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

by Jenn LeBlanc

Perry held out his hand. “You are safe here with me. My men are watching him. We will handle him, I promise you. You will not come to harm at his hands again. I promised to protect you, and. I. Will.” The last came out so forcefully his jaw ached with it.

  She stood and walked down the stairs toward him, her eyes narrowing as she descended. “It is not fear I feel,” she said, taking his hand and a deep breath at the heavy, warm weight of him. “I feel perfectly safe here, with you.”

  “I am glad of it,” Perry said. He turned her to the gentlemen. “May I present the most Honorable Thorne Magnus Calder, the Marquess of Canford, one of my cousins.” He leaned toward her. “Future Duke of St. Cyr.”

  Calder shook his head and bowed before Lilly, drawing a startled gasp from her throat.

  “Oh, no, tell him,” she said, hitting Perry’s shoulder. “Tell him who I am, don’t let him do that,” she cried. “My lord, please!”

  “Lilly.” The voice rumbled forth from the future Duke of St. Cyr like a herd of beasts loosed on the meadow. “I know perfectly well who you are, and of whence you came. Trumbull here has no authority over me or my behavior, even with his advanced age.” He grinned, slanting a devious look at his cousin. “I believe anyone with a heart as brave as yours deserves my unmitigated devotion, and so you have it.”

  Lilly shook her head, her hand tangled in the sleeve of Perry’s coat. She but he caught her up, holding her against him.

  Perry glanced at Calder, who turned and walked toward the breakfast room at the back of the town house.

  “Lilly. Sweet, sweet Lilly, please do not distress yourself so.”

  “You canna understand, milord, what this means to me. I canna— Milord, he’s a duke! I— even your brother I canna. Please,” she cried.

  “He isn’t quite a duke yet. His sire would be most disappointed by your advancement of his son, as that would mean he missed his own funeral,” Perry chided sweetly, trying to get her to laugh. “Calder is my cousin, one of the family. He will accept you as I have. He knows what an amazing woman you are.”

  She studied him, sinking into his eyes to harness the truth that swam just beyond her reach. She tried to smile. “Please, in the future, please at least give me some warning, so I don’t make a complete fool of myself.”

  “He won’t have noticed, I promise. Come, our guest is at breakfast, and we should join him.”

  “Our guest?” Lilly grasped his arm, allowing him to lead her to the breakfast room where Calder had gone before.

  They entered and Perry placed his hand at the small of her back, urging her forward.

  Lilly smiled, her spine straightening slightly, taking some of the confidence Perry sought to loan her. “My lord Canford, I beg your pardon—”

  He cut her off with a wave as he stood to acknowledge her. “First off, you will address me as Calder, as all in the family have wont to do. Secondly, you will not apologize to me, as it is frightfully clear that my dear cousin quite rudely shocked you by having me here without so much as a warning. If anything, I should wish you would admonish him for his egregious error in judgment.”

  Lilly decided that Calder’s demeanor quite undermined his rather large presence.

  He leveled upon her a devastatingly charming smile.

  Lilly took a sudden breath, then felt Perry edge her closer to a chair.

  “Yes, I…yes,” she said finally as she sat next to Perry, the marquess across from her.

  Perry motioned to the footmen, who presented heaping trays of savory cuts of meat, thick heady sauces, and sweet jellies. Perry filled her plate.

  She glanced up once, but he merely smiled. “You need your energy. This is no time to be dainty.”

  “So,” she said, glancing at Calder, “tell me of him. Why is he here, and what have you to do with it?”

  Calder grinned. “My, but she does recover well.” He looked directly at her after receiving a nod from Perry. “I was charged with the duty of overseeing Hepplewort’s town house on Talbot Square as Calder House, my own residence, is located on Sussex Square. It’s a beautiful area, really, adjacent to Kensington Gardens. My rooms look out over the gardens at sunset, truly a marvelous sight—”

  Perry cleared his throat, interrupting Calder’s musings.

  “Yes, well, the same rooms overlook the town houses across the Bathhurst Mews and Grand Junction Road. Hepplewort’s being just across the road at Talbot’s is easily visible from my highest floors. My majordomo was alerted to an arrival by the additional lights and bustle about the town house, and I went straightaway to handle him.” He paused, looking to Perry to see if that was enough information.

