Nothing But a Rakehell (A Series of Unconventional Courtships Book 2)

by Deb Marlowe

  The maid must have run straight to her sister, for Hope came bustling in. “What’s this? A tray in your room? Did you injure yourself in that fall today?”

  Glory slumped further in her chair. “What? No. I’m just . . . a bit tired.”

  Her sister sat across from her and raised a skeptical brow. “Or perhaps you’ve heard that we have a new guest?”

  Glory scowled.

  Hope leaned in. “Are you hesitant to come down because of something you’ve heard? About Lord Keswick?”

  “No. Not at all.” She thought of what he’d said. A rakehell, he’d called himself. “Why? Is there something I should know?”

  “He has a bit of a reputation. Or, perhaps more than a bit of one.” Hope sighed and met Glory’s gaze straight on. “I want you to know, though, that the viscount is William’s friend. Despite what others say, William swears that he is harmless and promises that he will never do anything to cause the wrong sort of talk or to make you feel uncomfortable.”

  “Tell Tensford that I appreciate his thinking of me, but that’s not why I want to stay in my rooms this evening.”

  “Well, then?” Hope asked.

  Glory didn’t answer.

  “Fine,” Hope sighed again. “But you must meet him sometime.” She brightened suddenly. “I know. William is sure to wish to take his friend about the estate tomorrow. He’ll want to show off some of the improvements he’s working on. Why do we not ride out with them?” She grinned. “Then you can get to know the viscount in your natural element.”

  Glory straightened in her chair. “Yes.” It was the perfect idea. “That sounds pleasant.” She smiled at her sister. “I’ll go.”

  Hope breathed her relief. “Good. Rest tonight. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

  Glory waved her off. It was the perfect idea. She’d already met him out riding once—and it had gone tolerably well. If she could see him again, while mounted . . . she could make a good impression. Couldn’t she?

  She wouldn’t go to breakfast. All she would need to do was to contrive to be in the saddle before the rest of them. They could spend the day riding and Lord Keswick would see her at her best. Her heart pounded. Another day—and he wouldn’t know.

  Nothing would come of it, to be sure. She didn’t even want anything to come of it. He was a London fellow. A fixture in Society. A self-confessed rakehell. He would never be interested in a country girl like her. But for just a day, he might look at her, talk to her, and interact with her as if she were just like everyone else.

  She wished Hope was still here so she could kiss her. It was a brilliant idea—and perhaps she could even manage to keep it going. In sudden good spirits, she stood and went to ring for the maid again. A bath before dinner would be the just the thing. She could wash her hair and dry it before a fire as she ate.

  For the first time in a long time, she looked forward to tomorrow.

  Chapter 3

  Keswick entered the dining room to find Tensford and his wife there before him. He bid them a good morning and took a seat.

  “Good morning, my lord.” The countess smiled at him. “Coffee or tea?”

  “Tea, please,” he said gratefully.

  “I hope you slept well?” she asked as she poured.

  “I did.” Lamentably well. He’d woken more refreshed than he could remember. It had left him with a surfeit of energy and a fervent hope that Tensford could provide something to help dispel it.

  Looking around, he wondered if the sister would show herself at last. There was a mystery there, he would guess.

  She’d avoided the company last night, keeping to her room. Part of him had felt relieved. He could imagine her telling the story of their meeting with more than a little relish.

  Honestly, though, Tensford knew quite a few of the ugly truths of his life—and was still a steadfast friend. Being the butt of the joke would be nothing next to all of that—and he had to admit, he was curious to see the girl again. She was pretty, prickly—and different from any other young lady he’d ever met. She might prove a distraction, though he’d have to tread carefully.

  “Our cook has heard of your Irish connections, my lord,” Lady Tensford said with a smile. “Since she possesses a few of her own, she thought to plan a surprise for you this morning.”

  A footman placed a dish before him and drew the cover away with a flourish, revealing his breakfast.

