Too Hot For A Rake

by Pearl Wolf

  Helena lay back down and tried not to move a muscle, to lessen the pain.

  “Find something simple in my wardrobe, such as a loose shirt and a large waistcoat. No neck cloth, if you please. Comfortable buckskin trousers and soft boots, as well.”

  “But mastah…”

  “No argument, my man. I’m determined to walk about a bit.”

  A large tear ran down Rabu’s brown face.

  “What is it?” Waverley asked in surprise.

  “How have I failed you, mastah? You are still sick and…”

  The marquis laughed at Rabu’s touching concern. “All right, you tyrant. You may accompany me to make sure I don’t die.”

  “Thanks to your special posset, my headache is cured, Cook. Any progress in new hires?” Helena said.

  “I sent Amy and Casper to the mop fair yesterday to find good people willin’ to work here. If anyone can, Amy will be able to convince ’em the wages are fair and the work is respectable and the Traskers are no longer in charge.”

  “Good. We need more willing workers. I want to set Waverley to rights before I return to London.”

  Cook bit her lip and cast her eyes down. “I been meanin’ to tell you…”

  “What is it?”

  “They had nowhere to go and they’re old, it be a pity to put ’em out to starve.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Brindle’s our tanner, though there be no work for him nowadays. He keeps a leather shop below stairs. Lives there, too.”

  “In the cellar?”

  “No ma’am. It be too drafty for him. There’s a small staircase at the end of the storage hall. His shop is below. Then there’s old Bridey, former nurse to the dowager. She sneaks down from the attic to see her lady from time to time. She lives next to Willa, milady’s seamstress. She can hardly see to sew a proper stitch, but she can mend. I give her torn sheets and aprons to repair and she does fine with ’em.”

  Cook examined her hands before looking directly into Helena’s eyes. “That’s the lot, my lady. It’s either here or the poorhouse. I didn’t have the heart to send ’em there.”

  “Who pays them their wages? They’re not listed in my account books.”

  “No, my lady, they’re not. I pays ’em from me own wages and feeds ’em. The Traskers don’t know ’bout ’em, else they’d be long gone like all the others.”

  “Who else knows about them?”

  “Only me and me nieces.”

  “We’ll keep them on, of course. You’re kind to share your wages, but that will no longer be necessary. Keep an account of what you have already paid them and I will see you are repaid. Perhaps Willa can mend some of my things. Does the marchioness enjoy Bridey’s company?”

  “Oh yes, milady. The dowager misses her when she doesn’t visit.”

  “Arrange for Bridey to visit, then. I will deal with the Traskers if it becomes necessary. But for the time being, continue to keep their presence a secret.” Helena rose, signaling the end of the interview. “Come. Show me the way to the tanner’s workshop.”

  Helena entered a tiny shop richly smelling of leather and glue. The tanner Brindle had gnarled fingers and a timeworn face reminding her of an elf. “Good morning, sir. I am Lady Helena.”

  “Hear tell.” He kept on gluing the sole of a well-worn boot.

  “Whose boots are these, sir?”

  “Eh, miss?” The stooped old man in the leather apron turned to her with a puzzled look.

  “Whose boots are these?” she shouted, for Cook hadn’t told her the ancient tanner was almost completely deaf.

  “The old marquis wore ’em fer huntin’ I recollec’. ’Tis a wonder they’s still here, what with things disappearin’ from my shop. Trasker’s been sellin’ all me bootster line his pockets. Right fine these boots were in the master’s day. Copied ’em from Weston’s in Lunnon,” he said. “I kep ’em fine, too. Wi’ my special leather polish.”

  “Would you mind if I borrowed them?”

  “No, milady. You’ll find no sorrow in ’em.”

  Helena shouted the question again.

  “Hep yerself, miss. Fixin’ to walk a bit?”

  She smiled. “Yes. I thought I’d explore the cliffs by the sea.”

  “Eh? It’s stiff ye be? No wonder, with all that jigglin’ and jogglin’ on them nasty roads from Lunnon. Them’s good boots fer walkin’, miss. Stuff ’em wi’ socks and they’ll fit ye right and tight. Hep yerself to one o’ the master’s walkin’ sticks, too.” He hesitated. “Mayhap…?”

  “What is it?”

