The Rake's Rebellious Lady

‘Absolutely,’ Freddie said, much amused. He had not met such frankness in a young lady of her class before and found it refreshing. ‘Unfortunately, the match-making mamas of too many young ladies do not see it from your point of view. Now, what shall we have of this fine supper provided for us, Miss Holbrook? Please do not say you are not hungry. Surely you must fancy some of that delicious ham—or the chicken? Perhaps with a few green peas?’

‘I would prefer one of those savoury pastries, and a syllabub,’ Caroline said. ‘But you must certainly have some of that beef, sir. It is rare and I know gentlemen like their beef that way—at least Nicolas does and so did my papa, although my other brother, Tom, likes the first slice from the cut.’

‘Your father is dead, Miss Holbrook?’

‘These two years past,’ Caroline said and sighed. ‘I miss him sorely, sir, but, truthfully, I miss my brother more. Tom has taken on the estate, of course, but Nicolas has gone to become a soldier. I just wish that I might have gone with him. I think it must be a fine thing to wear a handsome uniform and march to the sound of the drums.’

‘Do you, indeed?’ Freddie hid his smile at her naivety. ‘I have had my share of it, Miss Holbrook. I can assure you that it is not all drums and flying colours.’

‘Were you with Wellington when Napoleon was defeated?’

‘No, I had resigned my commission, but I was with him at Salamanca.’

‘Truly? Did you resign because you were wounded?’

‘I was wounded several times, but I resigned because my father died and I had commitments at home.’

‘Ah, yes, you are the elder son, I assume. I think poor Tom wishes that he were Nicolas at times. He has all the burden of the estate, while Nicolas may do much as he pleases.’

‘Within reason, I dare say, but he will have to make his fortune—or marry into one. I dare say he has not much fortune of his own?’

‘Oh, no,’ Caroline said candidly, unaware that she was being quizzed for information. ‘None of us has. Poor Papa was not a good manager, you see.’

‘Ah…’ Having gained all the information that Asbury had not been able to give him earlier, Freddie was satisfied. The girl clearly needed to marry well, which in her case should not be difficult, even without a fortune. She was undoubtedly beautiful and her easy manner had made her a favourite with the gentlemen. He found her amusing company himself, but could not help wondering if there were some artifice behind her easy manner. It would be interesting to discover more about her. ‘Now, we must eat, Miss Holbrook. Please seat yourself, and I shall arrange for our supper.’

Caroline saw that a table by the window was still free, and she went to sit there. Before Sir Frederick could bring her her supper, Mr Bellingham came and sat down, supplying a third chair for himself.

‘Freddie looking after you?’ he asked. ‘Decent chap, but rather stole my thunder. I was recalling what I know of Lovelace when he jumped in. I dare say he won’t mind my joining you. We are close friends, you see.’

‘I set the question, thinking that you might answer it,’ Caroline said truthfully. ‘I particularly like his letter to Lucasta—do you know it?’

‘“Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind…”’ George quoted, raising an eyebrow. ‘Is that the one?’

‘Oh, yes, written to Lucasta when he was about to go to war. I find that period so romantic, do you not agree? I have a book at home, which tells the story of a lady defending her home in her husband’s absence. It was a brave age, less polite than today, I imagine.’

‘Yes, indeed,’ George Bellingham agreed and smiled.

‘George,’ a voice said from behind him. ‘What is this, my dear fellow—stealing a march on me?’ Freddie waved the servant forwards who had brought various plates of the delicious food on offer. The servant deposited them and bowed, leaving the company to serve themselves. ‘Please do join us…feel free to eat whatever you wish, but not the syllabub.’

‘Very well, I shall,’ George said, impervious to the sarcasm in his friend’s voice. ‘Miss Holbrook and I were discussing Lovelace—and the Civil War, a brave age.’

‘Really?’ Freddie said drily. ‘With the whole country in arms and most of the aristocracy ruined for years?’

‘Oh, you have no soul,’ Caroline said, throwing him a challenging look. Her eyes were bright with mischief, making both men aware of her wayward spirit. ‘The men were so gallant, and the ladies very different from the ladies of today, would you not say?’

‘In what way?’ Freddie asked, a gleam in his eye as he realised that his friend had been quoting her views, not his own. It seemed that this young lady was not afraid to voice her opinions.

