Page 8 of How to Court a Rake (Wed Within a Year #1)

C uriosity lit her quicksilver gaze, but there was a tentativeness to it, too. For a moment, Caine wondered if he’d presumed too much on last night’s kiss. After all, it had been done in private. No one knew it had happened. But today’s roses, his appearance here at her mother’s at-home, was very public by contrast. Everyone would know it had happened. Gentle, unmarried ladies were admittedly not the usual targets of his skills. ‘Have I gone too far?’ he asked in low tones. If so, he would make a tactful retreat and approach more slowly from another direction, not unlike the tack he’d take with a skittish filly.

She gave a delightful, throaty laugh, matching his low tones. ‘Does such a place exist for Caine Parkhurst? Or perhaps it does for the Marquess of Barrow?’

‘They are one and the same, Lady Mary. Neither of them knows limits. I was thinking of yourself. Perhaps I had gone too far for you?’ He was aware that the noise level of the room had decreased from the buzz that had stirred upon his arrival. People were straining to hear what they were saying to one another. ‘Would you care to come out with me to the Park? I have the phaeton and the bays,’ he tempted. Everyone knew Lady Mary Kimber excelled at many things but enjoyed only three: horses, archery and botany.

She slid him a half-smile. ‘We can hardly be more conspicuous atop a phaeton at the high hours in the park than we are in my mother’s drawing room at the moment. I’ll get my hat and let my maid know.’

‘I say, Parkhurst, that’s not fair, stealing Lady Mary away,’ the young man who’d sat with her previously complained when she left the room.

Caine laughed and slapped his driving gloves against his thigh. ‘It’s Barrow, now.’ He outranked every man in this room these days. He’d damn well get some use out of the nuisance of the title, even if it just was to see the chagrined look on the face of that popinjay of an earl’s heir. ‘I’m hardly stealing her. There’s only fifteen minutes left of the at-home. Perhaps you should have come earlier.’

The meaning was clear: Caine had done all the men in the room a great favour by coming late. They’d had their chances. ‘No one is forcing Lady Mary out for a drive, gentlemen.’ Caine made his way to the hall, letting the final implication settle in the room behind him—that Lady Mary could have chosen to stay with all of them, but she’d chosen to go out with him instead. It was no longer his actions that ought to be called into question, or Mary’s, but theirs.

What did it say about the quality of their company? At best, it said they didn’t measure up to a marquess. At worst, it indicated she preferred even the company of a rogue to their lukewarm conversation. Either way, no one in that room was coming out of the comparison favourably.

Mary met him in the hall, her fingers fumbling in their hurry to tie the bow of her summer hat.

‘Allow me.’ Caine took the wide length of soft lilac satin. He liked tying women’s hats. It was an overlooked courtesy that offered a chance for polite intimacy, an excuse to stand close, to look directly in the depths of a woman’s eyes, to see every speck of colour in them.

Lady Mary’s eyes were like smooth stones at the bottom of the running stream at home in the country, the quicksilver of her gaze a composite of greys, blacks and speckled earthy tones. He tied a loose bow and offered his arm, her maid falling in behind them. ‘Shall we? I think we’ve managed to make every man in that room jealous.’

‘Is that why you sent the roses?’ she queried, perhaps starting to see his strategy.

‘Maybe. Did you like any of them?’ he asked seriously, part of him curious as to who would hold her attention and part of him envious that perhaps someone could. ‘If there was one you liked, perhaps he just needs a little push.’

She thought for a moment, considering the question. He liked that about her. She was thorough in her responses. She had a sharp wit, but not a glib one, which made her barbs sting all the more. When she said something, it was deliberate. ‘I did not dislike any of them, but that’s not quite the same as liking them, is it? Liking should not be a default position.’

‘No, it should not be.’ He flashed her a smile as they descended the townhouse steps. At the kerb, he helped her up into the high seat of the phaeton and settled her maid on the back shelf before climbing aboard.

‘Still, I think one must be careful about discounting them too soon.’ She picked up the conversation as he steered the team into the afternoon traffic, heading towards the Cumberland Gate. ‘It doesn’t suit to scare them all off.’ There was a warning there for him. While he’d not gone too far, he’d come close to it.

‘Doesn’t it?’ he countered. ‘If a suitor is frightened off because another outranks him or runs at the first sign of competition, it’s probably best to know that now instead of later. That man is not going to stand beside you when there’s real trouble to be faced inside your marriage.’ He slid her a sideways glance, taking her measure, as he steered the phaeton through the gate towards the park’s North-west Enclosure. ‘That can hardly be the sort of husband you want.’ It certainly wasn’t the sort of husband Lady Mary Kimber, veteran of the husband wars, deserved after a long and mostly thankless campaign.

