Page 21 of In a Rake’s Embrace (Sins & Sensibilities #3)
CHAPTER 21
A gatha lay awake, stretching languidly, a delicate yawn escaping her lips. Thomas had only just delivered her home after a midnight stroll in Hyde Park that had somehow stretched into hours. They’d climbed a tree together, laughing at the sheer silliness of their actions, perched on a sturdy branch, sharing stories. The nights had been enchanting, and the days were filled with sights and sounds she’d only imagined in far-off dreams, and a part of her dearly wished it would never end.
Exhausted yet exhilarated, she found herself returning to Aphrodite at dawn each day, glowing from the adventures she’d shared with Thomas around town. Just last night, they strolled the sprawling pathways of Vauxhall Gardens. They watched acrobats swing with breathtaking precision across the tightropes, and men balanced on horseback, performing daring feats that had her gasping. The night sky erupted in a cascade of fireworks, casting radiant colors that mirrored the flutter of excitement in her chest. Beside her, Thomas seemed at ease, the sharp edges of his usual reserve softened as he watched her.
This had bemused Agatha. He didn’t seem to find Vauxhall Gardens as diverting and delightful as she did, instead watching her reactions intently as though he could only feel pleasure through hers. The night before, he’d taken her to yet another society ball, and she danced the waltz with him twice. Many guests’ gazes lingered on her with curiosity and envy. Agatha noticed the whispers intensifying each time she was seen on Thomas’s armand the curious stares and raised brows as people tried to piece together her story.
How appalled they would be if they knew the truth—that her hands had once milked cows, scrubbed pots, and carried baskets of freshly baked bread through town. Agatha and Thomas had also shared a picnic at Hampstead Heath, where the fresh scent of earth and grass mingled with the sweet taste of fresh strawberries and honey cakes. The Royal Museum tour captivated her as she gawked at marble statues and ancient relics, absorbing the knowledge Thomas shared. She felt a pang in her chest, realizing how naturally she could fit into this world if it weren’t for her circumstances.
Even Bea had joined in her amusement, rushing to her chamber yesterday to gleefully present the latest scandal sheet. It hinted that Agatha must be of some noble birth or even royalty, connected as she was to a duke, a marquess, and an earl, though her identity remained shrouded in mystery. Agatha had laughed at the notion, finding it comical that society could elevate her status so easily based on appearances alone, while they’d likely recoil in horror at her true origins.
Yet amid the laughter and delight, a heavy ache settled in her heart. She longed for this life—to live within Thomas’s world. Some of her felt she could belong there, yet she knew it was impossible. It was evident Thomas only saw her as a momentary spark in his otherwise jaded existence. She would eventually fade into the background in his life of luxury and privilege, a novelty that wore thin once her allure was unraveled.
Though their private lessons were wickedly intimate, and he seemed captivated by her responses, his restraint outside those moments told her far more than words ever could. She was only a diversion to a man of his experience.
Agatha fought the longing that surged within her. She couldn’t afford to let herself keep falling so deeply. She stifled another yawn, letting her eyes drift shut as sleep finally claimed her. A sharp knock startled Agatha, dragging her from the haze of restless sleep. Her heart leaped in her chest as she sat up, disoriented for a moment, until she heard Bea’s voice through the door.
“Agatha, wake up. Someone called Maggie is here for you.”
Panic shot through her. Maggie? What could her sister possibly be doing at Aphrodite ? Throwing off the covers, Agatha scrambled to dress, her fingers trembling as she hastily pulled on her gown. Without waiting to arrange her hair properly, she rushed to the door, yanking it open to find Bea waiting with a concerned expression.
“Where is she?” Agatha demanded, her voice barely steady.
“In the small parlor downstairs.” Bea hesitated, her brow furrowing. She’s pacing and seems very upset.”
Agatha was already flying down the stairs, her heart thudding painfully. Her mind raced with a hundred scenarios, each more dreadful than the last. When she reached the parlor, she found Maggie pacing, wringing her hands together, her face streaked with tears. Agatha’s heart clenched at the sight of her younger sister’s palpable distress.
“Maggie!” Agatha rushed toward her. “What is wrong?”
Maggie turned, and without warning, she burst into tears, her shoulders shaking violently.
“It’s Carson,” she sobbed, her voice choked. “He’s taken ill again ... He’s abed with a fever, and Gloria is beside herself with worry. We—”
Her breath hitched as more tears spilled down her cheeks. “We asked the local physician to come, but we didn’t have the full amount of coins required to pay him, so he refused. He didn’t even see him, Agatha. He didn’t come.”
Agatha felt the world tilt around her. Carson was ill again and without proper care. Her breath quickened, fear clawing at her chest. It had taken her brother several weeks to recover from the last bout of illness.
