The Rake (7 page)

When she could no longer hear her aunt, Demi
returned to the pitcher and drank enough water to wash the dry
biscuit down and then crawled into the bed once more. It wasn’t
until she’d settled that she recalled her aunt’s collision with the
door. A chuckle escaped her before she thought better of it.
Clamping a hand over her mouth, she stifled the peal of laughter
that followed the best she could, but each time she thought she’d
gotten control over her wayward humor, she’d envision her aunt
slamming into her locked door and lose control all over again.

Finally, exhausted, she blew out the lamp
beside her bed and settled back. Anxiety almost immediately washed
over her, chasing the last of her humor far away. She was to have
an outing with Mr. Flemming on the morrow, and she looked forward
to that with about as much enthusiasm as she looked forward to
facing her aunt.

As it turned, however, her aunt had other
things on her mind. Young Lord Moreland arrived from Eton, having
been expelled for the remainder of the term.

Chapter Five

Demi was both surprised and relieved when
Reverend Flemming arrived the following day with Esme perched up in
the carriage beside him. She’d spent the morning in her room,
pacing the floor, too nervous to sit for very long at the time and
far too nervous to venture downstairs, where she was almost certain
to run into someone she’d as soon not.

In the bright light of day, her romantic
interlude with Lord Wyndham took on a whole new light. She was
dismayed at her own behavior and couldn’t help but wonder if the
entire episode had been entirely of her making. Lord Wyndham was a
gentleman, but when all was said and done, he was still a man. Had
he actually instigated the kiss, she wondered now? Or had she been
so desperate for his attention that he’d taken his cue from
her?

It was mortifying to think that that might
have been the case. She didn’t know if she could face him
again.

She’d been going over and over it in her
mind, but try as she might she couldn’t recall anything he’d done
leading up to that moment, the first kiss, that might have
indicated a desire to kiss her, let alone anything more. He’d given
her his coat. When she’d begun shivering, she remembered that he’d
moved closer and even placed an arm around her shoulders. She’d
thought that he was going to kiss her and she’d looked up, hoping
he would, but she couldn’t remember now why she’d thought so.

She put her hands to her burning cheeks.
She’d thrown herself at his head, just as her aunt had accused her
of doing, and she didn’t have to wonder what he’d thought about it
for he’d made indecent suggestions, and she hadn’t even had the
good sense to at least behave as if she’d been offended!

She’d actually touched
‘it’, and she hadn’t screamed or fainted or even thought to slap
his face. She’d
wanted
to touch it. She’d wanted to examine it more than she
had.

Someone was bound to have seen them
together. There would be talk, a scandal. Jonathan Flemming would
withdraw his offer and she’d be ruined and her aunt would ship her
off … somewhere.

She almost jumped out of her skin when a
maid tapped at the door to let her know that Mr. Flemming had
arrived. “I’ll be right down,” she responded, hurrying over to grab
the bonnet and shawl she’d chosen to go with her outfit. She
stopped before the mirror on her dressing table long enough to
perch the bonnet on her head and secure it with its ribbons. Her
face was pale with fright, but she rather thought after her
pretended illness the day before that it was better than bouncing
down the stairs with the glow of health in her cheeks.

Tossing the shawl over one arm, she left the
room and made her way downstairs. She had to feign surprise at the
discovery that Esme would be joining them. She didn’t want either
her aunt or Mr. Flemming to know that she’d been watching for the
carriage from upstairs. Jonathan greeted her a little stiffly, his
gaze suspicious as he looked her over and she wondered guiltily if
it was because of her bad behavior in the parlor the day before or
if he’d seen her in the meadow with Lord Wyndham.

