The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 5

by MacMurrough, Sorcha

  "We shall tell everyone you had a fall in the woods, sprained your ankle, and that will explain your staying with us until you’re more composed. Nelly will show you to my guest room, and I shall move some things over to my Mother’s so you shall not be disturbed."

  Her brows knit. "I don’t understand. Don’t you all live together?"

  "The house is divided into three. I’m in the upstairs section, above my aunt and her family. We share all of the main rooms of the house. You don’t need to come down and face anyone if you don’t wish to."

  "Still, I don’t want to put you out. I can stay with your mother."

  "Fine, so long as you don’t mind the children."

  "Not at all. I’d like to get to know them better. We are all cousins, after all."

  "Very good, then. Come along, my dear."

  By this time they had stepped out of the edge of the woods. A short track led up to the fine old house in red brick. Ash walked Ellen up to the front door and shoved it open.

  "I say, anyone home? Nelly?

  "Aye, Mr. Ash," the girl replied, coming down the hall quickly.

  "Mother about?"

  "Out on call. Mrs. Barton."

  "Ah, her time, is it?"

  The maid nodded.

  "Right, this is Miss Ellen Jerome, Pa’s cousin. Can you please help her into the bath? She took a tumble into the woods and is quite done in."

  "Oh, you poor thing," Nelly clucked sympathetically.

  She led the petite blonde toward the back of the house, and into the bathroom without further ado.

  Chapter Two

  Ellen looked around in wonder at the elegant tiled bathroom she had been led to in her cousin Martin's house, breathed in the wonderful fragrance of herbs and spices.

  The towels were of the finest cotton, and a robe on the door was made of exquisite peacock blue silk. The soap was fine-milled, definitely French, and there were many different scents, from lavender to sandalwood.

  She watched as Nelly checked the boiler and hot water began to pour into the spacious tub. Running water…

  "Come, miss. Let’s help you off with your things."

  Nelly was a couple of years older than herself, very practical and capable, and seemingly without a curious or gossipy bone in her body.

  She made no comment at all upon the torn gown or the bruises starting to show on her chest and arms. The very fact that she had no doubts that Ash was innocent of any blame told her that he was a steady young man and she a very loyal servant.

  Ellen stripped down to her skin with a remarkable lack of hesitation considering all she had been through and the fact that the girl was a complete stranger. But Ash had said she had done nothing to be ashamed of.

  In any case, there was no point in being missish. He had got more than an eyeful of her amplitudes and didn’t seem to think the worst of her. She had not invited Bridges’s attentions. And she was damned if she was going to act as if she cared what a man like that thought or said.

  Brave words, Ellen thought with a wry grimace, for she knew with a sinking heart that she might not be able to protect herself from her assailant's calumny forever.

  She didn’t care so much for her own sake, she realised, as her parents. Georgina had brought enough disgrace upon them all in the past couple of ears. But her Pa had said that to eject her from Jerome Manor might reduce her to even worse folly and crimes than she had already committed, and make her go to the dogs altogether.

  While the tub filled, Ellen scrubbed her teeth with a brush and tooth powder, clearing the taste of bile and blood from it at last. But the sour taste in her mouth left by yet another disastrous encounter with the opposite gender was going to take a lot longer to get rid of, she thought with a shudder. She chafed her hands up and down her own arms to try to dispel the chill.

  Testing the water, Ellen turned off the taps and got into in the steaming tub, lay back and sighed. What did it matter now what men did, what people thought of her? She was far too old to make a decent match now. Might as well stamp old maid on her forehead and have done with it.

  But if Bridges were anything to go by, there might be far worse things in the world than being left on the shelf. Not every woman had to marry. She could take more interest in parish works, help with her deceased sister Josephine’s child. Her niece Jo had been born at seven months and had never been in the full bloom of health. Though her father tried hard, Henry just couldn’t seem to warm to the little girl who had claimed her mother’s life. And nearly Ash’s mother’s life too, Ellen recalled. For it had been on the fateful day the child had been born that Eswara had been on her way to Stone Court to help with the delivery, and had almost drowned in the Millcote River. Ash had come to try to help, but it had all been too late.

  Soon afterwards he had been kidnapped by his own uncle. Her brothers-in-law Clifford and Henry, the Rakehells, and her cousins had all assisted in trying to save him.

  So the tall handsome young man wasn’t really as much of a stranger as she thought. Their families’ lives had all intersected at points of crisis. Just as they had done today.

  "Can I get you some tea, Miss, or some chocolate?" the maid asked.

  "What would Mr. Paignton prefer?"

  "He has a fierce sweet tooth. Chocolate of course, just like Mr. Martin."

  "That’s what we shall have then."

  "Enjoy your soak. I’ll be back soon."

