How To Tame a Rake (9 page)

“You are funny, Willy,” Vincent said, as they returned to where her aunt sat, fanning herself.

“I am?” she asked in surprise.

“But in the nicest way,” he said, gazing at her.

“Why, thank you, Vincent.” Willy picked up her skirts and hurried up the stairs. “I must tell Aunt Elizabeth what the Earl said,” she said hastily.

They arrived back at Park Lane in the evening. Vincent escorted them both to the door, doffing his hat. Lady Elizabeth thanked him for a delightful day and continued inside.

“Thank you for coming Willy.” Vincent kissed her hand. “Your company made the day special. I hope to see you again very soon.”

Willy watched from the doorway as his carriage drew away. Aunt Elizabeth came to join her. “A light supper and an early night are in order, my dear. Tomorrow,” she said. “You have a final fitting for your wedding gown.”

Willy climbed the stairs, the word ‘final’ ringing in her ears.

* * * *

Willy stood in front of the mirror. She should feel joy at wearing the wedding gown, but her stomach was churning horribly. She could not deny it was lovely, ivory silk taffeta trimmed with tassels and lace, with a long white veil trimmed with orange blossom. She wiped away a tear. She’d always dreamed of wearing orange blossom.

“There, there, my dear,” Aunt Elizabeth said, patting her arm. “It is a very emotional time in a young woman’s life, to be sure.”

Willy longed to tell her the truth of her feelings, but her aunt was busily inspecting the lace on a ruffled sleeve. “I wish I still had my pearls,” she said. “They would have been perfect for you to borrow to wear. You know the saying. Something borrowed, something blue, And a silver sixpence in her shoe. Never mind,” she continued. “I’ll find something else just as nice. Let’s try on the going-away costume.”

They buttoned Willy up in the plaid, beige, pink and black silk taffeta dress with the toning silk bonnet. She had never worn anything quite so smart and grown up.

“When Blake returns,” Aunt Elizabeth continued, “There will be the presentation at Court, followed by the engagement party, and the ring of course,” she gave Willy’s arm a squeeze. Then shortly after that will be the wedding. An announcement must be placed in
The London Times
. We don’t wish to delay it, do we? You cannot be seen in public after the engagement is announced, not until your wedding day.”

“Not at all?” Willy gasped.

“Oh no, my dear,” Aunt Elizabeth said. “We can’t have your reputation compromised.”

Willy thought of the times she and Blake had been alone and his kisses. She doubted he’d be bothered much by etiquette.

* * * *

Blake arrived after Willy had gone to bed. The next morning he joined her in the breakfast room. She sipped her tea, hoping it would restore her. She had not slept well.

“You aren’t sickening for something, are you?”

She shook her head. “I have good news for you. Frederick has gone.”

He looked surprised. “Where has he gone?”

Willy explained about Vincent taking her to see the baroness.

“Good news indeed. She will find him a good home.” He cut a slice of ham. “I thought we’d visit the jeweler today and choose the setting for your ring.”

“Oh, can’t we do that tomorrow?” Willy begged him. “I have a dreadful headache.”

Blake gazed at her. “Was your day at Epsom fatiguing?”

“No. It’s was thrilling, Vincent’s horse, Lovely Lady won.”

“Vincent?”

She flushed. “He asked me to call him that, I hope you don’t mind.”

“What does he call you?”

“Willy, of course.”

“Of course.” Rising, he threw down his napkin. “I do believe I’ll visit my club in that case. I shall see you at dinner.”

Willy watched him go. She thought of Frederick’s trusting face and misery descended again, banishing any regrets at not spending the day in Blake’s company.

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Chapter Eleven

Blake stalked into the lofty corridors of the Reform Club. He knew just where to find Loudon. He was always with his fencing master at this time of day, when in town.

As Blake expected, he found him in the Salle. He had just finished his lesson and was about to dress.

Blake shrugged off his coat and donned the wire fencing mask. He picked up an
Épée de Terrain
and performed a lunge, testing the sword in his hands.

“
Enguarde
,” he said to Vincent as he moved into position.

“You are hardly dressed for this, my friend,” Vincent said, amusement in his voice. He joined Blake in the center of the room.

