Harlequin Historical July 2021--Box Set 2 of 2

by Madeline Martin

  ‘That should sell papers. True love...’ He crossed his eyes for a half-beat on the word ‘love’, then his voice faded to a breathy drama. ‘Blighted by a noble sacrifice. A damsel saving her intended, as she martyrs herself for her sweeting.’

  ‘More or less.’ Then she strolled to her hackney, her heart pounding in her chest. The maid gave a low whistle of approval.

  ‘Don’t forget my trinket,’ he called out.

  ‘My maid will deliver it when I see the newsprint.’

  * * *

  Rachael waited inside the front door. Her maid had taken a sealed letter to Devlin’s house and delivered it directly to him.

  Her house was dark except for the lamps Rachael used for light to read.

  Three taps. Pause. Four taps. Pause. Then five taps.

  She half held her breath when she opened the door. The lamplight reflected off his smile. He was little more than shadows, but she could fill in each facet as if he stood in sunlight.

  Her heart thudded. He reminded her of an oasis, something to dream about in the wee hours of the night and every memory of him to be recalled before she slept. She added this sight to her images of him.

  Internally, she shook herself. She could not be on that path. She’d not even fully escaped the last disastrous attachment.

  ‘I can’t believe you went to the newspaper office,’ he said.

  ‘I was being practical.’ She raised her chin, even though she could hardly believe she had done it either. ‘And I’m not always good with conversing in crowds, but I gathered my courage and found someone who might speak for me.’

  ‘I told three of my friends the truth of the matter regarding the first story.’ He clasped her hand. ‘They were sworn to secrecy. Lord Bart was there, a fourth—I neglected to get a promise from him. It wasn’t an accident. He’s most likely to tell tales.’

  His eyes dropped to her hand in his, as if he’d only just realised he was holding it, but he continued speaking. ‘I told them I didn’t know the true details of the scars, but I did remind them that I had summoned the physician. And that I had been involved when the accident occurred. My mother feels partially responsible and hopes to launch you in society. And that is true. She does.’

  He lifted their clasped hands, and briefly brushed his knuckles against her cheek. A shaft of feelings moved through her body to her feet, immobilising her.

  Heartbeats passed before she could speak again. ‘That is kind of her to do so.’

  ‘It is nothing but the truth. Mother has a weakness for broken betrothals. My parents were having a spirited conversation one evening and it appeared that my father had been attached to another woman and neglected to tell Mother that he had a second sweetheart when he asked Mother to wed. Old news, but still fresh enough in Mother’s mind to bring out the protective spirit. She suggested that you get invited to more events in town. She thinks it was her idea and I never argue with her. Between her and my father, we are acquainted with most of London. Do not be surprised if she calls on you tomorrow.’

  ‘Your mother is a dear woman and you inherited her caring.’

  He examined her, his devil-may-care appeal rising to the surface. ‘You might be a natural at this charm if you practise it a little more. It works on me. And with that said, if I might offer a suggestion...’ He squeezed her hand.

  ‘As you have offered several in the past, no harm in one more.’

  ‘Walk head high. Act as if you were born in every room you are in. Carry yourself as a princess. Pick a woman who you admire and pretend you are her,’ he said. ‘No one can observe inside you to your doubts. No one can peer beyond the façade you present. When you forget and make a faux pas...’ He shrugged. ‘Do as she would do. Let it flutter into nothingness. Don’t dwell on it. It never happened. Just imagine how someone you admire would act.’

  ‘The Duchess of Pendleton. She is perfection itself.’

  ‘The Duchess?’ He seemed startled by her remark.

  ‘Yes. My mother and I have seen her when she is out and about. She carries herself so well.’

  She touched her hair. ‘I understand what you mean, but that is not so simple. I’m not confident travelling in such esteemed circles. They’ve all been friends since the cradle and I barely know them. I’m lost when they all talk about an event that I know nothing of and I feel adrift. It has to be obvious.’

  ‘My mother’s maid can create the illusion of sophistication for you.’

  Her eyes widened.

  ‘Yes,’ he whispered. ‘The maid knows a few tricks with smudging things. I’ve seen it.’

  ‘Smudging?’

  ‘Yes. Around the eyes. Mother will be moping around like she has lost her best friend, then she’ll get ready for an event and you would never guess how morose she had been only hours earlier.’

  ‘You aren’t serious?’

  ‘It’s not that you need any artifice to be beautiful. But you wish to glide into society with the most prominent people in town and you want to stand out, not only as if you were invited, but as if it is a birthright that won’t be denied.’

  ‘That is a frightening idea. That my future is determined by my confidence. My outward appearance.’ She steeled herself.

  ‘With people talking about the broken betrothal and it so soon after the injury, interest could be concentrated on you. This is a perfect time for you to shine.’

  She touched her throat.

  ‘Carry yourself proudly.’ He took her shoulders.

  ‘I do not want to pretend to be anyone. Mr Tenney’s speech always speeded up when he spoke of the Duchess of Pendleton, although it took him twice as long to say her name as it should have.’ It would have been a lie to say he drooled. At least a visible drool and he’d only seen her from a distance.

