The Rake's Handbook

by Sally Orr

  Dr. Gorham replaced the opium draught in his leather medical case. “He’s ready to leave the sickbed, as long as he spends most of the day resting.” He then bowed and left the room.

  Ross remained in a sitting position until his dizziness faded. “Mother, I want Mrs. Colton here.”

  “No. You are in no state to receive visitors.”

  “We owe Mrs. Colton a debt of gratitude.”

  Holding her head high, Lady Helen wagged her forefinger. “Yes, of course, but—”

  “I have asked her to read me some of John Donne’s work while I recover.”

  His mother lifted a single brow. “So be it, but I don’t want her here for a week at least. There is tittle-tattle already amongst the servants, and I don’t want more scandalous rumors to spread.”

  “Fustian.”

  “Boy, you are grumpy today.”

  “You would be cross too if you had been in an opium daze forever. Now please bring her to me.” He took a reckless gamble and placed both feet upon the floor. Mothers. He stared off into the fire and watched the rising heat blur the armorial crest on the iron plate built into the back of the chimney. A lion rampant came in and out of focus.

  Lady Helen resumed her needlework. “Now may not be a good time for her to call. I heard Mrs. Colton and Deane are moving to America. At least, that is what Mrs. Fulsom told me at church yesterday.”

  He struggled to reach the bellpull. “Rowbottom! Rowbottom, in here this minute.” He yanked on the pull, but needed to lean against the wall to steady himself.

  Within minutes, a serene Rowbottom appeared in the doorway. “Yes, sir?”

  “Rowbottom, send a footman with a note to Mrs. Colton. Ask her to call at her earliest convenience.”

  Rowbottom bowed deeply, an unusual gesture signaling his approval. “Right away, sir.” He glanced at Lady Helen before leaving the room.

  “What do you need her for?” Lady Helen asked, probably knowing full well the answer.

  “Maybe she needs my advice.”

  Her solemn expression vanished, and a crack appeared at the side of her mouth. “Advice for what?”

  “Just advice. I’m sure my advice is better than that clodpate Browne’s advice. Besides, maybe Browne is making a nuisance of himself. Maybe Deane needs urgent masculine guidance. Maybe she knows nothing of the dangers in America.”

  His mother stifled a small laugh.

  “What?” He waved his good arm. “Those are all plausible.”

  Lady Helen bestowed upon him her brightest smile. “My dear, why don’t you just admit you are in love?”

  “Lov—I wish to get dressed now. Send Locke in. Also please see if we have some of those pineapple cakes available. Mrs. Colton has never tried pineapple cakes, and I think she would like them.”

  She laughed. “Of course, I’ll ask Cook.” She strolled over to the door and turned. “Advice, indeed.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Oh, nothing.” She walked through the doorway. “Nothing at all.”

  Once the door closed, his dizziness returned and forced him to stumble to a chair. Who was he kidding? He must shout his love from the rooftop. Now Elinor and his happiness were joined. A man could never voluntarily walk away from true love, or his life would be lost. Lost like it had been for the last couple of years—anxiety for a loved one, a dull sort of plodding forward day by day. His winter of discontent stretched to a lonely life of discontent.

  Hell’s fire, not if he could help it. John would not like it either; he knew that now. So he must convince her they were well suited. Only he could fully appreciate her high spirits, provide masculine guidance to Deane, and together help each other survive their shared loss of a loved one.

  Behind the flames in the fire, the iron lion’s paws were raised, claws out, a clear challenge.

  Damn lion. He would just have to prove to Elinor that he loved her. He could just say the words, tell her of his passion. Somehow, using words alone sounded weak. Something females would do, but not gentlemen. Talking was too…exposing…too much in the realm of feeling and not of action. Besides, everyone knew he was all about action. Then he recalled his mother’s warm expression whenever a family member openly expressed their love. A sanguine glow had settled around her, and he did not want to deny Elinor a similar glow. He must tell her aloud that he loved her. Except after that, he had no idea how to communicate everything he felt, everything he hoped for, everything he wanted for her—no idea whatever. But from what little he knew about romance and females, it would have to be big. He must pronounce his love by a grand gesture.