‘No, but what I want does not change the fact that the sands are slipping out of the hourglass.’ She met his gaze sternly, openly. ‘I must choose one of them, regardless of my own hopes. There is always the chance I can bring them up to my standards later. We have a lifetime to spend together, after all.’

Was that the argument she made with herself? The argument that allowed her to find some consolation in her father’s edict? His conscience couldn’t let it go unremarked.

‘If you would like advice from someone who has vastly more relationship experience, I would tell you this: people can change themselves. But we cannot change others. You could have two lifetimes and you could not reform a man who does not wish to reform himself.’ He clucked to the horses before adding, ‘Women, too. Men do not have the exclusive on that. If you can’t abide a man on your wedding day, you will not abide him any better five years in.’

She gave him a steely look. He’d threatened her shield, the one comfort she’d created in accepting her fate. She did not like what he’d done to that with his words. It was there in her silence. But she was pondering it. That was in her silence, too. The gate to the North-west Enclosure neared. ‘Do you consider yourself a relationship expert, then?’

‘How many relationships have you had?’ he rejoined, knowing full well she’d not had any that truly counted.

‘I’m not convinced quantity is the qualifier of excellence in this case,’ she replied smoothly. ‘You’ve had a mistress every year for the last twelve years and countless dalliances in between. You’ve slept with married women. The affair with Lady Morestad is an open secret.’

‘How does a lady—?’ Caine began to say, but she interrupted swiftly.

‘A lady only has to read the society pages to know such things. I may not have details, nor do I need or want them,’ she clarified, making him laugh. ‘But I know all about your patterns. When the bubble is off the wine, you’re gone.’

‘Those women don’t expect anything more. One might argue, those relationships are a complete success,’ he justified. He’d started this conversation to prick the bubble of her own naive understandings. Instead, she was pricking his. He set the brake on the phaeton as his tiger jumped down to the hold the team. He hoped the change of scenery would also change the topic of conversation.

‘We’ll go on foot from here, no horses and carriages allowed inside,’ he explained to the maid. ‘We won’t be long.’ He tossed the maid a coin. ‘Treat yourself and my tiger to a glass of water if you like.’ While he would treat himself to some private conversation with Mary.

They walked in silence past the sulphur stream and the woman selling glasses of the restorative water, neither of them wanting to speak until they were away from listening ears, even accidental ones. They reached a vista that allowed them to appreciate the keeper’s house and its gardens, cattle and deer munching on grass nearby to add to the tranquillity of the scene.

Caine inhaled deeply and let it out slowly, peace settling on him. ‘All of this space reminds me of home, at Willow Park. I miss the openness when I’m in town.’ Which seemed to be always these days. Grandfather needed his eyes and ears more than ever now that age made travel a difficult burden for the old man. At eighty-eight, one had to budget the expense of exerting one’s energies. They weren’t as limitless as they’d once been, a reminder that time was passing, that Grandfather wouldn’t always be there. It was not something he liked to think about.

‘Willow Park has bridle trails, perfect for long rambles and long rides, meadows for gallops. There’s no place in town for a real gallop.’

‘I know.’ She gave a long-suffering sigh. ‘I don’t even bring my mare up to town any more. I just rent a decent horse for the Season. I’m sure, though, that your new property outside Newmarket has some excellent rides.’

‘I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen it yet. Too much to do.’

‘Aren’t you curious, though? I must confess I’d have gone straight away to see the stables. Any excuse to get out of town.’ Mary laughed.

‘Perhaps I’ll go after the Season. I have other commitments that take priority.’

‘Like wife hunting? Or have you truly committed to setting it aside?’ Lady Mary prompted.

‘I have not decided about that yet.’ He couldn’t fathom it really. ‘How can I seriously hunt for a wife while my brother is missing?’ Or while there was a traitor to hunt. Or knowing what sort of life he condemned a wife to and possibly children. But he said nothing of that last to her. It required too much explanation, too much exposure of himself.

‘Should you decide to pursue a wife, we could help one another in that department. You could make me interesting, force some of those suitors who take me for granted to step up their game, as you’ve done today with your roses. In exchange, I could make you decent for a short time at least.’ The last was said with a wry laugh and Caine smiled.

‘Or keep the wolves at bay if the matchmakers thought I’d already set my sights on one match in particular.’ Caine chuckled. It wasn’t a bad idea and quite a surprising one coming from her. ‘What do you think such a plan would involve?’ It might just fit into his own larger plans quite nicely, creating an opportunity to be in her company, to be in her space. This could be the way to gaining access to her father’s study and the potentially useful records he kept in there.