  He nodded again.

  Calder cleared his throat. “Approaching Mr. Gunn wasn’t at all a difficulty. Gunn is a well-known bookmaker, and as everyone is aware of Hepplewort’s penchant for the cards, certain arrangements with the bookmaker were already in place should he turn up in town. Gunn, of course, could care less from whence his mark procured his tinker, so long as he procured it.”

  She stared at him for a moment, assessing, then glanced at Perry—something was being left out.

  He watched her nervously for a moment. “It appears that Hepplewort has come to town to—uh, well, he is yet in need of a wife.”

  Her eyes fell and her breath stopped. Then she looked up for him to continue.

  He took a deep breath. “Since Roxleigh divested him of Francine, he intends to find a different bride.”

  Lilly watched him carefully, then poked at the food piled on her plate before looking up to Calder, then Perry. “Well, he cannot be allowed to complete the task.”

  Perry and Calder shifted with discomfort, their need to control unsettling. They exchanged preemptive glances, and nodded. How and when Hepplewort was to be dealt with would be discussed soon, but it wasn’t something Lilly would have any part of; she certainly had no need to be involved, as far as Perry was concerned.

  Lilly pushed the cuts of meat and eggs around on her plate for a while as Perry and Calder attempted something resembling small talk.

  “How is the duchess?”

  “Mama is well—excited, of course, for Roxleigh to declare his troth. I suppose she is tired of fielding questions as he is so terribly unapproachable. It’s a boon, really. No more trepidation in the ballrooms, all the mamas tossing their daughters in his path, and all of us waiting to see who he trips over in the end.”

  Perry smiled as he thought of Gideon and his Francine. He glanced up to see Lilly watching him from the safety of her eyelashes and his smile deepened to reassure her.

  “I have to tell him,” he said slowly.

  Calder grunted. “You will do no such thing, Perry. Roxleigh is in the midst of his wedding celebration—which, by the way, you should be attending.” He sent him a scornful glance. “As the head of the house of Trumbull is otherwise engaged, and you have quite enough to deal with at present, that puts me in line to take the reins. If Roxleigh has an issue with the decision, he can take it up with me after the wedding when we inform him of the outcome. As much as it was his decision to hold notification of the House of Lords until after their wedding, it has fallen to us to control the repercussions.”

  Perry groaned. “I believe I will take this young lady for a picnic, perhaps to Regent’s Park, then a walk through the zoological gardens to see the royal collection.”

  “Capital idea. Perhaps you would stop by Calder House and take some other ladies with you? I’ve no doubt they would be enthralled with your miss, and they would also appreciate the respite from my attention.”

  “Oh? And who, pray tell me, does this party include?”

  “Merely Izzy, Poppy, Saoirse, and Maebh,” Calder said with a grin.

  Perry shook his head. “They have terrible names.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Calder said, affronted.

  “I only mean, I have been teaching our miss to read, and well, Isadore and Poppy are fine, but Saoirse and Maebh? I’ll never be able to explain th
em.”

  “Try,” Lilly said quietly.

  “I will try.” Perry gave her a smile.

  Calder took the opportunity to stand. “I will leave you to your teaching,” he said with a swift bow.

  “Lessons,” Perry said. “We call them lessons.”

  “Yes, well, a third hand in the pot certainly will be a distraction. I’ll let the women know you will be around by noon.”

  Perry grimaced, then stood as his cousin left. He took his seat then turned her to face him.

  “Seer-sha,” he pronounced slowly, “is spelled S-A-O-I-R-S-E, and Maave is spelled M-A-E-B-H.”

  She stared at him, her eyes clouded.

  He chuckled. “Their fiery mama, The Right Honorable Fallon Trumbull, Countess of Pemberley, is Gaelic. Now, remember the letter B?”

  She blushed.

  “In Gaelic, the B, coupled with the H…” He took her small hand in his and traced a H into her palm.

  “H was for hand.”

