Romancing the Rake: Seven Regency Romances

by Tammy Andresen

  He stopped. “We talked. And I’d say it was an excellent conversation.”

  “But.” She let out a frustrated sigh. “I wanted to know more about you.”

  “Your father, as I’m sure you already know, has invited us to dinner tomorrow. I shall see you again very soon.”

  She nodded, nibbling at her lips as he lightly set her feet down in the sand and then began leading her back up the path. Tomorrow night seemed like an eternity from now.

  Chapter Eleven

  Luke approached the kitchen door, Adrianna’s small hand still tucked in his. She’d hardly said a word as they’d made their way up the path and it shocked him how much he missed the sound of her voice.

  Granted, her body against his had been a great comfort and when she stepped away, he resisted the urge to pull her close again. He’d meant only to show her how to seduce a man. Bend him to her will. He was supposed to be the teacher, but somehow he’d forgotten that a woman like her coming apart in his arms and then wrapping herself about him, nuzzling into his neck, had a power all its own. He wanted to drop to his knees and bury his face in her belly and beg her to—what? That’s where he stopped. He couldn’t give her that future. The one where he shared her bed every night and they had children together.

  Then another part of him argued…why not? She wasn’t Miranda and he’d gained the title as Earl after his brother passed away. He could take her, tuck her away in his country estate. But that’s where he stopped.

  Miranda still lived in that house. His past still haunted his home. He remembered the night his brother had died. As he’d lain in his deathbed, he’d made Luke swear to care for Miranda. That’s when Luke had realized that Michael had loved the woman as much as he himself had. He’d agreed, hating the very idea, but what else could he do?

  And after his brother had passed, Miranda herself had rushed crying into his arms. He’d held her then, not because he’d cared for her any longer, but she’d lost her husband. He’d felt sorry for her, sorry for himself. Against all odds, he still loved his brother. And he’d vowed to keep his promise.

  That’s when she’d attempted to kiss him. He’d allowed her a light peck. He’d assumed she was just grief-stricken but then…then she’d suggested, not so subtly, that it was the opportunity for them to finally be together. Like it hadn’t been their opportunity to begin with.

  His brother had loved her. His last wish had been asking Luke to care for her. And this was how she repaid that love? Adrianna had been right about one thing: Miranda was a viper with a black heart.

  He’d thrust Miranda from his arms and left. Hadn’t been back since. He’d attended the funeral of course. And even though the house was his, he didn’t want it, or her, any longer. And she had never really cared for him or his brother. Or she simply cared about being titled more. Disgusting.

  Still, he’d kept his promise. Not for her sake but for Michael’s.

  A wave of nausea filled his stomach as he looked down at Adrianna, a question pulling at her delicate features. He forced himself to relax.

  “What are you thinking?” she whispered, reaching up to touch his cheek.

  He placed his hand on top of hers. “That you look stunning in moonlight.”

  “Liar,” she softly returned and then stepped away. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “Of course,” he answered, placing a smile on his lips to hide his grimace. It had been so long since he’d shared his feelings but now that he had, he’d opened a box that he couldn’t put the lid back on. Memories were flooding his thoughts. Words crowded in his mouth and he wanted to share them with her. She’d know what to say to make his heart ache less, he was certain of it. Damn it all to hell, what was happening to him?

  She slid her fingers from his face and swallowed. “Why have things gotten strange between us?”

  “Strange?” He clenched his teeth, trying to keep his face from displaying any emotion.

  She looked off into the night. “I just. I thought…” She lay her hand on his chest, lightly massaging the skin underneath. “This moment feels full of distance instead of…” She shook her head.

  He winced. “Warn your sisters of this very feeling. It’s important they understand that affection like this can make you more vulnerable.”

  She cocked her head to the side, looking into his eyes without a word before she finally turned away again. “Goodnight, Luke. Sleep well.” Then she turned and slipped into the kitchen, the door quietly clicking closed behind her.

