The Rake's Rebellious Lady

‘I fear that if I asked you to walk with me in the gardens for a few minutes you would refuse.’

‘We hardly know each other well enough for that, sir.’

‘We do not know each other at all, Miss Holbrook.’ Freddie let one finger trail down Caroline’s arm, sending a frisson of sensation shooting through her. For a moment, as she stared into his dark eyes, she felt as if she were drowning. Being sucked down and down into a swirling pool and out of her depth. ‘I am not sure that it would be to the benefit of either of us to become more intimately acquainted…’

‘Then please allow me to pass,’ Caroline said, and gave him a frosty stare. Until that moment she had been revising her opinion of him, and liking what she had discovered, but now she was once again aware of the danger of allowing herself to like such a man. If she were foolish enough to develop a tendre for him, he would be sure to break her heart.

Anne Herries, winner of the Romantic Novelists’ Association romance prize 2004, lives in Cambridgeshire. She is fond of watching wildlife, and spoils the birds and squirrels that are frequent visitors to her garden. Anne loves to write about the beauty of nature, and sometimes puts a little into her books—although they are mostly about love and romance. She writes for her own enjoyment, and to give pleasure to her readers.

Recent novels by the same author:

A DAMNABLE ROGUE*

MARIANNE AND THE MARQUIS†

MARRIED BY CHRISTMAS†

MARRYING CAPTAIN JACK†

THE UNKNOWN HEIR

THE HOMELESS HEIRESS

*Winner of the Romantic Novelists’ Association romance prize †The Horne Sisters

And in the Regency series The Steepwood Scandal :

LORD RAVENSDEN’S MARRIAGE

COUNTERFEIT EARL

And in The Hellfire Mysteries:

AN IMPROPER COMPANION

A WEALTHY WIDOW

A WORTHY GENTLEMAN

Anne Herries

Chapter One

‘My word, Freddie, that pair of yours are out-and-outers,’ George Bellingham said, admiring the thoroughbred chestnuts that Sir Frederick Rathbone was driving in Hyde Park that May morning. ‘You are an excellent judge of horseflesh. I shall come to you next time I decide to improve my stable.’

George was walking, Sir Frederick having pulled over to oblige him. He now offered the reins, inviting him to climb into the high-wheeled phaeton.

‘Care to try them yourself?’ he asked. ‘They have as sweet mouths as any you’ll find in London. I was lucky to get them. Came from Farringdon’s stable. He sold them to me after a run of ill luck at the tables.’

‘Had some of that myself recently,’ Bellingham said, pulling a wry face. ‘We can’t all be as fortunate as you!’ He looked thoughtful for a moment, then, ‘It surprises me that Farringdon sold them; I thought they were his pride and joy.’

‘Needs must when the devil drives, I dare say.’ Freddie laughed, a gleam of mockery in his dark eyes. He was a handsome devil, arrogant, wilful and the bane of matchmaking society mamas, for at eight and twenty, he had managed to avoid all the traps set for him with consummate ease.

‘Lucky at the tables, unlucky in love, is that not what they say?’ Freddie’s look challenged and provoked his friend. He did not add that the chestnut horses had been in settlement of an overdue gambling debt and that he had offered to take them at an inflated price well above their true worth.

‘Not in your case!’ Bellingham retorted. ‘Your latest highflyer is a beauty, Freddie. There isn’t a fellow in London who doesn’t envy you the magnificent Yolanda.’

‘An expensive hobby,’ Freddie remarked grimly; his mistress might be a spectacular beauty, but she had a decided partiality for expensive baubles. ‘As greedy in bed as out. To be honest, I weary of her. She is too predictable.’

‘Good grief, man! What do you expect? She is a courtesan of the first line. They say she has consorted with crowned heads in Europe—perhaps even Bonaparte himself!’

‘You don’t say?’ Freddie said, pulling a face. He had heard the rumour and knew it to be untrue, but could not resist teasing his friend. ‘Why did I not know this before? Boney, indeed! I do not know whether to be flattered or horrified.’ He shook his head as he returned to the subject of his mistress. ‘I dare say she is well enough in her way, George, but she is not… Perhaps I am too particular.’

‘You would not want a simpering society miss? Perhaps the lovely Miss Avondale—if you are on the catch for a wife?’