Once they’d settled in the
carriage, she discovered why Esme had been included in the outing.
Their destination was the small town of Moreland, named for the
abbey, rather than vice versa. Their
expressed
reason for going was to see
about making a few purchases to furbish Esme’s wardrobe and to take
luncheon at the local tavern. It wasn’t until they’d left the
carriage at the livery and begun to stroll through town that Demi
realized the true reason for their trip to town. They’d not gone
far when one of Reverend Flemming’s parishioners stepped from one
of the shops they passed and stopped to chat when he tipped his hat
at her. “Allow me to introduce my fiancé, Miss Demitria Standish,”
Flemming said without preamble.

The woman, who looked to be around
Flemming’s age, looked Demi over and forced a polite smile,
offering her hand. “So nice to meet you, my dear. You’re Lord
Moreland’s cousin?”

Demi pasted an artificial smile on her lips
and nodded.

They covered several blocks in much the same
manner, stopping to greet Flemming’s numerous acquaintances,
exchange introductions and pleasantries, and then move on again,
and finally arrived at the shop that was Esme’s goal--which was
directly across the street from a livery.

Demi felt like the lowest form of human life
during the course of the first several introductions. She’d
accepted his offer of marriage when she hadn’t wanted him at all,
had, in fact fallen head over heels for Lord Wyndham many months
ago. Worse, the very night she’d accepted him, she’d been in the
meadow with Lord Wyndham doing her utmost to encourage him to lose
his head and … ravish her, and she hadn’t felt a whit of shame over
it--until now.

It had not occurred to her before that he
might honestly feel some affection toward her, that he might be
wounded by her perfidy, and his obvious pride in her was almost
worse, for she could well imagine what even a hint of scandal would
do to him.

It wasn’t until she happened to catch the
cold glitter of possessiveness in his eyes as he glanced at her
that she began to have a totally different picture of the situation
and began to entertain grave doubts about her intelligence. He was
proud of her, that was for certain, but not for the reasons she’d
attributed to him. She was related to the Morelands of Moreland
Abby, a poor relation, and not even on the Moreland side, but that
didn’t seem to matter to any of the people they met, and thus it
didn’t matter to Flemming either. She could see the calculating
looks in their eyes as well as Flemming’s, and knew that they were
speculating on how much had been settled on her.

By the time they reached the shop, she’d
tilted in the other direction once more and begun to wonder if
she’d misjudged Flemming. Was it her sense of guilt and shame that
had made her feel she had to have an excuse for her behavior? Her
dislike of the match that made her want to find fault in him? She
could not think that Flemming behaved the least bit as if he was
enamored with her, but perhaps that was only because of his
position in the community? Maybe he truly had developed an
affection for her and his pride stemmed from that?

Try though she might to be both honest and
fair, she didn’t believe it. She’d known from the beginning that he
was very like her Aunt Alma, and this was just the sort of
calculating maneuver that she would consider--blocking any chance
of retreat by the threat of public humiliation. He had very
calculatingly introduced her to half the town as his fiancé. By
bedtime not a soul in the small hamlet would be unaware of it. If
she even considered trying to back out of the engagement now, she
would be ruined, her reputation in shambles. Of course, he too
would be humiliated, but it was obviously a risk he was willing to
take to ensure she didn’t try to wiggle out of the deal he and her
aunt had hatched between them.

Perhaps a part of it had been aimed at his
parishioners themselves, to put them in their place, for it was a
well known fact that every widow for miles around had been hanging
after him for years and everyone had wondered aloud why he had not
married again. He had set out to show them that he was above their
touch, a member of the aristocracy. He might not have the breeding
or wealth to seek a wife in the highest echelons, but he would have
a genteel wife, nevertheless, not the wealthy widow of a
merchant.

She could not fault him for
having pride in his family name, nor wishing to marry into the
peerage when he was genteel himself. His first wife
had
been a wealthy
merchant’s daughter and she supposed it must have chafed so proud a
man to know that everyone considered that he’d been forced to marry
beneath him because his pocketbook required it.

It did not make her feel more kindly toward
him. She’d hoped, since she had no choice in the matter, that she
might find something that would appeal to her. Instead, it seemed
the more familiar she became with him, the worse her prospects of
happiness looked.

