Page 19 of How to Court a Rake (Wed Within a Year #1)

T hey had to move. They couldn’t spend the night here on the ground with nothing more than a picnic blanket and themselves in their rather natural state. Caine sighted the moon through a drowsy eye. It must be past midnight based on the moon’s position. They’d fallen asleep. No surprise, given their exertions.

He wasn’t sure what had woken him, perhaps the hoot of an owl, or the cooling evening air on his bare skin, or perhaps, from the semi-roused state of his phallus, Mary had shifted in her sleep and nudged him into wakefulness. That didn’t mean he wanted to move. Being awake merely meant he had no excuse to avoid taking the necessary next steps—getting him and Mary back to the house. He wondered if that included getting dressed? He didn’t think he had the wherewithal to manage laces and corsets and he didn’t give enough of a damn about who saw him in his altogether to bother with his own breeches.

If he had his way, he’d spend the night by the lake, wake to a sunrise with the woman he… cared for —he didn’t dare call it anything else—in his arms and start the day with a slow bout of lovemaking. Beside him, Mary shivered in her sleep, gooseflesh standing out on her skin despite the borrowed warmth of his body’s heat.

He curled around her, cradling her tight against him, wanting to keep her warm a bit longer, wanting to enjoy the peace surrounding him a bit longer, too. Peace was foreign to him. He did not inhabit a world that allowed for peace or for the safety that went with it. Safety and peace were contingent, one did not exist without the other. But tonight, for a few hours, he’d had both. Because of her.

He’d been with enough women to know that peace and safety were not guaranteed aftermaths of sex. Even though it had just been a few hours, he’d not slept beside a woman for this long perhaps ever. Usually, he left shortly afterwards, giving the excuse of a late-night card game or an evening meeting he needed to attend. And, usually, he was quite eager to go. Mystery and desirability wore off fairly quickly once the clothes were gone and people were left with only themselves.

That had not been the case tonight. Caine breathed in Mary’s scent, all lilies and vanilla underlaid with the faint lingering musk of sex and arousal. She’d been a fascinating mix of boldness and innocence. Wreck me. Such potent words that had fired his desire and he’d done his best although he’d felt as if he’d been the one who was wrecked. His usual rake’s detachment had not held fast tonight.

As much as he might want to frame the evening as instruction, the fulfilling of a forfeit or the continuation of a game they’d started in the carriage, tonight had been none of those things. Which was all the more reason he should have said no. It was one thing to play sex games with women who were looking for the same thing—a few nights, a few weeks, a few months of physical pleasure. But to make love with an innocent who knew nothing of such games, who knew only the honesty of her passion, was another.

It had meant something to her and it had meant something to him as well. She roused all his finer instincts. He wanted to protect her, wanted to make things right for her. Because he alone knew just how wrong things were going to be for her. And therein lay a host of other complications.

All evidence was pointing to the fact that her father had been involved in the incident that had led to Stepan’s disappearance, an incident that had been intended to be violent, regardless, and was riddled with corruption. Even if nothing went public about it, the Earl would face ruinous consequences that would change his life and his family’s. Those consequences had already started to change Mary’s life.

You can save her. You can protect her with your name and your title.

The idea whispered in his head, a wispy ribbon of a thought that began to slowly take shape. He needed to marry to satisfy the King and marriage would separate her from her father’s scandal should it leak beyond its immediate circles. Marriage would also put her beyond Amesbury.

A shooting star crossed the sky and he let himself dream a little. They would go to Longstead, the estate near Newmarket attached to the marquessate. There would be a house to keep Mary busy and stables for them both to enjoy. They could build a life in the horsing community there, ride with the hunt, sit on the board of directors for the racetrack, perhaps establish their own thoroughbred string.

The dream wandered down other paths, too, paths where there were dark-haired children with grey eyes whom he carried about on his shoulders and who rode ponies in the white-fenced paddocks, who learned to shoot pistols and bows. It was a vision of a life he’d long set aside, an impossible life because of choices he’d made. It was not the life of a Horseman. There were plenty of reasons to justify wedding Mary, but they were short-term reasons only. They did not outweigh the more significant consideration.