  “I’ve hid away some bits o’ leather. Good stock, too. I’ll make ye a pair o’ sturdy walkin’ boots, if you like, milady. Be m’ pleasure. Jus’ sit a moment and let me draw both yer’ feet, if’n it ain’t too much bother.”

  His kindness nearly brought Helena to tears. She touched his grizzled cheek. “Thank you, Brindle. You’re a good soul.” The man blushed from ear to ear.

  When Brindle finished outlining her bare feet on paper, Helena took the boots—three sizes too large—and stuffed them with socks before she trudged toward the cliffs. She couldn’t wait to tell Waverley about Brindle. He might even remember him.

  She felt a rush of pleasure when she reached the cliffs. The sounds of the sea crashing against the rocks and the heady smell of the salt air intoxicated her. She untied her hair and let the strong gusts of wind ruffle it. She’d brought her diary with her. It helped to record what was troubling her heart. She crawled into a small cave that would protect her from the salt spray, the rain beginning to fall and the fierce winds. It made her feel free for the moment. Free of those irritating Traskers. Free of the problems their surly servants continued to cause. Free of the difficulty of restoring a neglected castle in need of repair.

  Two marriage proposals. Well, perhaps only one, since the earl’s was too ridiculous to be taken seriously. She pulled out her journal and began to write on a clean page.

  I can’t tell Waverley about Glynhaven’s proposal. What an insult to me. Weak as Waverley is, he’d challenge him to a duel. Men! Seems they only know how to settle arguments with violence. It was all my fault. I should have had enough sense to ask Waverley if he wanted to attend Glynhaven’s disastrous ball. We might never have gone if it weren’t for me.

  Waverley’s asked for my hand. Wonderful. Glynhaven is cruel. Is he vindictive enough to make sure my father hears of Madame Z and her ABCs? Amelié, Babette and Collete, indeed! Father might not allow me to marry my rake if he hears of Waverley’s outrageous past. Do I want to marry my rake? Yes, of course, for I love him. And when I become the Marchioness of Waverley Park, I’ll pleasure my marquis with much more enthusiasm than his wretched ABCs.

  Helena put her pen down and lay back in the cave, suddenly weary. She closed her eyes and thought of Waverley. His touch. His kisses. His hands. His thighs. Oh yes, especially the feel of his powerful thighs. Is it a sin to lust after the man you love? Livy thinks passion is a joy with Sebastian.

  She curled up inside her cloak, breathed in the heady salt of the sea, and fell asleep to the sound of gulls and terns squawking their dissonant tunes.

  The rain turned back into a drizzle, allowing Waverley to continue prowling along the coast. He’d sent the terrified Rabu home and climbed carefully down to the pathway below, his thoughts on Helena. In a more innocent time when he might have courted a beautiful lass like Helena without the burden of a disreputable past.

  Waverley stopped short at the sight of a pair of well-worn boots poking out of a cave. He inched toward the opening, his back against the rough stone. The boots did not move. Was the man dead or asleep? He removed the knife sheathed in his right boot, took a deep breath when he was close enough, and shouted, “Wake up if you want to live. Throw your weapons out and crawl out. Slowly, mind. Hands in the air.” The boots disappeared inside the cave.

  “If you play hide-and-seek, I’ll cut your throat first and find out who you are later.”


  Helena was terrified. The roar of the ocean distorted the man’s voice, rendering it impossible for her to recognize. That ominous voice might belong to Harry Trasker or worse yet, Glynhaven. She looked around for something she might use as a weapon and grasped a jagged rock.

  “Out!”

  “D-don’t harm me, sir. I’m coming.”

  Was it the voice of a young lad, he wondered? If it was, the boy had large feet. Waverley cupped his mouth and shouted against the wind. “I’ll count to five. One. Two. Thr…”

  Helena scrambled to her knees, turned and crawled out backward.

  Waverley found himself eying the woman he loved. It took him a moment to recover from the shock. “Helena? What are you doing here?” He began to laugh.

  “Are you laughing at me? Why?”

  “If you could see yourself as I do…Where did you get those boots? Your clothes are filthy. How did you ever…?” The look of fear on her face stopped him. “Did I frighten you, love?”

