A Rake Reformed (A Gentleman of Worth Book 6)

by Shirley Marks

  “I would like to bring something to your attention.” He strolled toward her. “Do you recall Clare and Trev’s long toil in the dining room the other day?” He glanced upward and she followed the direction in which he stared. “You would not have me lose my second chance to claim my kiss, would you?”

  “This is quite shocking, Mr. Worth,” she replied, sounding a bit breathless. “A kiss right here, out in the open, where anyone might see us?”

  “A kissing bough is tradition. No one will think otherwise.” And he produced for her a white berry. She took it from him and appeared puzzled as to where he had acquired it so rapidly.

  The intimate moment they had created while in the parlor some minutes ago had been disrupted by Mrs. Harris. Now he had a second opportunity, not as romantic, he admitted, but one he would not let pass.

  He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand, savoring this moment before leaning near to kiss her. Freddie drew in a breath and pressed his lips to hers. He opened his eyes, to gaze upon her blissful expression that told him she was pleased with her first kiss. Their kiss only left him wanting more.

  “That was very nice, Mr. Worth.” Rosalind drew in a breath.

  “Even though we have shared only a mistletoe kiss, does that not lend itself to a bit of familiarity? I think you might call me something other than Mr. Worth.”

  “Would you prefer me to call you Mr. Freddie as the others do?”

  “Call me what you will, my sweet. My name is Frederick.” He wanted to draw her into his arms, hold her tight, and sate the both of them with a long, heartfelt, breath-stealing kiss but today would not be that day. “Now take my arm and allow me to see you to the upper landing as I have been instructed. I have no wish to have my hair combed with a stool by Mrs. Harris.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ros? Ros-a-lind?” Clare called out and came running to the upper-floor landing.

  Rosalind stood alone. She recalled that Freddie, for that is what she would call him now—Freddie, had escorted her, for her own safety, up the stairs.

  “Are you feeling the thing? You look a bit flushed.” Clare studied her sister’s face, commenting on her complexion. “You don’t think you’re going to swoon again, are you?”

  “Swoon? Why would I . . .” Oh, yes. Rosalind did recall there was a swooning episode just the other day. That was caused by something else entirely. “No, I don’t think I’m going to swoon.”

  “Well, come inside and I’ll help you to bed.”

  Rosalind did not wish to go to bed or rest or . . . to tell the truth she had no idea what she wanted at the moment. She simply allowed her sister to do as she wished.

  “Mama told me to help you change into your night rail and help you to bed,” Clare informed her, taking Rosalind’s shawl and unfastening her dress. “A tray will be sent up for dinner so you needn’t bother to come down and— What is this in your hand?” Clare held up a white berry between her thumb and index finger.

  “Where did you get this?”

  “From Freddie.”

  “Freddie? You called him Freddie. Don’t you mean Mr. Worth?” Clare’s normally innocent demeanor altered into an older, all-knowing matron. “So he’s kissed you. You allowed him to kiss you. I knew it, I knew it! You find him agreeable, do you not? You’ve changed your opinion of him completely!”

  “Yes, Clare, I do find him agreeable,” Rosalind admitted. “I find him much more than that and he . . . he . . .”

  “He’s offered for you!” Clare nearly squealed and hopped with excitement. It was very unladylike.

  “He has not offered for me. He has only confided his feeling to me. We are of like minds, have shared a kiss, only one, and have discussed nothing else. It is too soon. Far too soon for that, Clare.” Rosalind pulled her dress from her shoulders, readying herself to don her night rail. “As he told me himself, he is a stranger to me. I know nothing of him, of his family, or of his reputation. However, he did confess his warm feelings for me and I for him.”

  “It was bound to happen, you know. I imagine you will marry soon, then. Perhaps after Trevor and I wed.” Clare, who must have known no such arrangement had been made between them or their families, spoke as if their settlements had already been agreed to and made. “Do you think that marriage might be difficult with a musician husband?”

  Who said anything about marriage?

  “Your life would be filled with song and happiness. That is quite a pleasant prospect, is it not, Ros?” Clare prattled on while she removed Rosalind’s dress and set it aside.