A bit of guilt twinged and he pushed it back. This plan was her idea, he wasn’t the one designing an elaborate web for her to step into. Even so, Stepan was his brother. For him, it was worth doing whatever was necessary. There was always the chance he might discover nothing—if so, there’d be no harm done.

‘I don’t think it would involve much. Attending the same events, a few dances. Perhaps a few more lovely, expensive bouquets,’ she teased. ‘That bouquet made quite the statement. My mother tried to guess who sent it.’

‘Will she be upset it was me?’ Caine didn’t want his little ruse to make Mary’s life more difficult instead of less. He’d meant it to draw attention to her. Where one man saw a desirable woman, other men would follow. He hoped his attentions would bring the right suitor to her. If he could help her make a better choice for a husband, he would gladly do it in reparation for whatever damage he’d done her reputation, or might do in the future. He hoped that suitor might emerge soon. A husband’s honour would help separate her from her father’s scandal should there be one.

She laughed. ‘I don’t honestly know. The flowers impressed her. It will be hard for her to be angry over such lovely roses or for having her at-home be the talk of the ton for a few days. She does like the spotlight when it’s for the right reasons. It will take the attention off the situation with Harlow and it might matter more to her than anything at present.’

Mary gave a sigh. ‘Rumour has it that Harlow proposed to Miss Graylin here at the enclosure, right behind the big oak over there. A country proposal for a country girl. Harlow is a thoughtful man in that regard. He pays attention to others.’

Caine felt a brief tug of jealousy at the thought she might be mourning the handsome Duke despite her words to the contrary. ‘Tell me the truth. Just between us, did you want Harlow for yourself?’ She did not have to posture for him as she had that first night at the Barnstables’ ball.

She shook her head. ‘Not in that way. I’m just competitive. In the heat of the moment, I don’t like to lose and I do prefer to please my parents. It keeps the peace at home. But I didn’t want to keep him. We would not have suited over the long run. My parents felt I deserved him, as if I should have won him because I had good bloodlines and the best dowry. We were to be matched like two thoroughbreds. Harlow knew it, too.

‘Despite that, he was always kind to me, always attentive. But it was clear it was only because manners demanded it of him. We were partnered for the archery contest at the house party and I don’t think he saw a single arrow I shot that day. He couldn’t keep his eyes off Miss Graylin, who, by the way, is an extraordinary archer. That day I knew with certainty that I hadn’t a chance and, more importantly, that I didn’t want a chance with him, not when he so clearly desired another.’

She stooped to gather some wildflowers and assemble them into a haphazard bouquet. ‘But I suppose I do mourn the idea of losing him. I am competitive by nature. I don’t like to be outdone, even if I don’t really want the prize.’

‘Now people are saying Harlow has lost Miss Graylin, that he may come calling again. Should I help that along?’ It had been the latest gossip in the club last night. People had been laying wagers on what Harlow would do: go after Miss Graylin who had fled the city or redirect his bridal hunt. Something inside Caine twisted at the thought of that. He could not compete with the well-mannered Duke. He ventured another question. ‘You were there the night Lady Elizabeth accosted Miss Graylin at the Duke of Cowden’s ball.’

She plucked another flower. ‘I regret that evening very much. Lady Elizabeth Cleeves is a devious young woman who will stop at nothing to get what she wants. I should have said something. I should have stood up for Miss Graylin. Perhaps I alone, with my own consequence, could have matched the viper tongue of a duke’s daughter. But I stayed silent.

‘Miss Graylin’s Season, her marital prospects, her future, were shredded in front of everyone. And Harlow’s happiness, too. A broken-hearted man will not make Elizabeth Cleeves happy and he will not look her way now no matter what happens.’

That did not bode well for Kieran, Caine thought. He’d have to warn his brother, faux courting or not, that Elizabeth Cleeves was dangerous. ‘And yourself? Would you have Harlow now if he called?’

She gave a little smile and tried to tease him. ‘Are you trying to hedge your wager in the betting books?’ Then she shook her head. ‘No, I would not want him any more now than I did then. I doubt he’d call after his own contretemps with my father over the Prometheus Club. In my opinion, what he ought to do is saddle his horse and ride straight for Dorset. He won’t be happy unless he does and the rest of society be hanged if they don’t like it.’

‘Spoken with great conviction.’ Caine grinned, feeling the unexpected knot in his stomach ease at the knowledge he’d wouldn’t have to deliver the Duke to her. ‘Is that what you would do, Mary? Ride straight for love and the rest be damned?’ Every day he was with her, a new layer was revealed. He’d not expected such passion, such rebellion to thrive beneath the genteel, well-mannered surface of her.

‘I’d like to think so,’ she replied resolutely. ‘But first, I’d have to find a man worth fighting for. What about you?’