The swords met in a clash of steel. The two men moved around the room, testing each other. Vincent lunged and parried. Blake, anger spoiling his aim, attempted a misjudged thrust, only to have his foil knocked from his hand. He bent and retrieved it. The sound of steel meeting steel echoed and both men began breathing heavily.

Vincent, already fatigued after his class, appeared to be tiring, wanting to end it. He performed a lunge, but Blake averted it, retreating with a
Passé
.

Blake grew calmer with each riposte, his aim more deadly as he continued to attack. He formed a
Semi-Circular Parry
, trapping Vincent’s attacking blade. Feeling he had him on the ropes, he followed it up with a
riposte
and a
Trompement
, his sword hovering inches from Vincent’s chest.

“
Assez!
You have me,” Vincent cried, pulling off his mask. “You are fired up today. Enough before you kill me!”

. They lowered their swords and bowed.

Sweating, they went to towel down. Blake attempted to restyle his limp necktie.

“Nice to see you back in London,” Vincent said, wiping his neck.

The bout had done little to lessened Blake’s anger at his friend, but he said mildly, “I believe you have been escorting my fiancée about town.”

“Only to the races.” Vincent threw down the towel and began to strip off. “Surely you don’t have a problem with that. Your mother was there. And her new escort, Henry. Nice fellow.”

“I believe you also took Willy to Mirvat’s to find a home for Frederick.”

Bare-chested, Vincent paused, frowning. “Willy’s maid accompanied us. She was upset, Blake. She’s fond of the dog. But she did it to please you.”

“None of this is your concern.”

Vincent tilted his head. “You know, Blake, there’s a rumor doing the rounds that you must marry Willy or lose Hawkeswood.”

“And if it’s true?”

“It appears to me that you don’t love the girl. Not at all.”

“Many marriages are thus.” Blake’s voice held a warning.

“But not Willy,” Vincent said. “She loves with all her heart.”

Blake’s hands curled into fists. “You seem quite an authority on my fiancée.”

“I can’t help it,” Vincent said shaking his head. “She deserves so much better than your casual disregard.”

As Blake pulled on his coat, he said, “We are entering dangerous ground. We’ve been friends since Oxford and our competitive spirit has had us vying for the affections of a woman more than once, but I’ve never known you to push me so far.”

“I’ve never known you to be deliberately callous or cruel. Leaving that sweet girl and traipsing off to the country where you no doubt have some wench installed.”

His remark was so close to the truth, it stung Blake into saying, “Remember the barmaid at Oxford you worked so hard to steal from me? And the opera dancer? Perhaps you carry our spirited friendship too far. You see Willy as a challenge, a naive girl from the country ripe for the plucking?”

Vincent’s face suffused with color. He took a step forward. “I say, I’m beginning to wish for another chance to run you through.”

“Stay away from my fiancée, or I’ll give you that chance.”

“You always said you didn’t care much for that old house, Blake. “It is filled with sad memories for you. Surely, your grandmother’s inheritance and your mother’s handsome fortune is enough.”

“That old house, as you so eloquently put it, has been my family’s home for centuries. Wilhelmina is free to leave anytime she likes. But I doubt she wishes to return to the country.”

“She is doing this for you.”

“Nonsense.”

Vincent looked at him. “Then you don’t know her.”

Blake turned on his heel and left the Salle. He nodded at several acquaintances who called for him to join them, and left the club. Walking up Pall Mall, his mood was darker than he could remember. Wishing his father in hell, he gave a bitter laugh. He probably was.

He began to walk home and then changed his mind, hailing a hackney.

The cab pulled up outside a house in Chelsea. He vaulted the steps and banged on the door.

Dora opened it, her red-hair gleaming in the light. She laughed and grabbed his necktie, pulling him inside.

* * * *

Blake didn’t appear at dinner. The only sound was the loud ticking of the Grandfather clock in the hall as Willy and Lady Elizabeth pushed their meals away uneaten. Willy watched her aunt purse her lips. She no longer had the energy for anger, or hopes or dreams. She merely wished she could go home, but that was something she could not do.

* * * *

Blake came back the next day looking tired and strained. She opened her mouth to comment, and then shut it again when she saw the misery in his eyes. His feelings seemed to match hers.

