Cold-Hearted Rake Read online

  “I can’t,” Helen whispered with a frown. “It would hurt his feelings.”

  “It would hurt your reputation.”

  “No one has to know, do they? Couldn’t we consider it as a gift for the family?”

  Before she replied, Kathleen thought of all the rules she had broken and the sins she had committed, some small, some far more egregious than accepting an inappropriate gift. Her mouth curved in wry resignation. “Why not?” she said, and took Helen’s arm. “Come help me stop Pandora – she’s trying to open a mummy case.”

  To Helen’s mingled consternation and excitement, Winterborne accepted an invitation to dinner the very next evening. She wanted very much to see him, almost as much as she dreaded it.

  Winterborne arrived punctually and was shown to the main floor drawing room, where the Ravenels had gathered. His powerful form was dressed with elegant simplicity in a black coat, gray trousers, and a gray waistcoat. Although his broken leg was still healing, the cast had been removed and he walked with the use of a wooden cane. One could have easily singled him out in a crowd, not only from his distinctive height and size, but also from his raven hair and swarthy complexion. The coloring, thought to be the result of Spanish Basque influence in Wales, was not considered aristocratic… but Helen thought it very handsome and striking.

  His gaze came to Helen, dark heat framed with black lashes, and she felt a nervous flutter. Maintaining her composure, she gave him a neutral smile, wishing she had the confidence to say something charming or flirtatious. To her chagrin, Pandora and Cassandra – two years younger than she – were both far more comfortable with Winterborne. They amused him with nonsense such as asking whether there was a sword concealed in his cane (regrettably, no) and describing the mummified dogs in the Egyptian gallery.

  As the company went in to dinner, a moment of perplexity ensued when it was discovered that the twins had written the name cards in hieroglyphics.

  “We thought everyone might want to guess which one was theirs,” Pandora informed them.

  “Thankfully, I’m at the head of the table,” Devon said.

  “This is mine,” Winterborne said, gesturing to one name card, “and I believe Lady Helen is seated next to me.”

  “How did you know?” Cassandra asked. “Are you familiar with hieroglyphics, Mr. Winterborne?”

  He smiled. “I counted the letters.” Picking up the name card, he regarded it closely. “It’s cleverly drawn, especially the little bird.”

  “Can you tell what kind of bird it is?” Pandora asked hopefully.

  “Penguin?” he guessed.

  Cassandra told her sister triumphantly, “I told you it looked like a penguin.”

  “It’s a quail,” Pandora said to Winterborne, heaving a sigh. “My penmanship is no better in ancient Egyptian than it is in English.”

  After everyone was seated and the footmen had begun serving, Helen turned to Winterborne, determined to overcome her shyness. “I see your cast has been removed, Mr. Winterborne. I trust you’re mending well?”

  He gave her a guarded nod. “Quite well, thank you.”

  She repeatedly smoothed the napkin on her lap. “I can hardly find words to thank you for the music box. It’s the most beautiful gift I’ve ever received.”

  “I hoped it would please you.”

  “It does.” As Helen looked into his eyes, it occurred to her that someday this man might have the right to kiss her… hold her in intimacy… They would do whatever mysterious things occurred between a husband and wife. A terrible blush began, the pervasive, self-renewing color that only he seemed to inspire. Desperate to halt its progress, she lowered her gaze to his shirt collar, and then a bit lower, tracking the perfect straight line of a hand-stitched seam.

  “I see Mr. Quincy’s influence,” she found herself saying.

  “The shirt?” Winterborne asked. “Aye, the contents of every wardrobe, drawer, and trunk have been under siege since Quincy arrived. He informs me that a separate room is needed for the sole purpose of maintaining the clothing.”

  “How is Mr. Quincy? Has he acclimated to London yet?”

  “It took only a day.” Winterborne proceeded to describe the valet’s enjoyment of his new life, and how he had already become more familiar with the department store than employees who had worked there for a few years. The valet had made many new friends, with the exception of Winterborne’s private secretary, with whom he bickered constantly. Winterborne suspected, however, that the two secretly enjoyed the exchanges.

  Helen listened attentively, relieved to be spared the necessity of talking. She thought of bringing up the subject of books, or music, but she feared that might lead to conflicting opinions. She would have liked to ask about his past, but perhaps that was a sensitive area, in light of his Welsh heritage. No, it was safer to remain quiet. When her restrained comments could no longer sustain a conversation, Winterborne was drawn into a discussion with West.

  Fearing that he thought her dull, Helen fretted silently and picked at her food.

  Eventually Winterborne turned back to her as the plates were being removed. “Will you play the piano after dinner?” he asked.

  “I would, but I’m afraid we haven’t one.”

  “No piano anywhere in the house?” There was a calculating flicker in his dark eyes.

  “Please don’t buy one for me,” Helen said hastily.

