Letter From a Rake

by Sasha Cottman

  Taking a deep breath and painting on a relaxed smile, he walked through the door of the winter ballroom. By the time he made it into the summer ballroom, he had managed to turn the stilted walk into a casual stroll. One would have had to look closely at him to know that he had been at death’s door only a matter of hours ago.

  Once inside the summer ballroom, he crossed the floor, making a beeline for the row of chairs along the wall. There he could sit in comfort while he watched Lucy and the dance master as they worked their way around the ballroom floor, finely tuning her already excellent skills. She was an accomplished dancer, but in the heavily fought battle to secure a good husband, Lucy was leaving nothing to chance. With her first season the prior year considered a failure, he knew she was determined to shine brightly from the very first ball after Easter.

  A movement to his left caught his eye. He turned and stopped dead in his tracks. There in the middle of the ballroom was the curvaceous and utterly luscious Miss Millie Ashton, eyes closed, swaying in time with the music. Even though she had her back to him, he felt an instant response to her presence. He licked his lips and swallowed deeply.

  What is it that you do to me?

  He stood transfixed for a moment, watching her hips as they moved. She was the most sensual creature he had ever seen. Totally uninhibited and lost in the music, she was so unlike any other girl he had ever met. She danced purely for the joy of it.

  She laughed and he felt his heart take flight and soar. Is this love? Whatever it was, he had never felt such a strong attraction to another human being in his life. If she were a siren come to lure him to his fate, then he stood ready to throw himself overboard at her command.

  A hundred mothers with their doe-eyed daughters in tow found a way to fortuitously cross his path every week. And it was the same surprised squeal of delight that they gave every time. How wonderful it was to make his acquaintance, and how much they looked forward to meeting him at whatever social gathering they intended to waylay him at, thus allowing him to see how delightful Prudence or Primrose was. He was always polite when he met the mothers, leaving it for those private moments at the end of the dance to gently crush any hopes the daughters may have.

  Compared to the other girls who were constantly thrown in his path, Millie was a true revelation, a balm for his jaded soul. As the music continued, a strong desire to reach out and touch her nearly overwhelmed him. His breath came in short gasps as he watched her body swaying to and fro. He craved nothing more than to be able to walk up to her, place his arms around her waist and sway along with the music, just holding her.

  When she opened her eyes and turned towards him, the unbridled happiness he felt told him this girl affected him on much more than just a sexual level. The sense of her essence went all the way to his heart. He smiled and gave her a small wave in greeting.

  Her eyes locked upon his face and as they focused, her smile disappeared and she let out a horrified squeal. Her cheeks turned bright red and her dancing came to a sudden halt. Alex felt his heart sink; he had frightened the beautiful wild bird and her colourful display was over.

  ‘Oh, how embarrassing,’ she whispered. ‘I had no idea you were standing there. You must think me a complete fool.’

  He strode across the floor and as he reached her, he stopped and gave her a bow. She might not dance like that again in public for fear of ridicule, but one day he would ask her to show him all her rich plumage, a private display just for him.

  ‘Good morning, Miss Ashton,’ he said. ‘I loved the way you danced; you are naturally at one with the music.’

  She smiled and Alex found himself smiling right back at her. They stood smiling at one another, just as they had done in the park. For a man who prided himself on his suave demeanour it was utterly pathetic – and he could have done it all day.

  ‘It is nearly three o’clock,’ Millie replied, as the red on her cheeks subsided. ‘You look as if you have just got out of bed, Lord Brooke.’

  ‘Alex,’ he replied. ‘Just Alex.’

  He could see she was examining him closely and knew that the circles under his eyes would give him away. ‘You look like my brother Charles after he has been out to an all-night Diwali party,’ she replied. Her smile turned a little sly. ‘You have not injured your back again, have you, Your Lordship?’

  Alex shook his head and wondered if she would ever let him forget the little white lie he had told.

  If she knows my back is fine, I dread to think what she made of my performance the other night. No wonder she was still angry with me.