“We’ll go and see about the ring after lunch,” he said in a tone that brooked no objection.

“Very well,” Willy murmured.

The carriage ride to Bond Street was spent in silence. It occurred to Willy that seldom would a jeweler see a more despondent pair about to marry.

When the jeweler brought out the Dangerfield diamonds, Willy gasped. A huge blue-white solitaire ring flashed all colors of the rainbow in the light. He opened a box, on a bed of crimson velvet lay a sparkling, diamond necklace and drop earrings.

Willy’s fingers trembled as Blake took her hand and slipped the ring on it. She searched for a sign of love or joy reflected in his blue eyes, and waited for him to smile and say the words she so longed to hear.
Marry me, my love.

“The ring’s too large for her finger,” Blake said. “And the setting too heavy.”

“I have a more delicate setting in mind for Miss Corbet,” the jeweler said.

“Very well. Let me know when it’s ready.”

They left the shop. Blake turned to assist Willy to the carriage.

“Could we walk a little, Blake?”

“You wish to do more shopping?”

“No, I want to talk to you.” It was easier somehow when she didn’t have to look at him across the carriage.

“Very well,” Blake signaled for the carriage to follow them.

They began to stroll along Bond Street and turned a corner. Willy searched for the words to ask Blake to release her immediately after the wedding ceremony. She would not remain to be a nuisance to him. It would have to be before the wedding night. She blushed at the thought. If he made love to her, all her resolve would be lost. No, as long as the knot was tied, he could retain his inheritance and she would … she would…?

She sighed and looked away.

“Stop!” she cried.

Across the road, a burley man was beating a thin, soot-covered boy with a broom and yelling curses at him.

“Stop that, this instant!” A horse and cart swerved to avoid her as she gathered up her skirts and ran across the street.

“Confound it, Willy, you’ll get yourself killed.” Blake rushed to grab her arm. He ushered her up onto the footpath as a brougham swept by.

Willy seized the big brute by the arm. “Stop hitting that boy … you … monster!”

Surprised, the man turned to look at her. “This ‘ere’s my employee, madam. ‘e sweeps chimneys for ‘is room ‘n board. Lazy little thief ‘e is.”

The boy stood quietly watching. Beneath a thick, dusting of soot, he had a narrow face and his brown eyes reminded Willy of Felix, the fox cub. His wariness must come from a precarious life, she decided, as her heart turned over with pity. “He is to come with us,” she said to the man.

“Do you want your chimneys cleaned?”

“No. I intend to keep him.”

The man’s eyes opened wide. “What’d want ‘im for? The boy’s no good, I tell you.”

“Willy…” Blake began, as she took the boy’s arm, oblivious to the coal dust spoiling her gloves.

She turned to Blake and said fiercely, “Do this for me please, Blake, and I’ll ask nothing more of you.”

Blake searched her face. “Very well.” He took some money from his pocket. “How much do you want for the boy?”

The man eyed the money. “But ‘es one of my best. Works hard ‘he does.”

“You just said he is lazy,” Blake said. He tossed some coins into the man’s palm. “Take it or leave it.”

After counting them, the man began to bluster.

“Perhaps I should call a Bobby,” Blake added.

The man’s gaze slid away to check the street. “Take ‘im and welcome, sir. Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say.”

Willy was already shepherding the boy over the road. They climbed inside the carriage after she’d assured the coachman, Ernest, that the boy was to come with them,
inside
the carriage.

“What is your name?” she asked him.

“Dix Briscoe, Miss,” the boy said sniffing. He ran his grubby hand over the velvet seat beside him and leaned back against the squab.

“You shall call me Willy,” she said, as Blake climbed in beside her.

“And any disrespect from you and you’ll be begging that man to take you back,” Blake said.

“You needn’t worry, guvnor, I’ll be on me best behavior,” Dix said. “Prime horses you have. Got any more?”

“You like horses?”

‘Top animals they are,” Dix wiped his nose with the back of his hand smearing more coal dust over his cheek.

“Then you can reside with the coachman and the grooms.”

“After you have a bath,” Willy said.

Dix stared at her in horror. “A bath? Oh no, Miss.”

“The coachman can arrange it, and a change of clothes.” Blake frowned at her. “Dix is not going to be another Frederick,” he warned.