‘God forbid! That insipid fairness—and that lisp! I would be bored within days—hours!’ Freddie laughed mockingly. ‘No, I have no thought of marriage, George. Yet I sometimes yearn for a woman I can talk to as I do to you. A partner in more than a physical sense.’

‘If such a woman exists, she’s mine,’ Bellingham said, taking up the challenge instantly. ‘A woman like that would be something out of the ordinary. I might consider marrying her myself.’

‘Come, come, old fellow,’ Freddie chided, for his friend was four and thirty, and a confirmed bachelor in his own words. ‘She would have to be special indeed to tempt you.’

George nodded, but looked thoughtful. ‘As you say, though I have wondered of late…’ He shook his head as the horses moved restlessly, impatient at being kept waiting. ‘Since neither of us is likely to meet such a lady, it is mere speculation.’ He gave the reins a little flick, allowing the high-spirited horses to move on at a trot. ‘Do you attend Almack’s this evening?’

‘Good grief, no!’ Freddie said, revolted at the idea of such a wasted evening. ‘When you see me there you will know that I have discovered the paragon we spoke of.’ He laughed softly deep in his throat. ‘I believe that you may safely assume that hell will freeze over first.’

‘Oh, you will fall in the end,’ George murmured, more for the sake of provoking his companion than anything. He grinned at Freddie. ‘You don’t care to sell these beauties, I suppose?’

‘No—but I will wager them against your greys.’

‘On what?’ George was surprised. His greys were very good horses, but not the equal of the chestnuts.

‘That a woman who could tempt me to marriage does not exist.’

George grinned, for they were in the habit of making such bets, and often on a simple thing like the turn of a card, Freddie the winner at least three out of four times. However, he bore his friend no ill will; he could afford to gamble, and, often, the stakes were trivial. ‘I’ll willingly put my greys up against your pair—but we must have a time limit.’

‘Christmas,’ Freddie said, a wicked glint in his eyes. He had made the bet for sheer devilment, as a cure for the slow, creeping boredom that had come over him of late.

‘Done!’ George cried instantly. ‘But you must attend all the main affairs of the Season, no running off to hide in the country or disappearing to your club until you’ve met all the new hopefuls.’

‘Fair enough,’ Freddie agreed. ‘But I draw the line at Almack’s. When you see me there you will know that you have won your bet.’

‘Indeed I shall,’ Bellingham said for he knew his friend too well. ‘I would not be attending myself, except that my sister is bringing her daughter to town and I have agreed that I will escort them. I assure you that Miss Julia Fairchild is not the lady you are seeking. She is seventeen and a shy child, so I must do my best for her—but we have the whole Season to look forward to, Freddie. Who knows what may happen?’

‘Precious little, if past experience serves me true,’ Freddie said and wondered why he had made such a bet, when it meant that he would have to attend many tiresome affairs that he usually avoided like the plague.

He yawned behind his hand, wondering what he could find to do with his evening. There was no denying that he was bored with Yolanda and a visit with her did not engender any feeling in him. It would be best to make an end. His tastes had altered of late, and he thought that it might be time to start making changes to his lifestyle.

He would buy the lovely Yolanda a handsome present, perhaps the diamond necklace she had been angling for these many weeks. Yes, he would give her the necklace and make an end to it.

‘Mama, do we truly have to stay with Aunt Louisa?’ Caroline Holbrook asked of her mother that morning. It was more than two years since Caroline’s father, the Honourable Mr Anthony Holbrook, had passed away, and his grieving widow was only now coming to terms with her situation. ‘Could we not take a house for ourselves for the Season?’

‘You must know that that is impossible.’ Marianne Holbrook sighed deeply. She was a thin, pale lady with a fragile air. Having given her husband two sons and a daughter, she had suffered a series of unfortunate miscarriages, which had left her a semi-invalid for some years. Her bereavement had taken its toll of her too and, never a strong-minded woman, she had fallen under her elder sister’s influence. ‘Your father died owing considerable amounts of money, and your brother has had difficulty in holding the estate together. I do not feel able to ask him for such a large amount of money.’

