by Eloisa James
To Wed a Rake
A Special from Berkley Sensation
Eloisa James
BERKLEY SENSATION, NEW YORK
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
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“To Wed a Rake” previously appeared as “A Proper Englishwoman” in Talk of the Ton, published by Berkley Sensation.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
TO WED A RAKE
A Berkley Sensation Special / published by arrangement with the author
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Berkley Sensation Special / December 2012
Copyright © 2005 by Eloisa James.
Cover image of mask © Kameel4u/Shutterstock.
Cover design by George Long.
All rights reserved.
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375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
ISBN: 978-1-101-61110-4
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Table of Contents
Author Letter
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
A Note About Scene Painters and Sisters
Dear Friends,
I’m so happy to bring you one of my very first novellas, originally published in the anthology Talk of the Ton. The plot is borrowed from Shakespeare, who borrowed it from a fairy tale. I find that fact delightful, because for the last few years I have been doing the same. So far I’ve written A Kiss at Midnight (“Cinderella”), When Beauty Tamed the Beast, The Duke is Mine (“The Princess and the Pea”), and The Ugly Duchess (“Ugly Duckling”).
I had so many questions about Shakespeare’s plot, in which a rake refuses to acknowledge his wife until she has his ring and his baby. How was my Emma supposed to talk her fiancé into handing over his ring? How could she seduce Gil without being recognized?
Emma was such a funny, sensual heroine that Gil didn’t stand a chance…though of course he fights fate until the very last minute. I hope you love my version of Shakespeare’s fairy tale, and perhaps give my other fairy tales a chance as well.
With best wishes,
Chapter One
In Which a Quote from Shakespeare Insults the Stodgy and Horrifies the Staid
March 15, 1817
Lady Cecilia Petworth to her sister, the Countess of Bredelbane
Dearest Sister,
I take my pen in hand although it is almost dawn, because I know you will be most distressed when the news of this evening’s entertainment at Sandleford House reaches you. Kerr has made quite a spectacle of himself, and although there’s nothing new in that (as we’ve said of your godson before, he gives new definition to the term rakehell), last night his debauchery reached new heights. To the horror of all, he escorted a French très-coquette to Lady Sandleford’s ball. Making mischief as usual, Lord Dressel strolled up to the couple and asked Kerr if he’d set a date to marry his fiancée. Kerr merely tightened his arm around his bird of paradise (for, not to mince words, she was no better) and drawled the most excruciating vulgarity: something like not until she has my baby in her belly and my ring on her finger. Lady Sandleford was naturally quite insulted by such unseemly behavior under her roof, and I’m certain that the story is traveling like wildfire…one must be grateful that Kerr’s mother has gone to her rest. I shall write again tomorrow but, dearest, I think the time has come to put your foot down and cause your benighted godson to marry that poor girl—what is her name? It’s too late at night for an old head like mine. I shall write again in the morn.
Yours in all affection,
Cecilia, Lady Petworth
March 16, 1817
The Countess of Bredelbane to her godson, Gilbert Baring-Gould, Earl of Kerr
Kerr,
I have received a distressing communication from my sister regarding your behavior—or should I say, the lack of it—while attending Lady Sandleford’s ball. What needs have you, pray, to leave your usual haunts and attend the assemblies of my friends? Of course poor Cecilia didn’t recognize the provenance of your disgusting reply to Dressel; Shakespeare was never in her line. The least you could have done was to reverse the quotation and put the bit around the ring before the question of the baby. Your fiancée will no doubt be horrified to find that her ability to get with child (and that without your knowledge) is on the lips of every Londoner. I demand you make haste to the country and marry Emma immediately, preferably with a special license. I shall expect to hear that you have left for St. Albans by tomorrow at the latest.
Yours with all proper esteem,
Countess of Bredelbane
March 16, 1817
Mrs. Broughton to The Hon. Emma Loudan, St. Albans, Hertfordshire
Dear Miss Loudan,
I am not convinced that you will remember me, since we had only the slightest of acquaintances at Miss Proudfoot’s School for Ladies. My maiden name was Laneham. I write you from the deep reverence I feel toward you and indeed, all my fellow students at Miss Proudfoot’s School. The Earl of Kerr spoke of you in such a fashion last evening that I had difficulty restraining myself. To be precise, he said that he would not marry you, implying that you were with child. I know that this information will come as a great shock, given the unpleasant implication as regards your reputation. I hasten to tell you that no one believed it in the least. If our positions were reversed, and I as isolated from the town as you have been, I should wish to be told of his disgraceful comment.
