The Rake and the Recluse REDUX (a time travel romance)

by Jenn LeBlanc

  “Well, that makes it easier, doesn’t it?”

  “What about any of this has been easy? I’m starting to think I preferred you as a recluse,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “Careful, brother, people will mistake you for me, or me for you.” Gideon tried to smile, but he was stonewalled. “I see. So I suppose congratulations would be too much to ask.”

  Perry stopped in front of his brother and sighed. He held his hand out. “I congratulate you and your betrothed. I assume that the surprises at this point will wane?”

  “Perhaps. Though I believe I’ll look into a special license. I would like to wed as soon as possible. Of course, we can always go to Gretna Green. It isn’t far from Eildon.” Gideon paused, a smile breaking across his features. “We could leave London. We could go home.” He shook his brother’s hand vigorously as his excitement grew.

  “Your Grace,” Francine said as she walked out to the terrace.

  “My lady, I must congratulate you on such a successful match.”

  Francine hugged Perry tightly. His eyes widened. He grunted, immediately aware that he was superfluous, and bowed to her before returning to the ballroom, where he surveyed the crowd.

  “You never stay where I leave you, do you?” Gideon asked.

  “Am I supposed to?” she asked sweetly.

  He shook his head with a laugh as she walked over to him. “How is this to work if you do not do as I request of you?”

  “Very well, I should think.” Her approach signaled an increasing cadence in his heart. His veins suffused with heat from her proximity, and he squared his shoulders to ward off the onslaught of emotion.

  She pulled one glove off and touched his gloved hand, turning it over and rubbing a circle into his palm through the thin grey fabric. His heart raced and his pulse quickened as she pinched the tip of each finger to loosen the glove. “What are you—”

  “Shh,” she whispered, slowly pulling the glove off, then tracing the skin between his fingers with the tip of hers.

  He groaned at the gentle touch and a shiver traced up his arm, making him jerk away.

  She frowned. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend,” she said quietly, holding his glove out to him.

  He took it as he stretched his fingers, releasing the charges that surged beneath his skin.

  “I’m not offended. Quite the opposite, in fact.” He turned, taking her arm and pulling her swiftly across the garden. He stopped beneath a large willow tree, the curtain of branches sweeping the garden floor.

  They didn’t touch, they didn’t speak. His eyes grazed over her strong yet delicate figure, sweeping her curves, making her muscles tense with his glances.

  The gown itself meant nothing. He realized that whatever the condition of her clothing, he was equally drawn to her, amazed by her, in love with her.

  She sighed heavily. “Kiss me,” she said, and he reached out with his bare hand, cupping her face and drawing her to him. Slower than sunrise he leaned down to her, brushing his mouth across hers, breathing her scent, as he warmed her lips for his kiss.

  She held still, suffering his teasing ministrations as her senses flared in the agony of her patience.

  His hand traveled to her nape, spreading her hair then clenching it between his fingers.

  She allowed him to control her. Parting her lips, she felt his tongue caress her, his mouth hovering. He stroked her tenderly, compelling her mouth to open wider to him.

  She marveled at the way he responded to her, and the way her body responded to him without permission. She lifted her hand and placed it on his hip, feeling the muscles across his abdomen tense. She inhaled through her mouth, tasting his breath, that familiar unsweetened cinnamon. She smiled under his lips and felt him smile back before he opened his hand on the back of her head and forced her mouth to his, stoking her passion.

  Her mouth went dry as she thought of the feeling of his hardness, covered with satiny skin. She brushed her hand across the front of his trousers, her knuckles grazing his erection through the fabric, and his muscles reacted, his hand pulling her hips against his, melding them together. She was drawn completely against him, shoulder to toe.

  She arched her back and the corset strained, her breasts swelling over the bust line of her dress, filling the delicate scarf that attempted to control them.

  Gideon broke the kiss and leaned his shoulders back, forcing his turgid shaft against her belly though her skirts. He pulled the silk scarf away from her chest, sending traces of electricity shooting to her core.