  ***

  Elinor grinned at Henry’s continued solemnity as he spun her across the black-and-white marble floor in a lively waltz. How could any human being present not have a smile upon their face? She enjoyed this evening’s ball, held in the Macclesfield assembly rooms, more than the one held a half a year earlier. There was less of a crowd, due to the cold weather, so when she turned to speak, there was every chance her partner heard her conversation.

  In the middle of a twirl, she dropped her head back to delight in the sparkling crystal chandeliers overhead. Later she looked down to enjoy her favorite sight, the ladies’ beautiful skirts swirling in circles until they blended into one. She also enjoyed the abundance of friendly society present that evening. If any of them had heard silly rumors about her in the past, today they appeared unconcerned.

  After their waltz, Henry chose two empty chairs far from the orchestra.

  “Do you have news of Dr. Potts?” Elinor asked once they were seated.

  Henry adjusted his silver-striped waistcoat, which resulted in a great deal of squirming. He made a final tug then addressed her. “The fugitives have not been apprehended. While the authorities are on the lookout at all major ports, Dr. Potts and his daughter have not been seen. Since they had a head start, they must have already landed on the continent.” He picked up her hand and patted it. “Now, here is the part of the story I must discuss with you, however painful it may be. Bleedings are considered normal, so there is no recourse on that account. However, you and I know better, and the doctor’s bloodletting was extreme. Thornbury, when asked, claimed he could think of no reason why Dr. Potts wished him harm. So the current general consensus is the value of Potts’s house and lands would be severely diminished by Thornbury’s foundry. Inquiry into the doctor’s state of affairs revealed a significant mortgage on his property. He also left debts everywhere and even embezzled funds from his daughter’s inheritance. That is the basis for further investigation by the authorities.”

  “Poor Miss Potts. Is there any way we can assist her?”

  “No, but don’t worry about them. Dr. Potts has a small annuity for his services during the war, and many of our countrymen find it is much cheaper to live in France than here in England.” He patted her hand. “The point I wish to make is, I believe Dr. Potts wished harm upon Thornbury because of you, my dear.”

  Elinor blushed and pulled her hand free.

  “I was there,” Henry continued, “when Potts requested the honor of calling upon you to pose a question. Surely you too considered he might ask you to become his wife?”

  “Yes.”

  “I firmly believe he had plans to acquire your fortune by marriage. It is the only way he could respectfully pay off his debtors. Did Potts have any reason for this belief? Are you to wed Thornbury?”

  Her throat seized, so she couldn’t reply.

  “I understand,” he said. “I believe my theory is the correct one, but I’ll refrain from making it generally known, for your sake. However, if you do marry Thornbury, all sorts of tittle-tattle and rampant speculations will arise again.”

  She nodded, keeping her gaze focused on her bouncing knee.

  “I will, without fail, continue to protect your best interests. You’ll always have my support an
d guidance. Even if you do wed that man.”

  Elinor grinned. “Thank you, Henry. I owe you so much. I’m truly blessed to have you as a friend.”

  “I see that villain Mabbs approaches. I don’t see how he has the nerve to request a dance. I’ll save you. Shall we stand up for the next waltz?”

  Needing a minute of repose, she begged Henry to divert Mr. Mabbs. The quiet vestibule called, so she entered the empty alcove and leaned against the cool marble of Apollo’s plinth. Turning to catch a glimpse of the couples dancing the latest waltz, she noticed Apollo wore a new stone fig leaf. Nothing to straighten here, as his marble leaf was well carved and seemed to cover much more than necessary. Apollo could only be pleased with the prominent arch of his new leaf. Glancing up at the statue’s expression, she now considered it quite smug. She chuckled to herself. Yes, all men would be pleased with that enormous leaf.

