The Rake's Rainbow

by Allison Lane

  Later that night she recalled the scene with a shudder for what might have been. Thank God for Drew.

  Chapter 10

  Thomas turned his curricle down Davies Street, heading for Berkeley Square. He was tired and out of sorts. Finding help for Jacobs had taken far longer than he had expected. In the interim, all the work had fallen on his shoulders. And thoughts of Caroline had plagued him since her departure.

  Her suggestion to postpone their trip had been eminently sensible. Why had he spurned it? The words had emerged before he even considered them. Which was ridiculous, for he’d reached the same conclusion himself immediately after learning of the accident. And this time he could hardly accuse her of usurping his duties. It was unconscionable to send her alone to a city of strangers and a family she had never met. How often had his mother’s hauteur intimidated even his most deserving friends? Robert was hardly an acceptable pattern card. Nor was the ninny-hammered Eleanor.

  However much he might wish otherwise, Caroline was his wife and needed his support. His recent behavior was unworthy of his breeding, as was his refusal to credit her accomplishments. The house had seemed cold and lonely since her departure. Not until she left had he realized how thoroughly her presence permeated the atmosphere of Crawley.

  This was a clear case of pique. He had believed his occasional flashes of temper were behind him. The last time he’d lost control of himself had been just before he’d started at Oxford, though the incident still bothered him. Irritated beyond endurance by Robert’s continued refusal to practice his horsemanship, he’d dared him to ride Satan. He should have known better, of course. Robert could ignore taunting from everyone except him. The resulting injuries had haunted Thomas ever since. What damage might his tantrum have caused this time? There would be something. There always was. Shirking his responsibilities invariably called down punishment, and between Alicia and Caroline, he was building quite an account with Fate.

  But his behavior was only one of the problems that bedeviled him. How had his family responded to Caroline? Did she know how to conduct herself? He did not trust her. Not that she would deliberately embarrass him, but she was a naive, country girl, unused even to the society to be found in Banbury, let alone London. Her warm friendliness could lead her into trouble if she embraced the wrong crowd.

  He shivered.

  Then there was her wardrobe. Did she have any taste? Her current gowns left that question unanswered, but fear knotted his stomach. He should have accompanied her to the modiste the first time to see that she was properly turned out.

  How was she filling her time? Acquiring books, certainly. And he had no complaints there. Unlike many men, he saw nothing wrong with intelligent females, perhaps because he was used to Emily. He wondered if she was included in Eleanor’s social rounds. Yet in the next breath he feared she would shame him in company.

  She was so green!

  And what had she told his family about their relationship?

  “Thomas!” a sultry voice called.

  He jerked his team to a sudden stop, gazing longingly at Alicia. Again he had been allowed no time to prepare for their meeting. Dressed in her favorite violet-blue, she had just alighted from Darnley’s town carriage.

  “L-lady Darnley,” he stammered, trying to force calm into his voice. “You look well. How is your husband?”

  “No better, my love,” she purred, stepping close to his curricle so the footmen would not overhear her words. She offered her hand, and he had to press it in greeting.

  The movement presented an unobstructed view down her low-cut gown. He bit back a groan as memories of her naked, writhing body assailed him. How could he have attacked her?

  Alicia smiled. “But I am delighted you have finally arrived. It must have been dreadfully lonely without a wife, dowdy and plain though she is.”

  Her words confirmed his worst fears. Caroline’s appearance was embarrassing him.

  “You have met her?” he asked warily.

  “Not formally, but she is everywhere about now that she has acquired a devoted cicisbeo in Lord Wroxleigh.” Her look of understanding commiseration left Thomas no doubt that her insinuation was true.

  It was long past time to take his wife in hand, he reflected grimly as he excused himself. Admittedly, he should never have sent her to town unaccompanied, but how could his high-stickler mother condone such behavior? He was grateful to Alicia for the warning, glad that someone cared for his welfare. Wroxleigh was the worst sort of libertine, an unscrupulous pariah who preyed on society’s matrons. Had Caroline already welcomed him into her bed?