  “Yes, the B and the H together make the sound of a V. Do you remember the V?” He wickedly held two fingers up in the shape of a V.

  She nodded again, her breath catching as her mouth went dry.

  Perry smiled and let go of her hand. “That wasn’t very nice of me,” he admitted with a slanted grin. “I very much enjoy the effect I have on you. You have much the same effect on me, in fact. Indeed, I’m not convinced this little garden party is all that good an idea.”

  “Oh, but it is. I would love to see Regent’s and the Zoological Gardens. Once we leave here, I imagine I’ll never return. Who, exactly, are Saoirse, Maebh, Poppy, and Isadore?”

  “More cousins. There are eleven all told—the four ladies and seven gentlemen. They are all ladies of varying rank and of marriageable age. They came out together a year ago, to the disdain of the matchmaking mamas of the ton.”

  The truth was that every one of Perry’s cousins was stunningly handsome. The male cousins were built like their common grandsire: tall, broad in the shoulder, and lean in the hip, while the ladies took on the figures of their respective mamas. But the wives and daughters of the Trumbull lineage were never hard to look at. As different as they all were, the common thread between them was a mesmerizing countenance. Beyond that distracting exterior they were willful and all-encompassing, a difficulty for any weak man—and their children followed suit.

  Lilly stared at him in awe. She understood the sheer energy and power of Perry, and when his brother was involved it was multiplied, not merely doubled. She couldn’t fathom what it would be like to be surrounded by seven men from the Trumbull lineage. She sighed. At least this would be the women. If they were anything like Francine she would certainly be terrified at first, but she hoped they would let her be.

  Perry pushed back from the table. “Harper.”

  “Yes, my lord?”

  “Have Gardner ready the landau, tell Kerrigan we are to be underway shortly, and have Cook prepare a basket for six, I believe.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Perry turned back to Lilly. “As for you, I will see you soon.”

  She smiled at him warily. “Just—” She looked up imploringly.

  “Yes, my sweet?”

  She reached up, her hands tracing the scars across her face as though they were Braille, then looked down. “What will they—”

  “They won’t. They know nothing of you, of your injuries, where you came from. They will accept you because you are with me. That is the only demonstration they will need to allow your presence.” He paused, seeing the true question about her scars. He took her hand and pulled her up before him. “Wear the crimson—the reflection of the color on your skin is rather stunning,” he said as he traced her chin. “It causes your cinnamon eyes to glow.” He held her gaze. “And the sweet red of your mouth to deepen.” He swept his thumb lightly across her lips. “No one will notice anything else. I certainly didn’t when first I saw you in it.”

  She could scarcely breathe. “As you wish, my lord,” she replied sotto voce.

  His eyes narrowed upon her as he considered her words, then he released her quickly and turned and walked out. He had some plans to make for Lilly’s next lesson, and not much time to complete them.

  Perry stood at the base of the stairs in a dove grey suit with a violet waistcoat and grey neck cloth. Her heart seized. He held a matching grey top hat with a band in the same hue as his waistcoat. His trousers were pulled in a straight line to his shoes. He was pulling on his dark grey gloves as she started down the stairs, his thoughts traversing his face. Lilly was amazed at the way his expressions could both thrill and ease her.

  Perry looked up and graced her with a smile of pure excitement as he examined her crimson dress. It really did work to mask her scars in the most amazing way. The filtered light thorough her bonnet reflected off the bright colored dress and cast the same pale pink across her entire face, blending away the myriad of tiny scars until all one saw were her beautiful features. He would have to pay his respects to that seamstress. She was most certainly a master.

  She returned the smile as he leaned toward her.

  “The dress is beautiful, but the vision is quite breathtaking.”

  Lilly blushed violently. “Harper, we’re off,” Perry grunted.

  The landau came to a halt in front of a lovely Georgian town house of five bays and three floors. The impressive columns stretched the full front of the façade and a large open porch which overlooked the central gardens on the square and Kensington Gardens just across the road. Several sets of French doors were set into it, and as Perry reached to pull Lilly from the carriage, the central door swept open and a bustle of silks and satins burst forth.