  Ellen had selected the rose soap, and loved the feel of it next to her skin. It was certainly finer than anything she or even Georgina used at home.

  She yanked out the last of her hair pins that hadn't already been dislodged during her fray with Bridges. She combed her fingers through the thick blond waves for a moment, then ducked down into the tub and washed her hair as well, scrubbing herself clean of the contamination of the odious Bridges having dared to touch her.

  She completed her ablutions a short time later, rose from the tub, dried herself with a brisk efficiency, longing to linger in the sensual cocoon of the bathroom, but not wishing to be rude to her hosts. Then she donned the silk robe, and once again, ached to remain in this lovely bower of sensual delights, where everything was clean, pristine, lovely to look at and touch.

  She towel-dried her hair and combed it out with her fingers once more, and satisfied that she was as presentable as she could be, given her situation, that she was ready to brave her cousin and his family.

  She peeped her head outside, looking up and down the long corridor.

  Nelly was just coming with a small tray, and informed her, "Mr. Ash says you are to go upstairs and lie down. I’ll bring this up."

  "Oh, no really, I can sit in the parlour."

  The maid shook her head gently. "Not like that you can’t. It’s too cold, and with your wet hair you’ll catch your death. He’s made up the fire and put in hot water bottles. So up you get."

  She was shooed forward to the front door and stairs leading to the upper storey like a goose in a yard.

  She walked past the lovely drawing room and peeped in, but there was no sign of her host.

  Then Ellen realised with a jolt that she ought not to want to see him, bare as she was. She yanked the lapels of the silk dressing gown together more tightly, covering the ample display of cleavage she had been showing unwittingly, and hurried up the stairs before anyone else should chance to see her.

  Once in the safety of Ash’s room, she inhaled the sandalwood and spice essence again, and admired the lovely chamber, decidedly masculine, but with touches of sensuality similar to the peacock silk robe.

  The bed hangings, the spread... All promised unspoken delights. This made her think of his lush lips, long eyelashes, lovely eyes...

  "Er, thank you Nelly, just by the side of the bed will be fine."

  "In you get, and mind the bottles."

  She did as she was told, and once she was settled in the cushiony soft feather bed, picked up one of what looked to be a book of fairy tales she found on the side tabl
e and admired the pictures.

  Nelly poured for her, handed her the cup, and asked if she wanted anything else, food, and so on.

  "No, thank you. I couldn't eat a bite. You've been so kind."

  "Think nothing of it. Bell pull is there is you change your mind."

  Once Ellen was alone, she began to look at the room more curiously, trying to learn more about the man who lived there.

  Her eyes widened as she looked at the wall across from the bed. She almost wished she had not. She was glad she had... Those pictures… Was it possible that women could actually enjoy intercourse? They certainly looked happy…

  As if all their longings were being fulfilled…

  Blushing hotly, she turned her attention back to the book she had picked up. Leafing through another three pages had her drop the book on the coverlet as though she had been scalded.

  But one eye dared to peep down again, then the other, and soon she was reading the words as well…. Words she could only guess the meanings of, while others made her feel shocked, but excited too…

  Chapter Three

  An hour later, Ash rapped on his old door. His mother had not changed the chamber in the four years he had been away studying, though with her new family increasing so rapidly it was only a matter of time.

  Ash would have to get a few workmen in to move his things over to the other wing of the house at some point. But he had been enjoying the solitude and lack of material possessions on the other side of the house since he had come back from London.

  His parents were most devoted people, but rather inclined to spoil him and anyone they loved. His room was warm, cheerful, and well-appointed in midnight blue and gold, with a splendid four-poster bed.

  It was a far cry from the plain rooms he had had in London, and the chamber he used now in his area of the building, with his simple bedroll and straw matting.

  Too late did he realise he had never taken down his personal picture collection, and goodness only knew what books he had left lying around.

  He hoped she was not going to be too shocked by the anatomical drawings which decorated the flock wallpaper, let alone the Tantric ones.

  He did not see anything wrong with them, nor did his family, but he had a feeling Ellen might not see the beauty in the naked human forms, not after what she had just been through.

  He noted the change in her attitude toward him in an instant, a sort of wary shyness that had not been present before,noted that the pile of books had indeed been looked through.

  "Are you comfortable here? Have you everything you need?" he asked pleasantly, not allowing his disappointment in her prudish nature to show.

  "Er, yes, thank you. But who on earth did all these pictures?" she asked, her cheeks reddening slightly as she pointed to the ones to her left.

  Ash carefully watched her reaction as he revealed, "I did, for my sins. I was the top student in the anatomical drawings class."

  "And, er, those—" She pointed straight ahead."

  "Me as well, again, practising for medical school. They’re copied from a book, in case you think I have a prurient imagination."