The dream dissolved first, followed by the idea. In the long term, there was no guarantee he could keep her safe. A Horseman’s life was a dangerous life, full of unpredictability. One minute he was waltzing, the next he was trying to fish his brother out of the Thames basin. He could promise her nothing. Not even love. Loving her endangered her. If his enemies knew there was someone he cared for, he’d be vulnerable. He had to let her go. He sighed and held her tight. Well, it had been a nice thought while it lasted. Perhaps it was time to end this little fantasy, too. ‘Mary, wake up, love, we have to get you to the house and tucked in your bed.’

The idea of trekking back to the house in the dark was met with little enthusiasm from Mary. Struggling into her clothes just to have to take them off again at the house was met with even less. In the end, Mary wrapped herself in the well-used picnic blanket, her clothes stuffed in the basket. Caine walked back stark naked, Mary pressed to his side. At the edge of the garden, he swung her up in his arms. ‘No more grass,’ he explained. ‘The gravel will hurt your feet.’

‘But you’re barefoot, too,’ Mary protested.

‘My feet have calluses. Yours will be too delicate.’ He laughed and kissed her, winding his way through the garden to a servant’s door and up the back stairs to Mary’s room. ‘Shall I find you a nightgown before I go?’ he asked, setting her down on the bed.

She reached for his hand. ‘Must you go?’ The blanket had slipped, revealing a smooth, creamy shoulder. Temptation roared.

‘I must, Mary.’ He held back the covers for her. ‘I can’t be here when the maid comes in the morning.’ This was more to save her from embarrassment than himself. In all likelihood Grandfather probably knew already who was sleeping in whose bedroom and who had walked across his Italian gardens naked. He knew everything that happened in Europe, he certainly knew what went on in his own house.

‘But you can walk across the grounds naked with a half-dressed woman in your arms.’ She laughed softly. ‘You have an odd sense of ethics, Caine Parkhurst.’ She tugged at his hand. ‘Please stay, just for a while. You can still slip out well before dawn.’

It was reason enough, and he was tired enough, to not fight it. He slid beneath the covers with Mary and blew out the lamp. Not only because she asked, but for the first time, he wanted to stay, Grandfather and the rest of the world be damned.

Grandfather was waiting for him in the breakfast room when Caine made his way downstairs the next morning shortly before nine o’clock. He’d left Mary sleeping just before dawn and returned to his own chambers to put in a couple of hours of work before dressing and facing the inquisition that likely awaited him over coffee. There’d been letters to write to the Prometheus Club and a letter to Kieran apprising him of developments, although the newspapers had likely done some of that for him.

‘Sleep well?’ Grandfather looked up from his own stack of newspaper, delivered from all corners of Europe, his expression bland, giving nothing away. But it was never just ‘good morning, did you sleep well’ with Grandfather. Even the most innocuous question was a probe for information.

‘Yes, I did. First time in ages, actually.’ Caine helped himself to coffee from a silver urn and a plate of eggs with a generous slice of ham. Grandfather insisted ham was healthier for a man than sausages.

‘The country air agrees with you.’ Grandfather nodded affably before returning his attention to his papers. ‘Seems to agree with Lady Mary, too. She was out walking yesterday. Is she taking a tray in her room?’

‘Probably.’ Caine sat down and reached for a slice of toast from the rack.

‘It was a good night for sleeping outside. The Perseids are starting. Did you see any shooting stars?’

He was just confirming for them both what Caine had already suspected. But Caine wasn’t quite ready to discuss last night. He deflected. ‘How were your guests, Grandfather? Did any of them stay over? Did you have a productive supper?’

