When Only a Rake Will Do

by Jennifer McNare

  “It took a bit of doing, but yes, as a matter of fact I was,” Mr. Watson replied with a nod and a small, self-satisfied smile.

  “And?”

  “The debts were paid by Edward Duntton, the Earl of Blackburn.”

  “Blackburn,” he uttered in surprise, recalling Daphne’s words the night of Ashleigh’s dinner party. “I have agreed to marry a man I despise, a man old enough to be my grandfather.” Good lord, it all was all beginning to make sense now, for there could only be one reason the earl would have purchased Thomas’ markers, the miserable bastard wanted Daphne and he’d used Thomas’ debt to force her into accepting his proposal. Christ, no wonder she was so opposed to the match, he thought in disgust, cursing Blackburn’s detestable soul.

  “Thank you, Mr. Watson,” he said then, struggling to control his mounting anger as he turned his attention back to the investigator. “Your efforts are much appreciated, as always.”

  “I’m glad I could be of service,” the older man responded graciously. “Is there anything else you might require of me at this time?”

  “Yes,” Brendon said after a moment, “as a matter of fact I believe there is.” And over the course of the next several minutes, he outlined exactly what that was.

  *****

  “Like this?” Charlotte asked, holding up her small embroidery hoop for Daphne’s inspection.

  Examining the stitches her sister had just completed, Daphne nodded approvingly. “Yes, that’s perfect. You’re doing a beautiful job.”

  Charlotte beamed at the compliment and then promptly returned the hoop to her lap to begin the next set of stitches on the handkerchief she was embroidering for her art instructor, Miss Felton’s upcoming birthday.

  “Excuse me, my lady.”

  Daphne looked up to see Ned, one of their young footmen, standing in the door of the salon. “Yes, Ned?”

  “Forgive me for interrupting,” he said, glancing toward Charlotte, “but Lord Huxley is requesting your presence in his study.”

  Daphne tensed, for whenever Thomas summoned her to his study it was rarely to discuss something pleasant. “Is he alone?”

  “No, my lady. The Earl of Blackburn is with him.”

  “I see,” she replied. “Thank you, Ned. I’ll be along momentarily.”

  She turned to Charlotte then, smiling reassuringly as she set her own embroidery hoop aside. “Keep working on the flower, dearest, I’ll return shortly.”

  Rising to her feet, she left the salon and headed in the direction of her brother’s study. Having returned from Newmarket just three days earlier, she’d been existing in a state of suspended bliss, relishing the lingering afterglow of her time with Brendon. But now, as she made her way down the hall, she feared that her temporary escape from reality had finally come to an end.

  Approaching the closed door of the study just a few minutes later, Daphne felt her stomach muscles tighten in apprehension. Knocking softly, she waited until Thomas called out for her to enter and then turned the handle and stepped inside.

  Both Thomas and the earl rose to their feet as she entered the room. “Good afternoon, my lord,” she said to the earl, before turning her gaze to Thomas. “You wished to see me?”

  Thomas nodded. “Close the door and take a seat, Daphne,” he directed, motioning toward the leather sofa.

  She glanced briefly toward the earl, a sense of impending doom gripping her as she noted his rather smug expression. Silently she moved to the sofa and sat down while Thomas resumed his seat behind the desk. The earl then joined her on the sofa, taking the seat next to her.

  “As I just informed your brother, I have decided that it is time our engagement was officially announced,” Blackburn stated, eyeing Daphne with a self-satisfied smile.

  She felt her stomach drop. “I see.”

  “The banns will be posted in next week’s paper and the wedding held in two months’ time.”

  “Two months?” Daphne repeated in surprise. “My lord, I’m not sure that I-”

  “My cousin, Ophelia, Lady Saxton will be arriving from Bristol later this week to help you with the wedding plans,” he interrupted. “As she has seen three daughters successfully wed, I have every confidence that the two of you can have all of the necessary arrangements made within the time allotted,” he continued, his unyielding tone brooking no argument.

