The Rake's Redemption

by Sherrill Bodine

  “Of course, I haven’t gotten over them!” The words were out before she could stop them. Schooling her face to reflect nothing of her feelings, she continued with a wistful smile, “Will is always first in my heart. But I am still going to London to find a husband.”

  “Aunt Sophia, it went just as you said it would.” Juliana burst through her aunt’s bedroom door to stop in bewilderment at the piles of clothing strewn about. “Why, whatever are you doing? I thought you’d already packed.”

  “No need to keep these old things.” Sophia waved her hand vaguely in the air. “I thought I’d leave them for the reverend to distribute. We’ll be getting all new.”

  “All new?” Juliana asked quizzingly.

  Her aunt crossed the room sprightly to envelop her in strong arms. “It will be such fun. I can’t wait to see you in the latest fashions. You’ll find everything we have is sadly outdated. I want you to cut quite a figure in the ton, as I did,” she added dreamily.

  Sophia was a pleasant-faced woman of undistinguished appearance until she smiled, and then, as a suitor had once said, “It was like a burst of sunshine,” making her eyes sparkle a silvery gray and causing a small dimple to appear beside her mouth. That delightful smile played across her face now as she clasped Juliana’s hands and danced around the room.

  “I suddenly feel quite young again, myself,” she laughed.

  A gentle tap sounded and Sophia stopped abruptly.

  “Come in, Maitland.”

  “No, it’s me, Charlotte,” came the gentle reply from a tall, willowy girl, whose red-rimmed eyes dominated her pale face. Escaping blond wisps of hair tangled in disarray, and her royal blue riding hat hung from its ribbons around her shoulders.

  “My dear, what’s amiss?” Sophia darted forward to draw her gently into the room.

  “It’s Mama. She says I must spend all my time in London being nice to some old man.” She sniffed.

  “What is Lady Grenville about now?” Sophia demanded.

  Juliana cast a speaking look at her aunt before patting Charlotte’s arm. “Now, now, this isn’t like you at all. You usually handle your mama quite well,” Juliana soothed.

  “Usually, but this time she’s determined to marry me off to some distant, second cousin who’ll be a duke one day.”

  “It won’t be so dreadful being in London for the Season,” Juliana smiled intriguingly. “Aunt and I will be there to rescue you. Our plan worked.”

  “George,” Charlotte ventured quietly, “George will be in London for my Season?”

  Juliana triumphed. “Eventually. He’ll be there as soon as that new strain of wheat takes. He refuses to leave for another fortnight.” She turned to watch her aunt again ruthlessly sorting through the wardrobe. “Aunt Sophia insists that we leave as planned, since we have so much to do before the Season starts.”

  Charlotte brightened immediately. “I believe I saw George riding toward the south field on my way here. Our estate agent thinks the new strain is just slow to germinate. Perhaps I should ride out and tell him myself.”

  Juliana’s lifted brows registered her surprise as Charlotte suddenly rushed from the room. Turning to Sophia, she remarked, “Why haven’t I realized Charlotte was developing a tendre for George?”

  “You have been concerned with other matters,” her aunt stated simply.

  “You’re right, dearest. There has been so much tragedy at Wentworth Park. George grew up before I knew what was happening … Will’s death … followed so quickly by his father’s … then my papa’s death.” Juliana shook her head slowly, a hint of moisture on her long lashes, before she caught herself and with a few rapid blinks, smiled. “Listen to me, carrying on like a ninnyhammer.”

  “So right, love,” Sophia agreed matter-of-factly, determined to change the subject immediately. She felt Juliana had shed enough tears to last a lifetime. It was the chief reason she’d devised the now-famous plan. “However, I should point out you neglected to mention Lady Grenville in your list of tragedies.”

  “Aunt! How can you!” Juliana’s perfectly arched brows rose. “After Will died on the Peninsula, Sir Alfred and Lady Grenville had every right to his estate. After all, Sir Alfred is the last male Grenville.”

  “My dear, I said nothing against Sir Alfred. How could I? A more unoffensive man I have never met. One barely knows he is even there. It is his revolting wife I cannot tolerate.”

