The Passionate Love of a Rake

She opened her mouth, but had nothing to say. She could not explain to him in a single sentence how she had felt forced to take Sutton. Or how she had stood and watched him, Robert, the man she loved, ride away, and felt her heart leave with him, nor how she had cried herself to sleep for years, longing for him. And anyway, that Robert was in the past. This one would not even wish to know.

“I have nothing to say to you,” she snapped and turned away. She walked hastily, but her foot caught on an uneven bulge of grass, and her ankle twisted. He caught her arm and stopped her fall.

His touch engendered a memory of the night before. She did not welcome it.

He bent to her ear, just as she had seen him do to Lady Baxter, and whispered, “Then what was last night about?”

“Last night was nothing but nostalgia and an appalling mistake.” She pulled her arm free then hurried away, gratefully hearing him delayed by an acquaintance while she was absorbed in the jostling crowd as people moved forward to watch the race.

Jane looked up and saw Violet with Lord Sparks in his box and hoped the crush would deter Robert. But glancing back, she saw him a few feet behind her, still following. She strode the last few yards with unladylike haste and quickly climbed the steps of the box, hoping Robert would give up the chase.

“I was about to send Lord Sparks to look for you,” Violet chimed as the footman opened the gate. “Where on earth did you get to? Oh … ” She stopped.

“Her Grace was admiring the form of my mare.” Robert’s slow drawling tone rose from behind Jane. “Did you wish to lay a bet, Your Grace? I would be happy to take it for you before you miss your chance.”

Jane turned and gave him a false smile. “I believe Lady Baxter is waving to you, my Lord. Perhaps you ought to return to your companion?”

He looked amused, while Jane wished for a hole to jump into.

“Lady Baxter is quite able to cope without me for a little while longer. She is with friends. Would you like me to take your bet or not, Your Grace?” She wanted to say not, but before Violet and Lord Sparks it would seem churlish.

Her fingers shaking, blushing again, she lifted the reticule which hung from her wrist, but Robert’s hand lay over hers then. “Simply tell me how much. We may settle up later.”

“Five pounds, that’s all,” she acknowledged.

His hand lifted, but as it did, he leaned forward and whispered, “I asked Lady Baxter a week ago. It would have been cruel to withdraw the invitation now. I may have the right to be angry at you, but still, I find I would not wish to see you upset for the world. Enjoy the race, Your Grace. Minstrel shall not let you down.” The last words were voiced loudly as he stepped back. Then he turned and walked away.

Disgusted with herself, Jane took her seat on the other side of Lord Sparks to Violet and accepted the opera glasses the footman passed her to enable her to see the horses in more detail as they raced. The animals were already being led into the traces. She looked through the glasses and watched for a moment, but could not resist the urge to turn them on the other boxes. She spotted Lady Baxter, then followed the direction of her gaze to see Robert transferring the bet.

His expression was stiff, masked. He turned back towards the boxes and began walking. He smiled, Jane presumed, at Lady Baxter, and lifted a hand.

Jane turned the glasses onto the group within his box. They were mostly men, but there were three women. They all seemed in high spirits.

What Robert had said was true, of course. He hadn’t even known Jane was in London when he’d courted Lady Baxter. Yet the thought of him with another woman made Jane’s skin crawl. She hated Lady Baxter for no good reason at all. Well, that, Jane had best get used to. If his reputation was true, there were hundreds of other women, and there would be hundreds more. Perhaps coming to London had been a mistake.

“Forgive me for intruding, Your Grace, but you are being a little obvious.” Lord Sparks’s whispered baritone made her jump, and her hand dropped to her lap, the weight of the glasses resting on her thigh. His eyes were laughing. “If you will permit me?” He pointed towards the course. “The horses are in that direction. But, of course, if you are weighing up the potential of another type of stallion … ”

Again, Jane blushed. She had done nothing but blush today, and she was unable to offer any response. Her eyes involuntarily lifted to the box across the green, from which she heard a burst of raucous laughter as the Earl of Barrington climbed up.

Blushing more strongly, she turned her eyes to the race and sought to hide behind the rim of her bonnet. Another laugh rang out. She could not help it, she turned back. She could see enough without the glasses to know Robert was looking in her direction, along with half the men in his group.