  “Thank you,” he said reflexively. His stomach rumbled at the sight of the eggs, bacon, mushrooms and . . . “Colcannon!”

  He dug into the treat. It had been fried up in patties for breakfast and he bit into the crispy outside and closed his eyes against the familiar taste of creamy potatoes and leafy greens inside. “Mmm . . .Delicious. That does bring back memories. My mother and I used to have special dinners in the nursery—sausages and colcannon and fresh brown bread.” He smiled at the countess. “Please pass my compliments and my thanks to your cook.”

  “She’ll be thrilled to have pleased you, sir.”

  “Eat up, Kes,” Tensford ordered. “We have a lot of ground to cover. I have something to show you.”

  “Let me guess. Fossils? Sterne has already described his fossil hunts with you with great enthusiasm.”

  “Oh, we’ll get to the fossils later, when the rest of the guests arrive. This expedition is more with you in mind. You were always fascinated with pulleys and scaffolding and industrial bits—it will be right up your alley of interest.”

  His wife tilted her head. “Scaffolding, Lord Keswick?”

  He flushed. “Please, call me Kes. All of my friends do.”

  “Thank you, I will, if you will call me Hope, in return. But what did you find interesting in scaffolding, Kes?”

  “He found it useful, more than anything, my dear,” Tensford answered, his grin spreading wider. “He grew to be quite skilled at adjusting it for height and configuration—whatever was needed to get him to the window of the girl he was interested in at the time.”

  “Oh!” Her mouth twisted, though she tried to hide the grin. “How inventive of you, Kes.”

  “Yes, well. Needs must, my lady.”

  She laughed outright as she buttered a piece of toast.

  “I’m sinking a new coal pit,” the earl explained. “I thought you might want a look at it.”

  His interest perked. That did hold promise. “I would, in fact. I’ve always heard that much of my mother’s family’s money came from coal.”

  Tensford spoke about the new venture and he listened while he ate. After a few minutes the countess broke in.

  “My sister and I mean to join you as you ride out today. If you wouldn’t mind, that is.” The countess smiled. “Glory is an enthusiastic rider.”

  Now he was even more interested. “By all means.” He threw down his napkin.

  “I’m not sure why she hasn’t come down for breakfast yet. She’s usually an early riser.”

  A footman stepped forward from his spot near the door. “Beg pardon, my lady. Lady Glory set out for the stables some time ago.”

  “Well, then,” Keswick said with enthusiasm. “I thank you for breakfast, Hope. I’m ready to go whenever you two are.”

  * * *

  The girl wasn’t to be found at the stables, either.

  “Poppy was feeling her oats this morn, sir,” one of the grooms explained. “The young lady took her out to the long field to run some of it off her.”

  “Very good.” Tensford seemed satisfied. “We’ll stop for her there. It’s on the way, in any case.”

  Keswick swung up onto his job horse.

  “Apologies,” his friend said, flushing a bit. “For the lack of depth in our stables. It’s one of the things we just haven’t had the chance to address, just yet. But no worries for the house party. The local squire is a very good fellow and has agreed to stable a few of his fine steeds here for a couple of weeks. We’ll see you properly mounted then.”

  “This fellow suits me fine, despite our contre
temps yesterday. And there’s no need to apologize, especially for the knowledgeable grooms in your stables. The poultice your man used appears to have taken all of the sting from this fellow’s wound. I can’t even tell where he was afflicted, and it doesn’t seem to bother him a bit. We’ll get along fine, now.”

  They rode out on the same track he’d come in on yesterday. He held his breath a bit as they passed the spot where the bog lay hidden, but suffered only a quip from Tensford about him bringing the whole thing into the house yesterday. Apparently the girl had not mentioned their meeting. Certainly, he was in no hurry to revisit the story.

  They came through a wooded spot to a bridge that deposited them in a large, open area. He could see that the river bent into a wide curve. All of the long space between them and the curve was open field. At the very end of it, looking out over the water, he spotted a figure on horseback.