  ‘You would not be mocking me, now, would you Miss Ashton?’ he chided her gently. ‘I can honestly tell you I look a thousand times better than I did several hours ago, but yes, I am sorry to say the rings under my eyes and my late arrival are both due to an over-indulgence in all manner of spirits. One would think that at nearly three and twenty I would know the point at which to stop imbibing, but unfortunately I am yet to develop that quantum of good sense.’

  Millie laughed and then quickly covered her mouth with her hand. ‘I am so sorry, I should not laugh at you when you are in such a delicate state. I know my brother Charles would consider it extremely poor form on my part.’ She looked at him sheepishly, and he was powerless to do anything but laugh. ‘I was just enjoying the magnificent ceiling you have in this room. I hope my dancing did not frighten you. I do tend to let myself get carried away with the music at times.’

  Alex sighed. ‘Fat babies,’ he replied.

  ‘Pardon?’

  He looked up towards the ornate ceiling. ‘I was going to have it whitewashed at one point when I was younger,’ he continued.

  She still had a confused look so, raising his hand, he pointed to one of the richly painted scenes, hoping she would understand him.

  ‘Up there – the fat gold babies and the angels and all the scrolling work. I used to think it was an absolute disaster. I swore that when I eventually took over this place I would have the lot painted over.’ He waved a hand about as if holding an invisible paintbrush. ‘I even considered putting in a false ceiling. To me it was just an unholy mess of colour and silly animals with more gilt than you could poke a stick at; I couldn’t abide the sight of it.’

  ‘Cherubs,’ she corrected him. ‘They are not fat babies, but magnificently painted angels and cherubs. This ceiling is absolutely stunning. I love it. Though I can’t see much scrolling work, unless you are referring to the witty clues as to which fable is which.’

  Alex looked more closely at the ceiling and squinted. The squiggles and scrolls remained as they had always been to him. Indecipherable.

  Damn, I forgot they were letters, not decorations. Now, what was the fable about the cat and the woman? I used to know all of them by heart.

  He silently cursed the long-dead Greek storyteller.

  ‘Yes, but if you look closely you will see that some of them are armed with bows and arrows. So they are not as innocent as they would have you believe. Look at that one over there,’ he said, pointing to a cherub that appeared to be biting a unicorn. He raised his eyebrows, confident that he had proved his point.

  He hoped she had not noticed his sleight of hand in changing the subject.

  ‘My brother David and I used to spend hours in here finding all the wicked ones and believe me, there are quite a few of them. It was only when I got older and began to appreciate the whole magnificent tableau that I knew my family would never allow me to put a brush to anything in this room.’

  ‘Philistine,’ Millie muttered.

  ‘Former philistine, thank you, Miss Ashton,’ he replied with a grin. He motioned towards the chairs. ‘Shall we sit and talk, while we watch Lucy dance to perfection?’

  She gave him a nod and, taking hold of his arm, allowed him to escort her across the floor, where they took chairs side by side. He had been out of bed for less than an hour, but Alex was grateful to be able to sit and rest his head against the wall. They sat for a few minutes, silently
enjoying one another’s company while Lucy and Mr Roberts waltzed and laughed their way around the dance floor.

  ‘He is very good with her,’ Millie observed.

  ‘Yes, I think it part of his contract that all the young women he teaches fall in love with him,’ Alex replied, his gaze fixed on the dance instructor.

  ‘You don’t seem to mind, though,’ she replied.

  He shook his head.

  ‘Because I know him to be the most happily married man I have ever met, apart from my own father, of course. His wife used to be a dancer with a French troupe, and believe me, there would be few women able to hold a candle to her.’

  He glanced at Millie and gave her an easy smile. With her there was nothing staged or forced, he could relax and be himself. He shifted in his seat. Whether it was as a consequence of his hangover he couldn’t be certain, but Alex was relieved to discover that his body had decided to cooperate. There would be no embarrassing repetition of their previous meetings. He tapped his foot on the polished wooden floor, confident in the knowledge that if he put his mind to it, he could take matters with Millie: quickly from budding friendship to possibly something more.