A slight, deep laugh erupted beside her. Lord Sparks had followed the direction of her gaze once more. She felt his gloved hand cover hers, which over-tightly gripped the glasses in her lap.

“Barrington is not the sort to kiss and tell, if that is what you are worrying over.”

Her gaze spun to Lord Sparks. She surely could not be any redder. “You know?” Her whisper was half question, half accusation, at the thought that Robert had told him.

He let go of her hand. “I was with Violet when you returned.”

Jane was mortified, if only the ground would swallow her whole. To think Violet had been – while Jane had refused. “We did not—”

“It is none of my business, if you did. Really, Your Grace, I do not care. I only meant to reassure.”

“I have warned her,” Violet piped up, leaning across Lord Sparks. “I told you Barrington is an out and out bounder, Jane. He is playing you off against that woman.”

“He is not so bad, Vi. If the Dowager Duchess likes him—”

Violet visibly bristled. “I know he is your friend, and I know your sister’s silly theory about his broken heart, but that man has no heart.”

“As you may tell,” Lord Sparks laughed, glancing back at Jane, “Violet is very opinionated on the subject of Lord Barrington. She disapproves of our friendship.”

“You may have whom you like as your friend. It is what he does to mine I care about. He is callous. Anyway, Jane, you have done what you have done, and that will be an end to it in any case.”

A shot rang out, setting the horses underway, and any thought of their conversation was lost as the crowd began to yell for the various horses. Jane lifted her glasses to her eyes and saw the black mare. The jockey was in the colours of the Barrington’s livery, maroon and cream, and his short whip tapped regularly at the animal’s rump, driving the mare on.

The horse was a dream. She flew through the rest of the field, her head down and focused as though she enjoyed the sheer thrill of the race. When she stretched over the finishing line, Jane could not help but cheer, and turned to see pandemonium break out in Robert’s box. Robert was gifting Lady Baxter with a very thorough kiss.

Jane’s gaze spun back to the course. Violet was right. It was silly to think of yesterdays. What Jane had longed for in the past could not come true now. She pressed her fingers to her right temple and felt a pounding pain commence in her head.

~

“Enough. Why not go and look over the animals for the next race with Lord Franklin? I am sure he would escort you.” Robert slipped Lady Baxter’s arms from about his neck and set the woman away gently, ignoring her pout.

Lord Franklin heard his name and glanced over with a knowing smile, then offered the lady his arm.

She conceded and went off with Robert’s friend with a flounce and a lifted chin, sidling close to Franklin in an obvious ploy to make Robert jealous.

It was pointless. He’d had his fill of her. He never bent to feminine games unless it suited his own aims. He was not, in general, a man led by his emotions. His desire for women was a mental game. The pumping organ in his chest was a cold and empty thing. Women, in general, did not affect it. He crossed his arms over his chest and watched Lady Baxter walk away.

Yesterday, he would have welcomed her fawning as a mark of his success, but today, it was cloying.

She had not accepted his desertion last night gracefully though. She’d been angry this morning, but despite that, the woman was not to be set off lightly. She was blatantly throwing herself at him now because she’d divined his interest was fading. More fool her. She’d clearly learned nothing about him. It would only put him off. It also convinced him that her previous disinclination had been a foil. She’d taken two weeks to woo, but now, he suspected, she’d never been disinclined, only hoping to snare him for longer than a brief affair. A game he was learning to be wary of.

He did not deliberately avoid long-term relationships. On the continent he’d had several.

A smile pulled at his lips when he remembered the opera singer in Rome. Then there was his widow in Venice. They’d taught him much of women. He’d learned many skills in his dissipated years abroad. It had changed him from a naïve and greedy youth, hungry for everything and anything that filled and fuelled his violently empty soul, to a connoisseur who liked to savour stimulation. Gluttony was no longer to his taste. He enjoyed relishing every morsel. Sadly, he just hadn’t found a woman who held his interest in a while. His eyes strayed towards Sparks’s box. And no woman had ever truly filled the void. Not since Jane. That damn woman had tainted everything beyond her, and now he’d seen and savoured an appetizer of the original woman he judged all others by, he’d lost his hunger for anything else again. He wanted her.

