Cold-Hearted Rake Read online

  “Girls…” Kathleen began, disconcerted by their wildness, but they were already out of earshot. She looked at Winterborne ruefully. “For your own safety, try to stay out of their path or you’ll be trampled.”

  “You should have seen how the ladies behaved during my first bi-annual sale discounts,” Winterborne told her. “Violence. Screaming. I’d rather go through the train accident again.”

  Kathleen couldn’t help smiling.

  Winterborne escorted Helen away from the rotunda. “Would you like to see the pianos?” she heard him ask.

  Her timid reply was muffled as they retreated from sight.

  Devon came to stand beside Kathleen.

  After a long, uncomfortable moment, she asked, “When you look at them, do you ever see two people who feel even the slightest infatuation for each other? There’s no natural ease between them, no sharing of mutual enthusiasms. They talk as if they were strangers on an omnibus.”

  “I see two people who haven’t yet lowered their guards with each other,” came his matter-of-fact reply.

  Pushing back from the counter, Kathleen wandered to an elegant display of stationery supplies in another area of the rotunda. A lacquered tray of scent bottles occupied the countertop. According to a small framed placard, the scent was intended specifically for ladies who wished to mist their correspondence with fragrance that was guaranteed not to stain paper or cause ink to run.

  Wordlessly Devon came to stand behind her, his hands coming to rest on the counter, on either side of her. Kathleen inhaled sharply. Caged by his hard, warm body, she couldn’t move as she felt his mouth touch the back of her neck. She closed her eyes, her senses mesmerized by the vital masculine strength of him. The heat of his breath stirred a stray wisp of hair that lay on her nape, the feeling so exquisite that she trembled.

  “Turn around,” he whispered.

  Kathleen shook her head mutely, her blood racing.

  “I miss you.” One of his hands lifted, his fingertips caressing her nape with erotic sensitivity. “I want to come to your bed tonight. Even if it’s just to hold you.”

  “I’m sure you’ll have no problem finding a woman who’s eager to share her bed with you,” she said tartly.

  He pressed close enough to nudge the side of her face with his, the friction of his shaved chin brushing her like a cat’s tongue. “I only want you.”

  She stiffened against the pleasure of feeling him all around her. “You shouldn’t say that until we discover whether or not I’m with child. Although neither answer would ever make things right between us.”

  A gentle kiss nuzzled into the skin beneath her jaw. “I’m sorry,” he said huskily. “I shouldn’t have reacted that way. I wish I could take back every word. It wasn’t your fault; you have little experience in the act of love. I know better than anyone how damnably difficult it is to pull back at the precise moment that you want to be as close to someone as possible.”

  Stunned by his apology, Kathleen continued to stand facing away from him. She hated the vulnerability that had invaded her, the rush of loneliness and desire that made her want to turn in his arms and start weeping.

  Before she could come up with a coherent reply, she heard the twins’ vociferous chatter, and the clinking and rustling of a great number of objects being carried at once. Devon moved away from her.

  “We need more baskets,” Pandora said triumphantly, entering the hall.

  The twins, who were clearly having a splendid time, had adorned themselves outlandishly. Cassandra was dressed in a green opera cloak with a jeweled feather ornament affixed to her hair. Pandora had tucked a light blue lace parasol beneath one arm, and a pair of lawn tennis rackets beneath the other, and was wearing a flowery diadem headdress that had slipped partially over one eye.

  “From the looks of it,” Kathleen said, “you’ve done enough shopping already.”

  Cassandra looked concerned. “Oh, no, we still have at least eighty departments to visit.”

  Kathleen couldn’t help glancing at Devon, who was trying, without success, to stifle a grin. It was the first time she had seen him truly smile in days.

  Enthusiastically the girls lugged the baskets to her and began to set objects on the counter in an unwieldy pile… perfumed soaps, powders, pomades, stockings, books, new corset laces and racks of hairpins, artificial flowers, tins of biscuits, licorice pastilles and barley sweets, a metal mesh tea infuser, hosiery tucked in little netted bags, a set of drawing pencils, and a tiny glass bottle filled with bright red liquid.

  “What is this?” Kathleen asked, picking up the bottle and viewing it suspiciously.

  “It’s a beautifier,” Pandora said.

  “Bloom of Rose,” Cassandra chimed in.

  Kathleen gasped as she realized what it was. “It’s rouge.” She had never even held a container of rouge before. Setting it on the counter, she said firmly, “No.”

  “But Kathleen —”

  “No to rouge,” she said, “now and for all time.”

  “We need to enhance our complexions,” Pandora protested.

  “It won’t do any harm,” Cassandra chimed in. “The bottle says that Bloom of Rose is ‘delicate and inoffensive’… It’s written right there, you see?”

  “The comments you would receive if you wore rouge in public would assuredly not be delicate or inoffensive. People would assume you were a fallen woman. Or worse, an actress.”