‘Poor Tom probably hasn’t any to spare,’ Caroline said regretfully. She was fond of her eldest brother and had no wish to make life more difficult for him. She sighed because it seemed that there was no escape for her. Her aunt, Lady Taunton, had married to advantage and though she had been widowed a few years previously, she was in possession of a generous independence, which enabled her to live as she chose. It was kind of her aunt to offer to pay their expenses, but she had such an overpowering manner that Caroline was dreading the experience. ‘Couldn’t we afford a short stay—if I did not spend too much on my clothes?’

‘Please do not be difficult, Caroline,’ her mother requested. ‘I have a headache coming on. You know my health is not what it ought to be. I should not be able to escort you to all the balls and affairs you would wish to attend.’

‘Forgive me, Mama,’ Caroline said, suddenly feeling wretched for upsetting her mother. ‘I suppose we must accept, but I hope that Aunt Louisa will not try to dictate to me, especially on the subject of whom I should marry.’

‘Of course, my dear, but you must choose someone suitable—if you receive offers, of course.’

Marianne Holbrook gazed at her daughter doubtfully. She was certainly very striking, though not in the particular fashion of the day, which seemed to be for slight, fair girls with gentle manners. Caroline was a flame-haired temptress with a seductive mouth and challenging green eyes. She was tall and filled with a restless energy that made her mother feel distinctly weary around her. Sometimes, she wondered how she had managed to give birth to such a spirited creature. She must be a throwback to the old marquis, Caroline’s grandfather, now a recluse, who had been a rake, a gambler and highly disreputable from all accounts. Certainly she in no way resembled any of Marianne’s family.

‘You married for love, did you not, Mama?’

‘Yes, and have regretted it since,’ Marianne said ruefully. ‘Louisa married for position and wealth. I chose a younger son with only a small estate and have suffered the consequences. I should not wish to see you in a similar situation.’

‘Poor Mama,’ Caroline said. ‘But I think you were happy enough while Papa lived, were you not?’

‘Yes, perhaps…’ Another sigh escaped her mother. ‘Yet I do not care to see my son worn down by worry. And Nicolas has gone to be a soldier. I cannot sleep at night for thinking of him in danger.’

‘The war with Bonaparte is surely over, Mama, for he has been confined on Elba,’ Caroline said. ‘Besides, Nicolas is not the kind of man who would be happy staying at home. You know that he was always into some adventure when a child.’

She and Nicolas had been born a matter of eleven months apart. Although not particularly alike in looks, for he favoured their mother, they had been kindred spirits. It was Nicolas who had taught his sister to climb trees, to swim in the river in her shift and to ride her horse astride. All of these unladylike pursuits had of course landed her in hot water first with her nurse, and later her governess. She had learned to be more sensible as she grew older, but secretly envied her brother his freedom.

‘You always encouraged him in his wayward behaviour,’ her mother said a little unfairly. ‘But I suppose you are right. A mother may not keep her son in leading strings for ever. However, it is my duty to see you settled with a husband and a home of your own, and therefore we shall accept Louisa’s invitation to stay with her in town. It is my intention to go up next week.’

Caroline gave up the attempt to dissuade her mother. It was not often that Mrs Holbrook set her mind to something, but on this occasion it seemed that she was determined. However, Caroline was equally determined that she would not allow her aunt to dictate to her in the matter of the gentleman she accepted as her husband—if anyone actually offered for her, of course.

* * *

‘Very suitable,’ Lady Taunton said, approving her niece’s attire for that evening. ‘Yes, I was right to insist on mainly white for your gowns, Caroline. The emerald you favoured would have been too bold with hair like yours. It is a pity that you are not more like your mama, but it cannot be helped.’

Caroline gritted her teeth, but kept her thoughts to herself. She had been in town for three days now and already she was finding her aunt’s overbearing manner hard to accept, especially in matters of dress, which should surely have been her choice. She believed the white gown was less becoming than the emerald she had wanted, but her aunt was paying for most of her clothes and there was little she could do but accept her choices. Mrs Holbrook wanted only to keep the peace, and Caroline was forced to mind her tongue.

‘Well, come along then, Caroline,’ Lady Taunton said and swept ahead out to the waiting carriage, leaving her niece to follow in her wake. ‘It is a pity your mother did not feel up to attending the ball this evening, but she will be better resting at home with her maid to cosset her.’