In hopes that you are not angered by my communication,
Mrs. Broughton
March 16, 1817
The Countess of B
redelbane to the Earl of Kerr
Kerr,
As regards my note earlier this morning, I have now had missives from Mrs. Witter and Lady Horne. Lady Horne informs me that you exemplify the depraved appetite of this vicious age. Picture my dismay on hearing my godson described thusly. How long has it been since you even visited St. Albans? I know that you have had a difficult time since Walter’s death, but your brother would not wish you e wot wishto lose all sense of decency. Next week at the latest I shall expect to hear of your nuptials.
The Countess & etc.
March 17, 1817
The Earl of Kerr to the Countess of Bredelbane
My dear, dearest Godmama,
I can’t take myself to the country today and marry my provincial paragon; I have an appointment to look at a horse. And a fencing match to attend as well. She will have to wait. Granted, I haven’t seen Miss Loudan for some time, but she seemed clearheaded enough when I last found myself in St. Albans. She won’t think twice of these rumors of my degeneracy, should they make their way to her.
Affectionately yours,
Gil
March 17, 1817
Lady Dyott to her cousin, The Hon. Emma Loudan, St. Albans, Hertfordshire
Dearest Emma,
This will be a quick note, as Dyott awaits me. We’re off to Tattersall’s to find a pony for Garret who is quite a bruising rider at age five, and does us proud. You know how much I hate bibble-babble, but I’m told Kerr informed a roomful that you are too old to bear a child; I merely wished to reassure you that I was all of forty-one when Garret was born, and since you are half that age, breeding is not a concern. I only have to think of your sporting nature, and I have no concern for your future. Thank God you didn’t marry Kerr already, because he’s nothing more than a job horse, and you deserve a high-stepper. Do come to London, and we’ll find you a proper spouse.
Much love,
Your cousin Mary, Lady Dyott
March 18, 1817
The Countess of Bredelbane to the Earl of Kerr
The news of your appalling jest has spread throughout the town. I have no doubt but that Emma has heard every loathsome detail. Can you not consider your duty, which is clearly to provide an heir to the estate without delay?
The Countess & etc.
March 18, 1817
Gilbert Baring-Gould, Earl of Kerr, to the Countess of Bredelbane
Dearest Godmama,
I’ll marry Miss Loudan someday, but not this week. And certainly not due to a jest on my part, if admittedly in poor taste. Don’t you think that the ton has become alarmingly illiterate, given that no one seems to recognize a Shakespeare play? I shouldn’t worry about the question of an heir; I’ve heard that country air is remarkably healthy. I can turn out five or six little Kerrs in the next decade.
Yours with affection,
Gil
March 19, 1817
Lady Flaskell to her sister, The Hon. Emma Loudan
Dearest,
I was suffering from a stomach upset and so missed the initial flurry of news about Kerr. Darling, I’m so sorry! But we must move quickly, Emma, given that your betrothal obviously must be terminated. You are all of twenty-four now, and fiancés, especially those with a hefty fortune and title, do not grow on trees. You have been immured in the country so long that you have no idea what it is like here. Women are considered decayed at two and twenty. You must come to London at once and find a husband. I shall arrive tomorrow and expect tly and expo find you packed.
With love,
Your sister Bethany Lynn
March 19, 1817
The Earl of Kerr to Mademoiselle Benoit
Madeline, ma cherie,
While I naturally adore you and kiss your feet in pure admiration, it would not be prudent for me to accompany you to the opera tonight. The Puritans are out in force. In fact, I am very much afraid that I shall have to forgo the pleasure of your company in the future. Please accept this ruby as the smallest hint of my regard for you. Tu seras toujours dan mon cœur měme si tu ne seras pas toujours avec moi.
Kerr
March 19, 1817
The Countess of Bredelbane to the Earl of Kerr
Kerr:
I can’t force you to abide honorably by the vows that your father made on your behalf. I take your behavior much amiss though, and I say that to you seriously. I shall write Emma myself and try to soothe her feelings. I’ve no doubt but that she’s hearing the same as I: that you intend to marry some rubbishing Frenchwoman with putative claims to being a lady. Do so, Kerr, and you will never darken my door again.
