The Rake (14 page)

He shook his head. “I should not have asked
that of you before. Don’t come. It’s too risky.”

Demi felt a sinking of dismay. “I….”

“
You will regret this by
morning … and most likely hate me.”

She swallowed against a sudden lump in her
throat. “Never. Come what may.”

“
Not even if you should
find I have given you a child?”

It hadn’t even occurred to her that he
might, but such joy washed through her on the instant that she knew
she wanted that with absolute desperation. “Most especially not
then.”

Disentangling her skirts from his fist, she
moved across the room, opened the door and glanced down the
hallway. Only one servant was in the hall now, and that one had
slumped toward the floor and was sound asleep. Slipping out, she
closed the door carefully behind her and rushed on tiptoe to her
own room.

Sarah sat straight up in bed the moment she
closed the door behind her. “I thought I would die of fright, Miss
Demitria! Ye were gone so long I was certain ye’d been caught an’
expectin’ yer aunt to drag me from yer bed any moment!”

A blush climbed instantly into Demi’s
cheeks. Fortunately, the room was quite dark and she knew Sarah
could not see it. She looked down at the bundle in her arms, even
though she knew Sarah would not be able to see her lie in her gaze.
“He woke. We talked … and I lost track of the time. I’m sorry I
worried you.”

Irritably, Sarah scrambled from the bed and
began to strip off Demi’s night clothes. Settling the bundle of
laundry, Demi followed suit, tossing Sarah’s clothes to her as she
removed them.

Sarah sniffed suspiciously when she dragged
the gown over her head and tightened the lacing in the front.
“Seems to me ye might’ve done a sight more than talk, considering
how long ye was gone. Don’t tell me ye weren’t kissin’ an’ lovin’
on him, for I can smell his after shave on me gown.”

Demi glanced at Sarah self-consciously. “It
was only the one,” she lied.

Sarah didn’t look much as
if she believed her, but it was obvious she was anxious to be gone.
Sniffing irritably, she moved across the room and collected the
laundry. “Ye’d best get in bed before yer aunt
does
decide to come check on
ye.”

Nodding, Demi raced across the room and
hopped into the bed, pulling the covers up. “The ‘guard’s’
asleep.”

Sarah eased the door open and peeked down
the hallway. Nodding, she went out and closed the door.

Demi fell back onto her pillows, smiling up
at the darkened ceiling. The blood still surged through her, making
it difficult to compose herself for sleep. She knew very well that
she should not feel so elated. She should feel shame. She should be
worried, embarrassed, guilty. She had given herself to Garrett when
she was already promised to another.

She would be damned to hell fire, condemned
by everyone if it ever became known. Jonathan Flemming was going to
fly into a tearing rage the moment he discovered his prize, his
wife, had belonged to another before him.

She was fiercely glad of it.

She might not be able to prevent them from
forcing her to marry him, but she had at least had the joy of
giving herself to the man she wanted, and she had the added joy of
knowing that there was some possibility that she might, even now,
be carrying his child.

Chapter Ten

Far from discovering a wealth of regrets
once the sun rose and spilled the unforgiving light of day into her
room, Demi woke with a sense of well being that only increased when
she felt the tenderness between her thighs that reminded her that
Garrett had claimed her as his own.

He didn’t realize it of course. He’d thought
she was one of the maids, and that knowledge was the only cloud on
her horizon. Resolutely, she dismissed it. She might not have known
what it was like to lay with a man before last night, but she was
certainly not ignorant of the ways of men. Her aunt had lamented
the tendency of men to yield to their baser instincts on more than
one occasion, warning both Demi and Phoebe that it was a lady’s
duty to hold them at bay.

Now that she’d experienced it, she
understood perfectly why men had such difficulty denying the
demands of their body. Anything that gave one so much pleasure
would be very hard to resist indeed. Only thinking of the things
he’d made her feel the night before, made her body hum to life and
begin to yearn for more.

She supposed, given her new insight, she
should make the effort to forgive Jonathan Flemming’s trespass, but
she found she was still revolted at the thought. She had not wanted
him. She made it abundantly clear that it gave her no pleasure at
all to have him maul her in that way, and he had completely ignored
her. Not for one moment did she believe that he had ‘lost his
head’. He’d simply not considered her feelings on the matter of any
importance.