  Luke stood there for the longest time staring at the green wood panel. He had this wild urge to follow her, but he hadn’t a clue where her bedchamber was located. He couldn’t just wander about her house in the dark.

  Finally, he headed back in the dark to the village. When he entered the cottage, it was dark and quiet, neither Craven nor Dashlane about. He sighed with relief as he went up to his room and lay in his bed. What would he do tomorrow? What would he do for the rest of his life?

  He scrubbed his face with his hands. He wanted to throw aside his fears and court Adrianna. Against all odds he cared for her. And he knew that she was nothing like Miranda. But he still hesitated. That part of him had been so damaged. Could he truly open his heart again?

  The next morning provided very few answers. Luke dressed and headed out to walk about the village. On his first day in the village, Ophelia had taken him to her father’s office. He found himself in front of that office once again.

  Right on the water, the building had a red center door with two large multi paned windows on either side. The thick trim was freshly painted and the building appeared as everything else in this village. Wholesome, happy, clean. He sighed as he read the sign. Moorish Shipping. The man had made a life here. A good one. Free of the darkness of London, he’d raised beautiful, kind, happy daughters who searched for cats and listened to the problems of wayward lords.

  He scrubbed his face. “Can I help you, Lord Crestwood?” a friendly voice called behind him. Luke turned to see Mr. Moorish coming down the street toward his office.

  “Good morn,” Luke called back. “I’ve only just realized I’m loitering in front of your establishment.”

  “Not at all.” Mr. Moorish came up next to him, slapping him on the back. “Come in, my lord, and let’s have a bit of tea, shall we? My assistant’s wife makes the best scones. Join me in breaking fast.”

  Luke nodded, stepping into the equally friendly interior. The front room held a merry fire crackling with a large desk positioned on the other side of the room. A man sat already at work while Mr. Moorish headed to the back, where another room with a second desk was located.

  Mr. Moorish grabbed a chair and placed it in front of the desk, then made his way to the other side, sitting down. “Please, join me.”

  Luke did as he was asked. “I’d like to begin by accepting your invitation for dinner tonight.”

  “Excellent.” Mr. Moorish gave him a wide smile. “And your friends?”

  Luke gave a tight nod. “They will be there as well.”

  “Good,” Mr. Moorish answered, giving a little clap. “Between you and me, you lads are doing me a great favor.”

  Luke raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

  Mr. Moorish leaned across the desk, his usual smile disappearing. “My girls fancy a trip to London next year or perhaps the year after. This will be a good experience for them.”

  Luke leaned forward too. “I suppose it will.” Why had Mr. Moorish ceased being his jovial self? “Can I make an assumption that you are not fond of London?”

  The man frowned. It was the first frown he’d seen from Moorish since he’d arrived.

  “I do not like cities in general, but London in particular.”

  Luke cocked his head as Mr. Moorish’s assistant brought in a steaming pot of tea.

  “Here you are, sir,” the man said cheerily.

  “Thank you, Mr. Burton.”

  Mr. Moorish began to serve Luke and then himself, but Luke didn
’t care about food in this moment. He stared across the desk. “You’ve experience with London?”

  Mr. Moorish waved his free hand as he poured tea. “Of course. Just like you, I am the second son of an earl.” Serving up a scone to each of them, he sat back down in his chair. “I participated in all the delights that London offers men of our station, including the ones that polite society likes to pretend don’t exist.”

  Luke tightened his jaw to keep his mouth from falling open as he looked at the man across from him. Mr. Moorish was a jovial-looking fellow, with happy eyes and smiling lines about his face. He held a bit more weight than a younger man, which only added to his kind appearance. He was the very picture of naïve happiness. “Surely you don’t mean that you—”

  Mr. Moorish pulled off his spectacles and began to clean the lenses. His face had hardened in ways that Luke had never imagined. “I drank, gambled, caroused, and enjoyed the company of ladies who were not part of society.”