Grandfather set aside his papers, satisfied that Europe wasn’t going to fall into chaos for the moment, and fixed him with a serious stare. ‘Last night’s dinner was intended to verify your conclusions and I think we can safely conclude that your instincts were right once more. Creighton has written on behalf of himself, Cowden and the Prometheus Club to confirm that Carys had lobbied hard for Amesbury’s bid on the arms. He’d been exceedingly upset when the club used another provider in order to avoid what they felt was a conflict of interest.’ Grandfather gave a sly smile over his coffee. ‘It is useful having a duke for a grandson-in-law. Your sister did well for the family when she married Creighton.’

Coupled with the ledger pages he’d taken showing the loans and the deficit indicating financial troubles, that certainly leant more credence to Carys’s motives regarding the cargo than simply an act of revenge against Cowden and Creighton for supporting Harlow’s membership. But good news for Caine meant bad news for Mary. Her father was now implicated at best in underhanded business dealings and at worst international sabotage. Caine slowly buttered his toast, thinking. ‘Will the earl and Amesbury come here? It would save me a trip to town. I want a conversation with Carys.’

Grandfather raised a brow in interest. ‘What sort of conversation would that be?’

‘A conversation where Carys confesses his participation, filling in the gaps between our supposition and hard proof, and where he rolls over on his compatriots in order to save himself. With luck, he’ll give up Amesbury, offer us the name of the explosives expert Stepan killed and help us figure out who Amesbury is working with or for, if anyone. This might just be a money grab for them.’ Which would be more than a little disappointing to Caine. It all seemed too much to risk for too little return.

‘You still don’t think it stops with Amesbury.’ It wasn’t a question. Grandfather was eyeing him with sharp awareness.

‘I don’t. The damage done by this act of sabotage over a mere arms contract and money far exceeds the benefits the act would accrue.’ This was the conclusion he reached even when he took away the emotion of losing Stepan to this ridiculousness. If his brother was dead, he wanted it to be for a ‘good’ reason, not because of a petty earl’s pique.

Grandfather broke into a smile that even at the age of thirty-eight could warm Caine with pride in having done something that pleased his grandsire. ‘Damn, but your instincts are the truest I’ve ever seen in this game. You are indeed right about that last piece.’

He leaned close, his voice lower. ‘The Amesbury family is still in league with Cabot Roan. Falcon is on the Continent right now and sent word that Roan is at the munitions factory in Brussels. He’s using an alias, of course. He might have escaped conviction a few years back, but not all justice is meted out through the legal system. Roan can’t set foot in England and I am sure he has enemies in Europe, too, hence the alias.’ He sat back, giving Caine a moment to take in the information.

Caine let out a low whistle. ‘The question is whether or not Carys knows and simply doesn’t care, or that he doesn’t know about Roan at all.’ He thought for a moment. ‘This does help explain Amesbury’s strong desire to wed Mary. With a title and a well-born bride, he’ll have access to social and financial resources in England that Roan cannot access for himself. I’d wager Roan is setting Amesbury up to be his intermediary in Britain.’

‘Do you think Carys knows all of it? Could he even give up a name beyond Amesbury? I don’t know Carys well,’ his grandfather said, ‘but he’s always struck me as a conservative man, a stickler for propriety and for following the rules, so I am hard pressed to understand why he’d turn against his fellow peers in the Prometheus Club, why he’d sell his daughter in marriage to a man she doesn’t want and why he’d participate in an act that, if known about, many of his countrymen would find unpatriotic. Most folks support the Greek movement in at least theory.’

Caine finished the argument for him. ‘All of that suggests strongly that he did not know the whole of it, which is why he allowed himself to be motivated by personal pride and financial issues; he simply didn’t know there were larger repercussions.’ He paused, a thought occurring to him for the first time. ‘Do you think he even knew about the plot to blow up the ship? Amesbury could have told him an entirely different plan in order to persuade him.’ Caine blew out a breath. ‘I think talking with Carys is becoming a necessity even if he can’t give us all I hope.’

‘I have men in the village. If anyone is coming, we’ll have warning. Make sure Lady Mary stays on the property, the closer to the house the better, and if she does go out further make sure you’re with her,’ Grandfather cautioned. ‘Which obviously isn’t a problem,’ he added slyly.