He would not, she knew, once he had made her
his wife, but that didn’t bear thinking of.

Dismissing it with an effort, she climbed
from the bed and moved to the washstand. It was then that she
discovered the evidence of Garrett’s possession of her body. She
stared down at the cloth in dismay, wondering worriedly if she’d
soiled Sarah’s gown, as well.

Sarah would know instantly what the blood
meant. Her menses were not due for another week, at least, and
Sarah knew her cycle as well as she did.

Cringing at the thought of discovery, she
slipped her pantalets off and washed the stains out of the fabric
the best she could. She was not in the habit of doing her own
laundry, however, and didn’t know what to do with the pantalets
when she’d finished. Turning, she studied the room for a hiding
place and finally moved to the bed and stuffed the evidence beneath
the mattress.

Doubt seized her almost at once. What if one
of the maids dragged them out when she changed the bedding?

They wouldn’t have to see the telltale
stains that remained to realize she would not have tried to hide
them if she wasn’t guilty of something. Feeling under the mattress,
she dragged the damp pantalets out again and rushed over to the
armoire, wadding them into a tight little ball and piling
everything in the bottom of the armoire on top of them.

The door opened just as she finished and she
jerked guiltily. Straightening, she slammed the door of the armoire
and glanced quickly toward her bedroom door. Sarah was studying her
with a mixture of suspicion and surprise. “What’re ye up to now,
Miss?”

Demi blushed, but let out a gusty breath of
relief. “Nothing. I just thought you were Aunt Alma.”

Sarah nodded, but the suspicion didn’t
completely disappear from her eyes. “I’ve brought ye something to
break yer fast. Lady Moreland’s decided to be pleased with yer
performance last eve. She says if ye can comport yerself like a
lady, yer allowed to come downstairs again today.”

Demi bit her lip at the comment, blushing
harder as it instantly connected in her mind to wonder if Garrett
had been pleased with her ‘performance’. She rather thought he had
been and the thought brought a smile to her lips.

Sarah sniffed irritably, and Demi subdued
the smile, following her back across the room and climbing into the
bed. Sarah settled the tray carefully across her lap. “Ye might
want to consider stayin’ in yer room after all.”

Demi glanced at her curiously. “Why?”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “It’s as plain as the
nose on yer face that ye were up to a bit more than cuddlin’ an’
kissin’ last night. I’ve never seen a maid who looked more
thoroughly bedded, or more pleased about it.”

Demi looked at her self-consciously, trying
to think of something to say.

Sarah held her hand up. “Ye needn’t waste
yer breath. Ye’ll not convince me, nor nobody else if yer gonna be
goin’ around with that sappy look on yer face.”

Demi chuckled uneasily. “I’m not going to
fall for it, so you may as well stop fishing.”

“
I ain’t fishin’. I’m just
sayin’ you needn’t go to a lot of trouble thinkin’ up a good tale
on my account. I won’t believe it, an’ I’m not the one ye have to
convince anyways.”

Demi ate thoughtfully after
Sarah had left, wondering if Sarah really could tell, or if she was
just trying to trip her up. She finally decided, maybe, that
Sarah
could
tell.
She felt different. She supposed it was because she was truly happy
for the first time in longer than she could remember.

Her aunt might not be suspicious if she
seemed resigned, but she would certainly think Demi was up to
something if she seemed happy.

She would also be suspicious, however, if
Demi remained in her room, or think that Demi was still sulking, in
which case she might devise another punishment. Demi finally
decided it would be best to go downstairs, regardless of what Sarah
had said. She needn’t spend a great deal of time in her aunt’s
company, or her cousins’ for that matter. Phoebe and Geoffrey both
had their own friends and their own interests.

She discovered when she went downstairs that
she was wrong on all counts. Her aunt had planned a small party for
the ‘young people’, an excursion to the lake for a picnic--the same
lake Jonathan Flemming had taken her to. Demi was immediately sorry
she’d decided to go downstairs at all. She could have flat refused
to go, of course, but she knew what the end result of that would
be--three more days of being locked in her room, with no chance of
seeing Lord Wyndham, whom she learned would be leaving at the end
of the week.