  Pandora turned to Devon. “Lord Trenear, what do you think?”

  “This is one of those times when it’s best for a man to avoid thinking altogether,” he said hastily.

  “Bother,” Cassandra said. Reaching for a white glass pot with a gilded top, she gave it to Kathleen. “We found this for you. It’s lily pomatum, for your wrinkles.”

  “I don’t have wrinkles,” Kathleen said with dawning indignation.

  “Not yet,” Pandora allowed. “But someday you will.”

  Devon grinned as the twins snatched their empty baskets and scurried away to continue shopping.

  “When my wrinkles appear,” Kathleen said ruefully, “those two will have caused most of them.”

  “That day will be a long time coming.” Looking down at her, Devon cupped her face with his hands. “But when it does, you’ll be even more beautiful.”

  The skin beneath his gentle touch flamed with a blush more brilliant than potted rouge could have imparted. Desperately she tried to make herself pull away from him, but his touch had paralyzed her.

  His finger slid around the back of her neck, holding her steady as his mouth sought hers. A shock of heat went through her, and she went weak, swaying as if the floor had tipped like the deck of a ship. His arm went around her, locking her against his body, and the feel of his effortless power devastated her. I’m yours, he’d once made her say in the carriage room as he had taunted her with sensual pleasure. It had been the truth. She would always be his, no matter where she went or what she did.

  A soft moan of despair slipped from her throat, but his kiss absorbed every sound and breath. He feasted on her with controlled hunger, his head turning as he deepened the angle to fit their mouths together more closely. Touching her tongue with his, he enticed a response, his kiss tender and fiercely demanding. She was lost in a confusion of pleasure, her body flooded with ungoverned craving.

  Without warning, Devon pulled back. She whimpered and reached for him blindly.

  “Someone’s coming,” he said quietly.

  Leaning against the counter for support, Kathleen fumbled to smooth her dress and tried to control her breathing.

  Helen and Winterborne were returning to the rotunda. The corners of Helen’s mouth were curved upward as if they had been tacked there with pins. But something about her posture reminded Kathleen of a lost toddler being led in search of its mother.

  Kathleen’s apprehensive gaze was drawn to the glitter on Helen’s left hand. Her stomach dropped, all the sensuous warmth leaving her body as she realized what it was.<
br />
  A ring.

  After a mere two weeks of courtship, the bastard had proposed.

  Chapter 31

  Dear Kathleen,

  I have just returned from the Lufton farm after inquiring about the welfare of their newest resident. Please convey to all concerned parties that Hamlet is thoroughly content with his pen, which, I might add, has been constructed to the highest porcine standards. He seems enthused about keeping company with his own harem of sows. I would venture to say that a pig of simple pleasures could ask for nothing more.

  All other news from the estate pertains to drainage trenches and plumbing mishaps, none of it agreeable to relate.

  I am anxious to know how you are taking the engagement between Helen and Winterborne. In the spirit of brotherly concern, I beg you to write soon, at least to tell me if murder is being planned.

  Affectionately yours,

  West

  Kathleen took up a pen to reply, reflecting that she missed West more than she would have guessed. How strange it was that the drunken young rake who had come to Eversby Priory all those months ago should have become such a steadying presence in her life.

  Dear West,

  Upon Mr. Winterborne’s proposal to Helen last week, I will confess to initial thoughts of homicide. However, I realized that if I did away with Winterborne, I would also have to dispatch your brother, and that wouldn’t do. One murder may be justifiable in these circumstances, but two would be self-indulgent.

  Helen is quiet and withdrawn, which is not what one expects of a girl who has just become engaged. It is obvious that she loathes the engagement ring, but she refuses to ask Winterborne to change it. Yesterday Winterborne decided to undertake all the planning and expenses of the wedding, so she’ll have no say in that either.

  Winterborne dominates without even seeming to be aware of it. He’s like a great tree that casts a shade in which smaller trees can’t thrive.

  Regardless, the wedding seems inevitable.

  I’m resigned to the situation. At least, I’m trying to be.

  Your brotherly concern is much appreciated, and returned with sisterly affection.

  Ever yours,

  Kathleen

  Devon returned home late in the evening, filled with weary satisfaction.

  The lease agreement with London Ironstone had been signed by both parties.

  During the past week, Severin had turned the negotiations into a cat-and-mouse game. It had required inhuman discipline and a surplus of energy to contend with Severin’s accelerations, delays, surprises, and amendments. At several points, the lawyers had fallen silent while the two of them feuded and sparred. Finally Devon had been able to force the concessions he’d wanted, just as he had found himself considering the prospect of leaping across the table and strangling his friend. The infuriating part had been knowing that Severin, unlike anyone else in the room, had been having a perfectly splendid time.

