A Good Rake is Hard to Find

by Manda Collins

  Freddy wanted to turn to see who the other man was, but all he could do was slow down a bit in the hopes that the two men would pass them. Unfortunately he and Leonora reached the table before the others passed them.

  Before she sat down, Leonora glanced over at Lord Colburn ruefully. “I might have handled that better,” she admitted in a low voice that only Frederick could hear. “I cannot stand it when men dismiss Hermione out of hand because of her sex. I hope I haven’t destroyed a possible alliance there.”

  “I doubt it,” Freddy said, thinking about the other conversation he’d overheard. “That fellow is known for being disagreeable. I sincerely doubt he would have unbent enough to give you any help. Even were you to pair it with a bag of diamonds.”

  Taking her seat, Leonora nodded. “That’s good to know. I shall try to avoid him if at all possible,”

  “I’m afraid that won’t be quite as easy as you think,” Freddy said apologetically as he took his seat beside her. “He’s one of my cousin’s most valued men. After Payne, of course.”

  “Whatever are the two of you discussing in such a heated manner?” Lady Melisande asked at Leonora’s other side. “I begin to understand why the two of you are betrothed. You spend every possible second together, don’t you?”

  Then the conversation turned to weddings and there was no more time for private discussion.

  * * *

  “I very much enjoy your poetry, Miss Craven,” said the rather plain lady who had been introduced as Lady Rutledge as she and Leonora walked from the dining room to the drawing room after dinner.

  Leonora had been rather surprised to learn that Sir Gerard and Lady Melisande followed the custom of having the ladies leave the gentlemen to their port, given that their adherence to other social niceties—having betrothed couples not sleep in adjoining rooms, for instance—was not all that strict.

  Even so, she was somewhat relieved to be spending the next quarter hour without feeling like the most scantily dressed lady in the room. There was nothing in the least objectionable about her gown—it was a simply cut lavender, in keeping with her mourning for Jonathan, and was no more revealing than any of the other gowns in the room. Indeed, there were a few ladies whom Leonora suspected must be desperately in need of a shawl given the nakedness of their bosoms and shoulders.

  Lady Rutledge, on the other hand, had chosen to err on the side of caution. The neckline of her watered silk was almost so far up her neck as to be counted as a cravat, and her sleeves were long, despite the fact that spring was in the air.

  “Thank you so much, Lady Rutledge,” she said with genuine gratitude. Even if the other woman was offering her meaningless compliments to pass the time, it was better than the suggestive chatter Leonora could hear between a few of the other ladies. And infinitely more pleasant than enduring yet another cold interrogation from Lady Melisande.

  “I spend a great deal of time reading to my mother-in-law, the dowager Marchioness of Rutledge,” Lady Rutledge continued, her hand nervously picking at her skirt. “She has declared your writing is easily as good as Mr. Wordsworth’s. Or, and this is as fine a compliment as she can give, even that of Keats.”

  The comparisons to other poets—male ones especially—was something Leonora still hadn’t quite gotten used to. It was odd to imagine that her work, which felt so unique to her own thoughts and feelings while she was in the midst of writing it, was anything like any other poet’s. But that was the nature of reading and being read. The human mind was constantly looking for ways to make connections between disparate things. Poets, poems, novels, even people.

  “Is your mother-in-law an invalid, Lady Rutledge?” Leonora asked, curious. She wondered if it were the dowager who had chosen the younger marchioness’s attire. “What an admirable thing for you to spend time reading to her.”

  The other lady blushed. “She is, Miss Craven. She suffered an apoplexy last year and my Thomas was nearly beside himself over it. He insisted upon moving her from the dower house into the estate where he could personally oversee her care.”

  That was unusual for a gentleman, Leonora knew. But sometimes sons were like that with their mothers. “I feel sure that you had some role in her removal, as well,” she told the other woman. “Though it sounds as if both you and your husband are fond of her.”

  “We are,” said Lady Rutledge with a shy smile. “I lost my own mother when I was a girl, so Tommy’s mother has taken me under her wing.”