  As such, Daphne could do naught but agree. “Yes, well then, I’m sure that we can manage.”

  “In addition, and in lieu of the imminent announcement of our engagement, you and I shall be making at least two public appearances together in the days ahead. To start with, we shall be attending the opera together tomorrow night and the theater on Monday evening. If you have made any prior engagements, I suggest you send your regrets.”

  “As you wish, my lord.”

  “Excellent. It’s settled then.” Rising to his feet, Blackburn extended his hand to her.

  Taking it, Daphne stood up, silently praying that her legs didn’t give way beneath her.

  “I’ll be by to collect you tomorrow night at eight o’clock sharp.” Raising her hand, he lifted it to his mouth, placing a moist kiss upon the backs of her fingers. “Until then, my dear.”

  Her stomach roiled. “Until then.”

  Releasing her hand, he turned to Thomas. “Good day, Huxley,” he said with a brief nod.

  Thomas immediately rose to his feet.

  “No need to see me out,” Blackburn stated. “I shall see myself to the door.”

  Daphne stood motionless as the earl exited the room, listening as the sound of his heels tapping against the marble floor grew ever fainter as he made his way to the front door. When she could hear them no more, she turned to her brother. He regarded her in silence, his expression devoid of emotion. It hardly mattered, she supposed, for truth be told there was nothing left to say. “If you’ll excuse me, Charlotte is awaiting my return.”

  “Is everything alright?” Charlotte asked when Daphne reentered the salon a few minutes later.

  “Yes, dearest, everything’s fine,” she said as she resumed her seat and took up her embroidery hoop once again. Sadly she knew that she would soon have to tell her sister about her upcoming marriage to the earl, but now wasn’t the time. Besides, she still needed to decide what to do about Charlotte once she was officially wed. Would her sister remain with Thomas after she married Blackburn or would Charlotte come to live with her and the earl? Would the earl even allow it? Then again, she wasn’t entirely certain that she wanted Charlotte residing under the same roof as Blackburn. Regardless, it was something that she needed to figure out, and sooner rather than later.

  “I finished the first rose while you were gone,” Charlotte said proudly, holding the linen handkerchief aloft for Daphne to see.

  “It’s lovely.”

  “Shall I begin working on the second one now?”

  Daphne nodded. “At this rate you shall have the entire bouquet finished in no time.”

  Charlotte grinned as she returned the linen square to her lap and then promptly began working on the outline of the second rose.

  With her sister’s attention diverted, Daphne leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, silently willing herself the strength she needed to let go of the past, accept the future and all that it entailed.

  Chapter 16

  Less than a week had passed since his initial meeting with Mr. Watson when Brendon exited his coach and strolled through the front lobby of White’s Gentlemen’s Club at half past two o’clock on Friday afternoon. Having ascertained Blackburn’s daily routine from Mr. Watson, in addition to the principal information he’d requested he was fairly certain that he would find the earl within, for according to the investigator the man was a creature of habit.

  Moments later his assumption proved correct as he spotted Blackburn in one of the club’s front rooms. He was alone, seated in a leather wingback chair on the far side of the room, reading a copy of the London Gazette.

  “H
ello, Blackburn,” he said, dropping casually into the empty chair next to him.

  The earl looked up from his paper, regarding Brendon in surprise. “Leighton,” he replied with a nod.

  Brendon settled back into his chair, eyeing the earl in silence.

  “Is there something I can do for you?” Blackburn asked after a moment, lowering the newspaper into his lap.

  Brendon smiled. “As a matter of fact there is.” Reaching into his jacket, he withdrew a narrow slip of paper, then leaning forward he set it onto the small table that sat between their two chairs.

  Blackburn eyed it curiously. “What’s this?”

  “It’s a bank draft for one-hundred-thousand pounds, ninety-thousand to cover Thomas Hewitt’s debt and another ten to encompass any additional expenses you may have incurred.”

  The earl’s disbelieving gaze snapped up to meet Brendon’s. “Who told you I covered his debt?” he demanded. “Huxley?”