Caroline did not answer, for she knew it was not required. Her mother had accompanied them to a musical evening and two small dinners, and then declared herself exhausted. It was clear that she had abandoned the task of finding her daughter a husband to her sister, and that she would not bestir herself unless it was truly necessary.

During the carriage drive to the house of Lady Melbourne, who was holding one of the most prestigious balls of the season, Caroline was forced to endure another lecture from her aunt.

‘I dare say I have no need to remind you not to be too free in your manners, Caroline,’ Louisa Taunton droned on. ‘It was a fault I observed in you when you were younger, but I expect that you have learned how to behave since you left the schoolroom.’

Caroline made no reply; she felt that if she did she might say something rude, and therefore it was best to say nothing at all.

‘Did you hear me, Caroline?’

‘Yes, Aunt, of course.’ Caroline folded her hands primly in her lap.

‘Indeed,’ Louisa Taunton said, eyes narrowing suspiciously. ‘I do hope you are not sulking. I cannot abide gels that sulk.’

‘No, Aunt, I am not sulking.’ Caroline held on to her temper by a thread. If she was forced to endure much more of this, she would rather go home and never marry! She was fuming inside, and found it difficult to produce more than a polite smile when she was introduced to her hostess. However, as she followed her aunt’s progress through the reception rooms, her mood began to lift.

Music was playing in the furthest room, which was the ballroom, and there was an atmosphere of excitement that communicated itself to Caroline. She looked about her, admiring the lovely gowns some of the ladies were wearing, and the flash of costly jewels. Overhead, a shower of sparkling light fell on the company from the massive chandeliers.

‘Caroline, pay attention,’ Lady Taunton said, recalling her thoughts sharply. ‘This gentleman is Sir Henry Forsythe and he has just asked you for the honour of the next dance.’

‘Oh…thank you,’ Caroline said, relieved that the gentleman was in his middle years and quite attractive. She dropped a curtsy. ‘How very kind of you.’

‘No, indeed, Miss Holbrook,’ Sir Henry said with a smile of approval. ‘It is my pleasure and my privilege.’

Caroline gave him her hand, feeling a little spurt of excitement as he led her through to the ballroom. The black cloud that had hung over her dispersed as she was swept into the throng of dancers, and suddenly she was feeling wonderful.

The feeling continued after the dance ended, because she was besieged by gentlemen begging for the favour of a dance and her card was filled in no time at all. She laughed as she gazed up at her partners, for most of them were young and some were rather handsome.

The hours seemed to fly by with never a dull moment. She was the centre of a small group of ladies and gentlemen for the whole evening. It was not until the dance before supper that she was claimed by a gentleman she had rather liked when he asked for the privilege earlier.

‘George Bellingham,’ he told her, making his bow. ‘You were kind enough to grant me the pleasure of this dance, I believe?’

‘Yes, I remember,’ Caroline said, giving him a dazzling smile. ‘I have been looking forward to it, sir.’

‘Have you?’ Bellingham raised an eyebrow, a quizzing look in his eyes. ‘But you have danced with all the young bucks, Miss Holbrook. I fear I cannot compete with the likes of Brackley or Asbury.’

‘Indeed, I disagree, sir,’ Caroline said at once, forgetting her aunt’s strictures not to be too free in her speech. ‘I do not think you need fear either of them—they are young rattle-heads, are they not? Charming, of course, but interested only in horses and sport.’

‘But one the heir to an earldom, the other to his uncle the Marquis of Northbrooke.’ Bellingham’s mouth twitched, for she had described the pair of young bucks to perfection.

‘Oh, that!’ Caroline made a face at him. ‘As if I cared for such things. I think a gentleman of your mode might possibly take an interest in poetry and reading, as well as sport, of course. Do not think I have anything against such pursuits, for my brother Nicolas is a rare goer at many things and I have enjoyed fishing for trout with him.’ Her face sparkled up at him as she recalled her childhood adventures with pleasure.

‘Have you indeed?’ George was intrigued—she was not quite in the ordinary way. He recalled his wager with Freddie Rathbone and smiled inwardly. ‘You must tell me more…’ He was disappointed as the music ended. ‘Oh…it has seemed but a minute…’

‘Do you not think time always flies when one is enjoying oneself and drags when one is forced to do something utterly tedious?’