  She gasped, unable to move her head out of his firm hold as he bent to trace warm kisses across the swollen ridge of softness, delving his tongue into the tight crease between her breasts and tasting the sweet and salty honey of her skin.

  He moved across her breast to her arm, placing kisses at the edge of her sleeve. He reached up and tugged on it, freeing the nipple that was tucked just below the bodice’s trim, and drew it into his mouth.

  She cried out and he quickly covered her mouth with his, catching her pleasured gasp between his lips.

  His kisses slowed, calming rather than frustrating her desire. He released her, and she turned, adjusting her bodice. He held out the scarf, which she attempted to take, but he refused to release it, forcing her to turn back to him. He lifted the scarf to her bosom, laying it neatly across the crest and tucking it into her bodice.

  “I do believe we should return to the ball, my lady. The ton will be concerned with your absence,” he admonished, smiling. “Let me have a look at you.” He straightened her gloves, and her skirt, gently untangling her hair and combing through the long curls. He studied her kiss-swollen lips and smiled again, brushing his thumb across the surface. “There isn’t much to be done about this.”

  She blushed, tucking her fingers into the front of his trousers and pulling him toward her. “Or this,” she said gruffly, stroking the tip of his erection through the fabric with her thumb.

  He grumbled. “All in due time.”

  “I believe the time is overdue,” she replied, and he grasped her shoulders and moved her away from him, breaking her hold on his waistband.

  She examined his strong form, the muscles beneath his formal suit flexing as he straightened his waistcoat and jacket, adjusted his trousers, pulled the jacket closed, then allowed his eyes to travel over her once more. “I will commission a portrait of you in this very dress. I never want to forget how you look tonight.”

  Madeleine.

  It was the dress and the necklace from the portrait of Madeleine, but it wasn’t Madeleine. It had been her all along. “Your Grace, I would request you have it made a miniature, so that you could keep it close to your heart,” she said quietly, accepting the truth of the realization as she spoke.

  He smiled. “And so it shall be.” He replaced his glove and offered his arm. “A miniature. I like that idea very much.”

  She laughed. “Whose idea was it to go for a walk in the garden?”

  They ducked out from beneath the canopy of the willow tree and walked back to the terrace, only to find Perry pacing by the entry.

  Perry’s eyes widened at the sight of his ward, who was quite obviously tousled. Gideon laughed and leaned toward Francine.

  “Perhaps you should go to your suite and have Carole help you…” He gestured toward her hair and bodice. She moved quickly for the stairs.

  “Really?” Perry growled. “Really?”

  Gideon lifted a brow. “It wasn’t my fault.”

  “We have work to do,” Perry said as he walked over to his brother and straightened his neck cloth and lapels. “In your absence, Shaw has been abandoned to a room of insensitive girls and mothers who aren’t interested in his lack of title.”

  “Are you saying Shaw is no match for the Countess of Greensborough? Well, we’ll see who triumphs in this affair.” Gideon strode into the ballroom and surveyed the crowd.

  He growled when he spotted the countess and, sidestepping her smartly, h
e bowed before Lady Alice. He took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Lady Alice, it has been entirely too long. Are you enjoying the ball?”

  She curtseyed and looked up at him. “Why, yes, of course, Your Grace. It has been…quite entertaining thus far.”

  He smiled, motioning to the dance floor as a waltz started, and she nodded. He led her in a broad half-circle before pulling her close to dance.

  “You look quite lovely tonight,” he said, inspecting the moss-green gown that complemented her pale skin and fiery curls perfectly.

  “I thank you, Your Grace, for that thoughtful comment. But won’t your fiancée be upset to find you dancing with me?”

  “Not at all. She’ll understand when she learns of my ulterior motives.”

  “Ulterior motives?” she asked nervously. “And what would those be?”

  “Lady Alice, I endeavored to bring your betrothed to visit you all the way from Eildon Hill, yet here you are playing coy with me.”

  She smiled. “I’m afraid one dance is all I’m bound to get.” She sighed. “My mother won’t let him near my dance card.”

  “That is something easily overcome.”

  “Have my champions returned?”