‘Oh, we are hedged about with convention,’ Caroline said. ‘I think it was easier to speak one’s mind then than now.’

‘Indeed?’ Freddie was hard put to it not to answer in kind, for she was speaking quite freely. ‘What would you like to say that you dare not, Miss Holbrook? Please do not hold back, for you are amongst friends. Neither George nor I will censure you.’

‘Oh…’ She looked into his eyes and saw the mockery. ‘Have I been speaking too freely? My aunt forbade it, but I have been used to speaking as I find with my brothers. Forgive me.’ A faint blush touched her cheeks.

‘No, indeed, you have not. I find your frankness refreshing,’ George assured her hastily. ‘Do not let anyone tell you that you should be otherwise, Miss Holbrook.’

‘Yes, well, perhaps I should not be quite so open,’ she said, belatedly realising that her aunt might be right in some instances. ‘Do you go to Almack’s this week, sir? I believe I am to be given vouchers.’

‘Then I shall certainly be there,’ George said and shot a look of triumph at his friend. ‘But I believe Freddie has other engagements?’

‘Yes, I fear I have,’ Freddie said and gave his friend a look that spoke volumes. The challenge was fairly joined and both men were enjoying themselves. ‘But I shall be at Lady Broughton’s rout—do you attend?’

‘Yes, I believe so,’ Caroline said. ‘Indeed, we have so many cards that I am not sure how we shall manage to attend a half of the affairs we have been invited to.’

‘You will no doubt simply make an appearance at some and then go on as many of us do,’ Freddie said. ‘But I shall engage to dance with you at least twice at the rout, Miss Holbrook. Please mark your card for me as you will.’

‘Thank you, sir…’ She looked at Mr Bellingham, for she sensed a friendly rivalry between the two and was amused by it. ‘And for you, sir?’

‘I believe two would be suitable,’ he said, ‘and I should like to take you driving in the park—perhaps tomorrow afternoon, if you have no prior engagements?’

‘I know we are engaged for the evening, but I think there is nothing as yet for the afternoon. I shall be delighted to drive out with you, sir.’

‘I shall look forward to it,’ George assured her and glanced at Freddie. Their habitual rivalry was good-natured, but often quite fierce, and their friendship was all the stronger for the occasional clash of temperament.

Freddie was eating his supper. He made no comment, apparently leaving the field for the moment, though George did not doubt that he would re-enter when he chose.

Caroline looked up and saw her aunt bearing down on them. ‘Gentlemen, I think my aunt may need me.’

The gentlemen got to their feet as Lady Taunton descended on them, but she smiled and indicated that they should sit. ‘Please continue with your supper, gentlemen. I came only to see if my niece wanted to accompany me to the rest room?’

‘Thank you, Aunt.’ Caroline rose obediently, for she knew when she was being told to do something, however charmingly it was put. ‘Excuse me, Mr Bellingham—Sir Frederick. I shall hope to see you at the rout we spoke of.’

She followed Lady Taunton from the room and up the stairs to the bedrooms that had been set aside for the comfort of the ladies, waiting for the tirade to begin. However, when they were alone, her aunt smiled at her.

‘You have done well, Caroline. Mr Bellingham is a wealthy gentleman, though some think him a confirmed bachelor—but of course Sir Frederick is one of the catches of the Season. He has been for years, of course, but so far has shown no inclination for matrimony. If you were to receive an offer from either of those gentlemen it would be highly satisfactory, though Sir Frederick is the better catch of the two. He is his uncle’s heir, you know—and will be the Marquis of Southmoor one day.’

‘I am sure that they were just being gallant,’ Caroline replied. ‘They wanted to pass the time pleasantly.’

‘I am not quite so certain,’ her aunt replied, looking thoughtful. ‘Rathbone’s godmother is a friend of mine. I do not think you have met her—Lady Stroud?’ Caroline shook her head. ‘No, I thought not. She told me that he has been attending more of these affairs recently, something he hardly ever does. I imagine that must mean he has set his mind to taking a bride. You have clearly caught his eye. It might be to your advantage to make a push, Caroline.’

‘We share an interest in certain poets,’ Caroline told her, ‘but I dare say that is all we have in common. Besides, there were many others who asked me to dance, and to take supper, Aunt.’ Her aunt’s untimely interference was irritating, for she had only just met the gentlemen in question.