  “No. It wasn’t Thomas.”

  Blackburn frowned. “Then who?”

  Brendon relaxed back into his chair once again. “Actually it was the private investigator I hired.”

  “Private investigator?” Blackburn replied, clearly taken aback. “What’s this all about Leighton?” he asked, regarding Brendon indignantly.

  “It’s about a debt, one that Huxley owes you and that I intend to repay.” Brendon’s tone was matter of fact.

  “I wasn’t aware the two of you were friends,” Blackburn stated, his eyes narrowing as he eyed Brendon contemplatively.

  “We’re not.”

  “Then why would you wish to repay his debt?”

  “I have my reasons.”

  Blackburn hesitated, studying Brendon’s face for a moment before replying. “Huxley’s debt isn’t for sale.” Reaching out, he placed his index finger atop the bank draft, sliding it slowly back across the table toward Brendon.

  Brendon’s gaze remained on Blackburn’s face. “I suggest you reconsider.”

  “And why would I do that?” he asked, his expression darkening perceptively.

  “Because if you don’t,” Brendon avowed with a small, menacing smile, “I’ll make certain that you regret it.”

  “I beg your pardon,” Blackburn said, his spine stiffening, his expression one of outraged disbelief.

  “I believe you heard me correctly.”

  The earl cocked his head, regarding Brendon with a look that went from assessing to accusatory as understanding slowly dawned. “This is about the girl, isn’t it? You want her for yourself.”

  “What I want is none of your concern.”

  It was Blackburn who relaxed then, settling back into his chair with a smug expression. “How delightfully ironic,” he smirked, “with all of the women falling at your feet, you’ve fallen for the one you can’t have.”

  “Did I fail to mention that the investigator I hired did a bit of checking into the recent fire that destroyed your cotton mill in Sheffield, the one that caused serious injury to eight of your employees?”

  Blackburn said nothing, though his expression was no longer smug.

  “I wonder what people would think if they knew that the fire had been set intentionally? That rather than spending the exorbitant amount of money it would have taken to modernize the antiquated operation, you decided to burn it down instead, using the insurance money to build a brand new, state of the art facility.”

  “That fire was an accident,” Blackburn asserted in an icy tone. “If you doubt it then you are more than welcome to view the official reports for yourself.”

  “The official reports you paid for with a series of exorbitant bribes?”

  “I don’t have to sit here and listen to this nonsense,” Blackburn stated, making to rise from his chair.

  Brendon quirked his brow, his tone deliberately nonchalant. “I can’t help but wonder what would happen if the investigation was to be reopened, what secrets might ultimately be revealed?”

  The earl hesitated. “You can’t prove a thing,” he said after a moment.

  “Considering the lengthy jail sentences that accompany both arson and insurance fraud, I think you might be putting a bit too much confidence in the allegiance of those men you paid to falsify those reports. Of course, even if they weren’t somehow convinced to give you up, a renewed investigation would most-certainly impede your pending insurance settlement, setting you back months, if not years while the local officials attempt to sort it all out,” he continued. “Consequently, I can only imagine the strain that would put on your existing finances, especially considering your recent expansion efforts in Durham. The way I see it, you lose either way.”

  *****

  Preparing for her night out with the Earl of Blackburn, Daphne had donned an evening gown of dove grey satin, the relatively uninspiring color an apt reflection of her present mood.

  “Shall I fetch your wrap, my lady?” Sarah asked, as Daphne cast one last glance in the tall cheval mirror.

  “Please,” Daphne replied with a nod. Waiting as Sarah retrieved the matching satin wrap from the wardrobe, she studied her reflection. With her hair coiled into a rather severe looking twist at the back of her head and her face completely devoid of cosmetics, she looked a bit pale and drawn, but that too was just another indication of her current disposition, she supposed.

  “Here you are,” Sarah said then, handing her the wrap.

  “Thank you, Sarah.”

  “Enjoy the opera, my lady.”