  “I am quite sure Lady Grenville has some good qualities.” Juliana stopped, her cherry lips blossoming into a sudden smile. “She must have at least one good quality, mustn’t she?”

  Sophia laughed. “She is Charlotte’s mother, so she must be doing something right—a very unique child.”

  “Dear Charlotte! I look forward to seeing her in London. We can only hope Lady Grenville does not make her first Season too tedious.”

  Early the next day, content that her own secret plan to get Juliana away from the sad memories and into the ton had succeeded, Sophia Thatcher leaned back against the crimson squabs of their luxurious traveling coach and surveyed her niece. Juliana’s mouth curved with a small, secret smile as she peered out onto the pleasant Berkshire countryside they traveled through.

  The spring rain had ceased two days earlier. Now brooks gurgled merrily over their banks and purple violets and daisies eagerly pushed through the young meadow grass. Birds sang to one another from the low hanging branches of elm trees bordering the road. With pleasure Juliana breathed in spring and laughed softly.

  “You have every reason to be smug. My congratulations,” Sophia complimented. “Wellington himself could not have maneuvered so well, my dear. I can’t believe George is at last going to forsake his cattle and crops for the pleasures of London.”

  “Is it not marvelous, Aunt?” Juliana’s eyes flashed with happiness. “He feels honor bound to join us in London, since you are such a lamentable chaperon.”

  “The dear boy has turned into a deplorable prig for one so young. Just like your father. I will never forget the first time I let you ride without a groom. I thought your father would have an apoplexy.” Sophia chuckled. “Such foolishness!”

  The heavy traveling coach lurched when its right rear wheel caught in a deep rut formed during the recent rains. It tilted crazily and instinctively both ladies grabbed for a strap. Sophia gasped in surprise when a crimson pillow flew past her cheek as the coach toppled precariously to the right. She slid against the door frame and the coach succumbed to gravity.

  Juliana reached for her but missed, losing her own balance, and struck her head on the door frame landing heavily on Sophia’s outstretched leg as they both tumbled to the floor.

  Juliana’s heart was banging loudly against her chest. The jolt she had received when her head struck the wooden door came sweeping over her in a paralyzing aftershock so that she lay motionless until a slight movement and a loud moan brought her to her senses.

  Aunt Sophia! She must be hurting Aunt Sophia!

  Benjamin, the coachman, appeared in the open doorway. “Oi, miss, be you all right!” His face creasing into dozens of worried lines, he reached in, his two thick, burly arms lifting her out and to the ground.

  Juliana closed her eyes for only a moment, the side of her head throbbing painfully, before she clutched at the coach door, calling “Aunt Sophia!”

  Her aunt’s face appeared suddenly from beneath a crimson pillow. “Here I am, dear,” she replied calmly, reaching out both hands. “Benjamin, I believe I need your help.”

  Juliana felt ridiculously weak. But using what little strength she possessed, she helped Benjamin ease her aunt from the precariously tilting coach, which groaned menacingly, shifting even deeper into the mud when they pulled Sophia to safety.

  To her great relief Sophia appeared unhurt, except for a long rip in the skirt of her dove gray traveling gown and
a ruined blue feather dropping over the bent rim of her once fashionable hat.

  “I am quite all right. There is no need for this fuss,” Sophia said before taking a deep, shaky breath. “However, I do believe I must sit down, for this was a bit more excitement than I bargained for.”

  “It warn’t really my fault, Miss Juliana,” Benjamin blubbered. “The pole must’ve snapped with all that jouncing.”

  “It’s all right, Benjamin,” Juliana soothed, anxious only to see her aunt comfortable. “Let us settle Aunt Sophia under that tree.”

  With Benjamin carefully taking most of Sophia’s weight against his broad shoulder, Juliana helped her slowly to the shade of an elm tree several yards from where young Ben, the postboy, held the still rearing and stomping horses.

  Lumbering back to the coach, Benjamin stroked an experienced palm over the sweating side of one of the chestnuts. Juliana knew he loved his horses and would have no trouble calming them. She was more concerned about caring for her aunt so far from help. Searching in vain through her reticule for a restorative, she frowned, angry with herself, and looked up at Sophia, but that good woman was calmly fanning herself with the ruins of her traveling hat.