  “Yes, my lady, they have—in force.” Gideon bowed as the dance ended. “In fact, there are a few you’ll need introductions to.”

  She curtseyed to thank him for the dance and politely handed him her dance card. He filled in more than a few lines. He would enjoy another dance, and Perry would enjoy at least two, and of course Shaw. He thought for another moment, then filled in the balance of her card. Her mother glared at him, and her grandmother smiled, pinching her daughter-in-law’s arm.

  “I see your grandmother looks pleased,” Gideon said.

  Lady Alice nodded and placed her hand on his forearm, allowing him to escort her to her grandmother.

  Gideon bowed before the countess then the dowager countess, taking her hand for a greeting. “My lady, I am so glad you could join us this night.”

  The dowager countess smiled. “Well, of course, Your Grace. I certainly wouldn’t have missed this for anything,” she said, turning that smile on her granddaughter. “Is His Grace making an effort to keep you busy again, my dear?”

  “Yes, Grandmother, he is.”

  The dowager glanced at Gideon, then dismissed her daughter and granddaughter with nothing more than a nod.

  “Your Grace, are you aware that my daughter has been diligently working to attain my granddaughter a suitable peer?”

  Gideon assessed her expression. “I assumed as much,” he answered, preparing for a lecture.

  “Are you further aware your attempts are quite effectively thwarting those efforts?”

  He attempted to quell a devious smile as he nodded. The dowager looked at him as if to measure the contents of his soul. “I hear you have an architect working at Eildon Hill?”

  “I do, my lady. A Mr. Amberly Shaw. He is quite impressive. I believe he shall be most successful. Have you made his acquaintance?”

  “Yes, I have, and I am quite impressed with him as well. I’ve no doubt with your help he’ll be even more successful,” she said with a grin. “I happen to be quite impressed with your lady—your fiancée—as well, Your Grace.”

  Gideon smiled. “Thank you, my lady, I do appreciate the kind words. I believe your granddaughter’s dance card is in need of the attention of my cousins, if you do not mind?”

  “By all means, Your Grace. If you’ll excuse me.”

  Gideon bowed, then watched her glide across the ballroom. He realized Francine was standing just behind him, talking with a group of older ladies. He listened and found she seemed to be getting along famously, their scandalous dance and his proposal hardly damaging her future.

  The women lauded her for her success in taming the reclusive beast and bringing him up to scratch without the benefit of a true dowry to promote the match. She simply smiled and nodded, skating along gently on the words of their jovial banter. They were completely taken with her.

  Gideon laughed, and Francine’s arms tingled. She put one hand behind her and he caught it behind him, gently caressing a circle into her palm. The ladies whispered among themselves for a moment until she excused herself, turning to her duke.

  Without a word he swept her once again to the dance floor. He pulled her around in grand arcs, her skirts floating through the air behind her. She tilted her head back, feeling the heady rush of the swift music.

  As the music waned, Gideon’s vision grazed the crowd, resting on a face he found both familiar and unsettling. He tensed, instantly drawing Francine into his protective stance as she looked up with concern.

  He pulled her into the throng, calling for Perry as he kept an eye on the man. But as he searched for his brother he momentarily lost sight of his target. His body tightened under Francine’s hands, and she stopped him.

  “What is it?”

  “Hepplewort.”

  “He doesn’t belong here.” She looked around. “Or does he?”

  Gideon located Perry, who’d been dancing with Lady Alice. Perry’s smile faded the moment Gideon caught his attention and nodded toward Hepplewort. Perry scowled and went after the earl.

  “Attendance at this event is by invitation only, my lord. You have none,” Perry said without preamble.

  The short, rotund man looked up into Perry’s face. “I have business with you, actually. Why don’t you have your brother meet us in his parlor?”

  “Why don’t you call on the duke and myself at an appropriate hour, if you indeed have business that requires our attention?”

  “Oh, I think the duke will be quite interested in this.”

  Perry waved to Sanders and asked him to escort Hepplewort to the blue parlor and to wait with him.