His stare reached to where she sat and caught her gaze. Instantly, she looked away in an obvious attempt to pretend she had not been watching. Her face now hidden behind the broad rim of her black bonnet, he turned fully in her direction and rested his gloved hands on the rail, making no secret of his contemplation.

Her slender, black-clad figure was tense. She was, perhaps, nervous. She probably knew he was still looking. Well, she deserved a little discomfort. He smiled.

When she’d suggested their assignation, he’d assumed she was fast, and she’d be eager, but in his chamber, she’d seemed hesitant. Yet her responses had been beautiful, real, honest, and open in a way he was unused to.

She’d let her defences fall last night. It had been all he’d anticipated.

He leaned forward onto his elbows and tipped the brim of his hat a little lower, hiding his gaze.

She was peeved because his attentions had been planned for Lady Baxter, yes, but from the way she’d looked at him just a moment ago, he would make a fair guess she was jealous, too. Well, jealousy was a useful tool.

She’d changed. But then, so had he. What to make of it? That was the question. All he knew at this moment was she piqued his interest, and he was unwilling to simply let her shrug him off. When he’d first seen her last night, the anger, which had driven his desire for self-destruction in the early years of his life after Jane, had fired up again within his gut. But equally, there had been a deep-seated need for her.

She had been everything to him once. He couldn’t say if it made him glad to have her so close, or if he wished to see her suffer by his hand in exchange for the harm she’d done him. Tangled emotions had disturbed his sleep and still tormented him, conflicting tumultuous and dissipated desires.

Jane was the only woman who could make his heart pump harder, and the one thing he knew was she could hurt him. He could not dispel her from his mind now any more easily than he had been able to dispel her from his heart years before.

He stood up again with a self-deprecating sigh, and his fingers touched the betting slip in his pocket. He had an excuse to call on her. Perhaps he would explore what he felt for her. He’d learned to enjoy the pleasure of the wooing as much as the winning, the art of it and the power in persuasion. That was his true vice. He liked very much to feel a woman succumb and submit and mould to his will. Once she was tame, usually his interest waned. But there was still a lot of pleasure to be found in Jane, no matter which direction this led.

Jane knew he was watching her. She could sense his gaze like a dagger piercing between her shoulder blades.

Her fingers pressed to her temple as she tried to quell the ache in her head, and her heart would not cease racing.

She’d seen him pull Lady Baxter loose and the woman walk away with another gentleman. Even from a distance, Jane could tell from Lady Baxter’s movements she had not been happy.

Why had Robert cast off Lady Baxter?

Had he done it because he’d known it was upsetting her?

Jane tried to watch the next race, but felt too angry to pay attention. She should not care what the villain did. He was not for her. No man was. Her future life was solitary. That was what she longed and prayed for, just some peace. Robert would not even wish to be a part of it.

Still she sensed him staring, and a long breath escaped her lips.

She felt so out of control. She’d held so many hopes for her life after Hector. She’d imagined she could, at last, do as she willed. All she wished for was a simple life, friendships, and mundane pursuits. Normality was a treasure she’d ached for for years. She’d thought Hector’s loss would release her from her loneliness, but even in Violet’s company, the loneliness had not abated. There was that stupid Robert-shaped hole in her life again. She had enough to worry over, fending off Joshua. She did not need to become embroiled in Robert’s games as well. The only thing she was certain of regarding Robert was he was trouble.

Jane endured two more races, refusing to look in Robert’s direction again, the ache in her head intensifying with every moment.

Then Violet commented on her silence.

Jane gave up the pretence. The headache was unbearable, and she could not go on.

When she asked if they could leave, Violet was all concern, and Jane felt awful for dragging her friend away.

On the drive home, Lord Sparks and Violet chattered merrily as Violet gripped his arm, and Jane pretended to sleep.

When they reached Violet’s, Jane retired immediately and curled up on her bed. She felt so alone. She had been alone for so many years, from the moment she’d watched Robert ride away. But it had never cut her as deeply as now.

Unable to cry because coping was too ingrained, yet unable to sleep either, her thoughts reeled with recent and distant memories of Robert.

