Page 14 of The Rake is Taken

Finn slid low in his chair, balancing the tumbler on his belly. He didn’t know how to be himself. And he didn’t knownormal.

He also didn’t know what to do about Victoria Hamilton.

His lips curved in a cautious smile. The lady would be surprised to find she was what she loved.

A puzzle.

One Finn desperately wanted to solve.

Dinner that evening was a laborious affair.

Lady Beauchamp—Piper, as Victoria had again been urged to call her—had an infectious spirit, and it wasn’t from her lack of effort to ease the tension in the room that the gathering wilted like a discarded blossom.

Finn, the person bringing them all together, skipped out on the festivities, the rat.

“Dodging life,” she’d murmured when he failed to show, surprised when Viscount Beauchamp laughed in agreement. A sound filled with fondness and exasperation.

The viscount’s gaze had touched her often, questions about her parlor trick almost tumbling off his tongue like a rock down a well, but his wife had simply given the slightest shake of her head—not the time—to hold him off.

She’d watched Julian touch items on the table more often than he needed to, his cutlery, his wine glass, the saltshaker, while throwing bewildered looks her way. Eccentric behavior, on a curious estate, a setting teeming with those with mystical talents. Victoria had tried not to look over her shoulder too often, wondering what supernatural trick the footman might be able to employ, the kitchen maid, the cook. Thankfully, the meal was casual, even by country standards. Limited to five courses with no entertainment after, which was a blessing as a musicale by a tone-deaf heiress, was the last amusement she’d been subjected to.

With a sigh, Victoria closed her bedchamber door and slumped against it. One night down. A new puzzle book and the glass of sherry she’d smuggled upstairs awaited. If that didn’t put her to sleep, she’d sneak down to the kitchens and bake after the servants vacated the area.

“Didn’t show, did he?”

Victoria gasped, nearly spilling the sherry when she wanted every drop to hit her tongue, not the Beauchamp’s rug. “Who?”

“The scamp that drug us here, that’s who.” Agnes rose from the overstuffed chair tucked in a corner, hiding in wait for her mistress. She loved making disquieting entrances, and Victoria, after years of these contests, should have expected one. “Saw him climb into a showy landau, fancy crest decorating the side, and ride off into the night. Sneaking away from his brother’s disdain and heading for trouble in that charming village we passed on the way here.” Agnes crossed to Victoria, motioned for her to turn, then began unbuttoning her gown, a routine they’d completed a thousand times. “No good ever came from being that handsome. Just like no good has ever come from your prank. Scrambling thoughts and making people forget your foolishness, what kind of talent is that? A talent everyone in this house seems overly interested in, is what. I suppose because most of them seem filled with the spook, just like you. Takes one to know one. Peculiar, this entire place.”

“It’s a lovely estate, Aggie. Although the staff may be slightly unusual. Think of this as our last adventure before we enter confined servitude.” She let her dress slither down her body, stepping from the pool of silk with a sigh. “As for Finn Alexander, don’t let the face fool you. There’s a clever man underneath all the glitter. Shrewd. He plays his cards close, that’s his game. And you know, I love a riddle.”

Agnes snorted softly through her nose and worked on Victoria’s corset ties. “You playanygame with the man, and we’ll be in a fine muddle. I seen the way he looks at you. Rossby won’t appreciate it if he hears you’re messing with the likes of the Blue Bastard. He’s dead-set on ownership before he owns. Neither will your mother, for that matter.”

Victoria paused, her breath coming forth in a rush. How had Finn looked at her?

Are you going to be one of those senseless girls after all, Victoria Hamilton?

With a whispered curse, she waved Agnes away and strode to the wardrobe, pulled out her night robe, and slipped it on, cinching the crimson ribbon around her waist. “If I can find another solution, maybe Rossby would be relieved if I begged off.”

Agnes brushed past her, Victoria’s dress and corset twisted in her fist. “Don’t you believe it. When Rossby looks at you, his gaze is fiercer than the Blue Bastard’s. Gives me the chills, it does. Your mother’s not a proper judge if she thinks the baron is fit for you. And your father—” She whistled sharply through her teeth and hung the dress on a peg in the wardrobe, placing the corset on a low shelf. “Not every woman has prettiness and intelligences. Rossby tiptoes around you like a boy who stole a jewel and has it jammed in his pocket. Not your fault he’s a snowflake and you’re sunlight. You’ll melt him, and he knows it. But he craves that sunlight.” She shut the wardrobe door with a final snap. “We’re stuck, bugs in amber. Tossed out on the street if you don’t save this family. And soon. Your father already let the house in Belgravia for the summer, did you know that? Nowhere to go should we dash back to London.”

Victoria moved to the window and flattened her hand on the cool pane. Harbingdon’s rolling lawns and vast parklands stretched to the horizon in smoky, surreal twilight. The scent of cut grass and woodsmoke, evergreens and azalea blossoms, drifted in on a tender breeze. It was a peculiar place, yes, but it was also beautiful. Peaceful. And as Piper has said,safe. Especially for someone who had nowhere else to go. “I could talk to my father again. There must be another way. If he’ll give me time to find another way.”

Agnes came up behind her until they were shoulder to shoulder, as they had been for most of her life. “I love you like my own, girl, you know that. But the truth is, they don’t have it in them to love anyone but themselves. Neither of them. Your mother sending you here, without a care except for the hope that a duke might flutter by, with me as your only protector, almost no funds, is proof of her indifference.” She reached for Victoria’s hand and squeezed it. “You have to get over it, harden your heart to them. Love isn’t always given where it should be. Sharing blood should force a river of affection into their hearts, but it hasn’t. I’ve been waiting for it since you was in nappies. Charles, too. I finally gave up and think you should as well. At least on them anyway. Save your hopes for better things. Better people.”

Victoria ran a knuckle beneath each eye, knowing Agnes was only trying to make her accept the truth. Then at some point, it would no longer pain her so much. “Is Rossby better people, Aggie?”

Agnes snaked a hand around Victoria’s waist and pulled her into her side. “No, darling girl, I don’t think so. But where you go, I go. We’ll work it out.”

Victoria closed her eyes and rested her cheek on her treasured companion’s shoulder.

Was Finn Alexander better people, she couldn’t help but wonder?

Chapter 5

Later that night, Victoria heard the wheels of the carriage grinding over the pebbled drive before the conveyance emerged from a misty shroud. A landau, the Beauchamp crest emblazoned on the side, two sleek horses stomping and snorting in the lead. Stationing herself behind a pillar, she pressed her cheek to the cool stone and shivered. Her shawl lay in her bedchamber beneath the puzzle book she’d been trying since dinner to invite into her mind.

She should have gone to the kitchens to bake, her secret pleasure. Instead, she stood in the shadows of the veranda, waiting for Finn to come home.