‘Yes, of course. You must not show neglect in your manner to any gentlemen who take an interest in you, my dear—but bear it in mind that Rathbone is a good catch.’

Caroline did not answer. Her aunt’s words had the opposite effect of the one she had surely hoped for. If anything were calculated to set Caroline against someone, it was being pushed in his direction.

Freddie looked across the card table and sighed inwardly. He had been holding the winning hand for the past few minutes, but was reluctant to declare it. He would have preferred not to play Farringdon, but had been unable to refuse the challenge, having won from him only a few nights previously. He was aware that the fool was playing out of his depth, and could probably not afford to pay a half of the notes he had so carelessly thrown on the table. He toyed with the idea of throwing his hand, but that was against all the rules of play. Farringdon must learn not to gamble beyond his means.

He took a card from the pack; it was the one card that could improve his hand, which was now virtually unbeatable. He discarded and then laid his cards on the table. A groan broke from two of the other players; they complained of his incredible luck, but did so with a smile and a careless shrug, for both were well able to pay what was owed. Freddie looked at Farringdon’s white face as he sat staring at the cards in disbelief.

The other gentlemen got up and left the table almost immediately, in search of wine or food, but Farringdon sat on, almost as though he were frozen to the spot.

‘It will take me some time to raise the cash,’ he said in a flat voice, the seriousness of his situation showing only by a slight nerve flicking at his right temple.

‘Yes, of course,’ Freddie said, gathering up the various gold coins and notes that had been tossed on to the table. ‘Unless you would wish to toss for double or quits?’

‘No, no, I think not,’ Farringdon said with an attempt to seem casual. ‘It is a temporary thing, Rathbone. I should be able to settle in a few weeks.’

‘Yes, of course. There is no hurry, none whatsoever. You may take as much time as you please, sir. Will you drink a nightcap with me? It is my intention to walk home.’

‘Thank you, no,’ Farringdon said and got up. He left the table and walked from the gaming club without looking from left to right, his face set in a frozen expression that gave no indication of his state of mind.

‘Have you won again?’ George Bellingham wandered over to Freddie as he sat on for a moment in contemplation. ‘Farringdon looked desperate. I heard a rumour that unless he finds some way to come about he may be forced to sell his estate.’

‘The damned fool should have cut his losses earlier,’ Freddie said with a frown of displeasure. ‘I have no desire to ruin any man, George, and if he comes to me with the truth, I shall return his notes to him. However, he must retire from the tables. He should take a bolt to the country and stay there until he has the funds in his pocket. The rule is that if you can’t pay do not play.’

‘A gaming debt is a debt of honour,’ George agreed immediately. ‘Why do you not put the poor fellow out of his misery, Freddie? Send the notes back to him if you mean to do it.’

‘He needs a lesson,’ Freddie said. ‘Had he lost to Markham or Lazenby, they would have demanded payment within the month. If I give him his notes, he may be tempted to play again with someone less lenient than I.’

‘Well, yes, there is that to it,’ George said. ‘But he will hate you if you show him leniency—it will damage his pride.’

‘Then he must hate me,’ Freddie said. ‘The man is not ruined yet—not while I do not press my claim. No, no, Farringdon must come to me, and then we may settle this thing like gentlemen.’

‘Well, I dare say you are right, though you may make an enemy,’ George said, and then grinned at his friend. ‘Tell me, what did you think of her?’

‘I am not certain what you mean?’ Freddie said with a lift of his mobile brows, though he was perfectly aware of George’s meaning. Caroline Holbrook had made her mark with him, even if he was not prepared to admit it. There was something very appealing about her, which had drawn him to her despite her youth.

‘Miss Holbrook, of course,’ George said. ‘Do you not think she is everything we spoke of the other day, Freddie? She has beauty, a liveliness of spirit that one cannot but admire, and when she smiles the room seems to light up. Enchanting would not be too strong a word.’

‘Ah, I see you have been smitten. When am I to wish you happy, my dear fellow?’ Freddie raised his brows

‘Oh, as to that…I am set in my ways, you know. I am not certain that I should be comfortable married to any lady…but I must admit that, if I were tempted to change my ways, I might ask Miss Holbrook if she would do me the honour. Not that I expect she would accept me. I am too old for her—and she may take her pick of a dozen or more gentlemen, I dare say.’