  Her thoughts turned to the memory of her tall stranger. Ross hadn’t answered her short note indicating she would attend the ball tonight, so perhaps he never received it, or perhaps he had not recovered enough to dance. She glanced up at the statue. Apollo would make a remarkable dance partner, indeed.

  “Madam, once again I catch you gazing wantonly at that man’s fig leaf,” Ross said.

  Elinor whirled to face him. “I—I, oh,” she managed before the twinkle in his expression robbed her of breath.

  He performed a deep, gentlemanly bow. “My dear Miss Leaf, may I have the honor of the next waltz? Although you may have to put up with a partner who can lift only one arm. To remedy the situation, I plan to hold you about the waist with both hands. I expect to enjoy that.”

  “I’m shocked. What will people say?”

  Ross chuckled and held out his good arm. “They’ll be shocked too. Then they will promptly enjoy the ball twice as much as they did before. It will also give them a reason to engage in outrageous tittle-tattle. In fact, our scandalous behavior might make the evening remarkable for many. Come, come, we don’t want to disappoint them.”

  She eagerly placed her hand on his offered arm, and his muscles tightened upon her touch. Joy surged through her.

  Once in the center of the grand room, they waited while other couples assembled to join them for the next waltz. Meanwhile, the small orchestra made curious noises that in no way resembled music.

  Ross wiggled an eyebrow up and down.

  She blushed and hid her smile behind her pale, rose-colored silk fan. He then stared at her with an odd expression—one that might be described as a leer—a leer. Leering on the dance floor in front of her friends; what a wonderful man.

  The musicians pulled together musically and started the first notes of the waltz. Couples either found the proper waltz position easily or utterly failed, resulting in a somewhat comical display of flailing arms. Ross slid both of his hands around her waist, and she rested her palm on his good shoulder. Together, they entered the swirl of candlelight, music, and the movements of the other dancers. She barely noticed them this time, her attention captivated by the man before her and the fierce expression of warmth in his eyes.

  “Now to the point.” He cleared his throat by a small cough. “Madam, you are going to receive a proposal here and now. I can no longer delay. I had planned to wait, but upon consideration, a vow on a dance floor is more private than in a house with my mother in residence. You can refuse me if you wish, but I’m afraid it will cost you, since I shall repeat my offer daily.” His words came at a rapid pace, necessitating a deep breath. “If you would like a private proposal, you’d better stop me now. I’m a hardened rake, after all, and I’ll likely be up to all sorts of bad behavior here on the dance floor.”

  Comprehension deserted her. She could only grin and rotate dizzily in the arms of the man she loved.

  Ross spoke even faster. “To the point. I ask you—no—request you—no. Damn, this was easier the first time.” He took another deep breath. “Madam, you are aware of my great regard—no. What an ass.”

  She giggled softly.

  “Madam, please.”

  “Yes?”

  He took a misstep and quickly righted his footing. “Damnation, I bet that dunderhead Browne’s proposal was smoother.”

  “I think it is going very well so far.” Her smile was almost genuine.

  He grimaced. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  “Immensely. You, suffering gentle panic.”

  “Pardon?

  “Nothing of the least importance. Continue.”

  “Why don’t you refuse me now?”

  “You haven’t asked me.”

  Two couples approached close enough to hear their conversation. Ross scowled at them and waltzed her to the empty side of the dance floor. As soon as this was accomplished, several other people moved in their direction. Whatever look Ross gave them, they immediately retreated.

  She saw the matrons watching them, as they had done at the summer assembly. Mrs. Harbottle glared at her, so she smiled back and raised her arm to cheerfully wave at the woman.

  “Where was I? Ah, why are you here and not sailing away to America?”

  She shook her head. “That doesn’t sound like a proposal—”

  “I’ve a speech prepared, but you could save us time and just say ‘yes.’”

  She smiled coyly. “I could. But I want to hear your speech.”

  He winked. “Is this what marriage will be like?”

  She gave a short burst of laughter. “You must offer first before you find out.”

  “No, no. It’s all wrong here. Later, lovely lady, later. Oh look, now that Browne fellow approaches.”