  Behind him, Alicia licked her lips in satisfaction at the flash of anger in Thomas’s eyes. Her attempt to drive a wedge between Thomas and his wife had worked even better than she had hoped. Not that she believed the chit offered any real competition, but Thomas had a rather warped sense of honor. Anything that would facilitate luring him back to her bed was desirable. She wanted him there. Regularly. His passion was everything she had expected. No one had come close to satisfying her since.

  Fate plagued her. She had come to London in search of a title and wealth, not expecting to develop an overpowering lust for a man who had neither. The only child of a modest baron, she had long traded on her beauty and air of innocence, growing up spoiled, willful, and self-centered, indulged in every whim by doting parents. She had early on mastered the seductive wiles that could bend men to her will. After her initiation into the pleasures of the body at age fourteen, she rarely bothered to control her passion, discreetly taking lovers and relying on her persuasive tongue to avoid any consequences. Rumor could be attributed to jealous rivals. Even Darnley believed her tale of a childhood riding accident that accounted for her unprovable virginity.

  Her obsession with Thomas was as strong as his, though on a purely physical level. Who would not be attracted to a man who worshiped her so devoutly? His passionate virility had beckoned her the moment they were introduced. But from a practical standpoint, marriage was impossible. Spurning his hand had cost her not a qualm. Convinced of the power she wielded, she knew he would grace her bed. She had rejoiced at his own nuptials once her surprise faded. In the world of Mayfair, a liaison between married partners was easier to conduct, and she could scarce contain her anticipation. His raging lust during their encounter at Graystone was all she had expected. Accepting that the experience would be the first of many, she had been furious to find him gone that evening. Not until she identified the dowd at Madame Suzette’s as his wife had anger turned to hope. She owed his departure to his annoying code of honor, but she would soon convince him otherwise. Then victory would be hers.

  * * * *

  Thomas climbed wearily down from his curricle and handed the ribbons to a footmen.

  “Welcome home, sir.” The butler bowed formally, holding open the front door.

  “Where is my wife, Reeves?”

  “Mrs. Mannering is driving in the park today, sir.”

  “How about my mother?”

  “Lady Marchgate and Lady Eleanor are also in the park.”

  He stifled a wave of disappointment. At least his mother would keep Caroline in order. He should have expected this, arriving as he had at the height of the fashionable hour, but it had been nearly a year since he had concerned himself with Mayfair’s social rhythms.

  “Thank you, Reeves. Am I in my usual room?”

  “No, sir. You and Mrs. Mannering are in the silver suite.”

  Stifling his frustration, he turned upstairs. The clothing he had sent ahead was already there. Cramer had done well. The valet appeared almost immediately with bathwater.

  A giggling Eleanor passed his door a short while later. He hurried his dressing, but Caroline had not yet returned by the time he finished. Pushing open the connecting door, he stepped into her room.

  A servant was laying out an evening gown of soft rose sarcenet. His unannounced entrance clearly startled her.

  “Who are you?” he snapped.
r />   “Dawson, sir. Mrs. Mannering’s dresser.”

  Guilt pricked him for not remembering that she must have a maid in town. At least someone had the sense to hire an experienced one. Perhaps Caroline was not embarrassing him as much as he had feared. Or had Dawson been hired because Caroline was making a cake of herself?

  “I am Mr. Mannering,” he introduced himself. “Has my wife returned from the park?”

  “No, sir.”

  “But Eleanor is back.”

  “She did not drive with Lady Eleanor, sir.”

  “Then with who?” His temper was again perilously close to exploding. Alicia’s hints echoed in his ears.

  “I believe she is driving with Lord Rufton today, sir.”

  Paradoxically, the deflation of his fears left Thomas almost as angry. Why had George taken Caroline under his wing? George never took females driving in the park. Was she so uncontrolled that his friends were trying to protect him by monopolizing her time? Devoted cicisbeo in Wroxleigh... He shook away the words.