  Luke gripped the arm of his chair touching neither the tea nor the scone. “You? The lover of Shakespeare, the man with five daughters, was a London rake?”

  Mr. Moorish frowned. “I’m afraid so.” He placed the glasses back on his face. “It’s not a life I’m proud of. My father called me back to Seabridge Gate out of worry. That was when I met my wife, Annabelle. Most beautiful woman I had ever seen.” He lifted his teacup though he didn’t take a drink. “Adrianna is her spitting image. It’s uncanny how much she looks like my late wife.”

  Luke’s stomach dipped. “Is that difficult?”

  Mr. Moorish nodded. “At times. But also wonderful. Each of my daughters carries a piece of her. And each reminds me of how blessed I was with great love, a happy life, and a wonderful home. When I think of what my life could have been had I stayed in the city…” Mr. Moorish shivered. “Life here can change you for the better if you let it.” He leaned forward. “A good woman can really aid in that change if you allow her in.”

  Luke’s insides flipped about again. “I’m not certain I’m capable of that sort of change any longer. I’ve been living in the dark for so long.”

  Mr. Moorish took another sip of tea, giving the other man a sidelong glance. “Of course you are. Now, I don’t know if you knew this, but I am keeper of the Seabridge Gate bridge and I’ve assembled a crew of men to work on the broken crosspieces today so that we can reopen the road north. Would you mind joining the crew? Honest work always gives a man good time to think and plenty of perspective.”

  Luke also picked up his tea and took a generous sip. If he stayed the day, he might as well put it to use. Working seemed preferable to allowing his thoughts to spin wildly until tonight. “I’d be happy to.”

  And he needed time to consider Mr. Moorish’s words. Deep in that place he used to call a heart, he wanted to believe that Seabridge Gate could save him too. That Arianna might be the answer he’d sought for so long.

  Mr. Moorish’s wide smile returned. “Good. Head over to the inn and have a filling breakfast. The toll master will find you from there.”

  Luke took a healthy bite of his scone, the buttery pastry melting in his mouth. “These are excellent.”

  Mr. Moorish gave him a wink. “Good old-fashioned country cooking. I’ll see you tonight, young man.”

  Adrianna woke with the sun, despite having gone to bed so late. Her dreams had been plagued with memories of the night before. In them Luke had held her tight and pushed her away.

  She shuddered as she crossed to her balcony that overlooked the ocean. After opening the doors, she stepped into the cool morning, breathing in the fresh air. The vague worry that had plagued her the night before was crystal clear in the morning sun. He’d never actually proposed. Nor had he admitted to any feelings for her.

  She nibbled on her lip. Had she unwittingly succumbed to a rake’s charms? The irony wasn’t lost on her. She’d attempted to pit herself against him in particular and rakes in general. If he’d wanted to show her that he could best her, he’d done an admirable job. It was just that somewhere along the way, her feelings had gotten tangled like fish in a net.

  She wrapped her arms about herself. He also hadn’t taken any pleasure for himself, only given to her. Although in that way, she’d given a great deal too. Though a virgin still, there was some measure of innocence she’d handed to him, willingly, of course, but still. Where did that leave her?

  Wiser, she supposed. She understood far more about seduction and if she were honest, as Adrianna had replayed his words, his touch had been like a lesson, peppered with advice. But why would he want to teach her how to seduce? Was she to use those lessons on him? Coerce him into marriage?

  He was a rake. Perhaps he just didn’t want her for more than physical pleasure. Her thoughts circled back to that conclusion, then went round again to why he hadn’t taken any for himself. She’d been a willing participant in his arms—he could have easily had his way with her.

  And why had she allowed him such liberties? She’d appointed herself protector of her sisters. Sworn to fight off the potential rakes and she’d succumbed to the first one who’d held her in his arms. What was wrong with her?