Dejection instantly washed away the last of
the glow that had lingered from their night together. With the
ordeal of the ‘promised treat’ on top of that announcement, Demi
had no trouble at all behaving as if she was subdued. She was.

It was a testament to just how much she
adored Garrett that she did not immediately return to her room.
Phoebe and her aunt were going. Jonathan and Esmeralda, and Mr.
Collins and his sister, Miss Elizabeth Collins, would also be
joining the expedition, but Demi didn’t trust either her aunt or
Jonathan Flemming. Despite her aunt’s assertion that the primary
goal of the picnic was to dampen the possible gossip stemming from
Demi’s hastily put together marriage, she had the uneasy feeling
that she would be thrust into yet another compromising situation
with Flemming.

There was no need for such a thing, of
course. She had been so thoroughly compromised now it would be
difficult to further damage her reputation, and they must be as
aware as she was that the well witnessed aftermath of the incident
had thoroughly trapped her.

Regardless, she knew Flemming had been
determined to get her alone again and since she believed her aunt
had had a hand in the first incident--or at the very least had
simply turned a blind eye--she didn’t trust her aunt to thwart his
intentions.

Knowing her options were limited, she put up
no demure, but she resolved to refuse any attempt by Flemming to
get her off to himself.

They hit their first hurtle when they began
to load up in the carriages. They’d arranged to take three
carriages. When Demi tried to join her aunt and cousin Phoebe, her
aunt immediately objected. “Don’t be absurd. You will ride with
your fiancé. Esmeralda can ride with us.”

Demi’s eyes narrowed. “If I am to ride with
Mr. Flemming, then Esmeralda can ride with us.”

Alma Moreland studied her for a moment. “You
are a tiresome girl. I shall enjoy the peace when you are no longer
my responsibility.”

Demi had to bite her tongue to keep from
informing her aunt that she lived for the day, but as badly as she
wanted to tell her aunt how she felt about it, she had resolved not
to give her aunt any further justification for keeping her a
prisoner in her own room. Turning away from her aunt’s carriage,
she looped her arm through Esme’s and headed for Jonathan’s
carriage.

The smile he gave her when she stopped
beside the carriage made her long to whack him a few times about
the head with her parasol. She’d brought her parasol explicitly for
that purpose, should the need arise. Setting her jaw, she allowed
him to help her into the carriage.

“
I thought Lady Moreland
had invited you to join her and Phoebe,” he said as he turned to
his daughter.

Esme glanced at Demi and
then her father. “But, I don’t like Lady Moreland, papa. I thought
I’d ride with you and Demitria. She
is
to be my new stepmother, after
all.”

Demi, who’d been staring at the horse’s ears
in fuming silence, turned and looked at her friend in stunned
surprise. Flemming obviously didn’t particularly care for Esme’s
humor. He was as red as a radish. Gritting his teeth, he helped
Esme into the back seat of the carriage without another word, then
stalked around the carriage and climbed in.

Demi bit her lip to contain a smile as she
twisted around to look at Esme. Esme winked at her, grinned and
settled back with the air of one who was already enjoying herself
tremendously.

When they arrived at the lake, they
discovered that the servants had arrived before them and were in
the process of setting up the picnic. Phoebe suggested they take a
stroll around the lake and immediately attached herself to Mr.
Collins. Flemming offered his arm. Ignoring it, Demi looped her arm
through Esme’s and asked her if she’d read any good novels lately.
Miss Elizabeth Collins joined Demi and Esme, and Flemming was left
to lend his support to Lady Moreland.

Books were more dear to Esme’s heart than
anything else in life, and she talked at length about those she’d
read most recently, relieving Demi and Elizabeth of the need to do
anything more than listen. Ordinarily, Demi would have been nearly
as enthusiastic, but she couldn’t help but wonder what Esme thought
about her father’s marriage plans. She had not spoken of it before
today … and, until she had, Demi had not even considered that her
marriage to Jonathan would make her Esme’s stepmother.