  “I . . . I never thought about it. I quite thought myself on the shelf, you know.” Rosalind had never imagined she would marry. Her prospects here in the country were nonexistent.

  “On the shelf? Oh, pooh!” Ever-optimistic Clare continued on, “Of course you’ll marry and you’ll be the wife of a musician.”

  “I suppose there could be a worse choice of vocation. At least our life would be filled with music. What about you? How does Mr. Trevor intend to . . .” How did one ask about financial means tactfully?

  “Trevor is the younger son of a viscount and has an allowance and expects his father will increase it once we marry. I am quite sure it will be enough if we economize.” Clare sounded hopeful. “I am hardly of an advanced age nor am I a spinster. But he thinks I’m beautiful! Unfortunately, I have very little dowry.”

  “Eh . . . none to speak of, my dear.” Rosalind hated to be the bearer of bad news but what her sister said had been the truth. There would be no dowry for either of them.

  “Perhaps so, but he does not care, he loves me.” Clare pulled back the counterpane to ready the bed for Rosalind. “I suppose you and Freddie will have to live on his meager earnings.”

  And they would be meager, too. Married life as a musician’s wife did not promise to be a luxurious one. Rosalind wondered if he would supplement their income by teaching lessons. If it came to it, she supposed she could teach as well, perhaps music basics.

  Rosalind slid into bed and covered herself. She really did not need to worry. There had been no talk of marriage between them, only the one kiss.

  “So what do you advise?” Trevor leaned against the four-poster bed in Freddie’s bedchamber, waiting for his answer.

  “Are you telling me this as a warning or do you wish me to extricate you from your fate before things go too far?” Freddie was the last person his friend should ask for advice. He was most probably in the biggest tangle of his life and it was growing larger as the days passed and now he had fallen in love. Since Trevor currently suffered a difficulty of his own, Freddie had no wish to encumber him, good or bad, with his own news.

  “I am telling you because it is ma-intent to marry Miss Clare Harris and it is inevitable that the truth of who you are will come out. It has to. The family of my future wife resides in my best friend’s country estate.”

  “I could sell Penshaw and never return to these parts,” Freddie offered, except he could never do that to the tenants, the people whom he promised to help out of their poverty.

  “That’s the future. What I’m talking about is the present. How long do you think it is possible for you to remain and not be discovered as His Lordship?”

  “It’s a day-by-day progression.” All Freddie wanted was to linger in his euphoric, newfound feelings for Rosalind. However, the ever-practical Trevor was correct. The truth, the truth about him, had to come out eventually. But why, Freddie wondered, must it happen at this moment? Sometime next week might be a better time. “I haven’t given it much thought, really.”

  “Maybe you should.” Trevor’s talk of marriage was very serious business, indeed.

  Was there a way for Trevor to marry Clare and Freddie to keep his true identity hidden from the Harris sister, nay, the family, and the entire population who inhabited the five miles around Penshaw Manor? The possibility seemed very, very remote.

  And what of his budding romance with his dearest Rosalind? When she discovered wh
o he was, who he truly was, Freddie was certain there would be no saving grace for the hated and detested Earl of Brent.

  Yes, later would prove to be much better. Freddie would enjoy his time with Rosalind now, spend hours in her delightful company, contemplate the idea of a few more kisses, and defer the unpleasant news for maybe some time next week.

  Freddie found the food at dinner lacked flavor. The mealtime conversation seemed uninteresting. Without Rosalind’s presence the whole evening dragged on and on. Freddie had never experience a duller stretch of time in his life.

  “Mrs. Harris?” Freddie had had enough of pushing the food around his plate and set his utensils on the table. “Can you tell me who is making the food basket deliveries in Miss Rosalind’s absence?”

  “Who?” Mrs. Harris’s face creased in thought. She chewed on a bite of ham. “I believe Clare has taken over that task, is that not right, my dear?”