  “Thank you,” he murmured, remembering his manners as he stomped back to his own room.

  Strangely, he felt bereft. He’d been looking forward to seeing—

  He thrust that thought aside. He could not miss her freckled face. But he needed to know what was happening. Now. She had not been raised to the ton. Nor had she any experience in the world of Mayfair. For an unknown, even the smallest mistake could bring censure and disgrace. How could he have sent her alone to London? She was greener than the greenest schoolroom miss.

  Cramer appeared at the door. “Lord Marchgate wishes to see you in the library, sir.”

  Sighing, he complied. Was he about to be castigated for Caroline’s lack of manners?

  But the earl appeared relaxed, gesturing to a decanter.

  “I trust you left Crawley in good hands,” he commented once the initial greetings were concluded.

  “Yes, I discovered a former cavalryman who is a wizard with horses. Jacobs will be incapacitated for at least another month, and it will be several more before his strength is restored, so Richards will have plenty to do.”

  “Caroline mentioned your program of hiring former soldiers. I had never considered it myself, but your successes interest me. Has she exaggerated their skills?”

  “They have done wonders with the estate,” admitted Thomas, his spurt of pleasure at his father’s approval mitigated by a quickly-suppressed reminder that the idea had been Caroline’s. “And I could not ask for harder workers. There are limits, of course. Individually, several of the men cannot handle certain types of work. Ted, for example, has but one arm so finds using an ax difficult. But as a team, they accomplish nearly as much as an equivalent number of able-bodied laborers.”

  “Perhaps I should look into hiring veterans at March Abbey,” mused the earl. “Caroline claims we owe a great deal to those injured in their country’s service, and I must agree. Wembley is working on some sort of bill. I will have to look into it. My support might improve its chances.” He sighed. “I must admit that when she first arrived I was angry with you for callously dumping her in town without an introduction, but I quickly conceded that you knew best. She is a most capable lady, at home wherever she goes. You are fortunate in your wife.”

  “Thank you.” He barely managed to speak through another wave of guilt, this time mixed with surprise. His father rarely passed out praise. And never when undeserved. Could she really be a credit? Was she managing to negotiate ton waters without mishap? The idea raised a flash of pride, quickly stifled. For lurking beneath was pain that she might not require his assistance. Ladies needed guidance and protection. A vision of Alicia rose before his eyes, reminding him of her helplessness in the face of parental insistence. He longed to stand as a buffer between her and a cruel world. Caroline never incited such thoughts. She was no lady.

  They conversed for some time on Crawley and its problems. His father was well-versed in the latter. Caroline must talk of nothing else. Was there no end to her interference? Yet the earl spoke of her with respect and affection. Thomas’s head whirled. She had wormed her way into the hearts of his family, if his father’s description could be trusted. Was she trying to drive a wedge between them and him?

  Nonsense! The only complaint she could entertain was coming to town alone. She knew nothing of his other failings. If she had criticized him in her daily breakfast conversations, the earl showed no sign of it. Marchgate was not a man to refrain from a deserved reprimand. If Caroline had already forgiven her husband for throwing her on the ton unprepared, she must be the sweetest lady alive. Her reports to his father were nothing but supportive.

  Impossible! screamed his brain. Only Alicia had ever approached that ideal. Nor was he such a crass fool that he could fail to detect such virtues. Devil take the woman, what sort of game was she playing? And why? Devoted ciscibeo… Was she covering an affair?

  The dressing bell sounded, and he excused himself to prepare for dinner.

  * * * *

  Caroline was seated at her dressing table when Thomas opened the connecting door. In evening dress, he was a most elegant and handsome man, adhering to Brummell’s tenets of sober colors, simplicity, and cleanliness. Snowy white linen set off his black evening coat and made his green eyes glitter even brighter than usual.

  If only they could recapture their former friendship. Her daily conversations with Marchgate had triggered a longing to resume the similar discussions she used to hold with Thomas. Could he possibly have regained his composure during this separation?

