.

  He contemplated the oilcloth or was lost in thought.

  She needed to explain why marriage was impossible. Make him understand she was incapable of being a proper loving wife to any man. Marriage required more than just physical attraction to be successful. Only speech failed her. By her own actions, she had isolated herself and caused others distress. She turned her head as her hopeless situation overwhelmed her, and a regrettable bout of tears began. She covered her face, refusing to let him see her cry.

  He held a pressed linen handkerchief close to her cheek.

  Automatically waving a hand to refuse his offer, she kept her face covered with her other hand. With time she became more agitated; any chance of a positive resolution to her predicament had decidedly flown. Squarely facing the consequences of her refusal, she felt a tear or two spill over her fingers. Now her days would be spent like the small boy she’d met at the colliery—alone.

  Without a sound, he slid next to her and wholly enclosed her within his arms. “My dear, Miss Leaf.” He offered her the handkerchief again.

  She hiccuped once before snatching his handkerchief and covering her face. She didn’t want him to discover her confusion, but most importantly, she did not want to observe his disappointment. The additional weight of his grief bought on more tears.

  “Please, sweetheart, I won’t force you to wed me. You know that.”

  She nodded, while her face remained covered. “Yes.”

  “Then why tears?” His embrace tightened.

  “I will lose everything dear to me.” She sniffed. “From the scandal.” She hiccuped again. “Must send…Berdy to London.” Further explanation failed, and several minutes were required before the continued comfort of his unmoving hug stopped her tears.

  “That’s better,” he said, leaning sideways to plant a chaste kiss upon her cheek. “Don’t worry about Deane. You have raised a fine young man.” When she failed to respond, he asked, “Something else worrying you? Tell me.”

  “You won’t be angry?”

  He playfully squeezed her. “No, never.”

  She dropped the handkerchief to scan his face in an attempt to discover his feelings, but she found nothing more than a small resolute smile.

  “Tell me.”

  “I—I cannot marry again. I cannot bring myself to even consider it, nor pretend my heart is not taken. And…and I will not give up my freedoms.” She turned her head upward to face him and catch his response.

  His small smile remained unchanged, but his eyes widened. “I won’t make demands on you, if that’s what worries you. Your freedoms—for the most part—will remain intact. After marriage, our current indiscretion will be quickly forgotten, and together we can build Blackwell into the estate it was meant to be.”

  “No, by freedoms I don’t mean…relations. I mean my independence. My ability to make decisions about my property—my future—everything, really.”

  “Well, if you accept me, I promise you will not lose those freedoms. And of course, my dear apple fancier, we can explore every chapter of The Rake’s Handbook.” Now the smile transformed into a decidedly lighthearted grin. “Chapter titles like ‘Early Morning Amusements’ and ‘Sports on the Road.’”

  Remarkable. His rakish charm remained undaunted at all times, even with a tearful woman in his arms. “I hoped you’d forgotten that nonsense.” She composed herself and even managed a tentative smile. “And you forgot to mention the Field Guide.”

  “Ha!” An eager, boyish expression crossed his features. “No, we will rush through them all to the last chapter—the official begetting part.”

  The shock of his intentions, and the outcome if she accepted his proposal, opened a new door in her heart. Inside she discovered her lost or suppressed hopes. Her never spoken, deepest longings soared.

  She might have children.

  Some women considered barren did conceive when married a second time. It sounded plausible to her. Wrapping her arms around her shoulders, she knew William would want her to have children. He would want her to marry and be happy with a child. And married or not, nothing would change in regard to her feelings for William—those precious memories she wore inside her soul. And whatever happened to her on the outside could never alter them. Much to Elinor’s chagrin, fresh tears filled her eyes. She resolved never to contemplate these thoughts again.

  “None of that,” he said, rocking her in a strong embrace again. “I will stop teasing you, I promise. Nothing can be that bad.”

  “Oh, yes it can.” How could she convince him her situation was as bad as it could possibly be? “With Berdy gone…he will fall under the influence of his father. You know the consequences of bad
company. He will become a habitual gamester. I’d do anything to stop that—anything.”

  “Anything?” He paused and faced the apple tree. “Please accept my proposal. We will announce our engagement, and then you and Deane can travel to London together. Remain there for a year, and when you return, all will be forgotten by our neighbors. At that time, if you still wish it, we will quietly dissolve our engagement.”

  The thought of leaving Pinnacles, combined with his kind offer, only quickened more tears.

  His arms tightened around her shoulders. “I’m a hardened rake, you know, and we are inexperienced with real tears. I’m quite put out.”

  Her tears stopped, and she chortled into his neckcloth. “You—put out—impossible.”

  “That’s my girl. Although I must admit disappointment you don’t wish to become my wife. In fact, I plan to waste away from my unrequited tendre. That is the proper behavior for a gentleman in one of your three-volume novels, correct?”

  She shoved him hard. When she looked up, she did not see laughter in his eyes. Instead, the warmth in his gaze stunned her.

  His smile disappeared, and he wore an expression she had never seen before. “Elinor,” he whispered, “I want this. I promise to be a devoted husband. Please be my wife.”

  “No, I am William’s wife.” For some reason, when the word “no” escaped her lips, she felt guilty and provokingly exposed. Under his fervent gaze, her thoughts grew even more confused, while her body became warm and wanting.

  Within a heartbeat, he rushed forward to cover her mouth. They both stiffened at the contact of their lips. Once the kiss ended, he reached out to cradle her face within his palms. “Please.”

  She weaved her fingers through his soft hair before brushing it back off his forehead, as she had seen him do countless times. She meant to stop him, make it a brief peck, a kiss of friendship, but she was foolish. This was not friendship, and she knew it. But she remained uncertain whether it sprang from longing, lust, or loneliness.