  Severin loved excitement, conflict, anything to entertain his voracious brain. Although people were drawn to him and he was invited everywhere, it was difficult to tolerate his feverish energy for long. Spending time with him was like attending a fireworks display: enjoyable for a short time, but fatiguing if it lasted for too long.

  After the butler took his coat, hat, and gloves, Devon headed to the study for a much-needed drink. As he passed the stairs, he could hear traces of laughter and conversation from the upstairs drawing room, while the music box played a glimmering cascade of notes.

  The study was lit by a single table lamp and a fire on the hearth. Kathleen’s small form was curled in the upholstered wing chair, her fingers forming slack loops around the stem of an empty wineglass. A pang of pleasure went through him as he saw that she wore the colorful shawl he’d given her. She stared pensively into the fire, flickers of light gilding the delicate line of her profile.

  He’d had no time alone with her since Helen and Winterborne had become engaged. She had been quiet and disinclined to talk, obviously struggling with her unhappiness over the situation. Moreover, during the past week, the deal with London Ironstone had consumed Devon’s attention. It was too important for the estate: He hadn’t been able to risk failure. Now that the deal was signed, he intended to set his house in order.

  As Devon entered the room, Kathleen looked up with a neutral expression.

  “Hello. How did your meeting go?”

  “The lease is signed,” he said, going to pour a glass of wine for himself at the sideboard.

  “Did he agree to your terms?”

  “The most important ones.”

  “Congratulations,” she said sincerely. “I had no doubt that you would prevail.”

  Devon smiled. “I had more than a few doubts. Severin is infinitely more experienced at business. However, I tried to compensate with pure stubbornness.” Gesturing with the wine decanter, he gave her a questioning glance.

  “Thank you, but I’ve had enough.” She nodded toward the desk in the corner. “A telegram arrived for you just before dinner. It’s on the silver tray.”

  He went to retrieve it, opening the gummed seal. Looking down at the message, he frowned curiously. “It’s from West.”

  COME TO THE ESTATE WITHOUT DELAY

  W.R.

  “He wants me to go to Hampshire immediately,” Devon said, puzzled. “He doesn’t say why.”

  Kathleen glanced at him with instant worry. “I hope it’s not bad news.”

  “It’s no more than middling-bad, or he would have included an explanation. I’ll have to take the first train in the morning.”

  Setting her empty glass aside, Kathleen stood and smoothed her skirts. She looked tired but lovely, a pucker of worry pinching the space between her brows. She spoke without looking at him. “My monthly courses started this morning. There is no baby. I knew you would wish to learn of it as soon as possible.”

  Devon contemplated her silently.

  Strangely, the relief he would have expected to feel wasn’t there. Only a sort of blank ambivalence. He should be falling to his knees in gratitude.

  “Are you relieved?” he asked.

  “Of course. I didn’t want the baby any more than you did.”

  Something about her calm, reasonable tone rankled.

  As Devon stepped toward her, every line of her body tensed in wordless rejection.

  “Kathleen,” he began, “I’m weary of this distance between us. Whatever is necessary —”

  “Please. Not now. Not tonight.”

  The only thing that stopped him from reaching for her and kissing her senseless was the soft, raw note in her voice. He closed his eyes briefly, grappling for patience. When that failed, he lifted his wineglass and finished the drink in three measured gulps.

  “When I return,” he said, leveling a steady stare at her, “you and I are going to have a long talk. Alone.”

  Her lips tightened at his severe tone. “Am I to have a choice in the matter?”

  “Yes. You’ll have the choice of whether we go to bed before the talk, or after.”

  Letting out an indignant breath, she left the study, while he stood there gripping his empty glass, his gaze fixed on the vacant doorway.

  Chapter 32

  T

  he instant that Devon stepped off the train at Alton Station, he was confronted by the sight of his brother in a dusty coat and mud-crusted breeches and boots. There was a wild look in West’s eyes.

  “West?” Devon asked in startled concern. “What the devil —”

  “Did you sign the lease?” West interrupted, reaching out as if to seize his lapels, then appearing to think better of it. He was twitching with impatience, bouncing on his heels like a restless schoolboy. “The London Ironstone lease. Did you sign it?”

  “Yesterday.”

  West let out a curse that attracted a slew of censorious gazes from the crowd on the platform. “What of the mineral rights?”

  “The mineral rights on the land we’re leasing to the railway
?” Devon clarified.

  “Yes, did you give them to Severin? Any of them?”

  “I kept all of them.”

  West stared at him without blinking. “You’re absolutely sure?”

  “Of course I am. Severin badgered me about the mineral rights for three days. The longer we debated, the more exasperated I became, until I said I’d see him in hell before I let him have so much as a clod of manure from Eversby Priory. I walked out, but just as I reached the street, he shouted from the fifth-floor window that he gave in and I should come back.”