  But she dismissed the thought as soon as it arose. Even if true, any rapport would not survive his next meeting with Alicia. And if he accompanied her tonight, they would meet. Lady Darnley seldom missed the more important balls.

  “I see you have adjusted well to town,” he commented coolly.

  “Thank you, sir. How is Jacobs?”

  “Recovering slowly. The new man, Richards, will remain permanently on the staff. Do you attend the Cofferton ball tonight?”

  “Yes. Will you accompany us?”

  “I believe so.”

  Caroline dismissed Dawson and rose to face him. Thomas stared. This elegant woman was his country wife? Soft waves framed her face, rising to an elaborate knot threaded with rose ribbon that matched the gown he had seen earlier. Its lines accentuated both her exquisite figure and her height. Nor had he previously noted her long, slender neck. She carried herself like a queen. The result was striking. Of course, she could never claim to be a beauty like Alicia, he hastily assured himself, guilty over admiring any other lady. But he could not repress memories of her passionate response on their wedding night. His groin tightened.

  “Where did you get the pearls?” he asked, to divert his mind.

  “Your mother loaned them to me since I have no jewelry of my own.”

  That was another duty he had ignored. Thomas stifled a new wave of anger, this time aimed squarely at himself. Nothing had gone right since the moment he’d abandoned honor to attack Alicia. He must pull himself together and carry out his responsibilities lest he call down further disaster on his head.

  But dinner fed his pique. Every member of his family, including his foppish brother, accepted Caroline as an equal. Even his mother bestowed smiles and as much warmth as he had ever seen. He had worried himself sick for more than a fortnight, but she did not need him. This angered him more than anything else.

  Born to one of the oldest families in the ton, convinced by the haughty countess and proud earl of his consequence, he was himself quite high in the instep. Not that he would ever admit such a fault. He had often gone out of his way to help others – steering young cubs around the shoals of London life, relaxing the fears of the less adept young ladies staging come-outs, aiding the needy… He even willingly sought advice from others. But he reveled in the acclaim such actions brought.

  He had been forced into marriage, a fact that inevitably stirred resentment. Yet Caroline offered some ba
lm to this sore, providing satisfaction beyond the obvious. He had raised her above any station she could have achieved on her own. Only he could bestow such blessings on a mere vicar’s daughter. In return he expected gratitude and reliance on him for guidance and protection. Her recent success cheated him of this magnanimous gesture and its accompanying acclaim. And it was his own fault. He alone had decided to send her to London without him. But the situation still made him angry. As did every proof of her acceptance, for none of their praise acknowledged his part in elevating an unknown.

  “Thank you for letting Caroline come up to town early,” bubbled Eleanor. “She has been so much help. And so much fun.” She signaled acceptance to a footman who placed a quail on her plate.

  “Yes,” added his mother. “She has a knack for keeping Eleanor in line. And her chaperoning has eased my life considerably. Emily’s Season was far easier.”

  Thomas nearly choked. Caroline sufficiently up to snuff to act chaperone? For his hoyden of a baby sister?

  “And thuch exquisite taste in gowns,” lisped Robert, transferring a minuscule nibble of lobster to his mouth. He had joined the family for dinner as soon as he heard of his brother’s return. “She’s all the crack, you know. Quite admired, indeed, even envied. Lady Beatrice bestowed the ultimate accolade just yesterday. ‘You should follow Mrs. Mannering’s example’ – she was talking to the Delaney chit – ‘as she embodies all the virtues a young lady could want.’ And how right she was.”

  Thomas nearly burst at Robert’s allusion to a longstanding quarrel between the brothers. Alicia was the embodiment of all virtue. But both Robert and Lady Beatrice had long ago taken against her, wasting no opportunity to deride Thomas for his interest.

  “Yes, you are quite fortunate in your wife, Thomas,” agreed Marchgate, signaling for more wine as he dug into the crimped cod. Caroline blushed at the inordinate praise. “But what I want to know is when Robert plans to set up his nursery.” He turned a rapier glance on his heir. “It is more than time that you do so.”