The Rake (21 page)

Finally, deciding she simply wasn’t up to
dealing with anything more at the moment, she concentrated on her
bath. When she’d finished washing her hair, one of the maid’s
helped her rinse the soap from it and then wrung the excess water
from it and twisted a length of linen around her head. The soap
given her to bathe with was scented with roses and smelled divine.
She lingered over her bath until her skin began to prune and
finally, reluctantly, stood up and took the length of toweling the
maid handed her. To her surprise, the maid disappeared for several
moments and returned with her own clothing and helped her
dress.

Apparently the trunk that had been brought
up actually had been her trunk, but the when and how of it stymied
her. Obviously, Lady Moreland had had her things packed up in
anticipation of moving them to the parsonage after the wedding, but
how had the trunk ended in Garrett’s hands?

Had it already been loaded into Lady
Moreland’s carriage? Or had Fitzhugh, perhaps, waylaid the
servants’ carriage as Garrett waylaid her aunt’s?

Shaking it off as unanswerable, Demi
followed the maid into the bedchamber that adjoined the small room
where she’d bathed. It was an enormous room--far bigger than the
room that had been hers at Moreland Abbey, and far more richly
appointed.

A large mahogany bed, in the Empire style,
dominated the room, its canopy, hangings and coverlet all
predominately blue. Two large carpets covered much of the gleaming
wooden floor and these were also picked out in a similar shade of
powder blue. A full length mirror was set in one corner and angled
so that it caught much of the room in its reflection. Opposite the
mirror was an enormous armoire, also of the Empire style. A maid
was kneeling before it, busily unpacking the trunk that had been
brought up and placing her clothing inside the cabinet in careful
order.

Along the wall between the armoire and the
mirror was a huge fireplace. A small, but cheerful little fire had
been built on the hearth, despite the fact that it was already well
into spring and the room was only a little chilled from the night
air.

Feeling her tension of before return, Demi
removed the linen from her head and moved to stand before the fire
to allow the heat to dry her hair, surreptitiously studying the
remainder of the room as the maid who’d assisted her with her bath
went to retrieve a chemise and pantalets from her trunk.

Two windows, easily twice her height, lined
the wall on either side of the massive head board of the bed,
swathed in heavy draperies of a solid blue slightly darker than the
carpets. Along the wall opposite her was a long dressing table with
a padded bench and a large mirror above it. Just beyond that was
the door she’d entered through and in the corner of the inner
wall--which led, she surmised, to the upper hallway--was an
arrangement of two overstuffed chairs and several small tables. A
long bench was situated at the foot of the massive bed and, near
the hearth where she stood, a set of two comfortably overstuffed
chairs with a small table between them.

It looked like the sort of apartment one
might set aside for visiting royalty, not the sort of room reserved
for unwelcome guests of no social standing who also happened to be
poverty stricken orphans, and certainly not a man’s mistress.

“
Would you prefer to dress?
Or prepare for bed, Miss Demitria?” the maid asked when she’d
helped Demi don her pantalets and chemise.

Demi looked at her uncertainly. “Didn’t Lady
Wyndham say she wished to speak to me? I think I should get dressed
to receive her.”

The maid nodded and returned a few moments
later with a corset, which she helped Demi into and adjusted.
“Which gown do you prefer, Miss?”

Demi shook her head. “Whatever you
think.”

The maid brought one of the gowns her aunt
had had made up for her marriage. Demi stared at it in revulsion,
but she knew her other gowns looked the worse for wear and she
didn’t particularly want to greet Lady Wyndham in her castoffs.

The maid was just finishing when, after a
quick rap on the door, Lady Wyndham entered, followed by a maid
carrying a tray. The dinner was set up on the small table in the
corner and, with some reluctance, Demi joined Lady Wyndham there,
perching uncomfortably on the edge of the chair opposite the one
Lady Wyndham had taken.

Once they’d been served, Lady Wyndham shooed
the servants out.

“
Now that we are quite
alone, you must tell me all about yourself and my son. When are you
to be married? I confess I have my heart set upon a very large,
elaborate affair, but since it is your wedding, I suppose we will
do it up however you prefer.”