  ‘Are you going to take lessons with Mr Roberts? He is the best dance instructor in London,’ he said, before instantly regretting his remark. He winced. ‘How rude of me to cast judgement on your dancing abilities, when I was the one who refused to dance with you at the ball. By the way, I am still deeply sorry for the other night; every time I think of it, I cannot believe I did that to you. You were well within your rights to abandon me on the dance floor.’

  She laughed.

  ‘My waltz is about the same as your tact, Lord Brooke: terrible. So yes, I shall be speaking to Mr Roberts about taking some lessons with him.’ She gave him a more serious look before placing her hand briefly on his jacket sleeve.

  ‘Thank you for your second apology, but it is not necessary; I think I made you suffer enough in the park. Though I must admit to missing having fresh flowers delivered each morning. I shall have to ensure you insult me again soon, so you can buy me some more.’

  He closed his eyes, grateful that she did not bear him a grudge. He could name a long list of other young ladies who would not speak to him again if he had done the same to them. And therein lay the difference with Millie: she was the master of her own mind. She had decided to overcome her anger and forgive him for his stupid transgression. It did not escape his notice, either, that in her long, chestnut-brown hair she wore the blue ribbon he had so carefully chosen for one of his floral apologies. He smiled when he thought of her wearing a gift he had sent.

  They sat quietly for a few more minutes, during which Alex boldly reached over and took Millie by the hand. He knew he had crossed the line of social politeness, but with the way she made him feel, he was prepared to take the risk. Millie looked down at his hand as it covered hers, but made no comment. Alex took comfort in the fact that she did not attempt to pull her hand away.

  ‘I could help with your lessons,’ he offered. ‘If you take lessons here with Lucy, then I can come over and partner you when Mr Roberts dances with my sister. Would you consider that acceptable?’

  The responding smile that lit up her face gave him hope. When a bashful glow appeared on her cheeks, it took all of his strength not to reach over and touch her face.

  ‘I would have thought a gentleman such as yourself would have far better things to do with his time than to indulge my desire to learn to waltz,’ she replied.

  ‘It would help ease my conscience,’ he replied, knowing it was only a small part of his reason for wanting to spend time with Millie.

  She nodded her head. ‘That would be lovely, thank you, Lord Brooke.’

  ‘Alex,’ he found himself replying. ‘You must call me Alex; only servants and shopkeepers call me Lord Brooke. My friends, and I hope to number you among them, call me Alex.’

  Friends – who was he fooling? There was no one else in his wide group of friends whom he wanted to kiss, only her. Those plump, rosy lips were made for kissing, and once the thought had entered into his mind, Alex found himself thinking of little else. She might be his sister’s new friend, but he was beginning to find it increasingly difficult to see her in such a disinterested light. Just sitting next to her stirred him.

  ‘All right, Alex,’ the object of his desire replied. ‘We are of similar age, so I don’t expect my parents would object if I used your Christian name when we are not in a wider social setting.’

  Alex felt his breath catch and he let out an involuntary groan.

  ‘Alex, are you all right?’ Millie asked, clearly concerned. ‘Head or stomach? I find it is usually one of those two that brings Charles to his knees.’

  Alex scowled, before remembering he had mentioned his hangover. He theatrically rubbed his temple; his suffering of the morning was suddenly worthwhile.

  ‘Head,’ he lied. ‘I thought my head was coming good, but it is beginning to pound once more.’

  He curled his toes up inside his boots, as he stifled a laugh about which head was actually throbbing. David would no doubt have filled a whole afternoon laughing over that witty double entendre if he had been aware of Alex’s current predicament.

  ‘Is your brother in the same condition as you? I have not seen him here today, so I am assuming he is not possessed of as strong a constitution as you,’ she said.