  ‘She has the art of being the Duchess perfected to a science,’ Devlin said. ‘Perfect the skill of being a new Rachael Albright.’

  Being a new Rachael didn’t sound so bad. She wasn’t happy with the old one.

  ‘Have confidence in yourself.’

  Everyone could tell she lacked self-assurance? Oh, that didn’t make her feel better.

  ‘Remember, you have two parts. An inside and an outside. Men tend to forget anything but the outside of a person,’ he said. ‘I suspect you tend to only think of the inside. This is not the time to even consider that part of you. Don’t wear your doubts openly. No one can see past the façade.’

  She touched a hand over her stomach. A façade? She wasn’t a puppet.

  He took her fingers and removed them from her midsection. ‘Don’t be so dismayed.’

  ‘How can I not?’ Nothing seemed right with her.

  ‘You will do fine.’

  She let out a breath. ‘At my last event, my betrothal ended and at the one before that, I could have lost my life.’

  ‘When you put it like that...’ He gently put his hands on her wrists and pulled her closer. ‘Please do not be offended if I keep my distance from you.’

  She freed her hands and jabbed a teasing nudge at his chest. ‘Perhaps that would be best for both of us.’

  As he stumbled into the wall, he caught her waist and took her with him. Then their eyes caught, stilling her with intensity. ‘In truth, there is nothing wrong with the real Rachael.’ The whisper of his voice caressed her. ‘Everything about her feels right, sounds right and is right.’

  He kept her close and she never ever wanted to separate from the clasp. Her skirts pressed against him and the power in his legs kept her upright, and his arms merely framed her, holding her in place, suspending her by the awareness in his gaze.

  ‘But that is my impression.’ His words caressed her skin. ‘You must feel the same way and you don’t. If you pretend you are someone else, you will believe in the things you do and not criticise yourself that your choices aren�
�t right. They’ll be her choices and you’ll feel they’re correct.’

  ‘Are you this confident, or is it a ruse you play as well?’

  His assuredness shone through. ‘I’m happy with the dance of life, the game, the partners and all the rest, and I want you to be the same. I want you to have the self-assurance that will sweep you into a room and you’ll be at home there...in whatever room you enter.’

  She wanted to tell him she wasn’t that person, but in his arms she felt a strength she didn’t know existed in her.

  She rested against him, feeling the energy of life combining them. Their bodies aligned and she’d never felt closer to anyone.

  * * *

  His mind tensed because his body was beginning to separate from his brain and only have an awareness of the femininity against him.

  He should step away. Instead he savoured the soft scent of her and the pleasures she created. The way his blood surged more swiftly through his limbs and how nowhere else would be better than being where he was.

  He let the wisps of her hair feather his face, but then he retreated, confronted with the innocence of her eyes, velvety, and with lashes that could sweep his feet from under him and swirl them into a bedroom.

  He beheld her innocence and suspected how much grief Tenney had caused her, and he could not further something that would be unfair to her.

  Anger at Tenney, frustration with her innocence and his demand within himself to do the right thing for her flickered to life inside him. He distanced himself even more. ‘You’ll find something that works for you and it will get easier.’

  Then he took the key from the wall and put it in her hand. ‘Lock up behind me and expect an invitation, courtesy of my mother’s machinations, to arrive tomorrow.’ He leaned closer, whispering, ‘It was lost in the post and found just this afternoon. And there will be more. The social Season will be starting in earnest as people return from the countryside. So have your dancing slippers at the ready and be sure to thank my mother for her wondrous idea to bring you into the pomp of the social world.’

  ‘I suspect it is the son’s machinations that I am to thank.’

  He opened the door, lingering longer. ‘Do not forget, you are the scarred phoenix, rising from a broken betrothal, to some day become a woman who has her life in her own hands and will comprehend what it is like to control a successful endeavour as well.’

  ‘It will be easier with you there.’

  ‘I wouldn’t normally attend and I don’t want to draw more attention to the suggestion that I am the cause of your broken betrothal. I’d already agreed to be at my uncle’s house that day and I’ll be too late arriving home.’

  He saw the hesitation in her eyes. He paused, still clasping the wood.

  He wanted her to know he wasn’t deserting her. That it was truly best for her not to appear attached so soon after Tenney. ‘You will have everyone at your feet.’

  In the night, standing in front of the light, she appeared a waif, lost, with luminous eyes and lovely lips. And he fell at her feet.

  He clasped her waist again and the warmth of her skin melded into his. The planning dissolved—all he saw was Rachael and he could feel her breaths.

  The kiss was brief, but he felt it searing through him, changing too much, too quickly. He stepped away, quickly, ending the intensity. Ending their connection.

  He pulled his assurance back into himself. ‘You’ll be the most important person there.’

  With that, he brushed a hand over her shoulder, a reassuring pat, and he left.

  He’d not realised how dark the night was and how cold it had turned.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Two evenings later, Rachael tested her balance on her shoes. She hoped she didn’t topple from her heels.