George disguised his laughter as a cough. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her to have supper with him, but as soon as they left the floor, she was surrounded by four splendid young bucks dressed in the height of fashion, and all with the same question in mind.

‘Miss Holbrook, may I take you in?’

‘Ignore Brent, Miss Holbrook. I am sure you promised the privilege to me.’

‘Oh, Asbury, she damned well said nothing of the kind—she is promised to me,’ another gentleman claimed entirely falsely.

‘No, no, gentlemen,’ Caroline said and laughed, her eyes dancing with mischief. ‘I have promised no one, but I shall yield to the gentleman who can quote Richard Lovelace to me—accurately, mind.’ She looked at them expectantly.

There was stunned silence for a moment, their faces falling as they struggled to bring a word to mind; though most had subscribed to books of more modern authors, they were unable to remember the lines of the seventeenth-century poet.

‘Stone walls do not a prison make,

Nor iron bars a cage;

Minds innocent and quiet take

That for an hermitage;

I’ll have freedom in my love,

And so in my soul am free;

Angels alone, that soar above,

Enjoy such liberty.’

‘Oh, well done, sir!’ Caroline clapped and turned as the deep voice finished his quotation. ‘That was excellent…’ Finding herself having to look up at the newcomer, she discovered that he was the most devastatingly handsome man she had yet met. His hair was the colour of a raven’s wing, almost blue-black where the light from the chandeliers touched it, his eyes very dark, just now mocking her, his mouth strangely enticing as it curved in a smile that made her heart jerk and then race on at frightening speed.

‘Good evening, Miss Holbrook,’ Freddie Rathbone said and offered her his arm, a glint in his eyes as a murmur of protest came from the other gentlemen when she took it. ‘The honour is mine, I think. Better luck next time—George, gentlemen.’ He inclined his head to them, his mannera nice blend of mockery and arrogance, as if he had claimed the prize by right.

Caroline laid her hand on his arm. She was laughing inside, though she did her best not to show it. ‘I do not believe we have been introduced, sir?’

‘Sir Frederick Rathbone at your service,’ he said and smiled at her. ‘I came late and was reliably informed that your card was full—young Asbury supplied the details. You must be aware that you have made a hit with that gentleman, and a few others, I dare say.’

‘They have been amazingly kind,’ Caroline said, a faint blush in her cheeks. She did not often blush, but there was something about this man’s gaze that made her a little uncomfortable. He seemed to demand her thoughts, and she was not sure that she wished to share them with him. There was something about him that seemed to challenge her. To accept that challenge might prove dangerous.

‘Come, now, no false modesty,’ Freddie said, his eyes seeming to dare her to respond in a way that was not at all fitting. ‘You must know that you are a sensation. I might almost say you are the belle of the evening, perhaps of the Season, though it is early days yet, I think.’

‘This is my first ball,’ Caroline said, her enthusiasm bubbling over. ‘I have been lucky enough not to sit down for one dance as yet, but I do not think I am the only lady to have been popular this evening.’

‘True enough, but people are talking about you. Everyone wishes to know where you came from—perhaps you were wafted here from some distant paradise? You are a siren come up from the depths of the sea to weave your spell over us poor mortals…’

‘You mock me, sir,’ Caroline reproved. She was a little uneasy—there was something about him, a glint in his eyes that told her he might be dangerous if she were to like him too much. And yet despite that she was drawn to him, much like a moth to an open flame. She tilted her head, deliberately challenging him. ‘If we are to speak of looks, I dare say yours have won you more than your fair share of attention from the ladies? And if you should be wealthy, of which I have no idea, I am sure you are much sought after—unless you are already married, of course?’

‘Oh, rich as Croesus,’ Freddie said and grinned at her. Her bold manner was immediately attractive to a man of his humour, intriguing him. He wondered how she would respond to his teasing. ‘And not married—a fact that some find irresponsible, for it must be the first object of a gentleman to marry, must it not?’

‘Must it?’ Caroline said, wrinkling her brow. He was clearly mocking her. She threw him a daring look, a flicker of defiance in her eyes. ‘I do not see it. Much better to remain unwed unless it is for the further happiness of both partners—do you not think so? It would be tedious to marry just for the sake of it, I imagine.’