  That produced a sudden grin, a flash of white against cinnamon skin, so appealing that it sent a shot of warmth down to her tummy. “There are at least a dozen pianos at my store,” he said. “Some of them have never been played. I could have one sent here tomorrow.”

  Her eyes widened at the thought of so many pianos in one place. “You’ve already been far too generous,” she told him. “The greatest kindness you could bestow is the gift of your company.”

  His gaze locked with hers. “Does that mean you’ve agreed to let me court you?” he asked softly. At her timid nod, he leaned a few degrees closer, barely an inch, but it made her feel overwhelmed by him. “Then you’ll have more of my company,” he murmured. “What other gifts would you like?”

  Blushing, she replied, “Mr. Winterborne, there is no need —”

  “I’m still considering the piano.”

  “Flowers,” she said quickly. “A tin of sweets, or a paper fan. Small gestures.”

  His lips curved. “Unfortunately I’m known for making large gestures.”

  At the conclusion of dinner, the gentlemen remained at the table and the ladies withdrew for tea.

  “You were so dreadfully quiet at dinner, Helen,” Pandora exclaimed as soon as they had entered the drawing room.

  “Pandora,” Kathleen reproved softly.

  Cassandra came to her twin’s defense. “But it’s true. Helen was as talkative as a fern.”

  “I wasn’t certain what to say to him,” Helen admitted. “I didn’t want to make a mistake.”

  “You did very well,” Kathleen said. “Conversing with strangers isn’t easy.”

  “It is if you don’t care what you say,” Pandora advised.

  “Or what their opinion of you might be,” Cassandra added.

  Kathleen sent Helen a private glance of comical despair. “They’ll never be ready for the season,” she whispered, and Helen bit back a grin.

  At the end of the evening, when Winterborne was donning his hat and gloves in the entrance hall, Helen impulsively picked up her potted orchid from a table in the drawing room, and brought it to him.

  “Mr. Winterborne,” she said earnestly, “I would like very much for you to have this.”

  He gave her a questioning glance as she pushed the pot into his hands.

  “It’s a Blue Vanda orchid,” she explained.

  “What should I do with it?”

  “You might wish to keep it in a place where you can see it often. Remember that it doesn’t like to be cold and wet, or hot and dry. Whenever it’s moved to a new environment, the Vanda usually becom
es distressed, so don’t be alarmed if a flower shrivels and drops off. Generally it’s best not to set it where there may be a draft, or too much sun. Or too much shadow. And never place it next to a bowl of fruit.” She gave him an encouraging glance. “Later, I’ll give you a special tonic to mist over it.”

  As Winterborne stared at the exotic flower in his hands with perplexed reluctance, Helen began to regret her spontaneous action. He didn’t seem to want the gift, but she couldn’t very well ask to have it back.

  “You needn’t take it if you don’t want it,” she said. “I would understand —”

  “I want it.” Winterborne looked into her eyes and smiled slightly. “Thank you.”

  Helen nodded and watched forlornly as he departed with the orchid caught firmly in his grasp.

  “You gave him the Blue Vanda,” Pandora said in wonder, coming to stand beside her.

  “Yes.”

  Cassandra came to her other side. “The most diabolically temperamental orchid of your entire collection.”

  Helen sighed. “Yes.”

  “He’ll kill it within a week,” Kathleen said flatly. “Any of us would.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why did you give it to him?”

  Helen frowned and gestured with her palms up. “I wanted him to have something special.”

  “He has thousands of special things from all over the world,” Pandora pointed out.

  “Something special from me,” Helen clarified gently, and no one asked her about it after that.

  Chapter 30

  “I

  ’ve waited a fortnight to see this,” Pandora said in excitement.

  Cassandra practically vibrated in the carriage seat beside her. “I’ve waited my entire life.”

  As he had promised, Winterborne had arranged for Kathleen and the Ravenel sisters to visit the department store after hours, and allow them to shop for as long as they liked. He had told the saleswomen to leave out their counter displays of items that young women might fancy, such as gloves, hats and pins, and all manner of adornments. The Ravenels would be free to visit any of the eighty-five departments in the store, including the book department, the perfume hall, and the food hall.

  “If only Cousin West were with us,” Pandora said wistfully.

  West had returned to Eversby Priory after having spent less than a week in London. He had admitted to Kathleen that there was no more novelty left for him in any corner of London. “In the past,” he’d told her, “I did everything worth doing multiple times. Now I can’t stop thinking about all that needs to be done at the estate. It’s the only place where I can actually be of use to someone.”

  There had been no concealing his eagerness to head back to Hampshire.

  “I miss him too,” Cassandra said.

  “Oh, I don’t miss him,” Pandora told her impishly, “I was just thinking that we could buy more things if he were here to help carry the packages.”

  “We’ll set aside the items you choose,” Devon said, “and have them sent to Ravenel House tomorrow.”

  “I want you both to remember,” Kathleen told the twins, “the pleasure of shopping lasts only until it’s time to settle the bill.”