Demi stared at her blankly for several
moments while it slowly sank into her mind that Lady Wyndham was
not, as she’d feared, Garrett’s wife, but his mother.

And she thought they were being married.

Blood flooded her cheeks. As reluctant as
she was to confess the situation to his mother, of all people, she
knew she simply could not deal with any more subterfuge. “I don’t …
that is, he hasn’t asked me to marry him, Lady Wyndham. I am …
quite convinced he has no intention, or at least no desire, to do
so,” she confessed weakly and then covered her face and promptly
burst into tears.

Chapter Fifteen

To Demi’s stunned amazement, Lady Wyndham
pulled her into a motherly embrace, rocking her slightly and
patting her back. “There, there, my dear. It cannot, surely, be as
bad as all that?”

The embrace and the soothing words only made
her wail harder. Or perhaps it was only that she couldn’t even
recall a time when she had been comforted by the loving embrace of
a mother. It occurred to her after a bit, however, that it was not
her own mother who comforted her, but Garrett’s. With an effort,
she regained control of her wayward emotions and began a frantic
search for her handkerchief. Finding it at last, she pulled away
from Lady Wyndham and mopped her face and blew her nose.

Lady Wyndham sat back on her heels. After a
moment, she rose and moved back to her own seat. When Demi finally
nerved herself to look at the older woman, she saw that her face
was a mask of carefully controlled anger. It sent a shaft of fear
through her, effectively dashing the last of her urge to cry.

“
But … this is infamous!
Outrageous!”

Feeling the blood rush from her face, Demi
stood abruptly. “I should go,” she said a little desperately,
uncertain of where she might go, but feeling a great urge to remove
herself from Wyndham Park as quickly as possible.

Lady Wyndham gaped at her. “I beg your
pardon?”

“
I do apologize for … for
intruding on your hospitality. I didn’t realize that he was
bringing me here or I would have objected.”

Understanding dawned. “No,
no! You misunderstood me, my dear. I meant it was infamous of my
son! I certainly do not consider
you
at fault. In any case, it is not
my hospitality, precisely. Wyndham Park is Garrett’s seat. But
never mind that now. It’s of no consequence.

“
Do you mean to tell me
that my son has seduced you … a young lady of good family … and
carried you off without even having the grace to ask you to marry
him?”

Demi stared a Lady Wyndham in horror,
wishing the floor would open and swallow her. She couldn’t allow
Garrett to be blamed for her bad behavior, however. “It was not
like that,” she finally managed to say although she thought/hoped
for several moments that she might simply faint dead away and be
spared having to actually admit her transgressions aloud … to
Garrett’s mother. “I … uh … I seduced him.”

Lady Wyndham stared at her blankly for
several moments. A chuckle escaped her and she clapped a hand to
her mouth. When she removed her hand to speak, however, she began
to giggle almost uncontrollably. “You seduced….” She fought another
round with her mirth. “I’m sorry, child. Truly, I am. I realize
this is very difficult for you. It’s only … darling you cannot be
unaware of the fact that Garrett has the reputation of being a
dreadful rake!”

Demi reddened. “He does not have so bad a
reputation as that!”

Lady Wyndham bit her lip. “You are right.
It’s unconscionable for me to blacken my own son’s name. He is not
a very notorious rake, not considered beyond the pale, but he is
most certainly considered a rake, nevertheless.”

Demi studied her for several moments and
finally looked down at her hands. “I had heard a few things, I
confess, but I could not credit it. He has always behaved in a most
gentlemanly way toward me.”

“
Except when he seduced
you,” Lady Wyndham put in dryly.

Demi reddened, refusing to look up. “But he
didn’t. He’d been injured, you see. My cousin Geoffrey is quiet
notoriously dangerous with a gun. They’d gone out shooting and he
managed to fall from his horse and shoot Gar--Lord Wyndham in the …
in the leg. And he was very, very ill. He almost died and I was
worried sick. So … I sneaked into his room … just to reassure
myself that he would be all right, I swear. But then, he mistook me
for a maid and … and … it just happened.”