‘I’d like to think there was someone out there that would not only evoke such a response in me, but who was also deserving of it.’ Not that he’d be able to act on that, but the thought was pleasant. They’d come to the place where the Serpentine flowed through the Enclosure.

‘Said as if one has been hurt by that decision before.’

Well, hell. She’d picked up on that, had she? He’d not mean to give so much away. Caine scooped up a handful of stones, dusting each one on the leg of his breeches. He skipped the first one out over the water and they watched it bounce twice before sinking.

‘A long time ago, when I was younger and perhaps less worldly, there was a young woman I aspired to. I won’t offer you a name because she is still around and that wouldn’t be fair. I was twenty-one and fresh home from university. I felt “finished” and sophisticated. But that didn’t change the fact that I had no title, no prospects of a title, and no money other than the allowance my grandfather parcelled out to each of his grandsons. Those things mattered to the girl in question.’

That was when he’d started working for his grandfather, attending diplomatic events, helping with the effort against Napoleon. Effectively putting himself beyond marriage and the chances of heartbreak finding him again. A man in his line of work couldn’t marry. The following year Kieran had come alongside and eventually Lucien and Stepan had joined them.

He skipped another rock.

‘I am sorry, I didn’t mean to dredge up difficult memories,’ Mary apologised. ‘Perhaps you might show me how to throw a stone? Mine always sink.’

It was a very nice peace offering and Caine accepted it. ‘I think it’s all about stone selection. The right stone matters.’ He passed her one of his remaining stones. ‘See how this one is flat and smooth? Try it, hold it in your hand.’ He studied it and shook his head. ‘No, it’s too big. You need something that fits your palm.’ He bent down and poked about until he found one suitable. ‘This will be better.’

Mary laughed. He liked the sound of her laughter, so genuine, as if she laughed because something truly pleased her. ‘I had no idea size mattered.’

He gave a wicked grin, unable to resist the opening. He leaned close and breathed her in as he whispered in her ear, ‘Size always matters, Mary.’

‘You are wicked,’ she murmured, her cheeks flushing with knowledge.

‘Yes, I am.’ It was a promise, a warning of who she was doing business with. He reached for her hand that held the stone and slowly closed her fingers, one by one, around its smooth surface, his voice low as he continued instruction. ‘Hold the stone jagged side up. Now, this is where it gets tricky. Folks think the toss is all in the wrist and most of it is. We have to whip and release.’ He let go of her hand long enough to demonstrate with his own stone. ‘But it’s in your stance, too. Bend at the knees to help with the backswing.’

He moved behind her then, encircling her with his arms, his mouth at her ear, his body spooned about hers as they bent together, her hand in his as they went through the motion of whip and release. The stone sailed out across the water, bouncing once, twice, three times. ‘You did it,’ Caine complimented, stepping back from the warmth of her before his own arousal became unconcealable. Not that he was embarrassed by it, he’d long ago comes to terms with his body and its functions, but because she might be and because erections could be complicated, especially with a well-bred girl.

The closeness had affected her, too. Her cheeks were still flushed and he’d smelt the beginnings of arousal mingled with the lily and vanilla of her before he’d stepped away. ‘We should go, Mary. Your maid is waiting and I am sure your mother will be anxious to have you home.’

She took his arm although he sensed reluctance on her part to leave their bucolic surrounds. ‘It’s as if we’re returning from a holiday and with every step we take reality gradually creeps towards us like an incoming tide.’

Yes, a very apt description. Too apt. Reality called. But they held it at bay, driving back in silence. Mary clutched her wildflower bouquet in her hands and he might have taken a less direct route.

***

At the town house, a footman was on the lookout for her and came down the steps immediately to assist her. ‘Welcome back, my lady.’ The gesture and words made it clear that Caine was to leave Mary at the kerb.

Mary slid him an apologetic look for the implied rudeness. ‘Thank you for a wonderful drive. The fresh air has done me well, my lord.’

‘Perhaps we’ll do it again some time soon.’ Caine mustered the appropriate response, suppressing a smile at the coy apology flashed his way, as if it were them against the world. She’d grown quite bold in their short time together, or perhaps she’d always been bold and he’d merely brought it to the fore the way a gardener coaxes a rose to bloom.

Guilt pricked at him. She would need all her boldness in the weeks to come if his concerns over her father bore out. He’d never so fervently wished to be wrong as he did now. She had enough on her plate with her own problems. She did not need him to add another. Nor did she deserve his betrayal. The more he encouraged her interest and indulged his, the more deceived she would feel if…if her father had betrayed his friends and in some ways his country and Caine was forced to be the bearer of that bad news.