  “Francine, I would like you to go up to your room while we dispose of this man.” Gideon watched her eyes narrow at his request. “Can you do that for me?”

  She nodded and he knew that simple agreement took a great deal of effort on her part. She followed him out of the ballroom.

  Gideon waited as she ascended the staircase, then turned to Perry. The brothers walked into the parlor. “What business have you brought to my house, tonight of all nights?” Gideon asked as he strode directly to Hepplewort.

  The earl stood. “I took your advice, Your Grace. I had my solicitor look over the paperwork, and we found an error. It seems that your agreement is just as incomplete as mine. Until one of us actually completes the terms of either, neither is binding. I only thought it appropriate to inform you in an expedient manner.”

  Gideon’s blood boiled as Hepplewort continued. “The fact is that should I marry Madeleine, and consummate said marriage, my contract with the Larrabees would then be complete, legal, and binding. Unless, of course, you can procure a proper marriage for her to a peer before I am able to retrieve her.”

  Gideon stared at him, grinding his teeth as his brain worked to find a solution to get the grotesque man out of his town house and away from Francine permanently.

  “Actually, Hepplewort, you must have come late to the ball,” Perry said, stepping next to Gideon. “Because if you had been here earlier, you would have been witness to the fact that I have actually made an agreement with a peer to take Lady Madeleine off my hands. We have already discussed the dowry and terms.”

  “Who is it?” Hepplewort spat at the brothers.

  At that moment the door to the parlor slammed open and Francine walked in with Sanders trailing behind. “Why, my lord, it happens to be this gentleman here, the Duke of Roxleigh.” Her eyes blazed as they cut through Hepplewort, taking his measure. Her expression turned to one of disgust as her gaze traveled over him.

  Hepplewort stared back at her, his eyes bulging, his skin turning beet-red and sticky with sweat.

  “I apologize that we haven’t sent out formal announcements yet, since we are only just betrothed, but as it happens, I am, in fact, promised to the duke. There is no nee
d for you to continue this farce,” she said. “You need to leave me alone.”

  “You are mine!” Hepplewort sputtered, clenching his fists at his sides. “You were promised to me!”

  Francine’s lips pulled tight across her teeth as she walked forward and slapped the small man as hard as she could, knocking him off kilter. “You son of a bitch!”

  The brothers looked at her in shock as Hepplewort grasped his cheek, his eyes flaring. Gideon and Perry both reached for Francine, quickly tucking her behind them.

  “You stupid little—” Hepplewort started, but Gideon grabbed him by the arm and dragged him toward the portico doors that exited directly to the front of the town house.

  Hepplewort glared at him. “She is mine,” he squealed, pointing at her.

  “That is quite enough.”

  “You haven’t ruined her. I can tell by your demeanor, and as long as she is intact, she is still mine,” Hepplewort said as he tripped toward the door.

  “Our business has concluded. You are leaving and you will not return. In the future, should I see you anywhere near the lady in question, I will notify the constable and have you removed. Is that perfectly clear?”

  Hepplewort yelled, kicking and screaming. “You cannot do this! You cannot keep her from me! She is mine! She is mine!”

  Gideon pushed him out the door, then nodded to Smyth, who was waiting nearby.

  Hepplewort charged back up the steps but Gideon’s man placed his hand on the butt of a pistol to warn him. “Thank you for attending, my lord. Have a wonderful evening.” Smyth waved to Hepplewort’s driver, and the carriage pulled up in front of the town house.

  Gentry opened the door for him, then pushed him to the carriage floor. “Have a nice evening, my lord. Return home safely,” he said, shutting the door and securing the latch with his own cravat before Hepplewort could right himself.

  Gentry looked up at Hepplewort’s oversized driver. “If you value your job, then you value the life of your master. If he stays in London another minute, he’ll not live to see the dawn. Are we understood?” he asked, handing the coachman a purse of coin.

  The enormous driver took the money and nodded. Swiftly pulling the ribbons, he sent the horse team flying down the street. They heard Hepplewort yell as he was knocked off his feet again when the carriage lurched forward. The men smiled stiffly as they walked back into the town house.