  “Juliana, love, don’t look so distressed.”

  Slumping down beside her, Juliana untied the wide blue satin ribbons on her own crushed bonnet. “What a beginning for our journey!”

  Juliana leaned her head to one side in the hope of easing the painful throbbing at her temple, which was worsening, so that she spied Benjamin unharnessing the horses through a filmy haze. Nevertheless, she pushed herself to her feet, leaving her aunt resting on the cool grass. She made her way carefully, for the earth seemed to be slightly unsettled under her boots, to where he was tying one of the chestnuts to a sturdy looking sapling.

  “What can be done, Benjamin?” she asked softly.

  Carefully, he peered both ways down the muddy road. “Best for me to go for help, Miss Juliana. Axle done for.” He looked at her from under his thick, sandy eyebrows. “Be you all right? Young Ben will stand guard … Lad!” he bellowed and Ben ran forward, his face as red as the thatch of hair sticking out in a profusion of cowlicks all over his small head. “Be you on watch while I go for help.” He placed a heavy hand on his son’s slim shoulder. “Can you do it, lad?”

  “I ain’t afrait!” Young Ben lifted his chin, gazing solemnly at his father. “You go on, Pa. I’ll take care of Miss Juliana.”

  Although the throbbing at her temple caused her to feel light-headed and nausea sat heavily in her stomach, Juliana forced a smile, placing a caressing hand on ten-year-old Ben’s unruly curls. “Yes, you must go, Benjamin. We shall be fine here until you return.”

  Benjamin nodded, swinging himself upon the untethered chestnut, and cast a last stern look at his son before turning and galloping down the road.

  Ben looked up at her, his toothy grin causing her to feel a great rush of affection. “This be a great adventure, ain’t it, Miss Juliana?”

  She hugged his thin, wiry body to her side, then glanced to where Sophia sat fanning herself, and finally down into Ben’s excited face. The peacefulness of Wentworth Park seemed very far away and, at this moment, very, very dear indeed.

  The sun was just beginning to invade the small square of shade where they rested when a glistening curricle drawn by a pair of matched grays swept past them. Juliana lifted her hand, shading her eyes, to watch the driver bring the team to a neat halt, expertly turn them, and drive back to where they sat. Whoever he was, Juliana couldn’t help but admire his superb driving skill.

  Ben, however, was not lost in admiration. He leapt to his feet, taking a firm grip on the large stick with which he had been idly digging pictures in the mud.

  She rose to put her hands on his rigidly held shoulders. “You needn’t worry, Ben. These gentlemen appear quite harmless.”

  The gentlemen looked just as occupants of such a racy curricle ought. The shorter of the two walked toward them, his black Hessians gleaming, his bottlegreen jacket fitting his wide shoulders to perfection.

  Pausing beside his horses, the driver’s face was lost in the glare of the sun. “Here, lad, attend to the team!” he demanded.

  His voice held such a note of authority that Ben did not hesitate for a moment. He ran to do as he was bidden, the stick forgotten in the dirt.

  Juliana knew someone had to hold the horses, but the driver’s autocratic manner struck her as a bit arrogant. He has no right to order Ben! He may be rescuing us, but he needn’t be so overbearing. She took a sudden dislike to the faceless stranger and thrust up her chin. Making a point of ignoring the driver, she turned back to her aunt.

  The shorter gentleman with the wide, cheerful face and the light, fluffy brown curls had knelt beside Aunt Sophia.

  “May I be of service?” he asked, his hazel eyes round with concern. “I’m Lord Freddie Liscombe, and this is the Marquis of Aubrey,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at the driver, who finally relinquished the reins to Ben.

  Although she pretended to pay the Marquis of Aubrey no heed, she did steal a peek from beneath her lashes to watch him walk toward them, but all she could see were his Hessians, only slightly smudged from the muddy road.

  Finally she decided to acknowledge him. Tilting her head, she slowly looked up and her eyes widened. She had never been a great worshiper of male beauty, not even as a very young girl, but the marquis possessed a face so arresting that he could be called beautiful in a uniquely male way. She felt a confusing blend of fear and delight that so startled her, she literally ceased breathing for an instant. He was above medium height, his dark chocolate velvet jacket fit smoothly over broad shoulders, revealing hard, flowing muscles that rippled across his back when he bent over her aunt. His burnished head turned a dozen shades of gold in the sunlight, his long, firm mouth turned up at the corners, a dimple appeared in his chin, and his heavy cornflower blue eyes, spaciously set, looked straight into hers.