  Wistfully, Leonora thought of her own mother who had died when she was still but a girl. Unbidden, her thoughts went to the Duchess of Pemberton and her easy ways. If this betrothal between Frederick and her were real, would the duchess do the same with her as the marchioness had done with Lady Rutledge? It was a tempting idea, though a dangerous one, Leonora knew. The less she relied upon Frederick and the ways in which making their betrothal real would affect her, the better.

  “How nice,” she replied to the other woman, glancing once again at where Lady Rutledge’s sleeves reached her wrists.

  “I see you have noticed my odd attire,” the other lady said ruefully. When Leonora would have demurred, she laughed. “Do not worry. I am not offended. If I were a stranger seeing myself for the first time, I’d be curious, too.”

  Taking a seat on the settee near the fire, she indicated that she would like Leonora to join her. Unable to resist her curiosity, Leonora did just that.

  “I cannot deny that I did wonder,” she said carefully. “I thought perhaps you were simply cold natured?”

  “That would certainly be easier,” the marchioness said with a smile. “But, alas, it’s nothing so simple. You see, I was in a fire when I was but a girl. It’s how I lost my parents, if you must know. And my skin is quite ugly because of it.”

  “Oh dear!” Leonora gasped. What a terrible thing to happen to someone so young. That she managed to get about in society at all was impressive, then. “I am terribly sorry to hear it. You must be quite strong.”

  “Hardly,” Lady Rutledge said with a laugh. “But my Tommy is a very social man, and I cannot bear to make him spend all of his evenings indoors with me. Especially when I am suffering with one of my headaches. He is also mad about driving, so when he was invited to join the Lords of Anarchy, I insisted that he accept. He enjoyed the camaraderie of the other members, and I rub along well enough with the other wives.” She lowered her voice, and continued, “Though there are a few of the ladies I would just as soon not interact with.”

  It was impossible not to like such an unaffected, plain-speaking lady. And Leonora found herself warming to the other woman. She would appreciate having Lady Rutledge as a friend, if, that is, she were able to keep up with any such relationships once she and Frederick found Jonathan’s killer.

  “I cannot blame you,” she replied in a low voice that matched that of Lady Rutledge. “I believe in any group there will always be a few members you’d rather avoid if given the choice. I haven’t met many in this one, but they are certainly there.”

  “I hope you don’t mind my asking, Miss Craven,” the other woman said with a timid smile, “but are you perhaps here because you wish to learn more about your brother?”

  It was said in a normal enough voice, but Leonora found herself glancing around at the other women in the room—who, fortunately, seemed not to have heard her companion’s question.

  “If I said yes, would you take that information to Lady Melisande?” Leonora asked candidly. “Because if you do, I will deny it.”

  “My dear, what a delightful story,” Lady Rutledge said in a loud voice. Then in a lower one, she continued, “I have no wish to unmask you to Lady Melisande, Sir Gerard, or any other club member. I was quite fond of your brother on the few occasions I met him. And I would be very willing to assist you in discovering whatever you’d like to know.”

  Automatically, Leonora’s gaze went to Lady Darleigh, who was engrossed in conversation with Lady Melisande on the other side of the drawing room. She
wondered if Lady Melisande had any notion of just how many of her so-called friends were willing to help Leonora. She rather doubted it.

  “I thank you, my lady,” she said to the other woman in a low voice. “I am in need of any help I can get. You know, perhaps, that my brother’s death was not what it seemed. At least that is the conclusion my betrothed and I have come to.”

  “It is logical,” Lady Rutledge replied with a shrug. “My husband is convinced of it, as well.”

  “What?” Leonora felt her heart beating faster. If another club member was suspicious about Jonathan’s accident, then perhaps he knew something about it that would help them. “You must tell me everything.”

  But Lady Rutledge shook her head. “I’ve got nothing to tell, my dear. I am sorry to have gotten your hopes up. It’s just that Tommy and I have discussed the way your brother’s accident happened. And we both thought it strange that it should occur so soon after his quarrel with Sir Gerard.”