  “It is a good thing Mr. Trevor’s recovery was an expeditious one. It has freed my time to return to visiting the tenants,” Miss Clare informed him. “Harry and Gordon continue to help, you know.”

  “I have offered ma-assistance as well,” Trevor added.

  “But you are not yet well enough, sir,” Mrs. Harris declared. “We have you and Rosalind to care for now. Please do us the favor of cooperating.”

  “Mr. Trevor, you are too kind.” Miss Clare smiled at him. “But Mama is right. You cannot.”

  “I tell you, Freddie, these managing females will be the death of me yet!”

  “Mr. Trevor, that will be quite enough.” Mrs. Harris chided him for his outburst.

  “I would like to volunteer as well.” Freddie thought this was the first worthwhile bit of discussion they had had yet this evening. “I have accompanied Miss Rosalind on several visits and I have made the acquaintance of several of the tenants. I believe I could be of value.”

  “You are too kind, Mr. Freddie,” Miss Clare replied. “I will keep that in mind. However, I believe your presence may be more valued at Thistles than handing out food baskets.” There was a knowing stare that accompanied her words.

  “Will you not play for us this evening, Mr. Freddie?” Mrs. Harris’s request sounded sweet and inviting.

  “Of course, I shall.” Freddie pushed away from the table and helped Mrs. Harris rise. He escorted her down the corridor to the parlor. He could not help but notice how far Miss Clare and Trevor lagged behind. There was also much whispering going on between them.

  “It is too bad we do not have a foursome so we may enjoy dancing again. That was such great fun!” Mrs. Harris chattered. “I daresay when Rosalind is recovered we will have our happy little foursome once again. And perhaps we will dance during our Twelfth Night celebration. If you gentlemen do not know, our New Year and Christmas night festivities were both cancelled due to the weather. All our preparations wasted! But it was impossible to predict. When it comes to the weather, one never knows, does one?”

  “Exactly,” Freddie agreed. He really hadn’t been attending Mrs. Harris and yet he could not make out Miss Clare and Trevor’s topic, either.

  When all four of them had entered the parlor, Freddie turned to the trio to address them. “Does anyone have a particular request?”

  It was not a surprise that Mrs. Harris had something to say.

  Freddie climbed the stairs ahead of Trevor. Upon reaching the first landing he paused, looking down the corridor toward Rosalind’s room.

  Tomorrow. He knew he would see her tomorrow.

  “If you will excuse me, sir.” Trevor stood at Freddie’s bedchamber door. “I would like a moment of your time, if you please.”

  “If you like. Pray, enter.” Freddie expected another round of hypotheticals regarding marriage to Clare. He had no new knowledge to impart and nothing could have changed between when they spoke before dinner and now. Freddie closed the door after passing through and did not need to wait long to hear what Trevor had to say.

  “Why didn’t you tell me? Am I no longer trusted? I am crushed, beyond belief!” Trevor splayed his hand upon his chest. “If this gets around Town ma-reputation will suffer. Oh, yes. It shall. Ma-character will be in question.” He gesticulated wildly and glared at Freddie. “What of ma-family? Ma-wife and ma-children?”

  “Trevor, I believe your drama is on display. You do not have a wife nor any children so would you be so good as to bring down the curtain?” Freddie crossed to the hearth and motioned to one of the chairs. “Please sit and let us calmly discuss this matter.” He took a seat and waited for Trevor to do the same.

  “I may be married and have children by the time I return to London,” he said in all sincerity before following Freddie into the room. He sat in the flanking chair, next to Freddie.

  “Now.” Freddie made himself comfortable and was ready to tackle Trevor’s puzzle. “Please start from the beginning and tell me what you’re going on about.”

  “Is it true? And if it is, why haven’t you told me?”

  “My dear fellow, you must give me a hint as to what you are talking about. Is what true?”

  “You and Miss Rosalind. Kissing. Under the—the—the—” He waved wildly above his head.

  “In the parlor?” Freddie was now getting the gist of it.

  “Exactly.” Trevor nodded.