  The earl cupped his hands and called across the distance. The horse and rider turned and at once set out in their direction.

  It was her, surely. Who else? He stared as he saw her small figure bend low. The horse responded. They came flying toward them, and he held his breath, unable to look away.

  He’d never seen anyone ride like that. The pair of them streamed toward him, moving seamlessly, looking like one creature. Skirt and mane and ribbons and tail trailed as they flew over the earth. Gradually, she sat back and slowed her mount. As they drew closer, he could see her wide, happy grin.

  “That was . . .” he stopped, at a loss for further words.

  “I know,” the countess said smugly.

  “She’s a magnificent rider,” Tensford said with a grin.

  It seemed too small a word. “And with a side saddle,” he marveled. He watched as she approached.

  “Good morning,” she called.

  She had a marvelous seat. Her mare circled them, blowing slightly, moving with incredible responsiveness to the girl’s every movement.

  “Show off,” her sister said, laughing at her.

  “Keswick,” the earl said. “I beg leave to present to you, not a trick rider from Astley’s, if you will believe me, but my sister-in-law, Lady Glory Brightley.”

  She looked different today. Not as stiff, perhaps. Her hair curled enticingly from beneath a jaunty hat and she wore a stunning riding habit of a dark blue-green that complimented the rich auburn in her hair. He waited to see if she would confess to their first meeting, but she merely sparkled at him, waiting with raised eyebrows.

  He suppressed a grin and played along.

  “It is a pleasure, indeed, Lady Glory. May I offer you my compliments? That was quite a display the pair of you gave us.”

  “I’ll accept compliments for Poppy all day long, my lord.” She tossed a smile toward her sister. “And also for Hope, who was so wonderfully generous as to give her to me.”

  “I shall endeavor to come up with a full day’s worth, then.” Looking at the way her skin glowed against the black trim of her coat and her crisp, white linen, he thought he should have no difficulty finding compliments at all.

  She laughed. “Not a man to back down from a challenge, then? Excellent! Though I doubt you will have any difficulty, sir. I have it on good authority that you are possessed of a prodigious mental dictionary.”

  “Glory!” her sister admonished.

  “Oh, come now,” the girl protested. “It’s not as if I asked about his dangerous flirtations.”

  “Neither did I ask what next display Lady Glory planned for us,” he told the countess. “Although I was sorely tempted to suggest riding low and on the side while she collected brass rings. So, you see, we are both on our best behavior.”

  The minx looked intrigued, not insulted, but her sister threw a hand up. “I give up,” she declared. “One of you is as bad as the other.” She urged her mount closer to her husband’s. “I’ll ride on with William and leave you two to amuse each other as you follow.”

  “Yes, let’s be off,” Tensford said. He looked to Lady Glory. “We are going to show Keswick the pit!”

  Some of the brightness faded from her expression, but she nodded and urged her mare after the pair of them. Keswick settled his gelding in next to her.

  “What’s amiss? You don’t seem as enthused as Tensford does at the notion of visiting the coal pit.”

  “No one is as enthusiastic about the coal pit as Tensford,” she said wryly. “No, I must correct myself. Mr. Cutler, the new land steward, is also enamored of the project. He says it is a shame that Tensford’s father never pursued it. The estate might have been supporting itself for all of these years.”

  “Ah, but then Tensford might never have come to London last year, in search of a bride.” He watched his friend lean, laughing, toward his wife. “He might not have met your sister.”

  “And that would truly have been a shame,” she said softly. “The only thing they love more than plotting or planning some improvement to the estate, is each other.”

  “Good for them. It doesn’t happen often.” Or last long, in his experience. But if anyone deserved happiness, it was Tensford. He shook off the darker thoughts trying to barge in. “So, they are passionate about the estate and each other. You are clearly passionate about your lovely mare and . . . anything else, Lady Glory?”

  “No. Well, just riding in general, really.”

  “You are shockingly skilled at it. Is that what makes you love it so?”