  “You are not alone in that,” Leonora said quietly. Lady Rutledge took Leonora’s hand and squeezed it. “Jonathan Craven is one of the kindest gentlemen I’ve ever known. His loss was a blow to all of us who counted him as a friend.”

  “Thank you, my lady,” Leonora said with a warm smile. She was grateful that she’d decided to break off their conversation then, because the gentlemen chose that moment to file into the drawing room.

  “There’s my Tommy,” said Lady Rutledge as a handsome dark-haired man strode into the room on Frederick’s heels.

  “He’s quite handsome,” Leonora said with a smile for the way the man’s face lit up on spotting his wife. Whatever had happened to Lady Rutledge in childhood, it was obvious that her marriage was a love match. She wondered for a moment what it must be like to be the object of such affection. From the way the other woman was beaming, it must feel quite nice.

  “My dear,” Frederick said, bowing over her hand, “I see you’ve made a friend.”

  “Indeed,” said Leonora, introducing Lady Rutledge. “I was on the verge of offering her the secret recipe for my headache relieving tisane. We can make it up ourselves, Lady Rutledge, if the kitchen gardens have what we’ll need.”

  “I am quite sure they do, Miss Craven,” the other lady replied with a smile. “Lady Melisande is known in this circle as a bit of a healer when it comes to herbs. She maintains an extensive herb garden for just such occasions.”

  “Does she?” Frederick asked, his gaze sharpening. “I did not know that about my cousin’s wife. But of course it makes a great deal of sense. He must get all sorts of injuries as a result of driving and whatnot.”

  “I should say so,” Tommy, the Marquess of Rutledge, said with a guffaw. “Sir Gerard is quite the whip, but when you drive as fast as he does on roads that are not quite up to snuff, there will be accidents, don’t you know?”

  Just then, their host ventured into the center of the room and clapped his hands to get their attention.

  “Ladies and gentlemen!” he called, turning in a full circle so that he could catch the eye of every guest. “It is time for a bit of fun, now that supper and the after-dinner drinks are ended.”

  Eighteen

  “I’m not sure I expected Sir Gerard’s ‘bit of fun’ to turn out to be hide-and-seek,” Leonora said as she clung to Freddy’s hand on their way up the stairs. He knew his cousin’s tastes ran to the childish, but he rather suspected that tonight’s game was conceived solely for the purposes of allowing some of the guests to spend an hour or so in seclusion with the person of their choosing. Be it their own spouse or someone else’s.

  It was most decidedly not an appropriate game for a young unmarried lady like Leonora. But since Aunt Hortense had spent the entirety of their visit so far in her so-called sickbed, there was no one to call it to their host’s attention.

  “You would be surprised at what my cousin finds amusing,” he said aloud to Leonora as they left the drawing room in an exodus with the other couples while Lord Payne—the unlucky fellow to be the counter—stayed behind and loudly began to count. “This is a man who still enjoys snap dragon at Christmas, you know.”

  “I love a good game of hide-and-seek,” Lord Darleigh said with a grin as he pulled his wife into an empty sitting room, then shut the door firmly behind them.

  “I suppose this puts a damper on the idea of questioning club members,” Leonora said wryly, her voice low as they continued on toward the upper floors. “It’s just as well, as I believe they are beginning to be suspicious of us. Perhaps tomorrow we will have better luck, during the archery tournament.”

  Freddy laughed softly, causing the candle he was using to light their way to dance. “I think it might be best not to question people while they are aiming a dangerous weapon, my dear.”

  “Ha-ha,” Leonora said sarcastically. “If so, then why are we here at all? Your cousin clearly has no intention of telling us anything. He wishes you to be a part of his silly little club and will spend the rest of his days evading questions about what really happened to my brother. I may as well have my maid pack my bags and take my leave tomorrow.”

  Turning, he saw that she was looking more defeated than he’d seen in a long while. They’d reached one of the upper floors, but one he suspected was used for housing guests who weren’t all that welcome. Testing one of the doors, a quick look inside revealed that it was a small bedchamber overlooking the barn. Pulling Leonora behind him, he entered the room and shut the door.