  Henry and Ross exchanged the briefest of bows. “Good evening, sir,” Henry said. “Since you and Mrs. Colton are obviously on such excellent terms, I expect you will abandon your plans for a foundry. I will therefore immediately cease my efforts on the nuisance lawsuit. I must admit I am relieved.”

  “Actually, Mr. Browne, I need your legal expertise. My investment group would like to dig a canal to service the Macclesfield area. Perhaps from somewhere around Marple to Bosley.”

  She squeezed Ross’s arm in silent approval.

  Henry nodded. “Of course. I’m just pleased this foundry scheme has ended.”

  “No, we’ll build it at another location,” Ross said. “That way, when the new canal is completed, we will have a route to move our new engines to our customers.” He glanced at her. “No children will be employed, I promise. Now if you will excuse us, we have some waltzing to do.” Without waiting for a reply, he spun her into the center of the dance floor.

  Whirling in his arms, she rejoiced in the comforting embrace of the man she loved.

  “Where was I?” He spoke in a low voice, so the other dancers would not hear him. “Madam, due to my physical restrictions—temporary, I can assure you—and the restrictions of propriety due to our gallivanting in a public place”—he took the opportunity of a fast twirl to whisper in her ear—“madam, consider yourself thoroughly kissed.”

  “Oh,” she replied, her heart skipping a beat before escalating into a rapid gallop. “Sir, consider yourself thoroughly”—she gave him a coy smile—“kissed in return.”

  His eyes widened in pretend shock before he passed his mouth close to her ear. “Madam, consider your figure…worshipped.”

  “Oh. That is the most scandalous thing ever said on the assembly floor. And a comment like that demands a reply of a similar nature.” She waited a minute or two until they swirled over to the edge of the crowd, then expressed her desire. “Sir, consider your cravat torn off.”

  “Madam, I may faint. But high spirits like yours deserve a proper mate.” He surveyed the room with a sly expression. “Consider your bodice rent.”

  “On the assembly floor,” she exclaimed, gathering everyone’s attention for a moment. She felt a blush stealing u
p her cheeks with the thought of his hands and mouth on her breasts. “Sir, and here I took you for a gentleman.”

  “No, not a gentleman. Failed at that endeavor, almost got me killed too. Therefore, I’ll be a rake forever.” He leaned close. “Your rake forever.”

  This time she leaned to whisper in his ear. “Now that you mention it, who were those women at the bazaar?”

  He stepped back, holding her at arm’s length. “Are you too warm? Shall I retrieve some refreshments?”

  She laughed loudly. “Who?”

  He shrugged and failed to answer her question for a minute, before he spun her into the crowded floor. “Parker’s cousins acted as tarts to assist me in my misguided—very misguided—attempts to protect you.”

  “Parker’s cousins.” Her eyes widened. “The milkmaid was a nice touch.” They chuckled together as they performed an extra-fast whirl across the floor. “Although I was suspicious. Men don’t usually read books to tarts, do they?”

  “Ah, caught.”

  “Now that I think of it, his cousins must be the dark-haired ladies like Parker. Who was the redhead then?”

  He chuckled. “Maybe one real tart snuck in.”

  A loud giggle escaped her. “They say reformed rakes make the best husbands. But what are unreformed rakes?”

  “Husbands with happy wives? Still, consider me an exclusive rake. Exclusive in regard to relations, but by nature I’ll probably continue to partner the matrons in the cotillion, and say outrageous things dangerously close to the wallflowers. Oh look, I must smile at Browne’s new dance partner first, don’t you agree?”

  “I like your version of a rake best. He’ll let me begin with a thorough examination.” She leaned close. “Consider your fig leaf peeked.”

  “Madam, we’ll do more than peek.” His radiant smile beamed, eclipsing all of the light in the room. “I’ve something to show you.”

  “Not now.”

  “You, my love, are being an impatient reader. The final chapter in The Rake’s Handbook must be savored slowly.” A look of sublime satisfaction danced in his eyes.