  “No. Yes.” She shrugged. “It’s . . . all of it. Flying so fast with the wind in my face. Feeling the perfect three beats when you slide into a canter. A slow, lazy walk on a warm afternoon.” She reached down and patted her mare’s neck. “It’s the freedom, the companionship, the exploration.” Glancing askance at him, she asked, “What about you, my lord? You have a decent seat yourself, it seems, despite yesterday’s misadventures.”

  “That could have happened to anyone,” he protested.

  “True enough. So, why the job horse? You must be the first gentleman of any standing that has not wished to bend my ear, talking of his prime bloodstock.”

  He laughed.

  “Do you not care for horses, then?”

  “On the contrary. I love horses—which is why I do not keep my own.” She looked like she was going to question him further, so he gave a nod toward the couple ahead. “Grace and good nature—there’s a compliment for your sister. She seems to embody both.”

  “That’s an easy one,” she scoffed. “Everyone who is around Hope for more than a minute loves her.”

  “Everyone?”

  “Everyone,” she said firmly. “It’s impossible not to love her. She is wonderful in at least a thousand ways.”

  “Good,” he said with a smile. “Tensford deserves no less. And I look forward to getting to know her.” He pursed his lips. “The house party, though. How early have I arrived?”

  “More guests should begin to arrive at the end of the week.”

  She didn’t look enthusiastic about that either—not that he blamed her. “Tell me, I haven’t seen Tensford’s mother about. Is she no longer staying here?”

  “No. She and his aunt have a house on the other side of Brockweir.” It sounded like there was more to that story that she wasn’t telling.

  “Will she be attending the party, do you know?”

  “She’s invited.” She hesitated. “Whether or not she will attend has been a matter of debate and speculation, all across the estate.”

  “And does the dowager countess love your sister, as everyone else does?”

  “Not at first.” Her tone was dry. “But she quickly became reconciled to the situation.”

  “Ah, yes. I’ll wager it only took an accounting of your sister’s dowry.”

  She glanced at him. “I take it you are acquainted with the dowager?”

  “Oh, yes,” he said cheerfully. “She quite despises me.”

  She gave a startled laugh and then a look of commiseration. “She’s not so fond of me, either.”

>   “Well, all to the good then. I had a suspicion that we would get along. Now I know it to be true.” He looked ahead, where Tensford and his countess were pulling away. “Let’s catch them up, shall we?” He urged his horse into a trot. “I might enjoy being on the dowager’s bad side, but I wish to stay firmly in your sister’s good graces.”

  * * *

  Glory followed in the viscount’s wake as the trail they followed grew steeper and more narrow. She bit back a grin. It was working. He thought she was just like everyone else. They’d talked and even laughed and shared teasing bits of banter. She rather thought he might like her.

  She drank it in. Not an ounce of pity or concern for her fragility, or worse—outright dismissal. All afternoon she’d tasted not a hint of bitterness at being labeled less than everyone else.

  Oh, but why must Tensford take them up to the coal pit? Everyone would dismount and peer down into it and they would probably wish to go down and explore the depths of it.

  She sighed. She wasn’t ready yet, to see the change in the way Keswick looked at her.

  Tensford’s men had cut a circuitous roadway around to the crest of the hill. Poppy put her head down and climbed gamely, but Glory held her back, allowing the others to reach the summit ahead of them.

  Good. The others were already dismounted when they crested the hill. Hope was standing at the edge of the large excavation, talking to the foreman. Tensford and Keswick stood at the whim, while the earl explained how the horse-driven engine of pulleys and gears ran the buckets down into the pit and back up.

  Hope beckoned her over, but Glory kept Poppy to a slow walk. “I think she’s picked up a stone,” she called. “I’m going to check it out.”

  Her sister nodded. The men never turned away from their conversation. Perfect. Glory rode to the far end of the hilltop, where a copse of trees provided some shade and a bit of cover. Carefully watching to be sure the viscount was occupied, she used a downed elm to help her dismount and made a show of examining Poppy’s hooves.