  “What is this place? As hiding places go, I suppose it’s all right. Your cousin is unlikely to come this far in search of us.”

  “I have a feeling that there will be no searching, Leonora,” he said, kneeling to light the fire that had been laid in the hearth. “It’s the way these parties go. Every opportunity is given for couples to be alone, all under the guise of respectable party games.”

  Leonora turned from where she’d been running her hand over the counterpane. “What? Why bother pretending if the games are all supposed to devolve into an orgy of sorts?”

  “It’s hardly an orgy,” Freddy said, brushing his hands on his breeches before standing to look at her. In the firelight he could see the hollows of her cheeks and her eyes looked enormous. “That would involve much more public displays and there is no way in hell I would ever consider taking you to one of those. This, on the other hand, is only on the fringes of respectability and won’t damage your reputation too much. Else the other guests would risk their own reputations for a moment. And for their own reasons they’d rather not.”

  She tilted her head to the side, revealing the soft skin between her neck and shoulders. Freddy felt himself harden as he considered the possibilities of their being closeted in this little room.

  “Have you ever been to an orgy?” she asked softly, walking slowly toward him. “I must admit, the idea of being in the same room with other couples while they are … touching each other holds a certain excitement.”

  She was close enough now for him to touch, and softly, he slid his hands up her sides until he grasped her by the waist. Then he stepped closer and her arms went round his waist. “It can be exciting.” He exhaled as he leaned his head down and kissed her oh so softly. “To watch,” he said, as he took her lower lip between his teeth and tugged a little. “Do you want to watch, Leonora?” he whispered as he leaned in closer and kissed her fully. When she offered a little gasp, he slid his tongue between her lips and stroked against her softness.

  “Maybe,” she whispered, pulling back only enough to give herself a breath before opening her mouth more fully and letting him stroke inside again. Once, twice, he played against her tongue with his own, almost drunk with the heat, the sweetness of her. Her hands against his chest opened and closed restlessly as his own stroked up her sides and over the swell of her breasts. It took only the work of a moment to slip the sleeve down over her shoulder, exposing the soft curve of her breast.

  The light was low, but it was enough. “Gorgeous,” he whispered, s
liding the back of his knuckles over the pebbled peak while his mouth grew more desperate against hers.

  As if by agreement, they moved backward toward the bed, and soon they were reclining, Leonora’s demands becoming more restless as she pressed herself against his fully clothed body. “Easy, sweeting,” he soothed even as his hands stroked over her naked breasts, his fingers drawing the taut skin to points that must have been as painful as they were pleasurable.

  “Freddy,” she murmured as he kissed down her neck and made his way to where his fingers were teasing her. Finally, he took her in his mouth and suckled. An action that soon had both of them breathless.

  “Want to feel you, too,” Leonora said restlessly as she arched into him. “Take your shirt off.”

  Even as he pulled against her breast, Freddy felt her hands at his neck, unwinding his cravat. When that was off, he paused to shrug out of his jacket and waistcoat. Finally he was pulling the lawn of his shirt from where it was tucked into his breeches and pulling it off over his head.

  Her hands were there immediately, sliding over the contours of his chest and waist, and when Leonora pulled him down against her so that her breasts were naked against his chest, he hissed.

  “Lovely.” She sighed against his mouth even as he slipped an arm down to grasp the hem of her skirt in his hand and bring it up, exposing her stockinged legs.

  For a moment he held back and just looked his fill at her, stretched out on the bed like a feast for the taking. “Beautiful.” He leaned forward to kiss her navel.

  He had thought she might be shy, but when he felt her fingers clutching his shoulders, he realized his mistake. She might be untutored in this, but she was definitely not shy.

  To his surprise, her lip quivered as if she were about to cry. “I mean it,” he said more harshly. “You’re beautiful.” He took her hand and placed it over the front of his breeches. “Do you feel how much I want you? This isn’t for show, Leonora. It’s real. I want you, and this is the proof of it.”