She flicked a look at Lady Wyndham and saw
she was studying her skeptically. “He was in his cups,” she
added.

“
And unable to recognize
you? How convenient for him!”

Demi remembered abruptly that he’d admitted
that he had recognized her and she shifted uncomfortably. “He was
not himself,” she insisted stubbornly. “He would have stopped if
I’d asked him to. I … didn’t. So, it was all my fault, you
see.”

“
No. I’m afraid I don’t
see. In any case, if he has compromised you in such a way, then he
will most certainly marry you!”

Demi stared at her in
dismay. “But that is just it! He … he thinks I only did it so that
he would be forced to marry me. And I didn’t. I swear I didn’t. But
I simply could not
bear
it if he were forced to marry me. He would hate me
and I’d rather die, really I would. Couldn’t you … just let me work
for you … or something? I could be a very good lady’s maid, I
think.” She studied Lady Wyndham’s expression for a moment and
revised that. “Or a kitchen maid. I’m sure I could learn it very
quickly.”

Lady Wyndham frowned. “Wouldn’t you rather
have your pastor than be a scullery maid?”

Demi felt the blood rush from her face. She
shuddered. “No! Please don’t send me back to him. I’ll leave … in
the morning. Or, now.”

Lady Wyndham’s brows rose. “And go where,
child? Your aunt will almost certainly have disowned you. You have
no other family? No friends who might take you in?”

“
Sarah!” Demi said. “I’m
sure Sarah wouldn’t mind if I stayed with her a bit--just until I
had time to figure out what to do.”

“
The new lady’s maid who
arrived this morning?”

“
Oh,” Demi said,
deflated.

Lady Wyndham shook her head and reached over
to pat Demi on the knee. “You are distressing yourself needlessly.
I will sort through this. In the meanwhile, you must eat your
dinner like a good girl and then rest. I will have something worked
out very shortly, I can assure you, so you may be easy.”

Food was the last thing Demi wanted at the
moment. Her stomach was tied in knots, but she was somewhat
relieved by Lady Wyndham’s offer to straighten things out for her
and she didn’t want to appear ungrateful. She managed to eat enough
to satisfy her and finally climbed into bed. To her surprise, Lady
Wyndham tucked her in and kissed her on the forehead before she
left, a militant gleam in her eyes.

She found Garrett pacing the library, a
tumbler of scotch in his hand. Eyeing the glass with disfavor, she
settled herself on the settee in front of the fireplace and watched
him for several moments. Finally Garrett sprawled in the chair
opposite her, rubbing his throbbing leg absently. “What do you
think of her mother?”

Lady Wyndham frowned. “She’s a darling girl
… and far too good for you.”

Garrett winced. “As it happens, I
agree.”

Slightly mollified, Lady Wyndham turned to
study the fire. “Dearest, I beg you to come at once to Wyndham to
attend my bride. I have made the most damnable mess of things,” she
quoted the note she’d received from him thoughtfully. “I’ll admit,
I could hardly credit it, but I had not thought you were
sincere.”

His dark brows rose. A faint smile curled
his lips. “About my bride?”

Her lips thinned in irritation. “About the
damnable mess, Garrett. She will not marry you.”

To her surprise, he turned perfectly white.
Standing abruptly, he moved to the window, staring out at the
darkness beyond. “She has said that?”

Lady Wyndham studied his back for several
moments. “I cannot recall her precise words but it was something to
the effect that ‘she’d rather die’.”

Garrett’s head snapped around, his
expression completely unguarded for once in his life, and eloquent
of pained surprise. A moment later, a cold mask replaced it. “She
is … distraught. Given time she will see that it’s inevitable.”

Despite her empathy for his
suffering, and her certainty that her son had at last succumbed to
cupid’s bow, his arrogant dismissal of Demitria’s objections
irritated her. So far as she could see, he
had
made a damnable mess of things.
It was obvious to her that Demitria was deeply in love with him as
he was with her, and yet he’d allowed her to feel as if he didn’t
return her affection, that he was willing to ‘do the right thing’
by her when, in fact, it had nothing to do with his wish to marry
the girl, beyond conveniently tying things up for him.