The Countess of Bredalbane
March 20, 1817
Gilbert Baring-Gould, Earl of Kerr, to the Countess of Bredalbane
Tsk, tsk, dearest Godmama.
You who know your Shakespeare so well should avoid clichés about darkened doors and such like. When my sainted godfather was alive, did he object to your sharp tongue? I go about my business with a rejoicing heart, knowing that you will soothe Miss Loudan’s troubled brow. You needn’t worry about Mademoiselle Benoit. While I shall always find a French accent irrésistible, I concede that the country charmer is my fate. I also know that you, my sainted godmother, would never wish for me, her beloved godson, to be unhappy, so you will forgive me if I cease to think about marriage this very moment.
Yours & Etc.
Gil
Chapter Two
March 21, 1817
The Countess of Bredelbane to Gilbert Baring-Gould, Earl of Kerr
Kerr:
You were always an impudent child; I shall never forget how you made me laugh when you first arrived in my house, and your parents gone but a month. Still, there is an edge to your jests that gives me concern. How dare you speak of being unhappy to marry Emma? The poor girl will surely have need of valor, given that your foolish quotation has gone so terribly awry. I am surprised that she has not yet terminated your engagement. Expect me tomorrow after nuncheon.
Yours & etc.
The Countess
15 St. James’s Place, London
“You are the shame of your sex,” Lord Lockwood said, stretching out his long legs and regarding his boots with pleasure. “You make far too much of yourself, and have strayed into dissolute habits, and now your doom is upon you. I am inordinantly happy to see it happen.”
“Don’t be so intolerably smug,” his companion retorted. “Your reputation is as low as mine has ever been. ‘Twas you who thought it’d be a good idea to bring Madeline and her friend to Sandleford’s house. I said it’d be a boring affair.”
“It wasn’t boring after you made such an ass of yourself quoting the bard,” Lockwood pointed out. “Would you put on a shirt, if you please? It turns my stomach to look at your shoulders. You’re muscled like a barge man, Kerr. Grotesquely unfashionable, I might add.”
“The boxing does it,” the earl replied, unperturbed. He was seated at his writing desk, wearing only black pantaloons. “At any rate, I didn’t ask you here. I’ve a mountain of correspondence to get through, and I’m expecting my secretary any moment.”
“I’ll take myself off. Were you foolish enough to invest in Hensing’s canal scheme?”
“No. It sounded intriguing, but the man’s a fool.”
“I suppose that’s why your estate keeps growing, while my living shrinks,” Lockwood said. “But don’t you think there’s a chance he’ll make a go of it?”
“Unlikely,” Kerr stated, not even looking up as his pen scratched over a leaf of stationery.
But Lockwood paused at the door to the chamber and turned back, driven by insatiable curiosity. Kerr had finished sanding his letter and was reaching for a new sheet of foolscap. “So, are you going to marry, then? To be specific, are you going to marry Madeline Benoit, as all London appears to believe?”
Kerr narrowed his eyes. “You think less of me than I deserve.”
They’d been friends since Oxford, and yet Lockwood flinched slightly at the express
ion in Kerr’s eyes. “I merely thought—”
“I heard about your bet in White’s. You’ll lose that money, as you’ll lose any blunt you put into Hensing’s canal. I shall fulfill my obligations to Miss Loudan,” Kerr said, turning back to his sheet as if he had no further interest in the conversation.
A grin spread across Lockwood’s face. Kerr looked up and frowned. “What are you smirking about?”
“You just made up for Hensing’s canal. I placed a bet in White’s that you’d marry Mademoiselle Benoit, but that was only to give Etherege enough courage to take my bet on the other side ... that you would honor your betrothal.”
“Etherege must have thought you were drunk,” Kerr observed. “Why the hell would you bet one way in White’s and place the opposite bet with him?”
“I gather he didn’t notice that the bet in White’s was for a shilling or two. He put a good four hundred pounds on your propensity to marry the mademoiselle, thinking I was too castaway to remember my own opinion.”
Kerr snorted. “Meet me at Miss Bridget’s tonight?”
Miss Bridget was a Frenchwoman who ran a house that was not precisely one of ill repute but damn near close, to Lockwood’s mind. “I see that your taste for Frenchwomen is much like the English taste for food: predicated on quantity rather than quality,” he remarked.