‘All this on the strength of one ball?’ Freddie looked incredulous. ‘She is not quite in the usual style for one so young, I give you that, George—but you have met lively young ladies before.’ He refused to allow that Miss Holbrook was anything out of the ordinary, even though she had unaccountably lingered in his thoughts these past few days. He had not yet decided if that ingenuous manner was genuine or whether it hid something rather less pleasant. The girl had been frank about her lack of fortune—but was she a fortune hunter herself? For the moment he was inclined to stand back and watch as others fluttered about the flame.

‘Yes, of course,’ George said. ‘I am not sure what it is, Freddie—but does she not strike you as being remarkable?’

‘She has an amusing turn of phrase,’ Freddie conceded. ‘But is that artlessness real or assumed? I am reserving judgement for the moment. You will not see me at Almack’s just yet, George.’

‘I shall certainly attend,’ George said. ‘Sally Jersey has been giving me hints for ages. She thinks I should bestir myself to find a wife before I sink into the murky waters of old age.’

‘Good grief,’ Freddie said, revolted. ‘You are in your prime, George. But if you fancy the little Holbrook filly, I shall not stand in your way—though I warn you she has scant fortune.’ Now why had he added that piece of information? It could make no difference to George, who had fortune enough not to need a rich wife.

‘Where did you hear that?’

‘She told me herself.’

‘Well, you may be right, though…’ George shook his head. ‘It matters not a jot either way. I am not on the catch for a fortune. I may not have your luck at the tables, but I am not done up yet.’

‘I never imagined you were, my dear fellow,’ Freddie said, amused as much by his own feeling of pique as George’s enthusiasm. ‘Do you care to walk with me?’

‘I have my carriage,’ George said. ‘Let me take you up, Freddie. It has started to rain.’

‘Has it? I had not noticed,’ Freddie said. ‘Very well, then. I had thought to stretch my legs, blow the cobwebs away, but I do not care for a soaking.’

The two men smiled at each other, in perfect accord as always as they went out of the club and into the waiting carriage. Neither of them noticed the shadowy figure watching as they were driven away.

Chapter Two

‘Damn it, Jenkins—’ the Marquis of Bollingbrook glared at his valet ‘—I am not yet in my dotage. When I ask for brandy, I do not wish it to be mixed with water!’

His valet’s face wore a martyred air, for, having served his master, man and boy, he was not like to resent his outbursts of temper. Especially since he, above anyone at Bollingbrook Place, understood the pain behind the anger.

‘Begging your pardon, milord,’ Jenkins said, ‘but it was Dr Heron as told me your lordship ought not to drink so much.’

‘Damn his impertinence and yours,’ the Marquis said with a grunt of displeasure. ‘Pour a smaller measure if you will, but do not ruin the damned stuff!’

‘No, your lordship.’ Jenkins retained his impassive stare. The Marquis was prone to severe bouts of painful gout, which another, more critical man might have considered a judgement for his sinful past—sins that had haunted the older man for too long. Jenkins, however, was devoted to his master, besides being privy to secrets that others did not share. ‘It shall not happen again.’

‘See that it doesn’t.’

‘I am sorry, milord.’

‘No need to be sorry.’ A weary smile settled over the old man’s features. He knew that of late he had become almost impossible to live with. There had been a time when he was a very different man, but he had lived too long trapped in the pain of his memories. ‘Damned if I know how you put up with me, Jenkins. It’s a wonder you haven’t walked out before this. I’ve driven my family away. None of them visit me these days.’

The Marquis had fathered three sons, all of them by different wives. He had been unfortunate in losing the last of them, a beautiful young lady many years his junior. She too had died shortly after childbirth from a putrid chill. The Marquis had not been the same since her death. However, the loss of his youngest son had almost finished him.

‘Wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I retired, sir,’ Jenkins answered in the same flat tone as before. ‘Can’t blame your family for not visiting. You lost your temper and banned them from the estate the last time.’

‘Do you think I don’t know that?’ Bollingbrook growled. His foot was causing him excruciating pain and there was nothing to be done about it. ‘But I didn’t mean her, damn it!’ A look of regret came into his eyes. ‘Caroline is the best of them all. She is very like her, do you not think?’