Caine ignored his grandfather’s barb. ‘I had the archery butts set up for her down by the lake. That will keep her well occupied.’

But Grandfather wasn’t done quite yet. ‘If Carys is any kind of father, he’ll want his daughter home. And Amesbury will want his leverage back. If I were you, I’d be thinking about what you can do to prevent any of that if she truly does not want to go back. I’d also be thinking that Carys may want reparation and it is within his rights to expect you to make an honest woman of his daughter.’

‘Are you suggesting I marry her?’ Caine asked bluntly.

‘You must admit, marriage solves many problems for her. It restores her.’ Grandfather reached into his stack of newspapers. ‘The society pages have not been kind. But I am sure you both expected that when you brought her here.’

Caine scanned the page Grandfather had folded back and winced. Expecting it was one thing, seeing it in print was another. It was ghastly. He set it aside. ‘I have thought about it, but you know I cannot offer myself in marriage. It is too dangerous for her. I’d be gone on Horsemen work for you and who knows what enemies might seek revenge by threatening her or any family we might have.’

Grandfather made a frown. ‘So you’ve decided? You’ll let the title die with you? That you will spend your life alone?’

‘You disagree with my reasons?’ Caine challenged.

‘I think it would be a waste. I’ve watched you grow up. I’ve watched you build the bonds between your brothers. Not all brotherly relationships are amicable, especially among the peerage. It is more common to see brothers compete against one another. But you made a band of your brothers. You saw to it that your sister’s business affairs were looked after in Italy when her husband died. You saw to it that Creighton came up to scratch for her when the time came. You are a man built for family, Caine. All of you boys are, but you especially.’

‘I don’t think it’s fair to Mary to require she take on the danger of my life.’ It had been bad enough seeing Amesbury’s mark on her. It had stolen his reason for a moment. ‘I couldn’t protect Stepan. What makes me think I could protect a wife? Children?’

‘Fair for her or fair for you?’ Grandfather chuckled. ‘Who are you really protecting with this argument, Caine?’ He pointed to a portrait of Caine’s grandmother on the wall. ‘Your grandmother and I were married fifty-two years. Best fifty-two years of my life. Do you remember what she died of?’

‘Pneumonia,’ Caine said slowly, trying to anticipate the trap his grandfather had laid.

‘That’s right. Natural causes. She wasn’t kidnapped, there were no gunmen hiding behind hedges waiting to waylay the carriage when she went out. All three of my sons lived to adulthood, married and led the lives they chose. None of them were kidnapped, although after some of their pranks, I often wished they might be.’ Grandfather chuckled. ‘Of course, I did take some precautions. There were always outriders with my wife and my children and we were very strict about who came to the house, who the boys met. But any man who loves his family is. One does not throw rubies to swine, after all, spy master or not.’

Caine played with his fork. ‘I’d have to tell her about the Horsemen, tell her what I do. I’d have to tell her about Wapping, all of it.’ It would also require him to tell her about her father. She might hate him for that. She might feel used, betrayed. She might feel that the proposal didn’t come from an honest place, or even worse, that his own feelings hadn’t been true, that he’d put on a show to seduce her to gain access to the Earl and Amesbury.

‘Yes, you will have to tell her all of that. But don’t you think it’s about time?’ Grandfather finished his coffee and rose.

Caine rose with him. ‘I think I’ll take a swim.’ And sort his thoughts. Grandfather had pushed him this morning, but he’d also opened a window of hope. Was it possible to have the life he wanted without giving up the life he had? The answer was that it might be. If he was willing to take a chance. He strode through the house and out the back doors to the gardens and to the lake beyond.

At the lake shore, he stripped off his clothes and dived in, letting the water cool his thoughts and settle his mind. He broke through the surface of the water and eyed the island in the distance before striking out for it.

Nothing was ever simple when one was a Horseman. Most men proposed with a single question, but a Horseman had to risk much more than that. A Horseman had to be sure of his bride’s answer before he even asked the question.