The longing in her heart was for a home, somewhere safe and comforting she could retreat to, but nowhere was safe, thanks to Joshua. There was nowhere to hide away from the pain of meeting Robert again. Oh, she just wished she could die, but then that would let Joshua win, and what she wanted most of all was to fight back against the Suttons. The last Duke had stolen half her life. She would not give the other half to his son. She would suffer anything to ensure Joshua did not win. That was the one decision she could make. It was the only control she had. She would not run, and nor would she let him win, which meant she must also keep coming face-to-face with Robert.

~

Looking in the mirror, Robert admired the cravat his valet, Archer, had deftly tied, and smiled, a mocking twist on his lips. His fingers swept back his fringe. He was a handsome devil. The knowledge boosted his confidence.

Women adored him. Well, every bloody woman except the one he’d wished to keep. His smile turned to a sneer for his reflection.

What did his looks count for? In this respect, not a thing.

He slipped his arms into the black evening coat Archer held up.

Edward, Robert’s younger brother, would call Robert vain to the point of arrogant. Robert preferred to think of his appreciation of his looks as a desire for perfection. To which Edward would say, “more like perversity”.

A self-deprecating laugh escaped Robert’s throat as Archer slid Robert’s coat onto his shoulders.

Robert slipped each button into place himself, while Archer swept a fleck of dust from the shoulder.

“You are in good humor tonight, my Lord.”

Robert smiled again. Archer had been with him through his adolescent and maturing years abroad. The man was a saint, and sinner too, and a godsend. Archer could be counted on for anything. The man was Robert’s right arm, his co-conspirator, and, at times, his saviour.

“I am, Archer,” he answered, giving the man a wicked grin and patting his shoulder.

He knew what Archer was asking. Would there be a lady returning on his arm tonight? Somehow, Robert doubted it, not unless Jane could be persuaded, but, after last night, he thought it unlikely.

“I believe I am a-wooing, Archer. With a lonely night ahead.”

The valet nodded, and the look in his eye told Robert, Archer had his own wooing to do.

“You may have the night off. I’ll not need you again.” If Robert’s luck did come in by some remote chance, he could manage alone. Jane was clearly not a woman who appreciated frills and fuss. He suddenly remembered her excitement over bluebells in the woods at Farnborough when they’d been young. She’d been easily pleased then.

A smile still playing on his lips, Robert left the room.

He felt a sense of purpose he’d not known in ages, and blood pumped into his veins.

Yes, this was what he enjoyed, the invigorating pleasure of the chase.

Chapter Five

Robert strode into the Coleford’s soirée with a feeling of expectation and scanned the people gathered in the drawing room.

He was pleased with himself. After a quick trip to White’s, he’d discovered Violet’s whereabouts, and if Lady Rimes was here, then Jane would be, too.

Standing taller than many of those around him, Robert had the perfect vantage point from which to spot his black-clad quarry, but one swift glance revealed nothing.

“Lord Barrington!” Robert turned and faced a slender blonde, a former conquest, Lady Shaw. She wrapped her fingers about his arm as if claiming him.

Robert unwound them about to give her a polite set down, but the Earl of Coleford chose the same moment to welcome his late arrival.

It was a timely rescue, and Lady Shaw withdrew.

“Barrington, I did not expect you, but you are welcome.”

Coleford had been a friend of Robert’s father, and the man had a daughter to marry off, so any bachelor within a thousand-mile radius was welcome. Even Robert’s rakish ways were no deterrence when weighed in balance to his title and wealth.

“Lord Coleford.” He shook the man’s hand and offered a slight bow. “I was unexpectedly available and heard my friend Lord Sparks was attending. I hope you will forgive my intrusion.”

“Forgive it.” The man laughed. “You forget how close your father and I were, Barrington. You should know you are always welcome here. Have you met my daughter?”

Robert was impatient to see Jane but pinned a smile on his face regardless, and greeted Coleford’s girl, an attractive brunette with a bright, wide smile and sparkling blue eyes, but far too shallow and light-headed for Robert’s tastes. He did not do young, and he did not do innocent.