  “As a matter of fact, yes. We did share a kiss. It was very nice and I hope to—”

  “No. Oh, no!” Trevor put out his hands as if silencing Freddie would make his actions null and void. “You cannot allow that to happen. No, absolutely not.”

  “Whatever do you mean?” Freddie felt a bit indignant at his friend’s disapproval. “If you will remember, it is Miss Clare you wish to marry, not her sister, Miss Rosalind. I understand that to you they may look similar but let me remind you Clare is the one with the red hair and green eyes.”

  “Dash it all, Freddie! It ain’t ma-meaning.”

  “What is your meaning, pray?”

  “Miss Rosalind isn’t to be trifled with, especially by you.”

  “Trifled? I have no intention of doing such a thing.”

  “No? What is the meaning of kissing Miss Rosalind under the—the—” Trevor waved above his head once again.

  “If I must tell you, kissing is a means of expressing affection between a man and a woman. I was pretty sure you knew that.”

  “Don’t be impertinent with me! But I know that’s not what you’re doing. I know you.” Trevor was now on his feet. He pointed an accusing finger at Freddie and laid into him. “You’re the one who whispers in their ear, plays slap and tickle with the ladies, gives ’em the slip on the shoulder, before having your way, and leaving them the next morning.”

  “That’s awfully harsh, Trev.” Freddie frowned. He never thought about the conduct of his younger self but it wasn’t very flattering. But he wasn’t that man now.

  “It’s true, and you cannot treat the sister of my soon-to-be intended in that manner. I’ll meet you at dawn over this, Fred, I swear.”

  He was willing to fight for her and her family? By God, Trevor did love Clare.

  “There is no need, I can assure you.” Freddie remained seated with his back firmly planted in the chair. “Rosalind is entirely different from any other female I have ever met.”

  Trevor said nothing. His expression did not change. Perhaps he had not been completely convinced of Freddie’s intentions.

  “I love her, Trev. I want to make her my countess. If I do not play my cards right, and I as you know have not been having the best luck, it may turn out that I lose her before I have the chance to tell her of my affection.”

  “Then why don’t you tell her now?” Trevor suggested in exasperation.

  “How I feel about her or who I am?” Freddie hated to think the two were intertwined. Telling her of his affection would be easy; admitting who he really was seemed near impossible.

  “All of it. Don’t keep anything from her. It’s best if you come clean, that’s ma-advice on the m
atter. Rosalind’ll see the right of it in the end. She’s bound to.”

  “If I tell her who I really am, I don’t know that she’ll ever speak to me again. But you are right, with your connection to Clare she’s bound to learn of it, one way or the other. My identity will be revealed. I’m dreading it. I had hoped to put it off; however, it is becoming increasingly obvious to me I need to do it sooner than later. And I expect the news would be best if I am the one to tell her.”

  “I have no intention of breaking that bit of news to anyone. I would fear for ma-very neck.” Trevor held his hand to his throat and swallowed hard.

  “And the rebuilding of Penshaw and its estate plays a large part in my future and my future with her. Even if she were willing to have me, I cannot ask her to marry me without a proper home. Not only do I need to redeem myself for my own self-worth, I need to make amends to the tenants, and restore the faith my father has placed in me. And I have to do it for Rosalind. There’ll be no future with her without Penshaw, and there’s no guarantee she’ll be there after it’s all done.”

  “Good God, Fred.” Trevor collapsed into the chair. “How did you manage to get yourself into this tangle?”

  Freddie turned his head toward his friend and gave him a frank answer. “I simply fell in love with a girl.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was deemed Rosalind was well enough to finally be given leave to roam the house that next morning. Again she spent an inordinate amount of time at her dressing table before the glass, checking her appearance. How vain one grew when one was in love.

  Mindful of her recent ordeal, she took great care descending the staircase and stepping down to the main floor. She straightened her skirts and headed to the breakfast room. A wave of disappointment washed over her when she entered only to find it empty.

  Maggie soon entered and informed her that Clare and Freddie, with the assistance of Harry and Gordon, were going out that morning to deliver food baskets. Freddie had already left some time ago and Clare was currently making preparations to leave.