  "Oh, no, not at all. They’re very good. I wouldn’t mind being able to see the original book myself. I was going to say, does India look so lush? I mean, elephants and tigers and all the flora and so on?"

  He stared at her. He was surprised she would even dare mention the pictures, let alone admire them.

  "Yes, and the gorgeous men and women too."

  She nodded, her face serious. "I can tell that just by looking at you and your mother," she said, and blushed again. "And your other books here," she added after an awkward pause.

  "Thank you. What a fine compliment. All the more pleasant for having been made so unguardedly. I’m also pleased that you don’t find them distasteful. They’re intended to be erotic, but I fear many in your set would describe them as pornographic."

  "My set?"

  "Well, you know, the average English person."

  "I know you are a Radical and a free thinker. I have no real politics to speak of, for what is the point? I have no right to vote."

  He looked at her lovely face, and saw both it and the intelligence and potential within the beautiful young woman. Was it possible she was the one for him after all? That the gorgeous girl who had acted as though he did not even exist when he had first known her might actually prove to be the perfect woman to complete his life? Stranger things had happened.

  "Then you must agitate for the vote," he said firmly.

  "But what I was going to say is, I hope I’m not as starchy as my parents or aunt and uncle."

  "I’m glad the art doesn’t bother you. I can take them down or put you in another room if it does. But you will own that you have every reason to be frightened of men now, with all you’ve been through."

  She nodded. After a time she looked at him, her blue eyes sparkling with a new inner fire. "I was thinking about what you said though, about letting Bridges ruin my life. That would be giving him far too much power over me. After all, I have done nothing wrong."

  He smiled with approval. "I’m so glad to hear you say that. Just because he thinks relations between men and women are so brutal does not mean you have to subscribe to that notion."

  She stared at him. He never ceased to surprise her. "What is your notion of er, relations as you call them, Mr. Paignton?"

  He replied easily, "Look at the pictures, the joy, the bliss."

  "But surely it's not all, well, intercourse—"

  "No, of course not. All relationships should be based on love, not lust, not treated like a sport. Love is a gift that keeps on giving, and is received in return. It isn’t something that can be taken, forced, bought, bargained for.

  "The act of love isn’t something to be indulged in only for one’s own pleasure, and physicality. It’s an act of worship of the divine in all things. An act of the mind and spirit, not just of the flesh."

  "Worship? Body, mind, spirit? I don’t understand."

  "In Christian thought you have the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. It’s not so very different, now is it?"

  She blinked in surprise. "No, I suppose not. It just seems strange to think of love in such an abstract and metaphysical way, instead of just that, well, quickening of the senses when a loved one is near."

  Ash subdued his sudden and unreasonable stab of jealousy with great difficulty. "We would say the other two enhance the bodily aspect. That you can only really have true fulfillment when all three mesh. Perhaps not all the time. Sometimes it will be more of the body, other times more of the mind or spirit. But the ideal is all three in alignment and accord. Alas, though, as you have just said, most men take it to be bodily only."

  "And you do not?" she asked despite herself.

  She hardly knew how she dared to presume to have so intimate a conversation with a man she hardly knew. But he seemed so wise, even though she was sure he was actually younger than she, that Ellen was most definitely interested in hearing his opinion.

  He sat down on the chair nearest the bed and shook his head. "No, not at all. To hear the men talk in the gentlemen’s clubs, using the girls there, it’s just an act equivalent to easing their bodily functions in the same way they would use a chamber pot or spittoon. It disgusts me to think how many wounded people there are in the world who don’t appreciate their own beauty. Who don’t understand that they have a right to expect happiness. That the gift of joy isn’t just something that is to be given to them, but must be bestowed on others. You, for example. What would have happened if you had been raped?"

  Ellen shuddered. "Oh God, Ash, please, don’t make me even think about that," she cried, using his first name unguardedly. "I wasn’t, thank Heaven. You came and saved me and I thank the Lord for it."

  "But you do need to think about it, how it would have left you. The act itself would have been brutal, frightening and painful, and would have made you fear all men, fear love, the physical side of marriage. It would h
ave damaged your perception of the world, made you think you were really all the vile things he called you."

  "But how is it my fault if he attacked me?" she asked in genuine confusion.

  Ash shook his head. "Exactly. It’s not! It’s never your fault, or any woman’s. Men control women’s sexuality with evil names and their own physical brute strength because they fear a woman's power, your mystery."

  She laughed shortly. "I can understand the mystery part. Even I don’t understand myself or my body. Childbirth, that sort of thing. But what power do we have? Most of us can’t inherit, or exercise any control over property. We’re subject to the capricious whims of family and husbands. Are expected to raise children and must remain chaste even if our husbands feel free to go out and roger anything with two legs."