After several minutes of making polite conversation, he took the opportunity to ask Coleford if he’d seen Sparks.

Coleford pointed him in the direction of the garden, and Robert excused himself.

His heart kicked into a quicker beat as he stepped through the French door and felt a cool evening breeze.

He saw Lady Rimes immediately. She was strolling with Sparks along a path leading away from the house, but Jane was not with them.

Robert crossed the lawn in long, swift strides, a carefree feeling reminiscent of his youth rising inside him. He called out as he neared them, “Sparks!”

The couple stopped and both looked back. Sparks gave Robert a slanting smile and turned fully, while Lady Rimes merely glared.

“I did not expect to see you here, Robert?” Sparks stated.

Robert’s feet were firmly rooted to the spot. He could not find any words to ask them about Jane without being bloody obvious. “I thought … ” He stopped. Lord in heaven, he felt like he had at nineteen when he’d first expressed his feelings to Jane. It was idiotic. The only thing to do was just ask. It was hardly out of character for him to chase a woman. “Where is the Dowager Duchess of Sutton? I’d presumed she would be in your company, Lady Rimes.” He gave her a swift, brief bow, then cast her one of his most charming smiles.

She waved a hand at him in a dismissive gesture. “You need not seek to win me over, Barrington. She shall not heed my opinion, and besides, she is not here. She is not feeling well.”

Confused, Robert merely stared.

“She has the headache, my Lord,” Lady Rimes clarified. “Perhaps because you have been hounding her. You take advantage then flaunt yourself with another woman. Her Grace is … ” She stopped, offering him a flint-like stare which clearly judged and weighed him worthless. But then her voice dropped to a confidential tone, “She is not one of us, my Lord.” Her slim eyebrows lifted in arch punctuation of her words. “Do not toy with her. She is no flirt, Barrington, and she does not have the resources to fend off men like you. If you have any honour left in your soul, you will leave her be.”

Her head spun to look up at Sparks. “Forgive me, my Lord. I find the company not to my liking. You may seek me in the card room later.” With that and a swish of lemon silk, the woman was gone.

Robert looked at Sparks. “I take it Lady Rimes does not like me overmuch.”

“Not if you upset her friend,” Sparks answered then held out his hand. “Good evening, Robert. Do you want to get a drink?”

Robert nodded as they shook hands, then he fell into step beside Geoff, and together, they walked back across the lawn.

“She’s right though.”

“What?” Robert queried, his gaze drifting across the various couples spread about the lawn enjoying the first lukewarm night of the season.

“Violet is right about the Dowager Duchess of Sutton. She is not your usual sort. I would back off if I were you.”

Robert stopped, and Sparks stopped too, his eyes turning to Robert.

“Has she been speaking of me? What has she said?”

Sparks laughed.

“What?” Robert felt suddenly irritated.

“Calm down, old friend.” Sparks’s hand lay on Robert’s shoulder. “It is just she asked the same of you, in a roundabout way, and no, she has not spoken. Your little widow is a very private person from what I have seen. I doubt she would even share her secrets with Vi. But both Violet and I know because we saw you bring her home.”

Robert felt heat rise on his skin. Why should he feel remorseful? She was not a sixteen-year-old virgin with a reputation to lose any more. She was a widow with a life of her own, and, no doubt, a list of lovers in her past. She had been married to a man older than her grandfather, for God’s sake.

Still, he felt the need to preserve her reputation. “Then you will also know nothing untoward occurred. If it had, she would have been home at dawn.” Robert answered Sparks’s knowing gaze with a look that said “you’re wrong.”

“As you say, Robert, but the warning stands. She’s vulnerable. If I were you, I would leave her alone.”

Robert smirked. He did not like being told what to do, and no matter how much he liked Sparks, Robert was not about to be warned off the only woman he’d ever considered his. “No.” Answering in one syllable, he moved to turn away. Sparks caught his arm.

“Robert, think about it and take care.” Robert yanked his arm free. “I mean of her,” the man said to Robert’s back.

~

Jane weaved through the people promenading along Oxford Street and glanced back at Violet’s footman following two paces behind her. He carried a bonnet she’d bought, in a box, and the ribbons and lace she’d purchased as a gift for Violet.