  “Perry, don’t you dare, we are so desperate for entertainment we’ve been watching the street for your arrival! Let’s be off, not another moment to spare,” said an excited woman with a riot of untamed curls flailing in all directions about her.

  Perry chuckled and released Lilly, letting her slip back to the seat.

  “Perry, top down! Top down! It’s a beautiful day, what are you hiding in there? Goodness, if I didn’t know better, I would guess—”

  “Poppy dear, we were in such a rush to attend you we hadn’t the time,” Perry cut in.

  “Oh, well, of course, I beg your pardon. However, now you’re here, we can pause one moment to set the roof aside,” Poppy said with a brilliant grin.

  Perry looked to Gardner and Kerrigan, who jumped from the box to fold the enclosure and open the carriage.

  “Much better—oh!” exclaimed a tiny, fairy-like girl with skin of porcelain and hair like the sun-kissed curling wisps of clouds.

  The gaggle of cousins swarmed around Perry to get a look at the girl inside the coach, eyes wide and jaws dropped.

  Perry cleared his throat. “Might I present Miss Lilly Steele, of Kelso,” he said resolutely.

  A collective gasp sounded from the group and Perry chuckled. “Ladies, please, if you might stop swarming about, I could introduce each of you.”

  “Oh my, of course,” came the voice from the girl closest the door.

  Perry bowed and handed her carefully into the landau. “Miss Lilly, I present you Lady Isadore Calder. You met her brother, the Marquess of Canford, earlier,” he reminded her.

  Lilly smiled as Isadore took the space nearest her.

  “So very pleased to make your acquaintance, my dear,” Isadore said as she patted her on the knee. “What a beautiful dress. You must tell me the name of your seamstress. Why, it’s most beguiling!”

  “Thank you, my lady,” Lilly said, watching her speech carefully. “You would need to ask Perry about the maker, though. He would know better than I.”

  Isadore laughed and cast a sideways glance at Perry, who shifted uncomfortably. “You don’t say. Well, I will do that, but I beg you, call me Izzy. We’ll all get confused with all the my lady’s floating around, and everyone in the family calls me Izzy, so you must as well.” She gave Lilly a
bright smile and patted her knee again.

  Lilly looked up to see Perry quickly handing another girl in.

  “Lilly, I would like to present Lady Saoirse.” He pronounced the name carefully. “And Lady Maebh.”

  “Well, I must say you are a beautiful respite from the usual—”

  “Maebh! Hush now, do not endeavor to embarrass our treasured cousin.” Saoirse turned and sat directly across from Lilly, pulling Maebh with her.

  Lilly looked into the vivid faces of the sisters. Saoirse was tiny, her skin smooth and creamy and glowing amidst the wild mane of ginger curls that seemed to move on the breeze with a life of their own. Maebh was similar—at least in spirit—to the curls that adorned her sister, but her form was tall and willowy, her long ginger locks twisted on her crown.

  “So you hail from Kelso—does this mean you are familiar with Roxleigh? Have you seen his Friesians?” Saoirse asked excitedly.

  Lilly smiled at the girls, but Perry interjected another cousin before she could reply.

  “En fin, the Lady Poppy,” he said, handing her into the landau and following her up. Poppy perched on the edge of the seat next to Lilly.

  “Lilly, I’m so pleased to make your acquaintance, as we all are. I’m a bit surprised that Thorne managed to arrange this outing without a word as to the company.”

  Lilly smiled at Poppy, watching her bounce and sway on the seat as she talked, her dark curls arranged over a pair of the deepest green eyes, wide as saucers, bright and sparkling like Perry’s.

  “Calder did mention a surprise,” sweet, blonde Isadore said.

  “I had no idea it would be this type of surprise,” Maebh said, inspecting Perry. It wasn’t often he introduced a lady to his cousins. In general, they were noticed in passing at the balls or on the town.

  Perry looked from one bench to the next, wondering where to part the sea of silks to have a seat. He felt like a giant towering over a conquest.

  As if in answer, Saoirse pushed Maebh over and patted the seat between them with a grin.

  Perry sat carefully between them, avoiding their finery. He leaned back into the seat and stretched his arms out along the back of the carriage to prevent crushing his cousins.