  “But we won’t have to do that,” Pandora pointed out. “All the bills go to Lord Trenear.”

  Devon grinned. “I’ll remind you of this conversation when there’s no money left to buy food.”

  “Just think, Helen,” Cassandra said brightly, “if you marry Mr. Winterborne, you’ll have the same name as a department store!”

  Kathleen knew that the thought held no appeal for Helen, who didn’t desire attention or notoriety in any form. “He hasn’t proposed to Helen yet,” she said evenly.

  “He will,” Pandora said confidently. “He’s come to dinner at least three times, and accompanied us to a concert, and let us all sit in his private box. Obviously the courtship is going very well.” Pausing, she added with a touch of sheepishness, “For the rest of the family, at least.”

  “He likes Helen,” Cassandra remarked. “I can tell by the way he looks at her. Like a fox ogling a chicken.”

  “Cassandra,” Kathleen warned. She glanced at Helen, who was staring down at her gloves.

  It was difficult to tell whether the courtship was going well or not. Helen was sphinxlike on the subject of Winterborne, revealing nothing about what they had discussed, or how she felt. So far Kathleen had seen nothing in their interactions to indicate that they actually might like each other.

  Kathleen had avoided discussing the subject with Devon, knowing it would lead to another pointless argument. In fact, she hadn’t discussed much of anything with him during the past two weeks. After the family’s morning excursions, Devon usually left to meet with lawyers, accountants, or railway executives, or to attend the House of Lords, which was back in session. He returned late most nights, weary and disinclined to talk after having been sociable all day.

  Only to herself could she admit how much she missed their intimacy. She longed for their companionable, amusing conversations, and the easy charm and comfort he had given her. Now he could barely bring himself to meet her gaze. She felt their separateness almost as a physical numbness. It seemed they would never find enjoyment in each other’s company again. Perhaps that was for the best, she thought bleakly. After his coolness to her regarding her possible pregnancy – her monthly courses still hadn’t started – and the way he had deceived her into coming to London merely as a pretext to push Helen together with Winterborne, Kathleen would never trust him again. He was a manipulator and a scoundrel.

  The carriage arrived at the mews behind Winterborne’s, where one of the back entrances would allow them to enter the store discreetly. After the footman opened the door and set a movable step on the pavement, Devon helped the young women from the carriage. Kathleen was the last to emerge, taking Devon’s gloved hand as she stepped down, releasing it as soon as possible. Laborers passed through the nearby delivery yard, carrying crates and boxes to the loading dock.

  “This way,” Devon said to Kathleen, leading the way toward an arched entrance. The others followed at their heels.

  A blue-uniformed doorman opened a large bronze door and tipped his hat. “Welcome to Winterborne’s, my lord. At your service, ladies.” As they passed through the doorway, he handed them each a little booklet in turn. The ivory and blue covers had been stamped with gilt letters that read, “Winterborne’s,” and below that, “Index of Departments.”

  “Mr. Winterborne is waiting at the central rotunda,” the doorman said.

  It was a mark of the twins’ awe and excitement that they were completely silent.

  Winterborne’s was a pleasure palace, an Aladdin’s cave designed to dazzle its customers. The interior was lavishly appointed with carved oak paneling, molded plaster ceilings, and wood flooring with intricate insets of mosaic tiles. Instead of the small, enclosed rooms of traditional shops, the interior of Winterborne’s was open and airy, with wide archways that allowed customers to move easily from one department to the next. Glittering chandeliers shed light on intriguing objects that had been heaped inside polished glass cases, with even more treasures artfully arranged on countertops.

  In one day of shopping at Winterborne’s, one could buy an entire household’s worth of goods, including crystal and china, cooking utensils, hardware, heavy furniture, upholstery fabric, clocks, vases, musical instruments, framed artwork, a saddle for the horse, and a wooden ice refrigerator and all the food to store inside it.

  They approached the central rotunda, six stories high, with each floor framed by gilded scrollwork balconies. It was surmounted by an enormous stained-glass dome with scrolls, rosettes, and other flourishes. Winterborne, who was standing beside a plate-glass counter and looking down at its contents, glanced up at their approach.

  “Welcome,” he said, a smile in his eyes. “Is this what you had expected?” The question was addressed to the group, but his gaze had gone to Helen.


  The twins erupted with happy exclamations and praise, while Helen shook her head and smiled. “It’s even more grand than I had imagined,” she told him.

  “Let me take you on a tour.” Winterborne slid a questioning glance to the rest of the group. “Would any of you like to accompany us? Or perhaps you’d like to start shopping?” He gestured to a stack of rattan baskets near the counter.

  The twins looked at each other, and decisively said, “Shopping.”

  Winterborne grinned. “The confectionery and books are in that direction. Drugs and perfumery over there. Back there you’ll find hats, scarves, ribbons, and lace.” Before he had even finished the sentence, the twins had each grabbed a basket and dashed away.