  “I…I thought I was about to be murdered by…I thought you were someone else.” Tears streaked her face. “I’m glad it’s only you, Desmond.” She rose as if to put her arms around him.

  “Stay where you are, Helena dearest. If we fall off the cliff into the sea, we’ll die. I’ll come inside.” He inched the few steps along the wall to the cave’s small opening. “By the size of those boots, I thought you were a man. I might indeed have murdered you!”

  She laughed like a schoolgirl. “But you didn’t, did you?” Now. Do it now. Seduce him.

  Her lips found his, but he stopped her. “Explain yourself, Helena. What are you doing here?” He tried to look stern, yet his grin gave him away.

  Helena’s words tumbled out in a rush. “What do you think of my boots? They’re a tad too large, but I like them. I was taking a walk when the rain began. I found refuge in this cave, you see, and…”

  Waverley couldn’t control himself any longer. He burst into a shout of laughter.

  “You’re laughing at me again!” Helena tossed her head in irritation. “I find no humor in this situation. You might have murdered me.” Helena tried to scurry out of his reach.

  “And where do you think you’re going, my girl?” He grabbed her rump with both hands, pulled her back and held her fast, still shaking with laughter. “If you could see yourself, my love, you would laugh with me. Your face is smudged. Your cloak is torn. Your hair is flying every which way and the hem of your gown is decorated with mud.” He pulled her closer and whispered in her ear. “Yet you smell like verbena and…” His lips closed on hers. And you’re driving me mad.

  He slid his tongue into her mouth, tasting, craving, wanting. She stirred beneath him and moaned little moans that engorged him. He spread her muddied cloak wide and tugged at the strings of her bodice, freeing her breasts. He kissed first one breast and then the other. Abruptly, he stopped. He sat up and held his head in his hands.

  “What’s wrong? Why have you stopped? Are you in pain from your wound?”

  “There’s no pain from my wound. Only from wanting you.” He glared at her. “Why the devil can’t you support me in my resolve to remain a gentleman?” he asked savagely.

  “Hang your resolve if we love one another.”

  “I won’t do it. Can’t you understand that I want you for my wife, not my mistress? I’d be much obliged if you didn’t put temptation in my way, you beautiful, irresistible temptress!”

  He hurt her. “I beg pardon, my lord marquis, for foolishly allowing my desire to overcome my good sense. Perhaps we don’t suit after all, my lord. You needn’t worry. I can’t accept a marriage proposal that comes from mere gratitude, not love.” A gusty wind swept the rain into the cave and soaked them both, though it did nothing to dampen her anger.

  “Helena, please! Listen to me. I won’t ruin you because I love you, don’t you see? The risk of getting you with child is too great.” He stopped, lifted his head and listened.

  Loud shouts reached their ears. They seemed to come from above.

  “Milady? Where are you? Can you hear me?”

  “That’s Amy.” Helena began to rearrange her clothing.

  Waverley frowned. “I’d best be gone, then.”

  “She’ll see you leaving.”

  “No she won’t. I know these cliffs better than the back of my hand.” He grabbed his cloak, kissed her hard and disappeared.

  Helena climbed out of the cave and shouted, “I’m down here, Amy. Stay where you are. I’m coming up.”

  “There you are, my lady! You gave me such a fright, me heart near stopped. Why didn’t you tell me you had a mind to wander these dangerous cliffs? I would have come with you to keep you safe.” Amy held her hand on her heart as if to emphasize the point. “I was afraid somethin’ fierce might have happened to you.

  “Thank the Lord that Casper has such good eyesight. He spotted your cape sticking out of this here cave. Else we never would’ve found you. You’re soaked to the skin and it’s gettin’ powerful dark. How would you have made your way back?”

  “I must have fallen asleep.” Helena let Amy pull her up from the final step to the path. “Thank you both for coming to my rescue. Foolish of me not to have told you, but you were nowhere about.”

  Amy exchanged a significant glance with Casper. “We told you we was goin’ into town.”

  “Indeed you did, but it slipped my mind. Did you have a nice day?”

  Casper offered Helena his arm. “Here, let me help you, my lady. We have some news that will be to your likin’.”

  “But first, we’ll get you safely back. I’ll wager you haven’t had a morsel to eat since breakfast. Well? Have you?”