  He slowly shook his head as anger replaced lust. ‘I am not aware of the state of my brother’s health this morning. We did not come home together last night. I heard his door close in the early hours, so he must have made it back in one piece,’ he ground out.

  Millie fell silent beside him and Alex sensed she was waiting for him to tell her more.

  ‘If you must know, Miss Ashton, my brother and I are not on speaking terms at present,’ he continued. ‘We had a falling out last night and I left him at a club with some friends, while I went elsewhere.’

  ‘Oh, I am sorry to hear that, I hope it’s not too serious and that you will be friends again soon,’ she replied.

  Alex picked at a piece of fluff stuck on his jacket. It would be impossible to explain to her the reason for his current estrangement from David. Everyone in the ton believed that nothing would ever come between the two older Radley brothers and that for them to have a serious falling out would be simply impossible.

  How very wrong they were.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ he replied without thinking, while his mind was occupied in designing horrid and bloody ways to kill his brother and successfully hide his body.

  ‘So when do you want to start?’ she asked.

  ‘Pardon?’

  Millie shifted in her chair and turned to face him. He had not been paying attention and it seemed she knew it.

  ‘Miss Ashton, I am not myself today and my manners appear to have stayed in bed, so once again I must apologise for my behaviour,’ he said.

  ‘Millie,’ she replied with a smile. ‘Actually I think you have done remarkably well to come here and sit through Lucy’s lesson. Charles would have pinned a note of apology to my door and taken to his bed for a week. For someone who prides himself on being an excellent pugilist, he can be a bit wet.’

  Alex stifled a laugh. ‘One must not speak ill of the self-inflicted near-dead, Millie,’ he teased. He saw her eyes light up when he said her name, and the temptation to place a kiss on her lips nearly overcame him.

  You are so beautiful; you are going to break more than one heart this season.

  The season. Oh no.

  It may be months away, but when the season hit its peak, London would be full of eligible young men and women. If he didn’t begin a concerted campaign to claim her soon, he would be caught up in the crush of other bachelors vying for her attention and that simply would not do. This intriguing girl from the other side of the world was going to be his; the longer he sat next to her, the more he became convinced of it. A girl like Millie Ashton only came along once in a man’s
lifetime. He would be a fool not to seize his chance and make her his bride.

  You are woolgathering again, Brooke; speak to her before she notices.

  ‘Next Wednesday, we shall rehearse while Lucy has her lesson. That, coupled with the lessons your mother arranges with Mr Roberts, should have you the mistress of the waltz in no time,’ he said.

  ‘Good. I look forward to it, though I think Mr Roberts will still ask for some form of payment, since we are utilising the services of his pianist,’ she replied.

  ‘Leave the light-footed Mr Roberts to me, Millie; I shall make sure he earns double his usual fee. We should aim to have you ready for your first public waltz at my cousin the Earl of Shale’s ball on the first Monday in April. It is usually the Easter event, but they are having it early this year as Rosemary, his countess, is with child.’

  He reached out and took hold of her hand once more. ‘Enough about dancing and men with sore heads, what about you, Millie Ashton? I want to hear about your life in India, it must be so very different from here.’

  They spent the next ten minutes talking about India and Millie’s childhood. He questioned her at length about the long sea voyage to England, and how she must find the cold of London a sharp contrast to the heat of the subcontinent.

  ‘Apart from the shock of realising just how cold snow really is, I think I have learnt to adapt to it rather well. It’s the things I could not bring with me that I miss. I left all my friends behind, and my horse. Then there are the silly things I didn’t realise I would miss, like the colour of the Hooghly River and the smelly, noisy spice markets.’

  ‘London smells, if you had not noticed,’ Alex replied, trying to make her smile.

  Millie nodded her head. ‘Yes, it does: damp and musty, most of the time. Mother keeps promising me that it will be better in the summertime, but I somehow doubt that London will suddenly transform into an oasis of colour and sensual delight just because the sun finally manages to break through the clouds. With any luck I shall only have to endure one winter in England before I go home.’