  Good God, she was staring at him! The throbbing at her temples increased so that she had to close her eyes for a moment against the bright sun as the terrible dizziness assailed her again. A pair of light, strong hands steadied her, but released her when her lids flew open and she stepped away.

  “Are you all right?” asked the Marquis of Aubrey, his wonderful face radiating sympathy.

  Juliana only nodded, confused by this show of concern after his autocratic commands only a moment before, attempting to recover her wits and find her tongue, which seemed to be tied. She stood like a ninny staring at the marquis.

  “I’m Mrs. Sophia Thatcher and this is my niece, Juliana. As you can see, we’ve suffered a mishap.”

  Juliana went limp with relief when Sophia’s voice broke the silence. Both gentlemen performed neat bows and, the spell broken, Juliana took a shuddering breath as the Marquis of Aubrey turned to their ruined carriage.

  Lord Liscombe shook his head. “By jove, it’s really done for!” he said with a grimace before joining in a swift inspection of the broken axle wheel and their once fashionable coach now resting deeply in the mire.

  Juliana’s head started to ache again, deep throbs pounding up the back of her neck. Feeling too weak to stand and face the marquis as she longed to—on equal territory—she sunk slowly to the ground.

  Her usually pleasant countenance creased in a small frown, Sophia reached out to touch Juliana’s hands. “Are you all right, love? You look pale.”

  “I’m quite well,” she murmured softly, disciplining herself not to show in any way that the pain throbbing in her head was nearly unbearable. “I only wish Benjamin would hurry.”

  Her words were caught by the marquis. “Your coachman has gone to the Blue Boar for help?”

  “If that is the nearest inn, yes, my lord, he has,” she answered with a firmness she just mustered, priding herself o
n how smoothly she rose to her feet.

  She lifted her chin, unaware that her three companions could plainly see the discomfort marring her flushed face. The marquis’s eyes remained fixed on her and her spine tingled when his gaze flickered over her, so she held her shoulders unnaturally straight, concentrating on the pain throbbing at her temples, willing it to go away. Instead the darkening world pitched and spun, and for the first time in her life she fell into a dead faint.

  Juliana felt warm and very secure. She attempted to open her eyes, but failed for her lids were too heavy. Rather desperately she fought the languishing stupor of her body, to concentrate on bringing herself into a more stable orbit. Her lashes lifted slowly and her world was filled with deep, rich chocolate velvet much like the jacket the marquis had been wearing. Tilting her head just the tiniest bit, her world expanded to include cornflower blue.

  “How beautiful your eyes are,” she heard herself whisper. His thick, silky lashes lazily flickered and his eyes seemed to expand and lighten, but she closed her lids against their brilliance, for the dark mist was again swirling at the edges of her consciousness. Tucking her cheek back onto that one certain spot felt so right, she sighed deeply and once more let the mist of darkness envelop her.

  Chapter 2

  Surprise stilled Dominic’s hand as he reached for the half-empty tankard of ale. Surprise at the depth of feeling he’d experienced carrying Juliana when he had held countless beautiful women in his arms and felt nothing. When she had opened her eyes, whispered to him, and then snuggled again trustingly into his arms, he had been shocked by the rush of tenderness he’d felt. Women usually were not so trusting around the Marquis of Aubrey. Arch, yes. Coy, definitely. Calculating. He had learned to deal with women who always seemed to want something from him. But this was different. This young woman had not expected anything, instead she had given her trust to a stranger.

  Dominic wondered at his reluctance to move away after laying her on the feather quilt in the bright chamber upstairs. Finally he had removed his arms and backed slowly until he reached the door, wanting her to open those luminous green eyes again—to be sure that the trusting innocence would still be there. But Mrs. Forbes, the innkeeper’s grandmother, had firmly shut the door on him. He’d walked down to the taproom, careful to stay within call should he be needed.