  Helena laughed. “You’re right, Amy. I’m wet and I’m fair to starving. Thank you for fussing over me.”

  “Someone has to, ’cause you don’t take care of yerself. First thing is to get you out of those wet clothes.”

  Harry shook his mother gently. “She’s been found, Ma. By Amy and Casper. Ma? Wake up. Lady Helena’s back.”

  “Hmph. What? Why’d you wake me? So she’s been found. What do ye want me to do?” Jennie Trasker rubbed the sleep from her bleary eyes, but she couldn’t rub away the effects of the gin.

  “You said to tell you…you said you wanted to put on a show. You know, be kind so she won’t suspect.”

  “Plenty of time, Harry, me boy. Plenty of time.” The housekeeper reached for the near-empty bottle of gin. “Go away boy, and let yer ma finish her nap.”

  After Amy helped her mistress bathe and change into dry clothing, she said, “Casper’s waitin’ in the kitchen, milady. We’ve somethin’ to tell you.”

  Helena checked her grin, for Amy’s fidgets gave her away. “Lead the way, my dear. I can’t wait to hear your news.” Once in the kitchen, she sipped the hot chocolate Cook had made for her and said, “All right. What have you to tell me?”

  “We found lots more people lookin’ for work at the mop fair today,” Amy began. “They’re willin’ to work for you, my lady. They’ll come round in the mornin’ to meet you.”

  Casper tore his eyes away from Amy and added, “They’re good folk, milady.” He put his arm around Amy, and for once, she did nothing to remove it.

  Helena’s and Cook’s eyes met. Here was a new twist. By the look of things, Casper knew he was in love. Had Amy discovered her true feelings yet?

  “Good work, both of you. I’ll deal with Mrs. Trasker to make sure the new hires begin their work as soon as possible without any interference from her.”

  Chapter 18

  That Night…

  Waverley pleaded his case in the drawing room before dinner. “Don’t be angry with me, my darling. I love you and I want you for my wife, but I won’t bed you and ruin all chance for real happiness. If you become with child before we wed, think of the scandal. Haven’t you had enough of that?”

  “You hurt me today.”

  “Yes. I saw it in your eyes. I didn’t mean to do it. Forgive me my clumsin
ess. Might we begin again? My new mantle doesn’t sit easy, my darling—I have far too many irresponsible years to make up for. Can you not put your hurt aside and help me to learn to be respectable? I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m asking you to let go of your anger and give me another chance to prove my love.”

  His words tore her in two, but she said nothing.

  “Well, my sweet Helena?” He took her in his arms and held her head to his shoulder. When she did not object, he chided, “Is that a yes?”

  Her giggles cleared the air. “You are a rake. Incorrigible as well.”

  He laughed, for her tone signaled forgiveness. “Shall we dine?”

  The dowager joined them in the dining room, which gave Helena an opportunity to tell them the tale of Cook’s wily ways in keeping any knowledge of Brindle, Willa, and Bridey from Mrs. Trasker.

  “I remember Brindle. When I was a boy, he often scolded me whenever I scuffed my boots. I’ll be sure to visit him now that I know he’s still with us.” Waverley grinned at the fond recollection.

  “Beware,” Helena warned. “He complained to me that Harry is stealing his leather. No doubt he’ll ask you to buy him some more.”

  “He can order as much as he likes, the old curmudgeon. I’m just glad to know he’s still alive.”

  “My dear Bridey will no longer have to sneak in to see me, will she? Perhaps we can dismiss Nurse Hubley now,” said the dowager hopefully, for she chafed at the woman’s way of ordering her about.

  “I shan’t dismiss Nurse Hubley, Grandmother. She’s brought you back to health.”

  “She’s a tyrant, nevertheless,” grumbled the dowager.

  “You’ll have Bridey for comfort, but Nurse Hubley stays.”

  “If that’s the best you can do,” she said sourly. In truth, she despised the regimen recommended by Dr. Fenwick and slavishly enforced by Nurse Hubley. “You aren’t forced to endure that vile-tasting medicine Fenwick prescribes.”

  “The medicine he prescribed has healed you, Grandmother. And the exercises the doctor recommended have helped you to walk again. You are much stronger as a result. Don’t complain so, dearest. It’s for your own good.”