“We … what if …” Maggie’s words broke into a sob, and she collapsed into Agatha’s arms. “What if by the time we return, Carson is …”
“No,” Agatha cut her off, her voice fierce despite the fright racing through her. “No, don’t think like that. He will be alright. Carson only needs a good physician.”
But her words felt hollow, even to herself. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, pushing the feelings down. Without a clear mind, she would not serve her family well. Agatha broke away from her sister and hurried toward Madam Rebecca’s door. She needed money immediately. But as she neared the door, a burly footman stepped in her path, his arm outstretched to block her way.
“The Madam is meeting with Mr. Wright,” he said, his voice low and firm. “They are not to be disturbed.”
Agatha froze, the name chilling her. Mr. Wright. The ruthless gambling den owner her father had owed. “This is urgent . I must speak with Madam Rebecca right away.”
“Mr. Wright is not a man that can be disobeyed,” he said. “I cannot allow anyone to enter and disturb their meeting. Unless Aphrodite is on fire.”
“When will the meeting end?”
“They must not be disturbed before seven.”
“That is hours away,” Agatha gasped.
Her mind spun, and everything around her seemed to close in for a moment. She couldn’t wait. Maggie’s cries pierced her, and Agatha’s heart twisted painfully. If they were delayed any longer, what would happen to her brother? “Come with me, Maggie.”
She rushed from Aphrodite with her sister on her heels, hailing the first hackney carriage she saw on the street. Her hands shook as she climbed inside, shuffling over on the seat so her sister could sit beside her.
“Where to, miss?” the driver asked, his voice gruff.
“Grosvenor Square,” Agatha said, giving him the address.
It was desperate, reckless even, but she had no other choice. Thomas was the only person she knew with enough power and means to help Carson. The carriage lurched forward, and Agatha leaned back, her mind racing. Agatha’s mind raced with uncertainty, bracing herself for what she might say to Thomas. She only hoped he was home. Beside her, Maggie’s quiet sobs tugged at her heart, but Agatha could find no words of comfort. She kept her eyes closed for a moment, forcing herself to control the rising panic. When the hackney finally arrived at his townhouse, she quickly paid the driver a shilling, asking him to wait for his full fare.
As Agatha reached the door, she rapped the knocker sharply. It swung open, revealing a dignified gentleman who peered down at her with evident disdain.
“Inform Lord Radbourne that Miss Woodville is here to call. It is urgent.”
“Lord Radbourne is not receiving visitors today, madam. Please present your card—”
Agatha swept past him, heedless of propriety. Her heart hammered as she searched for any sign of Thomas in the grand entrance hall.
“Agatha?”
The sound of his steady and commanding voice almost made her knees buckle. Thomas moved down the hall toward her, his gaze sweeping her with concern.
“Are you hurt?”
Her throat tightened. “I …” She drew a shuddering breath, willing her voice not to break. “I need help. Will you help me?”
“Yes.” His answer was immediate, resolute.
She took another breath, steadying herself, a tremor of relief rushing through her heart. “You don’t even know what I need—”
“It doesn’t matter. Tell me.”
“My brother is gravely ill. My stepmother tried to call on the village physician, but he refused to come without a fee. I …” She swallowed, casting a glance at the hackney waiting at the drive. “I need to borrow money for the carriage and the doctor. I promise to repay you with interest.”
An inscrutable look entered his eyes, a flicker of something that sent warmth rushing through her chest.
“Do not insult me by speaking of repayment.”
His gaze shifted to Maggie, who was peeking up at him with wide, teary eyes.
“Is this your sister?”
Agatha nodded. “This is Maggie. Maggie, this is the Earl of Radbourne.”
Maggie attempted a curtsy but abandoned it, her awe-stricken gaze fixed on Thomas.
He smiled gently. “Pleased to meet you, Maggie.” He turned and motioned them to follow. “Come with me.”
They trailed him down the long corridor. Agatha felt a surge of gratitude and relief as Thomas instructed his butler.
“Prepare my carriage with the fastest horses and summon Dr. Preston without delay. He is to attend Miss Woodville’s family with all haste and pay the waiting fare.”
Less than an hour later, they were on their way to Devonshire in a grand carriage drawn by four powerful horses. Agatha and Maggie sat inside with the physician while Thomas rode ahead on a magnificent black stallion, cutting a striking figure. Agatha, exhausted and emotionally drained, leaned back against the plush squabs, a faint thrill of wonder at how much she trusted Thomas to manage everything. She had long relied on her own self-sufficiency, and it unnerved her to realize how quickly she allowed him a space no one had ever occupied. Yet, despite her best efforts, she couldn’t summon the energy to build her usual defenses. She let her eyes drift closed, surrendering to the rhythmic sway of the carriage and the rare comfort of not bearing the weight alone.