  Unless his intentions were pure? Was that how rakes got upstanding women to succumb to their charms?

  Adrianna sighed. There was nothing to do but ask him. She dressed, then she made her way down to breakfast and ate alone before heading to the village.

  Luke wasn’t at the cottage, nor the inn. Passing by her father’s office, she stopped, looking in. Mr. Burton waved.

  She stepped inside, twisting her hands together. “Hello, Mr. Burton. Good to see you.”

  “You as well.” He gave her a friendly smile. “You’re up early.”

  “I am.” She looked down at her hands. “Is Papa here?”

  “He is.” Mr. Burton waved toward the back. “You’re just in time to catch him before he starts his rounds.”

  She nodded, stepping into the back room where her father sat hunched over a stack of ledgers.

  “Papa,” she asked, not sure what she planned to say.

  He looked up, pulling his spectacles further down his nose. “Hello, my dear. Your ears must have been ringing. Lord Crestwood and I were just speaking about you.”

  “Lord Crestwood?” She stilled, her hands pressing tighter together. Had he asked for her hand after all? Had all her worry been for nothing?

  Her father nodded, his gaze returning to his ledgers. “Indeed. He’s gone off to help with the bridge repair.”

  “He’s working for you?” She swallowed a lump. Why did that seem significant? Like he was investing in her home?

  Her father waved with all the flourish of a Shakespearean actor. “Helping out. He’s led a very different life before now. Work can set a man right.”

  She gasped in a breath. Luke wished to change his path? All his confessions would indicate that he did. But that still didn’t explain his lesson on seduction, unless she’d been right all along and he wanted her to use them on him.

  She smiled at her father. “I should do some work today too. I’m sure there is a great deal I can do to help prepare for dinner this evening.”

  Her father gave her a glowing smile. “Excellent plan, my dear.”

  She stood, feeling much more secure then she had when she woke. Today was going to be an eventful day.

  Chapter Twelve

  Repairing the bridge turned out to be a tiring, yet fruitful endeavor. The sea air and the hard labor made him feel alive in ways he hadn’t in years. Tired too, but he didn’t mind. He exercised regularly at his boxing club, but working with his hands was different. Honestly, building was different. He could look at an actual accomplishment, measure his progress, and feel good about his success.

  He stood stretching his back. The sun was high in the sky, but they’d almost completed fixing the bridge. The toll master had collected seven men who’d torn out any broken sections and replaced them with freshly milled wood. “In a year from now the n
ew boards will weather and blend right in,” the toll master announced, puffing up his chest. “Mr. Moorish might replace this bridge with a stone one at some point. While this is the narrowest spot in the river, it grows a bit wider every year. The stone bridge would be even stronger and last long after we’re gone.” The man stood, looking down the river. “makes a man proud to be part of such an endeavor.”

  Luke understood his feelings exactly, but at the moment, his gaze fixed across to the other side of the bridge to the land beyond. “That’s Haversham?”

  The other man nodded. “Indeed. Its southern border, anyhow. Not as nice as Seabridge Gate, of course, but it has its charm.”

  Luke grinned despite himself. “One of Mr. Moorish’s daughters mentioned land for sale in Haversham.”

  The toll master nodded. “Adrianna? Girl has a fascination for real estate. Her favorite is that one right there.” The man pointed toward the rolling hills just on the other side of the bridge. “Says with the water access it will make an excellent spot for growing a wheat crop. She’s dragged Mr. Moorish out multiple times to look at it. Never seen a woman like her. It’s a bit odd, to be honest.”

  Luke’s smile broadened. “How do you know all that?” He’d forgotten all about small town life, especially the general gossip.

  The toll master shrugged. “They have to cross the bridge to get there, don’t they?” The man cackled. “I hear her talking while they cross. A sound investment. Someone should take advantage. Do you think he taught his daughters about such things?” He gave Luke a wink. “With no son, I guess I can’t blame him.”