  She leaned towards the mirror and studied the face that peered at her. This was definitely her best. Better than her best. But was it enough?

  Her hair had never taken so long to be arranged, but it was swept up so naturally that she would have guessed it had tumbled into place on its own if she’d not been the one waiting for it to be finished. Some of the curls had been purchased, but they blended so well with her own locks that no one would detect the difference.

  It had taken most of the day to become the person in the mirror. The stranger. A confident woman. Not just the woman with the burned derrière and the one who’d spent much of her life waiting for a marriage that would never happen.

  She feared she hadn’t chosen the correct jewels. She’d picked them because she felt hidden behind them and now she doubted she’d made the right decision. The necklace felt foreign against her skin and dangled against the bodice of her dress. The sapphires were lovely, but they overpowered her.

  She straightened. The dress was a plain blue silk, one that was a favourite, but she wasn’t sure it was elegant enough.

  Her burns suddenly ached because she’d been so tense and even her body didn’t feel like hers.

  A different person stared at her from the mirror. One who blinked when she did and shifted when she did.

  She brushed her cheek, then felt a tremble in her fingers.

  She tried to get her hand to be still, thankful she would be wearing gloves if someone asked her to dance. Hopefully no one would scrutinise her closely and see the shaking.

  But if they did...

  And who would partner her?

  She didn’t know the people holding the event and she likely didn’t know any of the men her age. No one would request a dance. She gulped in air.

  In the past, she’d only danced a few dances with anyone other than Tenney and it hadn’t bothered her in the least to be a wallflower. She’d used Tenney as an invisible partner. A beau who couldn’t be there. Not dancing had appeared a natural choice, but now she wondered if she’d hidden behind him.

  Devlin expected the impossible. He just didn’t see it because he’d been born with so much at his fingertips. People separated, giving him room to join their ranks when he arrived in a room, and it had been so natural no one around him noticed. He had no idea that she only frequented the edges of that same group.

  She wouldn’t be able to increase her father’s business. She would be a hindrance to it. No one would respect her and everyone would speak of her broken betrothal. She wouldn’t be a scarred phoenix. She’d be a burned goose.

  Rachael studied the face gazing at her from the mirror.

  She leaned down, putting both hands on the dressing table, stilling them by pressing against the wood. Then she picked up her gloves, pulled one on, pressed the fabric in place at her fingers, and repeated the process with her other one.

  She couldn’t do it. She would ruin what remained of the goodwill her family had. Her lack of social graces could cause people to dismiss the shop because they belonged to that awkward woman’s family.

  Searching out her mother, she found her leaving her room.

  ‘Goodness, you’re beautiful,’ her mother gasped. ‘I almost didn’t recognise you.’

  Rachael felt her last vestiges of faith in herself plummet.

  ‘Your father is making sure the carriage is ready for us,’ her mother said. ‘I can’t believe we have been invited to this event. Those days we spent with the Countess...’ She let out a breath. ‘I never imaged our lives could change so in such a short time.’

  Rachael nodded. ‘We have a slipper in the door of the best society, Mother.’

  ‘It is a tenuous grasp at best.’

  ‘True.’ She touched her mother’s arm, capturing her attention. Her mother would be a better ambassador than she would.

  ‘I don’t feel well, Mother. Please let it be known that I couldn’t attend due to a megrim. My head feels like it could start pounding and I’m sure the drive there will make it worse, plus the music will not do me any favours.’

  ‘Racha
el—’ Her mother gasped. ‘This is a chance for you to meet other men now that your betrothal is over.’

  ‘But I can’t go. Something is wrong.’ She held out her hand and showed her mother the trembling. ‘I can’t risk being out and about when I feel so unsettled.’

  ‘Then none of us will go. If you’re really ill, I don’t want you left alone.’

  ‘Nonsense. Of course you can attend. You must. This is a chance for you and Father to be among society. Please, pass along my sincerest regrets to everyone.’

  ‘I’m not sure...’ Her mother studied Rachael.

  ‘You accepted the invitation and you cannot, cannot, let the Countess down because she wanted you to be there. Please.’

  It wasn’t the Countess Rachael feared letting down. It was her family. And Devlin. She could never be the person he wished her to be. It would be better to let him find out now than for her to begin a charade that would only end in defeat.

  She hoped he could understand.

  His plan for her to belong in society was overreaching. She was a shopkeeper’s daughter and could not find common ground with a duke’s daughter, or a woman who had had tea with the Regent’s mother.

  Devlin had been born in that world and he didn’t understand the invisible barriers. Money sometimes erased the walls, but she didn’t have that any more. This wasn’t a game. It was a losing battle and she was no Wellington.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Devlin stopped by his mother’s sitting room after his late breakfast. She sat by the window, her reading glasses low on her nose, and her teacup in one hand and a pencil in the other.

  Devlin greeted her and walked around to peer over her shoulder at a list of instructions for the housekeeper.

  ‘She wasn’t there last night.’ His mother put down the cup. ‘Oh, my, the tea is cold. Terrible error of me to let it sit so long. But, no, Miss Albright was not in attendance.’

  He’d not considered himself so transparent.