  Draping the length of satin over her arm she managed a weak smile for Sarah, then lifted her gloves and reticule from the nearby table as she made her way from the room.

  “Good evening, my lady,” Hughes greeted her with a smile as she stepped onto the foyer’s marble-tiled floor. “His lordship has arrived and is presently awaiting you in the front parlor.”

  “Thank you, Hughes,” Daphne replied, somewhat surprised by the markedly good-humored expression playing upon the aged butler’s face, for Hughes was hardly an admirer of Lord Blackburn. Well, at least someone was in good spirits she mused as she turned and walked toward the closed parlor doors.

  Affixing an artificial smile upon her face she pulled them open a moment later, then stopped short at the sight that greeted her, for it clearly wasn’t the Earl of Blackburn who waited within, but someone else entirely who stood looking out the front window.

  Hearing the sound of the doors quietly opening, Brendon turned from the window, his lips curving into a small smile as he met Daphne’s surprised gaze.

  Stepping further into the room, Daphne regarded Brendon in confusion. “My lord,” she uttered, cognizant of the open doors behind her, “What are you… er… this is a surprise.” Her wide-eyed gaze traveled the length of him, noting his sophisticated evening attire. “That is, I wasn’t expecting you,” she continued awkwardly.

  “I’m afraid the Earl of Blackburn won’t be escorting you to the opera this evening, or to any other event for that matter,” Brendon replied softly as he stepped away from the window and advanced toward her.

  “I don’t understand,” Daphne said, shaking her head in bewilderment as she tried to make sense of the situation.

  Moving past her, Brendon walked to the parlor doors and gently pulled them closed before returning to Daphne’s side. “Will you sit with me?” he asked, motioning toward the upholstered settee that sat against the rear wall.

  Daphne could only nod as she followed him to the small sofa and then sat down upon the tufted cushion, setting her wrap, gloves and reticule onto her lap.

  “I met with Blackburn earlier today,” Brendon said as he settled onto the seat beside Daphne. “I settled Thomas’ debt.”

  Daphne gaped at him in astonishment. “You…but…why would you do that?” she asked quietly, once she was able to find her voice.

  Reaching out Brendon took one of her hands, clasping it within his own as he met her riveted gaze. “Because I am head over heels in love with you, Daphne. And fool that I am, I s
hould have said it weeks ago,” he uttered softly. “I only hope that you can forgive me, because I want you to be my wife more than anything in this world.”

  Daphne’s mouth fell open, but words escaped her as she gazed into Brendon’s brilliant blue eyes. He was in love with her? No, surely she must be dreaming for Brendon’s words couldn’t possibly be true, could they? Good heavens, was it possible that her most fervent wish had been granted? But even as the questions flitted through her befuddled brain, Brendon moved from the sofa, dropping onto one knee before her. She blinked, feeling tears welling in the corners of her eyes.

  Withdrawing the diamond engagement ring he’d purchased earlier that morning from his jacket pocket, he held it aloft. “Daphne, I love you. Will you marry me?”

  It was her very own fairytale unfolding right before her eyes and for a second she was simply too overwhelmed to speak, her awestruck gaze shifting back and forth between the ring and Brendon’s face. But then recovering her wits in the very next instant, she flung herself into Brendon’s arms, nearly knocking him over as she dropped to her knees before him, her forgotten gloves, reticule and wrap spilling from her lap and onto the floor. “Oh, Brendon, I love you too,” she cried, wrapping her arms around his neck as she buried her face against the side of his throat, tears of joy flowing unheeded down her cheeks. “And yes, of course I’ll marry you,” she uttered blissfully.

  “Would you mind if we didn’t have a terribly long engagement,” Brendon asked a few minutes later as he slipped the ring onto Daphne’s finger, “for I can hardly wait to make you mine,” he continued in a husky whisper.

  Daphne grinned, her heart near to bursting with happiness as she lifted her hand, brushing her fingertips along the line of Brendon’s jaw. “You must have read my mind, for I was just about to ask you the very same thing.”

  Epilogue