Apparently, he sensed the dislike she was
trying hard to hide, or better yet, dismiss. Once he’d finished
parading her about town, he set out to charm her. The luncheon the
three of them shared was almost pleasant, and not entirely due to
Esme’s presence, though Esme was so excited about the rare treat
that it was infectious. By the time they set out for the return
trip to Moreland Abby, Demi was almost relaxed--right up until the
moment that she realized that they had detoured by the parsonage to
drop Esme off before returning her home.

She glanced at Flemming uneasily as the door
closed behind Esme and forced a nervous smile. “I expect Aunt Alma
will begin to wonder if we have had a carriage accident we have
been gone so long.”

Flemming sent her a cool smile. “I told her
that we would most likely be late.”

“
Oh?” Demi responded a
little uneasily. “I am quite certain she will have expected us back
by now, though. We generally dine early unless we’re having guests
and Aunt Alma is a stickler for punctuality.”

Jonathan sent her a speculative glance and
flicked the reins. “Soon or late, she will have to grow accustomed
to the fact that, as your husband, I will expect to have a say in
your comings and goings. At any rate, I’m sure she’ll forgive us if
we’re a little late.”

Demi caught her bonnet with one hand and the
armrest at the edge of the seat with the other as the carriage
jolted forward. “I expect she will concede that … once we are wed,
but then there is no telling with Aunt Alma. She is very accustomed
to having her way.” She frowned as his body bumped her side and his
arm brushed along hers for the third time in less than three
minutes. Glancing down at the seat between them, she hadn’t noticed
before that the seat was so narrow that he could not drive without
brushing against her. Surreptitiously, she shifted over to put some
distance between them.

“
We are the next thing to
wed now,” he said with a complacent smile. “And I am very
accustomed to having my own way, as well, particularly where it
pertains to my wife.”

Demi returned his smile with a slightly
forced one. “We are barely engaged as yet and many months from
being married.”

He shrugged. “The settlements are signed.
I’d forgotten you left yesterday before we’d finished up. At any
rate, I see no sense in a prolonged engagement, particularly when I
am anxious to have you in my home. Your aunt and I settled it
between us that we would publish the bans next month and wed the
following month.”

A jolt of surprise and dismay went through
her. She couldn’t decide what to respond to first, the fact that
Jonathan and her aunt had not only made all the plans, but settled
them, as well, without consulting her or even advising her of them.
Or his statement that the contracts had been signed without her.
“The contracts cannot be signed. I did not sign.”

“
Your aunt took the liberty
of signing for you since you weren’t feeling well. She is your
legal guardian, after all.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to inform
him that her aunt could also take the liberty of marrying him and
taking her place in the marriage bed if she was so anxious to do it
all. “Don’t you think announcing the engagement and following it by
a wedding within two months is scandalously precipitous? People are
bound to think the worst. I’d expected we would be engaged a year,
at least, before we began to discuss a wedding.”

He sent her a look of surprise. “Did you?
But we were discussing the wedding plans when you left yesterday.
Surely you must have realized that we would not be planning it a
year in advance. In any case, I’ve no wish for a prolonged
engagement. We are all in agreement. We have known each other since
you first arrived at Moreland Abbey.”

“
I was scarcely eight years
old!” Demi exclaimed in outrage.

“
Exactly my point. I have
known you nigh ten years now. I watched you grow up from a pretty
little girl to a beautiful woman. I am anxious to have you for my
wife.”

Demi felt a little nauseated. Put that way,
she had to wonder if he’d had his eye on her since that time. She
supposed some women might find that romantic. She might have
herself, for that matter, if she had felt any sort of affection for
him. She didn’t, and she began to wonder if she could manage even
to tolerate him when she was being forced from every direction
without regard to her sensibilities. She thought she might adjust,
if given time. She might even learn acceptance, but every feeling
revolted at being pitched so precipitously into the most extreme
intimacy with a man she felt she already knew better than she
wanted to.