Jenkins understood perfectly. ‘Yes, very like, my lord. You could write and invite her to stay…’

‘Her mother and aunt have taken her to London,’ the Marquis muttered. ‘Had a letter from that wilting lily last week. Damned if I know what Holbrook ever saw in her. I blame her for his death, you know. Another woman might have steered him to a safer path instead of weeping buckets in her bedchamber! Still, water under the bridge now.’ He glared at his valet. ‘I won’t have Caroline forced into a marriage she doesn’t care for. I suppose her mother is feeling the pinch. That is my fault, of course. Should have done something for her. I ought to have done something for Tom before this.’

‘Why not invite him here?’ Jenkins suggested, braving his master’s fierce stare. He knew him too well to quail in his boots, though others had been known to flee before such a look. ‘If I may take the liberty, milord? Send him to town to look after his sister. He can keep you informed on her situation.’

‘Excellent notion,’ the Marquis agreed. ‘He’s not as weak as his mother, though I prefer Nicolas. Full of spunk, that lad! However, Tom is Holbrook’s heir, so I must do something for him. Bring me pen and ink, if you will. I shall write the letter now.’

Jenkins obeyed, setting the well-used, mahogany writing slope on the Marquis’ lap, as he sat in his high-backed chair before the fire.

‘Is there anything else, milord?’

‘Not for the moment. I shall ring for you later.’

Left to himself, Bollingbrook opened the secret drawer of his writing slope and took out the miniature of his third wife. Angelica was the only one he had loved, though there had been many women before her, some of them acknowledged beauties, but none at all had followed her. He had loved her dearly, and believed that she would survive him for she had been so much younger. She had been the delight of his life, and when he’d lost her he had wanted to die and to be buried in her grave with her. Only her dying wish had prevented him from taking his own life.

‘Look after our son; look after Anthony,’ she had whispered as she lay slowly wasting of the putrid fever. ‘Love him for my sake, I beg you.’

He had loved Holbrook for her sake and his own—and he loved Caroline too because she was so like his lost wife; she had the same vitality, the same brave heart. For the rest of his family he had scarcely any affection. He disliked his eldest son, Sebastian. He thought it a damned silly name, and would have disinherited him if he could, but would find it difficult to break the entail. He liked Claude slightly better, but not enough to want him to visit.

The Bollingbrook estate must go to his eldest son by law, and Claude must have the London property. He had lived there for years and it would not do to put him out. Yet he had some money and property that had not come to him through the estate and was his to dispose of as he pleased. He would divide it equally between Caroline and her brothers. He should have done it before, but it was still not too late. Despite the constant pain, he was sound of mind and there were a few years left to him yet.

Caroline dressed in a green-striped carriage gown. At least she had been allowed to choose this for herself, she thought with some satisfaction. She knew the colour suited her and she was pleased with her appearance as she went downstairs.

Louisa Taunton was still in her room, but she knew of and approved Caroline’s engagement to go driving with Mr Bellingham that morning. She had given her permission without hesitation.

‘He will no doubt bring his groom with him. However, it is quite respectable to drive out unaccompanied with a gentleman of Mr Bellingham’s reputation. I have known him for some years, and a more likeable gentleman could not be found, I am sure.’

‘Yes, Aunt. I thought you could have no objection to the outing. He is a gentleman of good taste, would you not say?’

‘Indeed,’ her aunt replied and looked thoughtful. ‘But he has no immediate prospects of a title. It is unlikely it will happen—there are several cousins before him—whereas Sir Frederick will undoubtedly inherit his uncle’s title, as the present marquis has no living sons or grandchildren and he is not likely to marry again at his time of life.’

‘I think I prefer Mr Bellingham,’ Caroline replied, ‘should he take an interest—but I do not think we should count on it just yet, do you?’

She spoke innocently, yet with a look in her eyes that her aunt suspected. Lady Taunton was no slowtop and she was well aware that her niece resented her interference.

‘I am only reminding you of possible options,’ Louisa said tartly. ‘I believe that Sir Frederick might be on the catch for a wife, whereas Mr Bellingham is unlikely to marry. Everyone knows that he is too set in his ways.’

‘Is that so?’ Caroline asked sweetly. ‘Well, I dare say there may be others, Aunt. We must be patient, must we not?’

‘You are impertinent, miss,’ Lady Taunton said with a sour twist of her mouth. She thought that if Caroline were her daughter, she would have beaten some of that sauciness out of her long ago. ‘Do not ruin your chances to spite me, Caroline. You may get less than you imagine, despite your success so far.’